GHOST HUNT

  by

  Pandora Pine

  Ghost Hunt

  Copyright © Pandora Pine 2026

  All Rights Reserved

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Digital Edition: February 2026

  PROLOGUE

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  EPILOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  Amity

  Salem Village, June, 1692…

  Locked underground in the Salem Village jail it was hard to tell if it was day or night, but Amity Wellington knew dawn had broken. It was to be her final morning on this good earth thanks to her friends and neighbors. Hilda, who thought Amity was having relations with her pig farmer husband, who reeked continually of pig shit and was missing a front tooth. Susanna, whose husband, Jonathan, had tried to force himself upon Amity, but had thankfully been repelled by Midnight, the raven, who followed Amity like a lost puppy. Rebekah, whose jealousy over Amity’s midwifery skills, had led her to call out Amity as a witch.

  It had been Rebekah who’d been the one to deliver Amity’s own child a mere three days ago in this foul dungeon. She’d been allowed one hour with her child. A beautiful baby girl Amity decided to name Verity, meaning truth. Ripping the child from her arms. Rebekah had spat at Amity and told her that she and baby Grace would be going home with Charles, Amity’s husband, who’d condemned his wife the moment the constable had arrived to take Amity into custody.

  Amity didn’t need her powers to know Rebekah had accused Amity of witchcraft for the sole purpose of making Charles her own. Henry, Rebekah’s husband, had been carried off by a fever a few short months ago. If only Rebekah had asked about Charles, she would have been happy to inform her neighbor that her husband may have been all smiles and charm in public, but at home, he was controlling, demanding, and cruel. Amity would have happily given her husband to Rebekah had she but asked.

  In the days since Amity had been arrested and brought to the jail, she’d been vigorously examined by local constables who claimed to be looking for witches’ marks; signs she’d made a deal with the devil, and sealed their covenant with her body. Several marks had been found. She’d had them since childhood, but that did not matter. The marks were simply evidence to be used against her. As for what Amity was forced to endure after the inspections were complete, she would make sure the men who’d violated her body and soul paid the price.

  The visits to Amity’s cell had not stopped after witch marks were found on her body. She’d been visited by local constables, who’d let her know that if she would perform certain acts, she’d be set free. Amity refused. She’d received similar visitations from judges, selectmen, and prominent members of Salem Village, all of whom assured her that she would be cleared of all charges if she would simply kneel before them. Amity had refused. Men of the cloth were no better. They begged her to plead guilty, saying she’d be set free to live a godly life with her child if she complied. Amity knew that would not be so. Her child would be taken. She would lose her home, her medicinal garden, the few remaining friends she had left, and her reputation as a healer. Whether she lived or died would depend on the charity of others. Considering the fact that her friends and neighbors were the sole reason Amity found herself in the dungeon to begin with, she had no faith these same people would offer food or forgiveness.

  “Last chance, bitch!” A vile voice called from down the hall. Heavy footsteps and the jingling of keys followed.

  Amity knew the voice belonged to Thatcher Webb, who was a bastion of the Salem community. He was on the panel of judges adjudicating cases with charges of witchcraft. He was the man who’d condemned her to death. Amity had known the Webb family for years, having delivered their three children.

  Webb came to stand in front of Amity’s dreary cell. “Repent and be free.” He wore a hungry look and sported a bulge in his pants.

  Taking a deep breath, Amity stood, clasping her hands together, shoving her hair over her shoulders. Her long dark tresses cascaded down her back, freed from her usual braid, while her icy blue eyes blazed with anger. “I am already free.”

  Webb laughed. “As delusional as you are beautiful. Kneel before me and I will judge you innocent of the charges. We both know you’re not a witch, Amity.” Webb licked his lips as if he were about to enjoy a sumptuous meal.

  Amity knew nothing of the sort. “I kneel before no man.”

  Webb growled and reached out for Amity, seeming to forget there were bars between them. “You will hang. I will make sure of it. Your death will not be easy. It will not be quick. I will make sure the noose is tied incorrectly, so that you will slowly strangle to death, able to see and hear the hate and disdain your fellow townsmen carry for you.”

  “Blessed be, judge,” Amity said, turning from the enraged man. Webb thought he would have the last laugh. The pompous ass had no idea the storm was yet to come.

  1

  Jude

  February, present day…

  Jude reached for the ever-present bottle of Tylenol on the kitchen counter and popped two of them into his mouth. Wolf, Lizzy, Everly, Ezra, and Aurora were in the living room laughing over an episode of Sesame Street. Lizzy and Ezra had fallen in love with the show. Cookie Monster especially, which made snack time clean up a bit problematic. Jude’s favorite was Super Grover.

  There had been no watching Sesame Street when Jude had been growing up. When he’d lived in Albuquerque with his father, he’d had a strict babysitter who believed television rotted children’s brains. What young boys needed was time outside. While he’d tried to amuse himself in the backyard, the babysitter spent the afternoon watching her “stories.” Apparently, General Hospital did not rot brains, although being stuck on the sofa for the last eight weeks had taught him otherwise.

