Beyond Normal (A Reese Link Mystery—Book Five)

B E Y O N D   N O R M A L

(A Reese Link Mystery—Book 5)

M o l l y   B l a c k

Molly Black

Bestselling author Molly Black is author of the MAYA GRAY FBI suspense thriller series, comprising nine books (and counting); of the RYLIE WOLF FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books; of the TAYLOR SAGE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising eight books; of the KATIE WINTER FBI suspense thriller series, comprising eleven books (and counting); of the RUBY HUNTER FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); of the CAITLIN DARE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books (and counting); of the REESE LINK mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); and of the CLAIRE KING FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Molly loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.mollyblackauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2023 by Molly Black. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Ryzhkov Oleksandr used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY MOLLY BLACK

CAITLIN DARE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

COME GET ME (Book #1)

COME FIND ME (Book #2)

COME TAKE ME (Book #3)

COME CATCH ME (Book #4)

COME SAVE ME (Book #5)

COME STOP ME (Book #6)

MAYA GRAY MYSTERY SERIES

GIRL ONE: MURDER (Book #1)

GIRL TWO: TAKEN (Book #2)

GIRL THREE: TRAPPED (Book #3)

GIRL FOUR: LURED (Book #4)

GIRL FIVE: BOUND (Book #5)

GIRL SIX: FORSAKEN (Book #6)

GIRL SEVEN: CRAVED (Book #7)

GIRL EIGHT: HUNTED (Book #8)

GIRL NINE: GONE (Book #9)

RYLIE WOLF FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

FOUND YOU (Book #1)

CAUGHT YOU (Book #2)

SEE YOU (Book #3)

WANT YOU (Book #4)

TAKE YOU (Book #5)

DARE YOU (Book #6)

TAYLOR SAGE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

DON’T LOOK (Book #1)

DON’T BREATHE (Book #2)

DON’T RUN (Book #3)

DON’T FLINCH (Book #4)

DON’T REMEMBER (Book #5)

DON’T TELL (Book #6)

KATIE WINTER FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SAVE ME (Book #1)

REACH ME (Book #2)

HIDE ME (Book #3)

BELIEVE ME (Book #4)

HELP ME (Book #5)

FORGET ME (Book #6)

HOLD ME (Book #7)

PROTECT ME (Book #8)

REMEMBER ME (Book #9)

CATCH ME (Book #10)

WATCH ME (Book #11)

RUBY HUNTER FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IF I RUN (Book #1)

IF I TELL (Book #2)

IF I LIVE (Book #3)

IF I FORGET (Book #4)

IF I RETURN (Book #5)

CAITLIN DARE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

COME GET ME (Book #1)

COME FIND ME (Book #2)

COME TAKE ME (Book #3)

COME CATCH ME (Book #4)

COME SAVE ME (Book #5)

REESE LINK MYSTERY

BEYOND REASON (Book #1)

BEYOND REACH (Book #2)

BEYOND REPAIR (Book #3)

BEYOND DOUBT (Book #4)

BEYOND NORMAL (Book #5)

BEYOND HOPE (Book #6)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Is this really where I'm supposed to go? Eliza thought, shivering as she stared up at the dilapidated house that was crouched on the edge of the hill like some type of tumor. The yard was overgrown, the curtains drawn, the driveway empty.

In short, it looked as if nobody had entered the house in about a decade.

A brisk autumn wind rushed down the hill, tearing leaves from the trees and snatching at Eliza's hair, which she hastily tied behind her head. She held the letter in her hand up to the moonlight, reading the address on the invitation for what seemed the hundredth time.

Yes, the address is right. This is where I'm supposed to find the haunted house.

Only…this didn't look much like a haunted house. An abandoned house, sure. But haunted? Hardly.

When she received the letter in the mail earlier that week, she'd assumed it was just a flier randomly stuffed into her mailbox by some enterprising individual in her neighborhood. Having been dumped by her boyfriend, Liam, the previous weekend, she'd thought a haunted house would be a fun diversion, and so she'd invited several friends to come along.

