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By Your Side – Countdown to Release – Almost There!

July 14, 2024 philgiunta@ptd.net

We’re one week away from the release of By Your Side!

“By Your Side is a riveting trip through paranormal mayhem… Giunta’s endearing, determined characters encounter spirits both benign and fierce… “Page-turner” may be a book-review cliché, but it fits By Your Side from start to finish.” —Howard Weinstein, NYT Bestselling Author and longtime Star Trek writer.

Click here for more info on By Your Side and to pre-order the ebook for $2.99 from Amazon, Kobo, Apple, Nook, or Smashwords.

For now, enjoy the following scenes from Chapter Seven – The House that Elias Built

“You have reached your destination.”

Miranda brought her car to a stop in front of a two-story stone home that was just as secluded as Tammy’s place.

“So this is where Jeff Vernon took out his kids then offed himself,” Eddie said from the backseat.

“It happened on the property, yes, but not in this house,” Amy reminded him.

“I wonder if Jeff Vernon knows that.”

In the rearview mirror, a second pair of headlights closed in before gliding to the right. Eddie watched through the rear windshield as Marc’s SUV rolled to a stop beside Elias Gray’s house. “Huh, a driveway. Missed that.”

Miranda peered up at a meager blue glow from one of the second-floor windows. Two young girls stared back.

“Randy, what do you see?” Amy slid down in her seat to follow Miranda’s gaze. “What’s up there?”

In unison, the girls stepped away. Shadows on the ceiling quivered and jumped in the dim light as if cast by the gamboling flames of a candle. Then there were gunshots. Two of them.

Miranda gasped, her body jolting with each explosive burst.

Eddie leaned forward between the front seats. “Whoa, Randy, what happened?”

“Nothing. I’m… I’m fine.”

There was a knock on the driver side window. Miranda screamed, sending Eddie reeling into the farthest corner of the back seat.

“You sure about that?” Amy asked.

Miranda glared at Marc as she slapped the button to lower the window.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “Just wondering if we were waiting for something.”

“Nope, not at all.”

“You OK?”

“No,” Eddie said.

“Yes.” Miranda smiled. “I’m fine. We’re all fine and we’ll be out in a moment.”

With that, she closed the window, leaving Marc with a befuddled expression as he wandered off. Miranda leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

“Can you tell us what you saw up there?” Amy asked.

“I suspect we’re going to have an eventful night so let’s get on it.”

* * *

The team gathered on the front porch. As she rang the doorbell, a growing tightness in Miranda’s chest added to her festering anxiety. Within a few seconds, the lights on either side of the storm door flashed on. Elias Gray was waiting for them—and he wasn’t alone.

“Hey, gang.” Tammy pushed open the storm door and leaned out.

“I didn’t see your car out there,” Miranda said.

“It’s in the driveway.”

“We didn’t see that either,” Eddie muttered.

Tammy stepped aside. “Oh, well, come on in. I’ll introduce everyone.”

Miranda held open the storm door and waved in the rest of the team ahead of her. Once they were inside, she started to follow, but there was a presence somewhere nearby. It wasn’t attached to the house, but it was observing them. She crossed the porch to the railing but could see little in the darkness save for the first few rows of a sprawling cornfield several yards beyond the driveway.

Behind her, the storm door swung open. Marc joined her at the railing. “What’s going on?”

“We’re being watched.”

“Something in the house?”

Miranda shook her head. “Whatever’s in the house knows we’re here. I sensed that the moment we pulled up. This is different. It’s out there somewhere. Same thing I felt at the restaurant.”

Marc glanced up and down the street.

“Don’t bother. You won’t see anything,” Miranda said. “One way or another, whoever it is will show themselves in time.”

* * *

Frank Knedlhans felt like a reporter again.

It had been far too long since he’d staked out a story, but not so long that he’d forgotten how. He had kept a discreet distance from Amy and her friends during the drive from Steinman Park to the art dealer’s house.

What the hell are you people up to? Frank turned off his headlights and rolled to a stop. The street curved to the left about forty yards past Elias Gray’s property. Just before the apex of the curve, where Frank had stopped his car, the street intersected with a dirt road that led to an Amish farm about a quarter mile away. Gray’s house remained visible for about fifty feet along the dirt road before trees and overgrowth obstructed the view.

Frank marveled at how little had changed in thirty-three years as he put his Jeep in reverse and backed up onto the dry, cracked soil. The last time he’d parked here, he was a twenty-six-year-old reporter for the Intelligencer, clad in an impenetrable armor of callous indifference. In retrospect, Frank realized that he’d been an arrogant, callow prick who had confused objectivity with apathy. People had been nothing more than a job. Their pain, guilt, victories, and losses were mere fodder for the front page.

On that particular occasion, the job had been Nancy Vernon, the last surviving member of a family whose six month ordeal had thrust them into the media spotlight—and just as quickly destroyed them.

Covering Jeff Vernon’s embezzlement trial had been standard fare and when the man was acquitted, Frank had moved on to the next assignment. A week later, Jeff returned to the headlines for reasons far more dire than embezzlement and Frank was all over it. According to the police, there had been no suicide note and no indication that Jeff had become mentally unstable in the days before he murdered his daughters and took his own life.

Afterwards, Nancy had become a recluse, refusing to open her door to anyone but family and friends. One day, Frank had learned that she put the house on the market. Refusing to let her slip away without a statement, he’d waited for two hours parked on the same dirt road then as tonight. Frank had never been above stalking. It had proven effective in getting to Nancy before they found her body in the basement the following day.

The porch lights flashed on at Gray’s house, bringing Frank’s thoughts back to the task at hand. The door opened and the group filed in—all but the blonde. Just as she had at Steinman Park, the woman pulled away from the rest. She stared into the cornfield as if searching for something.

“Who are you, lady?”

