The Possession

"We need to find who is doing this," Miller said, standing up. "A copycat. A relative. Vane had a son."

"Where is the son?"

"He was put in foster care after the trial. Changed his name. I lost track of him."

Cassie stood up. She walked over to the box of evidence. She felt drawn to it. A strange, magnetic pull that made her fingertips tingle.

"Don't touch that," Miller warned.

Cassie ignored him. She reached into the box and pulled out a small, leather-bound diary. It had belonged to Elias Vane.

As soon as her skin touched the leather, the vision slammed into her.

It wasn't a death this time. It was a memory.

She saw a dark, cramped cell. She saw a man—Elias Vane—gaunt and dying. He was chanting. He was cutting symbols into his own chest with a sharpened toothbrush. He wasn't praying for forgiveness. He was casting a tether.

* My blood to your blood. My rage to your rage. Open the door, my son. Let me in.*

The vision shifted. She saw a young man standing in front of a mirror. He was shaving. The face in the mirror changed. It wasn't the young man anymore. It was Elias Vane’s face, screaming in triumph.

The young man was Deputy Kyle.

Cassie dropped the diary. She stumbled back, gasping.

"Cassie?" Miller grabbed her shoulders. "What did you see?"

"It's not a copycat," Cassie choked out. "It's him. Elias. He didn't move on. He... he hitched a ride."

"What are you talking about?"

"His son," Cassie said, looking at the door to the dispatch area. "His son is here. He let him in. He’s wearing him like a suit."

Miller followed her gaze. "Kyle?"

"He’s Vane’s son?"

"Kyle... Kyle Jenkins. His mother’s maiden name was Jenkins." Miller’s face went pale. "I hired him two years ago. He was top of his class."

"He’s been waiting," Cassie said. "Waiting for his father to die so the spirit could transfer. Kyle isn't Kyle right now. He’s Elias."

The door to the office creaked open.

They both spun around. The dispatch area was empty. The chair where Kyle had been sitting was spinning slowly.

"He heard us," Miller whispered.

Miller grabbed his service weapon. "Stay here."

"No," Cassie said. "He’s going to the Sawmill. That’s where the rough wood is. That’s where he killed the workers. That’s where he wants to finish it."

"You stay here," Miller commanded. "That's an order."

He ran out into the rain.

Cassie watched him go. She looked at the clock. It had been eighteen hours since the vision. The timeline was collapsing.

She couldn't stay. She was the only one who could see the truth. Miller couldn't shoot a ghost.

She grabbed the keys to the impound lot off the hook and ran out the back door.