Ghost Writer - Pandora Pine Page 0,11

himself absolutely intrigued by the idea of discovering all there was to know about The Beecher House and the people who’d lived in it.

Over the years, Jude had learned there were many reasons spirits haunted a house. It could be the home was where they had been most happy, or where their life had come to an end. The spirit could have a final message to pass on, and was simply waiting to be noticed or spoken to, before they delivered that message and were able to move on to the other side.

There were other darker and more devious reasons for a spirit to be trapped in a house. Things such as binding spells, curses, and other black magick could keep the spirit in a state of stasis, eternally trapped and unable to break free.

A chill passed through Jude’s body. He rubbed his hands over his shoulders. It didn’t help him feel any warmer. Checking the time, Jude saw that it had been nearly two hours since Cope started writing. Jude hoped he was enjoying his time. The busier he was, the less free time he had to worry about leaving Wolf to go to work again tomorrow.

He couldn’t wait to read the way Cope would describe their first meeting and subsequent relationship. It made Jude wonder about diaries, Geneva Beecher’s diary in particular. Did she write for herself, unabashedly honest knowing only her eyes would see the words, or did she write for the world to read it?

It was a question Jude would most definitely ask Cope as soon as he was done writing for the night. In the meantime, he was finished working. Shutting his laptop, Jude’s thoughts turned to Cope’s birthday celebration. Even though they’d had the party yesterday, his actual birthday was today.

Cope may have only wanted to cuddle last night, but Jude had something a little bit more involved planned for tonight.

5

Copeland

The box containing Cope’s typewriter was sitting in the center of his desk. Jude had been kind enough to bring it up for him last night. It had sat here untouched since then. Cope lifted the lid, momentarily blinded by the blue glitter paper catching the light.

When he peeked into the box, it looked the same as it had yesterday when he’d unwrapped it at the birthday party. Somehow, it felt different today. Cope didn’t know if that weird feeling was coming from the fact that Jude was downstairs doing loads of laundry and washing the dinner dishes or if it was coming from the typewriter itself.

Using his gift, Cope scanned the typewriter for any signs of possession or psychic residue. He didn’t find any. Not wanting to leave any stone unturned, he did the same with the entire house. He’d made time to do this when they first brought Wolf home with them but had been so busy taking care of the baby’s needs, he hadn’t done it since they’d come home in January. Christ, that had been nearly six months ago.

Not finding anything suspicious, Cope put the funny feeling out of his mind and reached into the box to pull out the typewriter. It weighed a ton. More than that, it was cold, as if it had been sitting in the freezer. Granted, it was the middle of June and the central air had been turned on, but it wasn’t blowing cold enough in this room to make the typewriter feel icy.

Cope ran his fingers over the central line of letters. Using this device was going to take some getting used to. A very light touch was required to type on his laptop, but each of these keys were going to require extra pressure in order to activate the strikers for each letter.

There was no time like the present to fire this baby up. When he’d gotten home last night, there had been an extra present from Jude. He left it sitting on the kitchen island. Wrapped with the same blue glitter paper, Cope found packages of typing paper, white out, and extra ribbons for this model of typewriter.

Opening one of the packets of paper, Cope slid out one piece. It was heavier than ordinary printer paper and had the company’s logo lightly embossed in the center. When he ran his finger over it, he could just barely make out the indent.

Setting page one neatly between the guards, Cope used the rollers to move it forward before snapping down the paper bail. His fingers came to rest against the home row of