Check back next week for our final excerpt from By Your Side!

Blog, New Releases

By Your Side – Countdown to Release – Week Two

July 7, 2024 philgiunta@ptd.net

To celebrate the upcoming release of my paranormal mystery novel, By Your Side, I’m sharing random excerpts of the story each week from now until July 22 when the book goes live.

Click here for more info on By Your Side and to pre-order the ebook for $2.99 from Amazon, Kobo, Apple, Nook, or Smashwords. For now, enjoy the following scenes from Chapter Six – Dreams and Encounters

Elias Gray stared at his outstretched arms as if noticing them for the first time. His shirt was soaked through, his pants drenched and torn. He had also lost a shoe. How did I manage that? He recalled that his foot had become caught in something while he was under water and he had to sacrifice his shoe to free himself. Under water?

Elias stood at the end of a narrow stone jetty beneath an overcast sky. Waves crashed against weathered rocks far below. How did I get here? On either side of him, a vast beach stretched unbroken into the distance. Scattered bodies lay along the sand, but they were not sunbathing. They were fully clothed and motionless.

All of them dead.

Bobbing in the water, bits of debris mingled among crates and flat, rectangular objects. Some of them drifted toward the base of the jetty. Priceless paintings and ancient statues were tossed by waves and smashed against jagged rocks.

Farther out to sea, a jumbo jet’s white and blue fuselage tilted sideways and sank into the deep. Within seconds, the ocean had claimed it and the tide carried on its undulating rhythm. From the horizon beyond, a dense fog swirled its way toward land at an impossible speed.

Elias scanned the corpses along the shoreline. He shouted at the top of his lungs, but there was no response. I can’t be the only one. There must be at least a few other survivors. He dropped to his knees and lowered his head into his hands. None of this makes sense. I don’t even remember getting on a damn plane.

“Janos!” A voice called from the fog that had by now enveloped the jetty. Elias drew himself up, expecting to find someone running toward him. “Janos!”

No. It came from below. Elias crawled to the edge of the jetty and peered down. “Leland!” His friend had managed to climb halfway up the side. “Hold on. I’m coming to help you.”

Elias lowered himself, finding handholds in the crags and crevices as he descended toward Leland. He was nearly within arm’s reach of his friend, but there was no way to go any farther. “Leland, if you climb a bit higher, I can pull you up. You can do it, old man.”

Leland inched his way closer. Elias grabbed his hand and strained to haul him up. “Dammit, Leland. Push with your legs.”

“I’m sorry, Janos.” Leland’s voice quivered. “I seemed to have misplaced them.”

“What?” Elias stretched himself to look past his friend.

Entrails and bone protruded from Leland’s severed torso. Elias screamed and lost his grip, sending what was left of his friend plunging into the sea. He pressed his face against the cool damp stone. Don’t panic. Breathe. Just breathe.

“Lose something?” A voice called from above. Although the man’s features were difficult to discern through the fog, the double-barreled shotgun bent over his arm was visible enough.

“Who are you?” Elias asked.

“I’m… all alone among the dead.” He loaded two shells into the gun and took aim at Elias. “And so are you.”

Both barrels exploded.

“No!” Elias twisted sideways. His free hand slapped something solid in the fog and sent it tumbling to the floor. Floor? When Elias awoke, he found himself lying across his bed face down. The room was dark, save for the pale glow of moonlight from the bay window across the room. Spare change, once stacked neatly atop his nightstand, lay scattered about. The sheets in which he’d become entangled clung to his damp skin. Elias examined his hands in the moonlight. They were covered in blood.

He thrashed and kicked at the sheets until he tumbled off the side of the bed. Scrambling to his feet, he dashed into the bathroom, slipping on the cold tile. He flipped the light switch with his elbow. Bloody footprints streaked the floor.

“Christ, what the hell is this?”

In the mirror, his naked body was spattered with blood, but there were no open wounds and he felt no pain. Seconds later, he was in the shower, taking comfort as ruddy water disappeared down the drain—until it didn’t. Instead, it began filling the tub, covering his feet, his ankles. Something rubbed against him. Elias leapt out of the water just as a fully clothed body surfaced face down. It was a woman of slim build, her drenched auburn hair matted to her back and shoulders. Elias turned the body over.

The woman’s green eyes flashed open. “You’re all alone here,” she whispered. “Alone among the dead.”

Elias awoke with a shout. He tore aside the covers and stormed out of the bedroom, pacing the length of the hallway until his anxiety abated. They were just dreams. Just dreams. All the talk about ghosts in this house. Need to stop taking this shit seriously. According to the antique brass clock on the wall, it was nearly ten-thirty in the morning. He’d never slept so late in his life.

He opened the window at the end of the hall and leaned out. The sky was overcast, just as it had been in his dream, but everything else appeared normal. All except for the cellar doors. Directly below, they were wide open.

“What the hell?” They had been closed and locked for the past two days. Had Leland and Hagen returned in the middle of the night to double-cross him? Perhaps they wanted to steal the art back and sell it on their own, cutting Elias out of the deal.

He ran back to his bedroom and slipped into jeans and a polo shirt before retrieving the Luger 9mm hidden behind his bedside table. He crept down to the first floor, but there was no one to be found. In the kitchen, however, the door leading to the basement was open—again.

I’m putting a fucking padlock on this thing. Elias listened for any sounds from below before making his way down. The basement was empty save for the covered paintings and wooden crates along one wall. Convinced that he was alone, Elias tucked his gun into his jeans and made a cursory inspection of his inventory to ensure all pieces were accounted for.

When he was satisfied, he started toward the cellar doors but slipped on the smooth concrete. He raised his right foot. The sole was covered in blood, same with the left.

Behind him, the steps were bleeding.

Like a macabre waterfall, streams of deep red seeped out of each wooden tread and spilled down to the next. Elias drew his gun. He backed away from the steps until something to his right caught his attention. On the wall above his inventory, a word formed.