At the last minute, however, those friends had flaked on her, forcing her to choose between an evening on the couch with her gray tabby and an adventure with some good-natured scares.

Now, standing in front of the abandoned-looking building, Eliza wondered if she had made the right choice.

Maybe it was all a joke to get me to come out here. Probably Liam's doing, or one of his cohort of track buddies. They're probably watching and laughing right now.

The very thought caused her to itch with rage. She knew that beneath this rage was fear—fear that she would again be made a fool of, as she had when Liam dumped her in the cafeteria in front of the whole school. The knowledge that he'd been making out with her best friend was bad enough, but for him to cast her aside like a toy he'd outgrown, in front of all her peers no less—

It was enough to cause her blood to boil.

She clenched her hands at her sides. Prank or no prank, she said to herself in a low, determined voice, I'm going in there. And if Liam's in there, I'll give him something to laugh at.

Liam was a jerk, that much was beyond doubt, but he wouldn't physically harm her. He wasn't the type. Scaring her, though, and having a laugh at her expense? That fit him to a T.

But Eliza wasn't going to tolerate it, not any more.

As she climbed the steps to the porch, she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. The wood creaked beneath her feet, and she winced, half-expecting the porch to collapse. But it held, and she made her way to the front door.

The door was slightly ajar, and Eliza hesitated, wondering if she should turn back. She resisted the urge to check the invitation yet again. This was the right address—she had already confirmed that much. Maybe the open door was just another creepy touch intended to spook her.

Whatever happened, she couldn't let Liam win by chickening out now. If he thought he could scare her away, he had another one coming.

With a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The interior of the house was as dilapidated as the exterior. The air was thick with the smell of mold and decay, and the only light came from the moonlight streaming in through the windows. Eliza's eyes flicked around the room, taking in the peeling wallpaper, the dust-covered furniture, and the cobwebs that hung from the ceiling.

She let out an exasperated sigh. So it is all just a big joke, she thought. This really is an abandoned house, not a haunted one. I don't see a single prop.

She felt angry at being duped. She wanted to give Liam a piece of her mind, but she doubted he was there. It would be more like him to watch from afar, recording the whole incident while giggling helplessly with his friends.

As she turned to leave, however, something on the hallway floor caught her eye.

A trail of blood.

A shiver coursed through Eliza. She had been through enough haunted houses and rides to know what fake blood looked like, and this did not look like fake blood. It looked real.

Startlingly, uncomfortably real.

It can't be real, she told herself. It's just food coloring and corn syrup, that's all.

Suppressing her fears, she moved forward, determined to see what other scares this house might have to offer. She wasn't going to let a bit of fake blood scare her away.

The trail of blood led her through the house and past several run-of-the-mill scares Eliza had seen a hundred times before: fake spiderwebs, ghostly whispers, flickering candles, a hanging ghoul with knives sticking out of it, and several creepy dolls strategically placed for maximum shock value.

You're going to have to do better than that to get to me, Liam.

As she followed the blood trail down into the basement, however, her sense of unease grew. She'd gone to a number of haunted houses in the past few years, but there was something different about this place, something that made all the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Swallowing hard, she stepped forward, following the trail into the dark depths beneath the house. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and soon she could make out a faint shape lying in the corner of the room.

Eliza gasped and stumbled back in shock. The body was lying motionless in a pool of blood, its face half-covered with a cloth. But as Eliza edged closer, she realized the body didn't look quite right.

Turning on her phone's flashlight, she stepped cautiously toward the body. She studied it for a few moments, then relaxed.

It was just a mannequin—and not a particularly good one, either.

When she initially received the invitation for the haunted house, she'd thought the amateur writing must be a deliberate effort to make the invitation seem personal and inviting, a mere marketing tactic. Everything she had seen so far, however, was too amateurish to represent a money-making business.

And speaking of money, why hadn't anyone taken hers? Why had she been allowed to enter without paying?

This has Liam all written over it. He and his buddies are probably laughing themselves silly right now. Well, we'll see who has the last laugh.

