Page 78 of Jon's Helter Skelter Cold Case

“Works for me.” I went looking for shoes.

“Grant and I are going to stay here,” Alan said. “Just in case Chad’s already moved on, we can give you an update on location.”

“Okay.” Might as well not put all our eggs in one basket. Made sense to me. Plus, it wasn’t like Grant or Alan were really used to confrontation. Better to let the other heavy hitters (not me) handle this.

We all pretty much scrambled out the door, with me driving, just because it was easier all around. Of course, the second we were out the door, we hit Atlanta traffic.

Let me explain. Atlanta. This city did not sleep, ever; it was just as crazy at three a.m. as it could be at ten in the morning. It didn’t matter that we were past rush hour at this point. Traffic was still on the crazy side. Plus, we had to drive toward the Constitution area, which meant going through downtown Atlanta. Really glad I wasn’t in the Power Wagon, as the stop and go with a stick shift would have made this even less fun.

It took us an insane forty-five minutes to get over there, and the entire time I drove, I prayed. Please still be there. Please. Do not wander off, or get spooked by the kids seeing you, or whatever. Just for once stay put so Gonzalez can slap some cuffs on you.

“Turn right here,” Donovan instructed.

I turned, but…wow. Talk about some dense forest and brush all around here. We didn’t get very far before we hit a chain cordoning off the road. It said in bold letters RESTRICTED ACCESS, and there was a more permanent sign off to the right declaring anyone trespassing would be fined and possibly jailed. Clearly the signs stopped no one if kids were ghostbusting here.

“I can see why Sho warned us,” Gonzalez muttered, his head craned to look between the front seats. “It does have murdery vibes, doesn’t it?”

“Straight out of a horror film,” Donovan agreed.

The mistrust was bright in his lines. So bright, in fact, that I had a pretty good guess what he’d say next.

“Babe. Please tell me this place isn’t really haunted?”

“Can’t see anything from here.” Which was the truth and also the best answer I could give. I wasn’t Mack, after all. I couldn’t see ghosts easily. “Either way, looks like our perp might be here. I see car tracks leading farther in.”

Marc hissed out a victorious sound. “Oh, he’s here. I got a lock on him for a split second, and he’s dead ahead somewhere.”

I already had a hand on the door handle, but at those words, I quickly pushed it open. “In that case, let’s go.”

27

I eyed the open shell of a doorway with severe misgivings. That looked haunted. That lookedsuperhaunted. It was already dark; the buildings were overgrown with weeds and trees, casting shadows in all directions, which didn’t lower theJeepers Creepersvibes any. All the windows were busted out but there was very little graffiti to be seen.

I ask you, what kind of an abandoned place had no graffiti?

Places scary as hell, that’s what.

“Come on, Donovan,” Jon urged. He had a hand against my back, guiding me in.

I went, but with my feet dragging for all they were worth.

“Babe, level with me. This place is haunted, right?”

“I don’t see ghosts.”

That was a Jon-ism. I’d heard the same one before. It meant he was trying to soothe me while not lying at the same time. All it meant was he didn’t see ghostsright this second. That could change at any moment.

I glared at my fiancé. “A state prison shut down thirty years ago and completely abandoned? No way in hell this place isn’t haunted.”

He just sighed. Like he didn’t know how to respond, or at least didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t send me running for the hills.

I grumbled some more even as I kept my gun ready. Marc had said he’d pinged on the perp somewhere nearby, after all.

“I know so, so many people who can handle ghosts, and where are they? Not here. It’s not cool, man.”

“Don’t bother the ghosts and they won’t bother you.”

“Mack said that last time. And then they started throwing gravestones around.”

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