Verbrecher.

The accusation struck as much fear into Elias as the fact that it was written in blood. The German word for criminalremained legible for only a few moments before losing form and dripping down the wall.

The metal doors that led out to the side yard were still wide open. Elias bolted toward them, but no sooner had he reached the second step than one of the doors slammed down on his head, sending him sprawling. His gun fired as it flew from his hand and skittered out of sight somewhere in the shadows of the stairwell.

Pain seared through his skull. Elias cradled his head between his arms. He forced his eyes open and winced at the bright morning sunlight that now pierced the clouds. As if taunting him, the other cellar door remained open. Elias wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of the house but couldn’t even push himself up, let alone think through the sharp throbbing.

He heard a voice, a man shouting. Perhaps it was the man from his dream, the one with the shotgun. Before Elias faded out, he wondered where his own gun had gone.

* * *

The paperwork had been completed and the hospice staff briefed. Robert and April were taking their son home to die. They walked beside him as Tammy pushed his wheelchair down the hall. When they reached the elevator, she leaned down to give him a gentle hug.

“The man from the house is coming,” Matt whispered. “He’s on his way to the hospital in an ambulance.”

“Which man?”

“The one with all the paintings.”

“You mean the art dealer? Elias Gray?”

Matt nodded as the elevator doors opened and several people filed out.

“What happened to him?” Tammy asked.

“The girls said he lives alone.” Matt lowered his voice as his father backed him into the elevator. “Alone among the dead.”

April inserted herself between Tammy and her son. “Please, Matt. Not this again.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Meade. I have no idea what he means.”

“Ask Mr. Gray,” Matt said. “He’ll know.”

“I warned you, Doctor.” Robert glared at Tammy as the elevator doors closed. “Good riddance.”

Check back next week for more thrills and chills from By Your Side!

Blog, New Releases

By Your Side – Countdown to Release – Week Three

July 1, 2024 philgiunta@ptd.net

To celebrate the upcoming release of my paranormal mystery novel, By Your Side, I’m sharing random excerpts of the story each week from now until July 22 when the book goes live.

It was dark by the time Tammy pulled into the parking lot at Irvine Cancer Center. She handed the keys back to Miranda as they made their way to the building’s entrance. A few minutes later, they marched into the pediatric oncology ward on the fifth floor.

Jackie glanced up as they approached the nurses’ station. “Hey, Matt’s parents are in with him now.”

“How is he?” Tammy asked.

“Perfectly calm, like nothing ever happened. Robert and April, on the other hand…”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Tammy introduced Miranda and explained that she was there to talk to Matt about his visions.

“Are you a psychiatrist?”

“Funny,” Miranda said. “You’re the second person today to ask me that.”

“Jackie, I’ll fill you in later,” Tammy promised. “For now, I think it’s best that I go in alone. Miranda will wait here until I call her in. I want to explain everything to the Meades as gently as I can.”

“That works,” Miranda said. “I could use a few minutes of quiet.”

“You and me both.”

* * *

During the ride to Irvine, Tammy and Miranda had discussed—and dismissed—a number of methods for approaching the Meades about their son’s newfound ability. There was no easy way, so Tammy resolved to take Robert and April aside, well out of earshot of the nursing staff, Matt, and Miranda.

“A psychic-medium?” Robert was incredulous. “What the hell is that? You can’t be serious. Of all people. You’re a doctor. Don’t tell me you believe in this crap.”

“Until recently not at all, but honestly, Bob, I can’t explain how Matt knows what he does about the people who—”

“My son doesn’t know a damn thing about those people,” Robert said. “You want an explanation? One that makes sense? Maybe Matt overheard your nurses or a visitor talking about them. Maybe he saw news reports on the TV in his room and all of that caused him to dream about those people.” Robert’s voice cracked as he spoke, and his eyes brimmed with tears. “Or maybe he’s having nightmares because he knows he’s going to die in a few days.”

Tammy had no response. The last thing she wanted to do was press the issue with parents whose emotional states were scoured raw by a coarse and hopeless reality. They were already in mourning and had been for weeks.

Nevertheless, she knew that something must be done or more lives would be lost. Taking a deep breath, she tried a different approach. “When Jackie called me to come here, Miranda and I had just prevented a young woman from committing suicide. She was a complete stranger, and we only knew it was going to happen because your son predicted it in enough time for us to save her.

“Now, I know you’re both going through hell, and I completely understand if you don’t care about the people that have died over the past few weeks, but somehow your son has made a connection to them. Matt saved a life tonight. If we could understand what’s happening to him, maybe we can find the pattern in these deaths and put a stop to them.

“I’ve known Randy for years. She has three kids of her own. She’s a sweetheart and has a soft touch. I guarantee she won’t do anything to upset Matt. You can be here the entire time, and we’ll back off if he starts getting stressed out.”

There was a moment of tense silence before April squeezed Robert’s hand. “I’m OK with this, provided it won’t take too long.”

“It won’t. I promise,” Tammy said.

Robert’s shoulders slumped, but he lodged no further protest.

* * *

A few minutes later, Tammy led Miranda into Matt’s room. She nodded politely at his parents standing by the window. April whispered a “hello” while Robert cast a stern gaze.

“Tammy.” Matt’s eyes opened wide. “Is Heather all right?”

“Yep. She’s fine thanks to you, Matt. Maybe when she’s feeling better, she can thank you in person. Would you like that?”

“Sure. I’m just glad she’s OK.”

He appeared so fragile. Had his brief surge of excitement earlier tonight drained him? Miranda couldn’t imagine watching without hope as one of her children deteriorated.

“Matt, I brought along a friend who would like to—”

“Talk to me about my visions. I know.” Matt craned his neck to peek around Tammy at Miranda. “You helped save Heather.”