  Jude’s last week of sick leave coincided with the kids’ February vacation, which was why he was watching Bert and Ernie instead of finding out who really shot Drew Cain on General Hospital. His money was on his wife’s ex-husband. If working for the Salem Police Department had taught him anything, it was that it’s always the husband.

  “Daddy!” Everly shouted, running to the door. She swung it wide open as Ronan came inside carrying a large handled bag from the local ice cream parlor.

  “I’ve got baby cups for everyone.” Ronan reached into the bag and started handing out cups with plastic domes.

  “I am not a baby!” Aurora pouted.

  “So that means you don’t want your ice cream?” Ronan’s bottom lip trembled and he started to cry. “I’m a failure!” he wailed. “I’m not fit to show my face in public.”

  “It’s okay, Uncle Ronan.” Aurora patted his back. “I’ll be a baby just for one day.” She took the cup and spoon from him.

  “My hero!” Ronan crowed before passing out cups to the rest of the kids. He angled his head toward the kitchen and Jude followed behind him.

  “How are you today?” Ronan asked, pulling out the last two ice cream cups from the bag.

  “Honestly, I’m bored as hell. I love having the kids, but it’s only Monday and I’m already feeling caged in.” Bored as hell was an understatement. Jude felt like he’d been ready to go back to work for the last three weeks, but his doctor kept him back. He’d finally gotten a clean bill of health on Friday. Now, he was able to resume all activities, including driving and going back to work. Jude couldn’t wait.

  “Since it’s school vacation week, there should be a lot of things to do. We could go to the movies, disco bowling, Disney on Ice, the Museum of Science. The train from Salem would take us right into North Station at the Boston Garden. What do you think?”

  Jude nodded. “Sounds good. I’m just antsy because I’m at the end of this forced down time. I don’t think I’ve spent this much time on my ass in my entire life.”

  “I know how you feel. Ten had to practically tie me to the bed after the last time I was shot. The last thing I wanted to do was sit home and do nothing, while the world went on without me.” Ronan shook his head. “The office isn’t the same without you. I love having Greeley around, but he and Fitz are joined at the hip, which is great for them, and makes sense so he can learn the ropes, but I’ve been…”

  “Lonely?” Jude asked with a snicker.

  “Maybe,” Ronan muttered under his breath. “I’ve picked out three cases for you to look at when you get into the office on Monday. Whichever one you like best is the one we’ll tackle.”

  “Fitz is ready for me to jump right back into the fray?” Jude had a feeling it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  “I don’t see why not. You’re medically cleared. He was the one who had to send the letter from your doctor to the Salem Police HR Department.”

  “Yeah, that’s just Fitz following procedure, but you and I both know he’s gonna fret over me like a toddler with a runny nose. It’s been two months of that kind of shit. I’m fine! My headaches are gone. So is my double vision. I’m as good as new.” Jude st ood up to twirl around. His left knee cracked. “Okay maybe not as good as new, but not ready for the scrapyard yet either.”

  “We’re both over forty. Fitz is over fifty. We’re in the prime of our lives and our careers.” Ronan sighed. “Look, we almost lost you. It wasn’t like you had a bump to the head or a couple of stitches, you were on life support. A machine was breathing for you, Jude. I don’t want to sound like a drama queen but you have no idea how it affected me, seeing you lying limp in a hospital bed, your vital signs running across a monitor, reminiscing about all the great times we had together and praying to God we had more to come. I think we’ve all got some trauma to deal with, so you can’t be angry with us if we treat you with kid gloves for a little while.”

  “You’re gonna be just fine, Uncle Jude,” Everly said, walking into the kitchen with empty ice cream containers. She dumped them into the trash and took the seat next to Jude at the table. “You and Daddy are gonna solve the Pistachio case in no time. I promise. Remember when I was a little girl and couldn’t wait to drive your car?”

  Jude snickered. “You still are a little girl!”

  “Hilarious, Uncle Jude. I’m seven years old now.” Everly giggled. “You told me to be patient, that there were so many amazing things that were gonna come my way before it was time to learn to drive. I think that was your way of telling me there was no chance you’d ever let me drive the Thunderbird.” She elbowed his ribs and waggled her eyebrows. “But I listened to what you said about being patient and now it’s my turn to give that advice back to you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and hopped off her chair.

  “What do I say to Fitz if he sticks me on desk duty?” Jude asked, feeling much better than he had a few minutes earlier.

  Everly raised her hand, as if she had the answer to a question in class. “Do what we always do; say okay to his face and then do what you want, right Daddy?”

  Ronan burst out laughing. “You learned from the best.”

  “I sure did!” Everly hugged Ronan before running back into the living room.

  “She’s not wrong, you know?” Ronan grinned. “I mean, I’ll feel differently when she’s sixteen and wants to go on car dates with boys, but I don’t see a problem where you’re concerned now, do you?”

  “We’ve always been more of a beg for forgiveness instead of ask for permission kind of team.” Jude popped the plastic dome off his ice cream and dug in.

  “I don’t see any reason to change that, do you?” Ronan asked.

  “Nope!” Jude burst into an easy laugh. He felt better already. “What the hell is the Pistachio case?”

