Tag Archives: by your side

Blog, Writing Retreats

After Action Report: Mindful Writers Retreat – Autumn 2024

After a year’s absence, it was pure joy to return to Ligonier, PA during the third week in October for the Mindful Writers Retreat nestled in the Laurel Highlands region of the Allegheny Mountains.

Everything about the Mindful Writers Retreat is magical, the gorgeous fall foliage that surrounds us, the amazing writers who have become my tribe since I began attending in 2018, the guided meditations we practice each day, the peaceful sunrise walks through the woods, and of course, the hours of quiet writing time each day.

All of these elements come together at the Ligonier Camp and Conference Center, resulting in an extraordinary experience that keeps me coming back almost every autumn (I’ve missed only two since 2018).

My Home for the Week: Room 8 in Lamont Lodge
My Home for the Week: Room 8 in Lamont Lodge
Lamont Lodge

On Tuesday and Wednesday mornings, I took sunrise walks through the endless woods and trails of the Ligonier Camp. As always, these beautiful excursions bring enormous peace to the mind, heart, and soul and, of course, they’re excellent for the body as well.

I spent the first two and a half days editing works written by fellow members of the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group. Every odd year, our group publishes a themed anthology of short stories, essays, and poems. I’ve been on the editing team for these anthologies since 2016.  We’re gearing up for our 2025 anthology, Writing a Wrong. I managed to finish all nine pieces that were assigned to me by Wednesday morning.

The latter half of the week was spent on a sequel to a novella that I’d published in 2018 called Like Mother, Like Daughters. As I did with my first two novels, Testing the Prisoner and By Your Side, I plan to reissue Like Mother, Like Daughters along with its sequel in one omnibus edition. That might happen in 2025, but more likely the year after.

On Wednesday afternoon, I ventured into town with another writer, Lilan Laishley, to ship some items I had sold on eBay the previous Friday. While there, we took the opportunity to cast our votes in the town’s scarecrow contest. It’s a Ligonier tradition that some of the local businesses set up scarecrows around the center of town. Residents and tourists are then afforded the opportunity to vote on their favorite.  In this case, there were about 25 scarecrows to choose from.

      

   

Afterwards, we stopped for ice cream at the Ligonier Creamery before heading back to the lodge for more writing time.

On Thursday afternoon, I walked down to the local creek where I meditated for a brief time and basked under the autumn sun.  Thursday is our last full day at the retreat and in what has become a tradition, most of us took a break from writing to gather around the hearth in the evening.

Thursday night by the fire.
Thursday night by the fire.

However, one of our longtime members, Lori Jones, had the brilliant idea to take a night walk through the camp to some of the cabins scattered about the property. This turned into a quasi-paranormal investigation that ended in a breathtaking star gazing event.

Night walk through the Ligonier Camp and Conference Center
Lori Jones checking out the Alexander House like Nancy Drew!
“Ghost hunting” in the Alexander House.
“Ghost hunting” in the Alexander House.
The Mindful Writers Paranormal Investigators. Any evidence we find can and will be used in a story.

This year’s Mindful Writers Retreat was the most magical one yet. The weather was gorgeous for the entire week (it usually is), our group participated in our usual hijinks and shenanigans,  and I managed to accomplish everything I’d planned for the week.

The only time I ever dislike a Friday is when I’m at the retreat because that is the day all of us part ways and return to reality. Deepest gratitude to Kathie Shoop and Larry Schardt for all they do to organize the Mindful Writers Retreat twice a year. I already look forward to next October!

Blog, New Releases

By Your Side – We Are Live!

By Your Side Front Cover featuring protagonist Miranda Lorensen carrying a young boy while two ghosts stand behind her.It’s go-live day for By Your Side! The paperback and ebook versions are now available! Click here to pick up a copy and thank you for supporting small press and independent authors.

“Phil Giunta’s paranormal novel, By Your Side, is a superb introduction to his work. Think ‘Ghost Hunters’ … but more realistic. The characters are thoroughly believable, the plot is expertly constructed, and the twists and turns keep you flipping pages. If you enjoy reading ghost stories, you’ll enjoy this novel. Highly recommended!”  —Weldon Burge, Author of Harvester of Sorrow

I hope you enjoy the following scene from Chapter Nine – The Fate of the Vernons

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but how could two dead girls end up neatly tucked in their beds?” After turning off the lights, Amy sat against the edge of Elias’s desk and leveled her IR camera at the opposite end of the room where Miranda had seen the Vernon girls lying in bloody repose.

From the comfort of the suede office chair, Miranda shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“It’s interesting that you had visions in specific rooms, as if what happened back then occurred in this house.”