Miranda stepped forward. “Yes, I did. Did your parents tell you that?”

“No, the girls did. You’re very pretty.”

Miranda could have melted where she stood. She wished she could trade in her abilities for the power to heal. Instead, all she could offer was a warm smile. “Thank you. About these girls, what are their names?”

“They didn’t tell me, but they said that you see things like I do.”

“Sometimes, yes. Did they tell you I was coming?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell us what they look like?”

“They’re older than me, a little bit. They’re twins. Long brown hair and they always wear the same clothes. Big jeans with white shirts.”

“Big jeans?” Tammy asked.

“Bell bottoms,” Miranda said. These girls were the same ones that had appeared in her kitchen during her phone conversation with Tammy two nights ago. Another piece to the puzzle.

“Bell bottoms, right,” Tammy repeated. “So, Matt, when these girls show up, do they come in through the door?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes they wake me up. Sometimes I look around and they’re standing there. I think they’re ghosts.”

Miranda glanced at his parents. They were riveted. “Why do you say that?”

“Because they told me their dad shot them both with a big gun.”

“Oh my God!” April blurted. She cupped a hand over her gaping mouth.

“All right, that’s enough.” Robert glared at Tammy. “Get this freak away from my son right now or so help me, I will go straight to the president of this place.”

“I’m sorry,” Tammy said as she and Miranda turned to leave.

“Dad, wait,” Matt said. “There’s more. The girls—”

“That’s enough. Matt!”

His son ignored him. “More people are going to die.”

“Who?” Tammy asked, despite Robert’s burning gaze.

“I don’t know yet. I’m sorry,” Matt said. “The girls only tell me so much at a time and I only see the other people after they’re dead.”

“Stop it!” April shrieked. She collapsed onto a chair and sobbed.

“You satisfied now, Doctor?” Robert snarled. “You managed to upset my wife and my son.” He pointed to Miranda. “You don’t come near my family again or I will sue you and this hospital. Am I clear?”

Miranda lowered her gaze. “Of course. I’m sorry. You have a wonderful boy. I’m… I’m so sorry.” With that, she dashed out of the room—and didn’t stop until she reached her car.

* * *

Ten minutes had passed before Tammy realized that Miranda was no longer in the building. She found her lying back in the driver’s seat of her car, staring through the windshield at the light of a nearby lamppost.

Tammy opened the passenger door and leaned in. “You OK?”

“Yeah.”

She climbed into the seat and closed the door. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“I’m used to it,” Miranda said. “In fact, I’m used to a lot worse, but I don’t blame Robert at all. These are the last few precious days they have with their son. The last thing I want to do is cause them even more pain.”

“You didn’t. None of this is your fault.” Tammy lowered the back of her seat, bringing herself level with Miranda. “If anyone should feel terrible it’s me. I brought you into this. Christ, you could’ve been shot today.”

“But I wasn’t, and we saved a life, so the night wasn’t a total loss. Still, I don’t know how you do it, watching kids wither away and die.”

“They don’t all die. Many pediatric cancers are treatable, but certain specific tumors, like Matt’s, well… treatment can only do so much for so long. He has what’s known as a diffusely infiltrative brain stem glioma.”

“Now you sound like a doctor, Doctor.”

There was a moment of silence before Tammy asked, “How are your kids?”

“They’re traveling through Europe with their father,” Miranda replied. “I talked to them yesterday before we left to come here. They’re having a fantastic time, but I’ll be glad when they’re home. I worry about them. Brian’s a great dad and I trust him, but sometimes they can be a handful, especially the twins—wait a minute.”

“What?”

“Just thinking about twins. Matt said that the girls who visit him are twins. Remember, he said that they look and dress alike. He also said their father shot them both.”

“I remember,” Tammy said. “I don’t think I’ll forget, and neither will his parents. What are you getting at?”

“When I talked to Amy on the phone earlier, she read a few lines from a newspaper article about a father who shot his two daughters, then himself. The mother committed suicide a week later. Amy didn’t say the girls were twins, but it can’t be a coincidence. We need to get back to your place so I can read that article.”

“Only if we stop and pick up some pizza first. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Check back next week for another eerie excerpt from By Your Side!

Blog, New Releases

By Your Side – Countdown to Release – Week Four

June 24, 2024 philgiunta@ptd.net

To celebrate the upcoming release of my paranormal mystery novel, By Your Side, I’m sharing random excerpts of the story each week from now until July 22 when the book goes live.

Click here for more info on By Your Side and to pre-order the ebook for $2.99 from Amazon, Kobo, Apple, Nook, or Smashwords.

I hope you enjoy the following scenes from Chapter Four – Just in Time

“Heather…”

Matt was alone when he awoke panicked and disoriented. It had been a few days since Lena’s death. He had hoped it was all over, but the ghosts weren’t finished with him yet. Matt heard a name in his head but wasn’t sure if he’d spoken it aloud. He just knew that he had to help Heather, whoever she was. He had to tell someone about her now. He pressed the call button strapped to the bed rail. Even such a simple motion had become an effort as of late and he let his arm drop to his side. A moment later, Matt was relieved when Jackie hurried in. She was his favorite and she treated him likewise. Her wavy red hair smelled of strawberries and was soft against his face whenever she tucked him in.

“Hey, Matt. What do you need, sweetie?”

“Heather’s next. You have to get to Heather.”

“Relax, honey.” Jackie reached for his hand. “Who’s Heather?”

Matt closed his eyes and whispered. “They told me, the twin girls. They told me her last name… Marceta. Her last name is Marceta. She’s going to kill herself.”

“You had a bad dream. That’s all.”

“No, this wasn’t a dream. None of them are dreams. Heather’s in trouble. Someone’s coming for her. The same one who took your sister.”