No longer interested in playing along, Eliza returned to the stairs and began climbing back up to the first floor. Halfway up, she heard a sound that chilled her to the bone.

A crying sound. As if there were a baby somewhere in the house, a baby in need of care.

It's just a trick, a dirty trick. There's no baby.

Yes, that was logical. There couldn't possibly be a baby in this decrepit, rundown house.

And yet...what if she really was hearing a living, breathing child? Maybe that was why nobody had met her at the door to take her money—there were just a couple of employees on staff, and one of them had brought along a child because they didn't have anyone to babysit.

It seemed far-fetched…but how else was she to explain what she was hearing?

Her rational mind told her to leave, but her heart tugged at her to stay.

I need to know. One way or another, I need to know.

The sound came again, this time a piteous cry. That settled it. Steeling herself for whatever other surprises this house might have in store for her, she set off in search of the baby.

She followed the sound of the crying, her flashlight sweeping over the old, dusty furniture as she searched. The sound grew louder until she came to a door at the end of a hallway. It was ajar, and the sound was coming from within.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. There was no light except for the beam of her flashlight, which illuminated a small crib in the corner of the room. Neither were there any people around—not adults, anyway.

Eliza moved closer to the crib, her heart pounding in her chest. Someone had forgotten the baby, or perhaps left it here on purpose, wishing to be rid of the responsibility. She was not sure of the reason, and she didn't entirely care just now. Her maternal instincts kicked in and she rushed forward, arms outstretched as she reached down to scoop up the child.

Only it was not a child but a plastic doll, light and flimsy, its knees and elbows as rigid as the smile frozen on its face. Eliza held it at a distance from herself, suddenly puzzled.

If this doll was not the source of the crying, then where had it come from?

No sooner had the thought entered her mind than she heard it again: now a soft, defeated whimper. Slowly, dreading what she might find, she turned the flashlight in the direction of the sound.

On a dusty dresser crowded with knickknacks stood a stereo. As Eliza crept closer, she could hear a faint humming sound as a CD spun inside the stereo.

Then, just as she was wondering what kind of person would have a CD of crying baby sounds, she heard a creak behind her. She turned around to see a shadow looming over her, dressed in an enormous cloak. Where there ought to have been a face, she saw instead a pair of gleaming goggles and a long, conical beak.

So pretty, a rasping voice said, extending a hand with long nails.

Eliza screamed and shoved the arm aside, racing from the room. She pelted down the hallway, panic and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She had been in plenty of haunted houses before, but something about that room – the crib, the stereo, the man with the mask – had struck her as wrong somehow, something far more devious and threatening than a prank.

She couldn't stay here a second longer. She needed to escape.

Not daring to look back to see whether the masked figure was following her, she ran down the hallway and back toward the stairs. When she reached the front door, a horrible realization dawned on her.

It was locked, barred from the outside.

She spun around, sweeping her flashlight across the room as if it were a sword. To her surprise, however, she didn't see anyone there. Doubt began to creep in.

Maybe it really is a haunted house—a weird one, sure, but maybe these people didn't have much of a budget. If that's the case, all you have to do is say you want to be done.

She cleared her throat, which had gone dry, and said in a loud, if tremulous, voice, I don't want to do this anymore. I want to go home.

Silence greeted her words. Then, as she waited, she heard a single sound: a baby's whimpering cry.

The sound both chilled and angered her.

Enough of this, she thought. I'm going to march back up there and give that person a piece of my mind.

Setting her jaw, she retraced her steps. She was nearing the stairs when she rounded a corner and found herself face-to-face with the ghoul suspended from the ceiling—she'd forgotten it was there. Instinctively she threw up her hands to protect herself, and her palm brushed the blade of one of the knives sticking through the creature's chest.

There was a sting, and a line of blood began to seep from Eliza's hand. She stared at it, incredulous.

So it was real, after all. No haunted house would use actual knives, not where people could run into them. This was no mere joke—whoever had brought her here had far more sinister motives.

But