  It was Ronan’s turn to laugh. “It’s the Pistorio case. Maria Pistorio was found dead in her bathtub in 2005. Her husband, Rocco, said she drowned accidentally, but there were marks that indicated maybe she’d been drowned on purpose. The medical examiner wasn’t able to say definitively if the death was murder or an accident, so the case has sat in the unsolved pile for quite a long time. It’s time we try to get Maria some justice. Our first step is to interview the husband.”

  “It’s always the husband!” Jude grinned. He was going to hit the ground running and wasn’t going to look back.

  2

  Cope

  Cope’s final reading of the day had been rough. His client, Wilma Florentine, had lost her husband just after Christmas. He’d suffered for nearly a decade with dementia and when his spirit arrived to speak with his devastated wife, all he’d done was belittle the woman and complain about the way she’d cared for him. It was Cope’s policy not to allow malicious spirits to say their peace. He’d tried to pussyfoot around to cushion the blow of what was being said, but Wilma had known her husband hadn’t been pleasant. She’d left the shop in tears.

  All Cope wanted to do was go home and take a long, hot bath. He knew Jude had all five kids for the day and would be worn out. The bath would have to wait. He popped his head into Ten’s office. “You almost done for the day?”

  “I am done. I was waiting to see you after that last reading. I could hear what that spirit was saying to his wife. My heart broke for her.”

  “Same,” Cope agreed, taking a seat across from Tennyson. “It made me think of Jude and the time he spent in the hospital and when we brought him home after his accident. We all did what we could to keep him comfortable. To make sure he took his meds, had clean clothes and hot meals. It would kill me to find out that Jude was angry or bitter over the care we’d given him.”

  “I wondered if the husband was just angry that he’d spent those last ten years losing himself and his memories and needed someone to blame in the afterlife. It’s always the spouse, isn’t it? They always blame us.” Ten shook his head.

  “You’re right. We’re always the hero or the zero. There’s not a lot of wiggle room.” Cope rolled his neck. It was nice that Ten could commiserate, but he felt a headache coming on. “Let’s get pizza or something. I’m in no mood to cook.”

  “Same here. Ronan texted to say he’d brought Jude and the kids ice cream this afternoon, so at least they’re not all starving.”

  Cope picked up his phone and sent Jude a one-word text. [Pizza?] His answer was almost instantaneous. [Hellz yes!]

  “That settles that.” Cope pulled up Greek Life’s app and placed their usual order; pizza, salads, mozzarella sticks. “It was great of Jude to keep all the kids today, but we can’t do that to him all week. We need to find something for us all to do. Why the hell didn’t we book a house near your brother in Florida for the week?”

  “River and his family are spending the week out west with Barb’s family. He said they’re going to visit Carhenge, in Alliance, Nebraska.” Ten grimaced as if spending time in the corn husker state was the last thing he wanted to do on winter break.

  “Carhenge? What the hell is that?” Cope asked.

  “It’s Stonehenge made out of junked cars.” Ten snorted. “River promised to send me a replica! He said they’re also going to the Kool-Aid Museum and to visit the world’s largest ball of string . He invited us to go with them, but I passed. It all sounded like too much excitement to me.” He rolled his eyes.

  “See, that’s the trouble with New England. No roadside attractions. Wouldn’t you pay to see the world’s largest snowbank?”

  “Don’t need to pay, the largest snowbank is in front of my house. At the rate we’re going with the snow, it’s not going to be melted until Fourth of July.” Ten pulled out his phone. “Like you said, we can’t leave Jude with the kids for the next four days. Here we go, vacation week Haunted Happenings.”

  “Let’s hear them.” Cope loved the different events scheduled in Salem, even during the winter. Any kid could get a pic sitting on Santa’s lap, but in Salem, you could snap a pic with Krampus.

  “They have arts and crafts classes every morning this week. Tomorrow the kids are making dreamcatchers.”

  “That’s a maybe. What else you got?” Cope knew Everly and Aurora loved arts and crafts, but Wolf did not.

  “Oh, wow!” Ten said. “You’re not going to believe this, but Alistair Hooke is coming to town. He’s doing a live group reading tomorrow night.”

  “Seriously?” Cope asked. “With his new television show and hit podcast, I can’t imagine he’s got time to do live readings.” Alistair Hooke was the gold standard for psychics. He was internationally known and respected. Prime Ministers and kings came to Alistair for advice, or so said the online rumors. His charm and charisma drew people to him like moths to a flame, and his dead-on predictions turned even the most ardent skeptics into true believers.

  “According to the theater’s website, there’s still tickets left. I would love to see him in person. I think Everly would too, same for Aurora, since those two are joined at the hip. You think Jude and Ronan would want to go?” Ten asked.

  Cope chuckled. “Jude’s not usually into this kind of thing, but with his cabin fever at an all-time high, I think he’d jump at the chance to get out of the house. Let’s book it. Grab a ticket for Fitz too. Jace is out of town at some seminar in New York City. We’ll take everyone to Lobster Charlie’s after the event to smooth over any ruffled feathers.”

 

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