Jackie backed away from his bed. “I asked you not to talk about…” She trailed off, her voice raspy. “Lena… killed herself, Matt. Nobody else took her life. Now, I just buried two people I loved dearly. End of discussion.”

“The ghosts are killing people,” Matt went on. “They took your sister and now it’s Heather’s turn. You have to believe me this time.”

“Stop it!”

On the day before Lena’s death, the twins had warned him that she would be the next to die. Jackie had refused to believe him, but she spent the night at Lena’s house anyway. Now, Matt was afraid that Dr. Schell and the nurses would start blaming him for these suicides. No one had made an accusation, of course, but it was in their eyes. He could sense it and he was afraid of what they thought—or what they might do.

Matt was moving to hospice care soon, which meant he was going home, but he wondered if someone might hate him enough to make sure he didn’t make it. He knew that one day, the portal of light would open for him—but he wasn’t ready yet. The girls had told him that there were a few more deaths to come. Then, all would be settled. Whatever that meant.

Another nurse, Lilly, leaned into the room. “Everything all right in here?”

“Yep.” Jackie forced a smile. “Everything’s fine now. Matt was just upset about a nightmare he had.”

“Please, Jackie,” he pleaded. “Call Doctor Schell. She believes me now. She told me to let her know if I had any more…” He shot a glance at Lilly. “…nightmares.”

Jackie sighed. “OK. Lilly, can you get Doctor Schell on the phone, please? I’ll be right there.”

“I’m sorry about Lena,” Matt said. “I liked her a lot.”

“She liked you, too. We all do. So, who’s Heather Marceta?”

“I don’t know, but at least this time, I know where.”

***

In the doorway, Kyle raised his hands. Tammy and Miranda stopped a few steps behind him. The meager glow of a streetlamp through mini blinds provided the only illumination in the room. Miranda could see Heather kneeling on her bed. She held something outstretched in one hand, but it was indistinguishable in the darkness.

“Stay away from me.” Her voice quivered. “All of you, just stay the hell away from me.”

Kyle moved his hand toward the light switch. The movement was enough to allow Miranda to see the silver gun in Heather’s hand.

She backed away from Kyle and pressed herself against the wall in the hallway, out of Heather’s line of sight. She brought a hand up close to her chest, thumb and forefinger outstretched in the symbol of a gun. Tammy’s eyes went wide.

“Heather,” Kyle said. “I’m turning on the light. Maybe we can—”

“I want it dark. Just get out.”

“Why? Please, tell me what you’re doing.”

Heather doubled over, sobbing. Kyle glanced over his shoulder at Tammy and Miranda. He waved them back with his raised hand. “Heather, please let me help you.”

His sister caught her breath before she spoke again. When she did, her voice was hoarse and tired. “You can’t stop what’s happening. None of you can, not even the medium. Believe me, I never wanted this, but I have no choice.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This doesn’t involve you. Please, just leave. Take your girlfriend and the medium with you. I don’t want to hurt any of you.”

“Of course this involves me,” Kyle insisted. “I’m your brother. You and I are all the family we have. I don’t want to lose you. I’m putting my hands down now, but I’ll stay right here if you want.”

Tammy pulled Miranda into the laundry room. “We need to call the cops.”

“That isn’t Heather in there.”

“What?”

“She’s not in control of her actions.”

“Are you saying she’s possessed?”

“Possibly since before we got here. I’m not sure. I need to get to her.”

“What we need to do is call the cops.”

“If they show up, this could end badly. If I can contact the entity that’s controlling her, I might be able to talk her down.”

“And if not?”

“Get out of here as quietly as you can. Wait by the car. If you hear gunshots, call the cops.”

Tammy shook her head. “I’m not leaving either of you.”

“We need someone far enough away to be able to call the cops if she starts shooting.”

“I’m sorry I got you involved in this.”

“This isn’t my first dangerous case and it won’t be my last. Now go.” Miranda nudged Tammy toward the door before making her way back to Kyle.

“Heather, where did you get the gun?” he asked.

“From Nick. He gave it to me before he deployed. We went to the range. He taught me how to use it. I want to be with him again. I don’t want to live without him.” Heather turned the gun and pressed the muzzle to her chest.

“No!” Kyle lunged forward.

Miranda chased after him, slapping the light switch on her way in. Heather yelped as Kyle seized her wrist and twisted her arm downward. The gun dropped to the carpet. Miranda grabbed Heather’s flailing legs, but not without taking a random kick to the side of her head. She was grateful that the woman was wearing only socks as she wrapped her arms around Heather’s calves, binding them together.

“Get the fuck off me!” With her free arm, Heather pummeled Kyle between the shoulder blades. “I want to die. Dammit, just let me die!”

* * *

“Leave me alone.” Matthew Meade struggled against his mother’s embrace. “Just let me die!”

His father, Robert, hurried into the room with Jackie in tow. “I’m not sure why he’s doing this.”

“Matt, honey, please calm down. It’s going to be OK.” April glared up at Jackie. “What are you people doing to my son in here?”

“He’s been having occasional nightmares and hallucinations,” Jackie said. “But they’ve never been like this.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Check back next week for more spectral scenes from By Your Side!

Blog, New Releases

By Your Side – Countdown to Release – Week Five

June 17, 2024 philgiunta@ptd.net

To celebrate the upcoming release of my paranormal mystery novel, By Your Side, I’m sharing random excerpts of the story each week from now until July 22 when the book goes live.

Click here for more info on By Your Side and to pre-order the ebook for $2.99 from Amazon, Kobo, Apple, Nook, or Smashwords.

I hope you enjoy the following scenes from Chapter Three – Strange Happenings

Miranda excused herself and snatched her phone from the table. “Tammy, how are you? Long time, no hear from.” The two had been neighbors for a few years until Tammy moved to Lancaster.

“I’m doing all right. Is this a bad time?”

