The Dead Speak Ill Of The Living (The Dead Speak Paranormal Mysteries Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

secure email address?”
      
“Sorry?”
      
“I have files to send you, liberated from the computers of the laboratory you
have recently written about.”
      
So not completely in the know then. Hang on “what kind of files. Is something
dodgy going on?”
      
“Let’s just say you can break the story of your career. And many others.”
      
Which struck Dee as strange, as the scientists she’d seen didn’t seem all that
devious, but something bad must be afoot. An email address was duly given, and
as the caller hung on the phone Dee logged in to find a collection of documents
zipped together. A quick look revealed it was about the quantum brain project.
      
“Okay, which one am I looking for?”
      
“Anything from the last week.”
      
“Do I get to find out who you are?”
      
“I’d prefer not.”
      
“Right, this document is about… err…” It couldn’t be. “This suggests, to me, on
a first glance, that they’re building a machine to talk to the dead.”
      
“Bingo!”
      
“Oww, no need to shout in my ear.”
      
“Sorry. But that’s precisely it. They’re not building, they’ve built. And
they’re not telling anyone yet.”
      
“You expect me to believe there’s a machine that can talk to the dead?”
      
“But you have all the documents?” The voice sounded hurt.
      
“I could write a load of documents and send them off to anyone.”
      
“Err… look at the notes, the development, the evidence!”
      
Whoever this voice was, they clearly had been expecting total acceptance of
their claim. Then Dee narrowed her eyes and looked at the phone. “This is
clearly a major story, but why are you so keen to see it in the press? It’s not
bad at all.” But if this wasn’t about Scott claiming to have invented
something, it’s a man trying to preempt Scott, so did the machine exist after
all? The motive didn’t seem to be bullshit artist, unless the target was to
make Dee look silly. And Dee didn’t really have any enemies she couldn’t flat
out just kick in the balls, so they wouldn’t dare.
      
The voice paused. “I have my reasons.” Dee closed one eye and screwed her face
up. If she was pushed, she’d guess if the machine was unveiled now Scott
wouldn’t have enough evidence and would get laughed out. So this caller was
trying to destroy Scott. So Scott had a machine. “Will you look into it?”
      
“Yes, I will,” Dee confirmed, “thank you very much.”
      
If she was expecting a goodbye she didn’t get it, and the line went dead,
leaving Dee looking at the screen.
      
On the one hand, she did indeed have the story of her career. On the other, she
faced the same problems as the doctor: no one would ever believe the device,
unless it could be scientifically proven, and it couldn’t really at this point,
so they’d all look stupid. She might conceivably get it published, but her
editor would take great joy in sacking her as a tinfoil hat wearing freak once
the press frenzy died off and the sales spike had passed. So, basically, she
was in charge of a story she couldn’t use.
      
But, and it was a but that made her chest tighten and her eyes widen, she could
use it. She wasn’t going to write a story, or expose the machine, or fuck
about. What she was going to do was get that machine and take it to where her
father died, and use it to question his ghost what was locked away in her head.
She didn’t need the memories, she could ask the spirit. Assuming there was a
spirit, but didn’t people always haunt where they died horribly? And Dee might
not remember, but from the way everyone used to act, it was clear some horror
was involved.
      
Realising her hands were gripping the sides of her chair, Dee weighed up the
afternoon so far. Secret tipster, a story ahead of its time, a way to talk with
Dad. All in all, enough reason to get to the cupboard and pour a vodka or two.
She was going to do this. She was really going to do