“Well, anywhere we go here, we’re in the vicinity of those events,” Miranda said. “For example, the basement in my vision wasn’t laid out like what’s down there now. It was the Vernons’ basement. At least part of this house occupies the same space as theirs did. From what I saw, their house was perpendicular to this one. It faced the woods, not the street, but there was still a second-story room right about where we’re sitting.”

“Maybe Eddie was right earlier,” Amy said. “Maybe Jeff Vernon doesn’t know that this isn’t his house.”

Miranda held up her digital voice recorder. “Now would be a good time to ask him.”

“Ask me what, ladies?”

She jolted at the new voice, which should have sent her rolling backward if the chair still had casters instead of worn wooden legs. She slid from the orange vinyl seat and backed into what should have been Elias’s desk, but it was gone—as was Amy. The mint green dressers had returned.

Miranda dragged the chair toward her, a protective barricade between herself and the murderer in the doorway. Jeff Vernon didn’t acknowledge her at all but smiled at his daughters sitting on the floor, books strewn about.

Yellow walls were aglow with daylight from open windows. A warm breeze rustled mint green curtains as Jeff entered the room. Heat flared in Miranda’s face, as one might experience when turning a corner and nearly colliding with a sworn enemy. Rubbing his bloodshot brown eyes, Jeff joined his daughters on the floor.

“It’s the last week of summer reading club,” one of the girls said. “And we’re learning the planets, but Natalie’s having a hard time keeping them in order.”

“You didn’t get it right either,” her sister cried.

Jeff held up his hands. “OK. Settle down. Did Mrs. Prembel teach you a trick to memorizing the order of the planets?”

“Yes,” Natalie said. “It goes like this, ‘My Very Excellent Memory Just Served Up Nine Planets.’”

“Right, so what are they?”

“Um, Mars, Venus, Earth, Mercury, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto.”

“Almost right,” Jeff said. “You just need to swap Mercury and Mars. Mercury is closest to the sun. Think of it like this. When you’re sick and we take your temperature, you know that silver stuff in the thermometer? That’s called mercury. When you have a fever, the mercury rises because of the heat. So when you think of mercury, think of heat.” He raised a hand toward the windows. “The sun is hot, and the planet Mercury is closest to it.”

It occurred to Miranda that all she knew of Jeff Vernon came from tragic newspaper articles and a cryptic warning from his wife’s ghost. Here and now, Jeff was a human being, a caring father. He was also a broken man with slumped posture that signified resignation to the suffering that life had inflicted upon him. Long sideburns extended from an unkempt mane of chestnut hair and ended in dense stubble. His gray shirt sagged from his gaunt frame while the waistline of his navy blue pants was bunched up under a white belt. Rapid weight loss from the stress of the embezzlement trial and despair at the loss of his son, no doubt. Miranda sensed his detachment from the world and knew he was no longer engaged in living, which could only mean one thing.

This was the day.

“You know, girls, I’ve been thinking a lot about Adam,” Jeff said. “I miss him and I know you do, too.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I, uh… I was thinking maybe there was a way we could be with him again. Would you like that?”

“Adam was sick, Daddy,” Carla said. “You and Mommy said so.”

“They took him from me. From us.” Jeff struggled to catch his breath. “I wasn’t there when he died because they lied about me. People I trusted for nine years turned on me and because of them, my son died alone. They destroyed my family.”

By this time, he was mumbling to himself. Everyone else was frozen in place, staring at him, including Miranda. Jeff wiped his eyes. “Someday, they’ll get theirs, but I know a way we can be together again with Adam.”

“What about Mommy?” Natalie asked.

“She’ll join us later.”

“What do we need to do?”

Jeff pulled himself to his feet. “Just close your eyes.”

Miranda shrank into the corner and slid to the floor. “No, please. Don’t make me watch this. I know what happened. I don’t need to see it.” The twins exchanged confused glanced before shutting their eyes. “If only I could grab you both and run away from here.”

That was impossible, of course. The history that played out before her was immutable, a permanent scar on the land. It was no different than what she had experienced at the Emery Zoo a few days ago and a hundred places before that. Miranda had long since become inured to glimpses of violence in her visions, but never to the horror of watching children die.

While birds sang and curtains fluttered in a summer breeze, two ten-year-old girls sat on the floor, oblivious to their fate.

In the doorway, their father reached around for the pump-action shotgun.

Blog, New Releases

By Your Side – Countdown to Release – Almost There!

By Your Side Front Cover featuring protagonist Miranda Lorensen carrying a young boy while two ghosts stand behind her.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

By Your Side PromoTo 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

By Your Side Print PromoTo 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 Five – Broken Families

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!