From the urgency in Tammy’s voice, Miranda sensed that this was more than a social call. “I have dinner guests here right now. Can I call you back later tonight?”

“Sure. I think I may have a case for you.”

“Really?” Miranda was intrigued. “Never thought I’d hear those words coming from you.”

“Same here, believe me, but I think we’ve exhausted all other options.”

“We?”

“Call me later and I’ll give you all the details.”

“Well, hold on. My entire team’s here stuffing their faces. They can entertain themselves for a little while if you want to give me the low down.”

“Are you sure? What I have to tell you is going to sound dramatic and probably a little crazy.”

Welcome to my life. “Try me.”

Tammy launched into the events at the hospital on the night that Matthew Meade had awoken from his coma and predicted the death of Lori Urban.

“I didn’t know what to think at the time, so I let it go. Then two days later, a known alcoholic, Arnold Weiss, was driving drunk when he ran a red light and hit a guy named Mike Leigh. Mike died on impact. Arnold lost control of his car, drove up onto a sidewalk and straight into a brick wall. Needless to say, he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Miranda said.

“It gets worse. In fact, it gets unbelievable. Mike Leigh had two daughters. One of them is an oncology nurse on my floor. Her sister works at the hospital next to us. The day after the incident, Matt became agitated and warned his nurses that both Arnold’s son and one of Mike’s daughters were in danger. He insisted that someone check on them right away. I wasn’t there at the time, but the nurses took it as a sign that he was declining, getting confused, losing his grip on reality. Matt is declining but patients with brain tumors don’t develop psychic abilities.”

“How long does he have?” Miranda asked. Another child with no chance, like those boys in the barn.

“He probably won’t make it to the end of the week. He’s going to hospice care in the next day or two.”

“That’s terrible. I don’t know how you do it, Tammy.” Watching children die.

“It’s worth it for the ones we save. Anyway, a week after Arnold’s funeral, his son hanged himself.”

“Charlie,” Miranda blurted. “No, one syllable like Chet… Chad? Is it Chad? Sorry, I had this name forming in my head.”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

“Hold on.” Miranda started pacing in her kitchen. She massaged her forehead as fleeting images assaulted her mind. This wasn’t unusual. In past phone conversations, Miranda had gleaned information through sensations and images, some more intense than others.

“What about Mike Leigh’s daughters?” she asked.

“The one who took his death hardest was Lena. She’s a radiologist at the hospital. I got to know her through her sister, Jackie. In fact, Jackie’s staying with her for a while to help her through this. Lena seemed like she was coping at first until she had a breakdown after their dad’s funeral.”

An audience had gathered in the kitchen doorway in the form of Eddie and Amy. “Short hair, bleached.” Miranda turned away from them without breaking stride. “I see a woman in her early forties, average height, full figure. Does she drive a tan or gold SUV?”

“Yeah. Lena drives a tan Chevy Tahoe. Christ, between you and Matt, I’m getting even more freaked out. I don’t believe in clairvoyance, but this is remarkable.”

“Ever have a bad feeling about something or trust your instincts?” Miranda asked. “That’s a form of clairvoyance. Everyone has some measure of it.”

“I guess. I don’t know about the others, but Lena’s always been strong. Still, with everything that’s happened lately…”

“In other words, she’s on a suicide watch.”

“We didn’t want to say that, but yes. Matt warned Jackie that something was going to happen to Lena. Jackie said she didn’t believe him, but I think she was more rattled than she let on.”

“Has Matt been able to predict every death?”

“Only the suicides,” Tammy replied. “And only within a few hours before they happened, which makes me wonder if we would’ve had time to prevent anything even if we had believed him. Try getting the police to buy a suicide that’s about to happen somewhere in town. It isn’t like Matt provides addresses, just names, and by the time I look them up, it’s too late. I keep hoping to wake up one morning and laugh all of this off as a bad dream.”

“What do Matt’s parents think of all this?”

“They don’t know yet. I think he’s too scared to tell them, and we don’t know what to tell them. As you can imagine, his parents are dealing with enough right now. There’s no precedent for this. It’s devastating enough to know that your child has maybe a week to live.”

Miranda knew Tammy was no stranger to death, but the bizarre circumstances unfolding in Lancaster were enough to put even the most clinical minds on edge. She sensed that someone—or something—was at work in the town, and it wasn’t finished. Its motives were unclear, but its presence and energy were formidable. In her pacing, Miranda turned away from the kitchen doorway without looking up. She knew Eddie and Amy were still there. So why did her mind register two young girls in bell bottom pants?

She glanced back. Eddie and Amy were now bickering under their breath.

“Does Matt have siblings?” Miranda asked.

“No, he’s an only child.”

So who were those two girls I just saw? “Do you think his parents would let me meet him?”

“I can talk to them. I guess it’s about time I told them what’s happening.”

***

Three hours later, after her guests had departed, Miranda rinsed off the last plate and slipped it into the dishwasher. After pouring detergent into the dispenser, she closed the door and noticed a blurred reflection in the stainless-steel door. It moved from left to right before coming to a halt in her peripheral vision. It made no sound as it glided along the tiled floor, which became cold under Miranda’s bare feet.

She ignored the presence at first, continuing with her chores. She had learned years ago not to be frightened by the appearance of spectral visitors, nor would she drop everything to attend to them. Death should not give license to be discourteous. Miranda wanted to help them, of course, but she would not allow them to disrupt her life. She was a single parent with three children, a career, and a home to maintain. These were her priorities.

Still, the kids were away for now and if this gentle presence was the return of the little girls she’d seen earlier this evening, then Miranda was all too happy to give them her attention. She dried her hands with paper towel as she turned to address her guest. “Yes, what can I—”

It had been twelve years since she last saw the tall, gaunt man who stood before her. He’d appeared to her just after the birth of her twin boys. Before that, it had been the birth of her daughter. He hadn’t come to her wedding. Miranda’s mother had joked that he probably didn’t approve of Brian.

