Free Provoking the Spirit by Crista McHugh

 
     
     
    Chapter One
     
     
     
    “Thank you for coming, Ains. It’s nice to have someone who believes me.”
    Ainsley Brennen looked up from taping the cords to the hardwood floor. “If what you’ve been telling me is true, then we’re in for an interesting evening.”
    Remy Robicheaux flashed his charming grin at her, the same one that made her weak in the knees when she was a teenager. She’d always had a thing for her best friend’s older brother. Even though he was thirty, he still looked like a college quarterback with his tanned skin, toned body, and piercing blue eyes. When he grinned, the dimples cut deeper into his cheeks, and her body grew warm.
    Dammit, get a hold of yourself .
    “Yeah, I was shocked when Nan told me you were into this stuff.”
    She stood and checked the camera angle. “New Orleans is crawling with paranormal activity. Why wouldn’t there be a group of ghost hunters?”
    “But I was talking about you. It’s just not something I’d picture you doing.”
    “Why is that?”
    He looked away and cleared his throat. “Well, it’s just because you’ve always seemed so, um…”
    “Boring?” She turned to check the status of the cameras down the hall. Some things would never change.
    He followed her. “You’re a CPA, Ainsley. It’s not exactly the type of job that attracts thrill seekers or risk takers.”
    She kept walking. “What you know about me, you could fit in something the size of your little finger.”
    “Is that so?” he asked in that velvet voice she’d heard him use dozens of times when he was flirting with whatever formation of legs and tits that caught his attention.
    She stopped and sighed. If he was going to pull this shit with her, she’d never be able to focus. “Remy, if you want us to prove whether or not your house is haunted, then you need to leave us alone while we set up the equipment.” Her voice sounded harsh, even to her own ears.
    He held up his hands and backed away. “Fair enough. Maybe I should go out and get some food for y’all.”
    “That would be awesome,” her partner, Eric, called out from upstairs. “We love it when the home owners feed us.”
    “Damn straight,” Tyrone added as he unrolled the cords leading from the kitchen. “Does Delmonico’s do take-out?”
    “Ha-ha,” Remy replied dryly. “I’m still paying for the renovations on this place. It’s going to be sandwiches and chips.” He grabbed his Duke baseball cap and slipped out the front door.
    As soon as Remy’s car left, Eric said, “I can’t believe this place. This has to be the nicest house we’ve worked in.”
    “Remy’s a lawyer and comes from old money. This is probably a cozy cottage to him.”
    But she had to admit, the newly renovated Garden District Victorian home was gorgeous. Remy had taken care to keep everything period, from the polished hardwood floors to the Tiffany glass insert above the front door. If she had a million dollars to throw around, she would have bought it.
    “So what’s the story?” Eric asked.
    Ainsley taped the cords coming from the kitchen to the floor so no one would trip over them. “Remy bought this house after Katrina and spent a year working on it before he moved in. About halfway through the renovations, he started hearing things like footsteps or a woman crying. After he settled in, things started moving, and a couple of months ago, one of his guests was supposedly attacked by something unseen.”
    “Sounds like the ghost didn’t like having the place torn up and changed.” Tyrone took the tape from her and bounded up the carved staircase.
    “Either that, or it didn’t like the guest. Whatever it is, I think he just wants us to prove he’s not seeing or hearing things.” She ran her hand over the banister, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Perhaps there was some truth to Remy’s claims.
    “That’s what we do best.” Eric waved for her to come upstairs. “Hey, come check where we