Between the Living and the Dead Read Free Page B

see down the street were all dark. The people inside were getting a good night’s sleep.
    Rhodes saw the entrance to the cemetery a couple of blocks away. He’d had an adventure or two there, but he hoped that wouldn’t be the case this time.
    Although the thick clouds were still some distance away, a few drops of rain hit Rhodes in the face. Ruth Grady got out of her car and met him. She was short and stocky, and she was wearing a hat. This was one of the times Rhodes wished that he didn’t look so silly in a hat. It would at least keep the rain out of his face. It would also cover up the spot on the back of his head where his hair had thinned, but that didn’t matter so much in the rain.
    Ruth held a big tactical LED flashlight in one hand, but she hadn’t turned it on.
    â€œWhat do we have here?” Rhodes asked her.
    â€œI’m not sure,” Ruth said. “Somebody who was driving by called it in to Hack. The number was blocked, so he doesn’t know who it was. The caller said there were flashing lights in the house, and some gunshots.”
    â€œHack said there was a disturbance,” Rhodes told her.
    â€œPeople get disturbed by gunshots.”
    Lightning lit up the sky to the north and gave the clouds a momentary glow.
    â€œPeople are suggestible, too,” Rhodes said. “Haunted house, thunder, lightning reflecting off the window glass.”
    â€œWhat window glass?” Ruth asked.
    Rhodes looked at the house. It was old, nearly a hundred years old, he thought. Two stories tall, with a covered porch on both floors, at least on the front. Rhodes couldn’t see any window glass. The wrought-iron fence was covered with vines and bushes, and trees grew around most of the house, concealing some of the windows. The ones that Rhodes could see all had screens over them. The screens must have been rusted, but Rhodes couldn’t tell that in the darkness.
    â€œYour friend Seepy Benton isn’t in there, is he?” Rhodes asked.
    â€œSo you’ve heard about his new job,” Ruth said.
    â€œI have. You think he’s in there?”
    â€œHe hasn’t started looking for ghosts yet,” Ruth said.
    She sounded doubtful, but Rhodes decided to let it pass. “Have you heard any gunshots since you got here? Seen any flashes of light?”
    â€œNo. It’s been quiet. Except for the thunder.”
    As she said that, thunder crashed practically overhead, and lightning crackled. The wind started to blow, whipping the trees around the house. An aluminum can bounced and clattered along the street.
    â€œLittering,” Ruth said. “Class C misdemeanor.”
    â€œProbably not for just a can,” Rhodes said. “I’ll go pick it up.”
    As he started for the can, rain began to fall in big drops.
    â€œForget the can,” Rhodes said, changing direction. “We need to get under cover.”
    At one time the gate in the wrought-iron fence had been chained and locked, but both chain and lock had long since disappeared. The gate gave a shrill skreeek when Rhodes pushed it open, and he was reminded of an old movie he’d once seen on late-night TV, back in the days when they still showed old movies at odd hours. Cry of the Banshee was the title, and it had starred Vincent Price, which would surprise absolutely no one who’d watched a lot of those old movies. As Rhodes remembered it, things hadn’t ended well for Price.
    Rhodes had to break several vines to get the gate open. If there was anyone in the house, they had to find another way in.
    The sidewalk was overgrown with grass, with only a few patches of concrete to be seen. Rhodes jogged to the porch and up the three steps to get under the roof. Ruth was right behind him. She had drawn her service revolver and held it in her right hand. The flashlight was in her left. The wind blew rain onto the porch, and they moved closer to the door. Soggy leaves tumbled around