“Dad.”

“How’s my Miranda Panda?”

“You haven’t called me that since I was eight.”

Her father shrugged. “I miss my little girl.”

“I miss you, too.”

“I checked in on the grandkids. They’re safe with Brian. Despite his other shortcomings, he turned out to be a good dad.”

“Yes, he is.”

Her father looked just as he had in the months before his emphysema—healthy and robust. As always, he was clean-shaven and his light brown hair spiked as it had been since his days in the Marines.

“I’ve been having visions of Colin,” Miranda said.

“I know.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’d be better if you’d move on.”

“How can I? He took his own life, and I could have saved him if—”

“Depression took him. It wasn’t his fault.”

“Then why am I having—”

“Guilt is what you’re having. Needless guilt. Let go, Miranda. Give him peace.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as her father continued. “Now, as to why I’m here. You’re going to help those people that your friend called about, but you don’t realize how dangerous it is.”

“Dad, my ability is dangerous in and of itself. I never know who’s going to show up or when. The things I’ve seen… If I can’t help people, what’s the point of it all?”

“You can’t save the world, Miranda.”

“No, but I can damn well try.”

“At what cost?”

“We’ve both seen the cost of not trying.”

“You didn’t know the depth of your brother’s depression,” her father said. “No one in the family understood it.”

“You did. If you could come here tonight to warn me about going to Lancaster, you could have warned me about Colin.” Miranda turned away and reached for paper towel to dry her eyes. “I could have helped him.”

She glared at her father, but he was gone. “I could have saved him.”

Check back next week for another spooky sample from By Your Side!

Blog, New Releases

By Your Side – Countdown to Release – Week Six

June 10, 2024 philgiunta@ptd.net

To celebrate the upcoming release of my paranormal mystery novel, By Your Side, I’m sharing random excerpts of the story each week from now until July 22 when the book goes live.

Click here for more info on By Your Side and to pre-order the ebook for $2.99 from Amazon, Kobo, Apple, Nook, or Smashwords.

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For now, I hope you enjoy the following scenes from Chapter Two – The Boy and the House

It had been two hours since the boy awoke. No one was certain how the seven-year-old with an advanced brain tumor had managed to survive two comas in the past six weeks. The nurses, who had come to adore the sweet, hazel-eyed tot, attributed it to his strength of will or perhaps, a miracle.

Dr. Tammy Schell, the newest and youngest pediatric oncologist at Irvine Cancer Center, was hard-pressed to come up with a better explanation.

Matthew Meade had been admitted nearly eight months ago after being diagnosed with diffuse pontine glioma, an inoperable brain stem tumor. Initial radiation therapy had proved only temporarily successful, but that was expected.

Just before lapsing into his second coma, Matt had suffered from the worst of the symptoms including frequent headaches, vomiting, and loss of motor functions. He’d been unable to chew or swallow food. In short, Matt had been close to death. Bearing all of that in mind made his current condition all the more surprising.

“Matt, your parents are on their way back.” Tammy cupped her hand over his. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he whispered. “But Lori’s in trouble.”

Tammy leaned closer to the bed and pushed a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. “Sorry, who?” This was probably another of his dreams or delusions caused by the tumor.

“I know that Tom Urban died here yesterday.”

“Uh, yes he did. How do you know that? Did you overhear the nurses talking?”

“No.” Matt shook his head, or tried to with what little energy he could muster. “Those two girls told me. They said we need to protect his wife, Lori.”

“Protect her from what? Which girls?”

“The twins. They were standing right where you are.” The boy turned his gaze to the ceiling. “It’s too late. Lori’s coming, but she won’t make it.” The wail of sirens in the distance grew louder as he spoke.

Tammy ignored them at first. Before she moved to this semi-rural town, she had lived and worked in Baltimore and before that, Philadelphia. Such sounds had been daily background noise, no more or less distracting than car horns or street music. Tammy knew the approaching ambulance was headed for the emergency room of Lancaster Hospital across the street. Though she would never admit it, the noise brought a sense of comfort, like being home again.

“She’s here,” Matt said. “But she’s slipping away.”

It was beginning to seem less likely that this was a delusion, which piqued Tammy’s curiosity. She hurried from Matt’s bedside to the window and opened the blinds. Two floors below, a cluster of nurses crossed the glass-enclosed bridge that connected Irvine Cancer Center to Lancaster Hospital. On the street, the ambulance was just coming into view, turning into the driveway toward the emergency room.

“How do you know that’s Lori Urban?”

“The girls told me she was in trouble,” Matt replied. “But the ambulance got there too late.”

“When did they tell you all this?”

“I don’t know… just before you got here.”

“Matt, I checked with the nurses when I arrived. No one’s been in this room since your parents left a few hours ago.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Matt closed his eyes. “She’s gone. Lori’s gone now.”

Tammy paused for a moment before returning to Matt’s bedside. She waited for more information, but he was already drifting off. “Get some rest, I’ll be back soon.”

* * *

“I’m sorry.” Matt awoke with a shiver. It took a few moments for his eyes to focus on the woman standing near the window. “Tammy?”

Her short blonde hair was disheveled and tears streaked her face. It was definitely not Dr. Schell. The woman was taller with a slightly heavier build. Somehow, Matt knew it was Lori Urban.

“Why am I here?” The air grew frigid as she approached Matt’s bed. “Can you help me?”

He tugged at his blanket. “It… it wasn’t your fault.”

“I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t control it.” Lori sobbed. “It was like someone else took over and made me want to die.” She wrapped her arms around herself and massaged them. “I’m so cold.”

