Death Hunter Series Books 1 - 6: Horror Bundle Series

1,235 pages

Chapter 4: Detroit

“And you are certain they are both dead?”

Harry turned away from the large picture window overlooking the street and sighed. “Enoch, that’s a helluva question to ask me, isn’t it?”

Enoch’s mind raced for a moment, searching the proper response for offending someone. His lack of empathy and his inability to grasp social norms and facial cues made conversations difficult, and he had had to study proper responses for years.

Enoch found the applicable reaction, and he offered Harry a tight smile as an apology. “You know I have to ask, Harry. All the boxes need to be checked off.”

The dead man chuckled and walked to the rocking chair in the far corner of the room. It seemed impossible that the former fighter could have ever sat comfortably in the chair, and it was strange that he was attached to it. “Yes, I suppose you do. In answer to that, yeah, Enoch, I killed them both. The woman was hard as nails. Fought the whole time.”

“I am not surprised,” Enoch conceded. He closed the woman’s file on the computer, keeping it in secure cloud storage. “Anything of interest in the house?”

Harry shrugged and rocked slowly. “Don’t know for sure. There was a safe. Iron and I suppose lead on the inside. Couldn’t figure it out, obviously.”

“Where was it? Out in the open or any place easily discoverable?”

The dead man shook his head. “No. I poked around and saw it in the basement. Looks like it should be part of the old coal-burning furnace, but it ain’t. Why? You thinking of going in after it?”

Enoch considered the question and picked up his pipe. He packed tobacco into the bowl methodically and lit it before he offered an answer. “No. I think it would be too much trouble. More than likely, it is being used to confine someone. However, we are nearly at our quota at this time and are merely awaiting a response as to whether or not our client wants more. If he does, then we will entertain the idea of going into the house for the safe.”

“Fair enough.”

As Enoch smoked, the living man and his dead compatriot sat in silence. A large truck passed by on the street, rattling the photographs hanging on the walls and the Waterford Crystal in its cabinet. Enoch shifted his gaze to the crystal and thought of his mother. She had always been kind to him. So, too, had his father. Yet he couldn’t mourn them. He wasn’t certain he wanted to.

“Hey, Enoch, what’s the next job?” Harry’s voice cut through Enoch’s cold, distant examination of his feelings toward his parents.

“I was thinking of the library,” Enoch answered. “There are quite a few well-documented ghosts in the main building. At least two of them are violent and they will help us to fill the quota. I think it should be easy enough to get in and locate them.”

Harry stopped rocking the chair and looked at him. “That’s a helluva distance.”

“I know. I was going to try something different, see if it worked or not.” Thinking it a suitable expression, Enoch forced a smile. He inhaled the pipe smoke deeply, enjoying the soft, cherry flavor.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, interlacing his fingers together on his lap and leaning forward.

There was no mistaking the coiled violence in the dead man, the obvious joy the idea of fighting brought to Harry’s eyes.

If he was alive, Enoch thought, I would shoot him for asking so many damned questions.

Hiding his annoyance behind a neutral demeanor, Enoch answered the question. “I will carve a fair-sized splinter out of the back of your rocker. You know, to see if you are attached to any part of the rocker, or if it has to be the whole thing. Anyway, when I have a piece cut off, we will do a test run to see how far you can go, if at all, past the mile mark.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Harry asked. “What then?”

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