To Free a Phantom (Spirit Chasers Book 3) Read online

  To Free a Phantom

  Carrie Pulkinen

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  To Free a Phantom

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Carrie Pulkinen

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or

  reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written

  permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  www.CarriePulkinen.com

  Edited by Victoria Miller

  Cover Art by Leah Kaye Suttle

  First Edition, 2018

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Also by Carrie Pulkinen

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  A proud smile curved Erica Miller’s lips as Amber, her star theater student, delivered the last line of her monologue. She’d spent weeks perfecting the character, putting the right inflection on the words, and timing her delivery perfectly to create a heart-wrenching scene that was sure to win her a spot at the Yale School of Drama.

  Erica rose from her seat in the auditorium and clapped, and the rest of her students followed suit. She shuffled onto the stage and pulled Amber into a hug. “That was amazing. With an audition like that, you’re sure to get into Yale.”

  A pink blush spread across Amber’s cheeks. “Thanks for all your help, Ms. Miller.”

  “I didn’t do a thing but give you time to practice. That was all you, sweetie.”

  The rest of the class filed onto the stage, offering their congratulations and wishing her success at the upcoming audition. Jason wrapped his arm around Amber’s shoulders. “I know we’re not supposed to say good luck, but I just can’t bring myself to wish anything bad on you. I hope you do great.”

  Caitlyn brushed her brown hair from her shoulder and crossed her arms. “Careful, Jason. You’ll jinx her. I hope you break a leg, Amber. Literally.”

  “Caitlyn…” Erica’s sharp tone caused the girl to shrink into the crowd. “That was uncalled for.” She crossed her arms and glared at her class. Caitlyn had been nasty to her classmate since Amber earned the lead in their production of Carrie. Erica needed to nip this in the bud now, before it got out of hand. “I will not tolerate any kind of negativity in my theater. This is a safe place, where we can all learn and grow as actors and people. If you decide to make acting your career, there will be plenty of off-stage drama in the real world. While you’re here, save it for the stage. Understand?”

  Caitlyn lowered her gaze. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Erica raised her voice, looking each student in the eyes as she spoke. “I’m talking to everyone. Do you all understand?”

  The rest of the students muttered their agreement.

  “I know Mrs. Spencer didn’t allow that kind of talk when she ran this place, and she taught me everything I know. Don’t think for a minute that you can walk all over your new director.”

  Daniel, a brown-eyed boy who’d been taking classes there for years, flipped a hand in the air. “That crazy old lady didn’t know upstage from down.”

  Heat flushed through Erica’s veins at the way the students dismissed her former mentor. She put her hands on her hips. “She was not crazy.”

  “She strangled her husband and slit her own wrists.” Daniel mirrored her posture.

  Her throat tightened. “She was…ill.” When she’d first heard the news, she hadn’t believed it. She still couldn’t believe the woman who had played such a pivotal role in her life would do such a thing. Mrs. Spencer had meant everything to her.

  She fisted her hands at her sides. “Everyone get in your places for act 2, scene 3. Let’s run it from the top.”

  As the students shuffled across the stage, a loud pop sounded from the back of the auditorium, and then the lights went out, casting the entire room in darkness. Caitlyn squealed and latched onto Jason’s arm, while several students activated the flashlight features on their phones.

  “That’s probably Mrs. Spencer’s ghost,” Caitlyn said. “She doesn’t like you talking about her.”

  Erica sighed and hopped off the stage. “It’s not her ghost. There’s something wrong with the light board.” She’d seen and communicated with plenty of spirits in her lifetime, so if Mrs. Spencer—or any ghosts—were haunting this theater, surely they would’ve shown themselves by now. “If it is you, Mrs. Spencer,” she whispered under her breath, “I’d love to talk to you.”

  She fiddled with the wires connecting the computerized board to the house and stage lights. She’d only been away from the theater for ten years, but in that time, the system controlling the lights and sound had gotten so high-tech she struggled to operate it. The user manual was so complicated she’d given up reading it a quarter of the way in. She’d have to buckle down and watch some YouTube videos on how to operate the darn thing tonight. If her students suspected her even a third as incompetent as she felt, she’d never get this business off the ground.

  Not that she wanted to run a business in the first place, but that was another story.

  None of the wires appeared out of place. Hopefully, a reboot would be all the system needed.

  A sudden chill in the air made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. It could have been a draft or a reluctant spirit; it was hard to tell the difference. She smoothed her thick braid over her shoulder, running her hands along her cheek to be sure her hair still covered the side of her face. This was the fourth time the lights had gone out in the six weeks she’d been teaching here. If her technical incompetency wasn’t to blame, then there was either something seriously wrong with the light board or the theater really was haunted. Though, if it was haunted, why hadn’t the ghosts made themselves known?