Matt wasn’t surprised, considering she was wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and panties. The last time he’d seen a girl so barely dressed, it was a Halloween night. He had snuck into his cousin’s room and hid in her closet wearing a werewolf mask. What he hadn’t expected was that she’d get undressed to change into her costume before opening the closet door. Needless to say, both of them got a good scare that night.

“Tom is waiting for you,” he told her.

“Where?”

“Go to the light. It’s warm there.”

Behind her, a glowing portal appeared, dim at first but it soon washed out the entire wall. Lori made her way toward it. Before stepping through, she glanced over her shoulder and waved. “Thank you.” With that, she was gone. The portal faded.

Matt stared at the wall. “Wow.”

***

The headlights that shone through the kitchen window and glided across the wall startled Elias Gray. As he folded his newspaper and tossed it onto the table, he made a mental note to get curtains. There were still a few such minor furnishings left to complete. Elias had just moved into the house two weeks prior. Since then, he’d been busy arranging far more important matters—such as the visitors arriving at this late hour. It was nearly 3:00 in the morning. Right on time, as usual.

Elias took one last sip of tea and rose from his chair. He glanced out the window into the darkness as headlights approached the house. The pop and rumble of tires over gravel reminded him to call the contractor about having the driveway paved. He started across the kitchen toward the door to the basement stairs. It had been closed and locked a moment ago but was now wide open.

“This again.” The bizarre event had started two days after he moved in. As of yet, Elias had no explanation for it. He dismissed it as he continued down to the basement and unlocked the metal doors that opened to the backyard. He pushed them outward until they stood vertical and locked them in place just as two armed men climbed out of a large, nondescript white van.

The driver, Leland, was the older and shorter of the two. Though only in his late forties, his thinning black hair and sagging, stubbled jowls added years to his appearance. The second man was his nephew, Hagen. Even at twenty-eight, he was referred to as “the kid.” Though he was the tallest of the three men, Hagen’s round, boyish face and unruly blonde hair complemented his often puerile behavior.

Without a word, Elias joined them at the van. Together, they unloaded several framed paintings of various sizes, all wrapped in canvas cloth or bubble wrap. They carried each piece down into the basement and leaned them against a wall.

“Well, that was easy enough,” Hagen said, once all of the cargo was inside.

“There were no heavy wooden crates this time,” Leland added, his voice betraying a slight German accent.

“And there won’t be ever again,” Elias said. “It’s all paintings from here on out. No more marble busts or statues.”

Hagen spun and crept to other side of the basement.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Elias asked. “Looking for something?”

Hagen held up a hand. “I heard what sounded like a woman crying. It was faint, but it got a bit louder while we were talking.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Leland grumbled.

“Actually, I heard that sound down here a few days ago,” Elias said. “Among some other strange things I couldn’t explain.”

Leland waved a dismissive hand. “You’re both crazy. Whatever it was, it came from outside, a stray cat or something. We should close those doors.”

As if on cue, they slammed shut with a thunderous boom. All three men exchanged startled glances.

“Probably… just the wind,” Leland suggested, although by his tone and expression it was clear he didn’t believe it himself.

“What wind?” His nephew said. “There was barely a breeze out there and those steel doors were propped—”

“Whatever! This is going to be one of our biggest payoffs. We’re near the end now so it’s understandable if we’re a little tense. Just relax.” Leland turned to Elias. “What possessed you to talk to the newspaper about the house, Janos? You’re not supposed to draw attention to yourself.”

“His name is Elias now,” Hagen corrected.

Leland snickered. “Elias, Marcus, Karl, whatever you’re calling yourself this month, whatever you look like today, you were born Janos Skorzeny. We go back thirty years and to me, you will always be Janos.”

Elias placed a reassuring hand on Leland’s shoulder. “And you haven’t changed a bit in all that time, my stoic friend. The newspaper reporter came to my door. I had little choice but to talk to him. I thought if I did, he’d be satisfied and leave me alone. However, I refused to have my picture taken.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered,” Hagen remarked. “How many plastic surgeries have you had in the last ten years? Your barely look like yourself with raised cheekbones and curved-in nose and you’re wearing blue contact lenses to hide your violet eyes. Very clever.”

“That and shaving my head were the easiest parts of the disguise,” Elias smiled. “As for the paper, the article was printed at the bottom of some obscure section of local news. No harm done.”

“What do you have to drink around here?” Leland asked.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing the rest of your cool new house,” Hagen said.

“Alone among the dead.”

All three men turned their gazes to the top of the steps. The door was open and light from the kitchen illuminated the upper half of the staircase.

“Is there someone else here, Janos?”

“No.” Elias shook his head. “But then, you read the article.”

Ever the pragmatist, Leland had never believed anything beyond the perception of his five senses. Which was why, when they heard footsteps in the kitchen above, he pulled his gun.

Hagen did the same and motioned for Elias to remain as he followed Leland up the stairs. When they were three steps from the landing, a shadow passed the doorway. Leland bolted into the kitchen. Seeing no one, he continued into the dining room. As Hagen emerged from the basement, Leland signaled for him to check the back door. It was locked. They made their way through the rest of the house but found no intruders.

“There was someone here,” Hagen insisted later when the three regrouped in the dining room. “We heard the voice. We saw the shadow.”

“Welcome to my world,” Elias said. “That door in the kitchen that leads to the basement opens and closes on its own. I’ve locked it before going to bed only to find it wide open in the morning. I’ve heard the crying in the basement, but this voice up here… that was new. As for the shadow, it could have been caused by passing headlights through a window.”

“This is a nice house you’ve built, Elias,” Hagen said. “But what if it really is haunted?”

“Oh, for Chrissake!” Leland holstered his gun.

“If so, I won’t bother them so long as they don’t bother me, and if it becomes a problem, I’ll deal with it. Keep in mind, Leland and I are from Germany where every place is haunted.”

Check back next week for another eerie excerpt from By Your Side!

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