Free Sinister Entity by Hunter Shea Page B

of what to do next when she called. The job he had gotten working in a health food store was far from glamorous enough to keep him in New York, but the thought of going back to San Francisco filled him with dread.  
    “I’m going to email you the address to the house I need you to meet me at. You can Google map them or whatever,” Jessica said. “Meet me there at seven sharp on Friday night. I already spoke to Tim and Kristen McCammon and got their permission to bring you on board. Rule number one, speak only when spoken to when we get there. They’re going through hell and I don’t want them thinking I’ve resorted to psychics to help them. Capice ?”
    “Can I make a quick correction?”
    “As long as it’s quick.”
    “I’m actually a psychic-medium. You kinda get the best of both worlds.” When Jessica didn’t respond, he gave a nervous snort.  
    Still silence.  
    “I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said.  
    “This place has a tendency to get pretty wild. Rule number two, if you run, you’re done. I don’t know how the presence in their house is going to react to you, so be prepared for anything.”
    “What should I bring?”
    “Yourself, a flashlight and a change of underwear.”
    He thought he heard the start of a humorless chuckle as she disconnected the call.  

Chapter Fifteen
    They showed up at the same time in front of the McCammon house, a tidy Tudor in a neighborhood that required potential residents to have at least a couple of million in the bank. The town had once been home to the Kennedys before they became a political juggernaut and was still inhabited by the well-to-do. Jessica looked at Eddie Home’s battered, olive-colored Jeep in her rearview mirror as it pulled up behind hers. At least he had good taste in cars.  
    She popped the trunk and got out to unload her gear. Eddie stepped out, clad all in black.
    “You look like an undertaker,” she said to him.  
    “Better I should look like a refugee from a 1988 Anthrax concert?” he shot back. A look of pained consternation washed over his face. He must have thought he was getting off on the wrong foot. She didn’t bother to bail him out of his concern.  
    She had to admit he was a pretty good-looking guy. His thick, wavy hair and strong jawline made him look like a Disney prince or hero. He was tall with just the right amount of lean muscle, as far as she could tell. Living on Long Island, she had grown a strong aversion to muscle-bound juice-heads. No, Eddie Home was a looker.  
    Concentrate on the job, she scolded herself.  
    “Take this and follow me,” she said, thrusting a black, metallic case into his hands.  
    Tim McCammon answered the door. The bags under his eyes were dark and heavy and his posture was one of absolute fatigue. One of his hands gripped the doorframe. It looked like the only thing keeping him upright. His breath smelled like stale beer.  
    “Come on in. It’s been a rough night. Kristen took the kids to a hotel around midnight last night. I decided to stay, show it that I’m not afraid. That plan shit the bed in short order.”
    Jessica touched his arm and gave a warm smile. “The fact that you stayed did more than you can imagine. Trust me. Tim, this is my associate, Eddie. He’s going to help me set up equipment, take notes and generally keep things from disturbing me while I work.”
    Eddie did as he was told and nodded in greeting.  
    They sat for a moment in the living room. Everything was in disarray. It looked as if Tim McCammon had thrown a party the night before with a hundred college students. Lamps were on the floor, curtains were half-hanging off their rods, every drawer was open and the floor was littered with objects that should have been on shelves.  
    Tim leaned forward in his chair, rubbed his hand across his face and stretched his neck until they could hear his bones crack. “Jessica, we appreciate all you’ve been doing for us, but to be honest, things only seem to