  She’d almost rather the problem be ghosts. Having a technician out to fix the system didn’t fit in her nearly-nonexistent budget. If ghosts were to blame, she might be able to convince them to stop if they’d show themselves to her.

  She inhaled deeply and pressed the power button. “Please turn the lights back on.”

  The machine beeped. A line of red and green LEDs flashed on the keyboard as the system hummed to life. She turned the dial for the house lights, and brightness flooded the room. Adjusting the sliders for the stage lights, she doused the students in blue, red, and yellow. They relaxed, returning their phones to their pockets, but Caitlyn kept a firm grip on Jason’s bicep.

  Erica let out a slow breath. Everything seemed to be working for now. “See?” She made her way to a middle seat in the auditorium. “It’s just these darn computers. They’re great when they work. A pain in the tush when they don’t.”

  “Tush?” Jason peeled his arm from Caitlyn’s grasp. “C’mon, Ms. M. We’re all almost-grown-ups here. Tell us how you really feel.”

  She arched an eyebrow at her student. “They’re a pain in the ass. Happy?”

  He grinned. “Yes, ma’
am.”

  “All right.” She lowered herself into the seat. “We’ve wasted enough time. Act 2, scene 3. And…action.”

  Gage Dawson sauntered into Angelica’s Café at ten-thirty-five a.m. Four blondes waited for him at their usual table near the back of the restaurant, and that would normally be the highlight to any man’s day. Too bad all four of these women were his sisters.

  “You’re late,” Abigail said.

  He eyed his oldest sibling. “Thanks. You told me that three texts ago.”

  “We started the mimosas without you.” Becky tipped her head back and chugged what was left in her flute.

  He chuckled. “I’m sure there’s plenty more.”

  As if on cue, the waiter set another pitcher on the table and took everyone’s order. Gage asked for his usual: a three-egg omelet with cheese and tomatoes.

  “You always order that.” Chelsea, his youngest sister, handed her menu to the waiter. “Don’t you want to try something new for a change?”

  Gage shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a creature of habit.”

  “Most men are.” Deanna, the second youngest, placed her order and looked at Gage. “Why were you late?”

  “He had a hot date last night, remember?” Chelsea elbowed Deanna. “Pay attention.”

  “Ouch!” Deanna rubbed her arm.

  Gage shook his head. His little sisters had started bickering the moment Chelsea had learned to talk, and they hadn’t stopped since. “My date was three days ago. I was on a ghost hunt last night.”

  Chelsea’s shoulders drooped. “It was three days ago?”

  “Pay attention,” Deanna mocked.

  “I’m sorry.” Chelsea held her left hand in front of her sister’s face. “Ever since I got engaged, I’ve been so busy planning my wedding, I lose track of time.”

  “Oh, rub it in.” Deanna slapped her hand away. “Mark is taking his time. He’ll propose soon enough.”

  Gage leaned back in his chair and listened to his sisters’ banter. Being the only boy, born smack in the middle of four girls, he’d gotten used to listening. They barely let him get a word in most of the time.

  “Anyway…” Abigail gave the younger women the stink eye before turning to Gage. “How did the ghost hunt go?”

  He covered his mouth to hide his yawn. He’d been late to brunch because he didn’t get to bed until seven that morning. Two and a half hours of sleep wasn’t nearly enough for his brain to keep up with the conversations of four sisters. “The investigation was good. We got some compelling evidence, but the client wants the ghosts gone. And we can’t do that without our psychic.”

  Becky drained another glass of mimosa. “Is something wrong with Allison?”

  “Nah. She’s on vacation with her husband. Fiji, I think. I gave them a list of some of the other psychics we’ve worked with and told them if they don’t work out, we’ll come back when Allison’s home.”

  Chelsea swung her hand through the air as if waving off the conversation. “I want to hear about your date. How did it go with…what was her name? Roxanne? Rihanna?”

  Gage groaned. “Rochelle.” Of course there’d be no avoiding this conversation, but a guy could hope. One of these days, he’d learn to keep his mouth shut and not tell his siblings about his personal business. He shook his head. Who was he kidding? His family was so close that Chelsea started a group text every time someone so much as sneezed. “It was…fine.”

  “Uh-oh.” Deanna crossed her arms. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. I said it was fine.”

  “We all know what fine means, little brother.” Becky gripped his shoulder. “Tell us.”

  He dragged a hand down his face. He really needed to learn to keep his mouth shut. “We had dinner, and she told me all about her ex-boyfriend and how he cheated on her. It was pretty much all she talked about.”

  “Awe.” Chelsea stuck out her bottom lip. “You’re too nice. That’s what it is.”

  He laughed dryly. “Oh, it gets better. I took her home, and she invited me in.”

  Chelsea straightened her spine and leaned forward. “And?”

  “And then she asked me to fix her Wi-Fi.”

  His youngest sister’s mouth dropped open. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

  He lifted his hands palms up.

  “You did! Gage!” Chelsea pointed a finger at him. “See? This is exactly what I mean. You’re too nice.”

  “What? I was already there, so I reset it. It’s not like I went out of my way.” Not too much anyway. “I couldn’t leave the poor woman with no Internet connection.”

  Chelsea narrowed her eyes. “And did you at least get laid for that?”

  “Of course he didn’t,” Deanna chimed in. “Look at his face. That’s the face of a man who hasn’t been laid in a long time.”

  “I’m just tired. I…” Gage closed his eyes for a long blink and let out a sigh. He could think of a million different ways to spend Saturday morning that would be better than talking about his sex life with his sisters. Then again, what could he say? Deanna was right. He’d never had much luck in the romance department. “This conversation is over. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Mom and Steven are going to Cuba next month.” Abigail gave him a conspiratorial wink. Though she’d done plenty of instigating when they were kids, he could always count on his oldest sister to be the voice of reason.

  He focused his attention on Abigail. “How’d they manage that?”

  “It’s not that difficult anymore. I hear they have beautiful beaches.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “As long as you stay in the tourist areas.”

  His mom had been dating Steven for a few years now, but ever since his dad left them when he was eight years old, Gage had considered himself the protector of the family. He’d fought off bullies and taken care of his sisters and his mom for as long as he could remember. Now that none of them needed him anymore, he felt a little…well, useless.

  The waiter brought their orders, and thankfully, a few moments of silence ensued as they ate their food.

  Becky poured the last drop of mimosa into her glass. “Who’s taking me home?”

  Abigail patted her arm. “You rode with me, remember? Mom’s got the kids.”

  “Right.” Becky turned to Gage, sloshing the contents of her glass onto the white linen tablecloth. “You know what you need, little brother?”

  He eyed Abigail. “How many of these has she had?”

  “Enough.” Abigail took the glass from her sister.

  “What you need is a good woman to take care of you. Why don’t you have a girlfriend yet?”

  Abigail rolled her eyes.

  Gage groaned. Not this again.

  “You need to stop being so nice,” Chelsea said. “That really is your problem.”

  He shrugged. “I am who I am.” And he wasn’t about to start acting like a dick just to land a date.

  “Exactly. You’re smart. You’re attractive.” Chelsea tapped a finger against her chin. “You have no problem meeting women, right?”

  He crossed his arms. “I suppose.”

  “Your bad luck happens once they get to know you.”

  “Great. It’s my personality. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Chels.”

  “No, no.” She waved her hands in the air. “Your personality is great too, but women like a challenge. If you play it cool, like you aren’t that interested in the beginning, they’ll be falling all over you. Trust me.”

  Abigail shook her head. “Don’t listen to her, Gage. The right woman will want you the way you are.”

  He laughed dryly. Would the right woman ever come along? With his luck, he wouldn’t even recognize her if she did.

  Deanna’s eyes brightened. “Isn’t your ten-year high school reunion in a couple of months? Maybe you’ll meet someone there.”

  “I’m not going to that.” Small talk with a bunch of people he hadn’t spoken to in years? No thanks. There
was only one person from his past he’d be interested in seeing again, and he doubted she’d fly clear across the country for a reunion.

  “You can’t go to your reunion without a date,” Chelsea said. “Everyone will think you’re gay, like they did in high school.”

  He narrowed his eyes at his little sister. “Just because I never had a girlfriend, everyone did not think I was gay.”

  “A lot of people did,” Deanna said.

  “Okay. This discussion really is over now.” He pulled a twenty from his wallet and laid it on the table. “Thanks for the company, sisters. The conversation was riveting, as usual.”

  “Where are you going? I want to help you have a better life.” Chelsea reached for his hand as he rose from the table, but he yanked it away before she could grab it.

  “I don’t need your help. My life is fine the way it is. Now, I’m going home and going back to bed. I’ve got hours of evidence to go through this afternoon, and I need some sleep.”

  Abigail lifted a hand. “See you next month.”

  He waved goodbye to his sisters, turned on his heel, and then strode out of the restaurant. What the hell had he been thinking telling his little sister about his date? She’d been meddling in his social life since she was old enough to know what a social life was. They all had, really, but Chelsea was the worst.

  And it didn’t help that every one of them was either married, engaged, or in a long-term relationship. Even his mom had found someone after all those years of raising five kids on her own. So, what the hell was his problem? They weren’t going to leave him alone until he found someone.

  He climbed into his Jeep and leaned his head against the headrest. Maybe Chelsea was right. Maybe he was too nice. Being himself seemed to land him in the friend zone ten times out of ten, but he didn’t know any other way to be. If being in a relationship meant he’d have to be an asshole, he’d rather stay single.