So, the second book I’m working on is actually book #3 in the Ghost Releasers, Inc. series. It is called Ghostly Perceptions. The main characters are Rafe Elliott, a widower with a small son, Joey, being tormented by the ghosts of his murdered friends. Donna Collins is the main character in this story. She appears earlier in Ghostly Intentions and Ghostly Deceptions as a member of the Ghost Releasers, Inc. team. Her specialty is cameras to film the otherworldly and paranormal.
Rafe Elliott didn’t believe in ghosts. It didn’t matter how much Joey cried in his room or how much it made his heart break to hear his son sobbing in his room. His hands clenched into fists on his thighs. He pressed to keep his feet firmly on the floor beside his bed. He wasn’t going into that room again tonight. The first time he’d done the open the closet, look under the bed routine. The next three times he’d opened the door and reassured his child the boogyman was not going to get him. The last time he’d yelled from his own bedroom that it was bedtime and he wasn’t going in there again.
His resolve lasted all of five seconds before the boy’s blood-curdling scream rebounded across the house and Rafe leapt off the bed and rushed out the doorway.
The sprint down the hallway seemed to take a lifetime as Joey’s screams ratcheted up another octave. Dogs howls echoed from the neighbor’s yards. Thumping came from his son’s room as if the bed were being moved across the floor.
He grasped the doorknob and hissed in pain at the intense cold of the metal froze his hand to the surface. With a scream of his own, Rafe ripped his hand from the knob, leaving a layer of skin behind.
Turning, he dove against the door with his shoulder. A crack sounded, but the door remained shut. Two more slams of his body and the door ripped open, bouncing off the wall as he stumbled into his son’s room.
Small for his age, Joey was a tiny figure in his bed as the covers whipped away from him and flew to the other side of the room. His hands held onto the headboard as if he would be flung across the room next. His son spotted him in the doorway, as his large blue eyes begged for help.
The small whisper hit him like a sonic boom, piercing his heart. He was supposed to protect his son from everything, but how did you protect someone from what you couldn’t see or couldn’t understand. Like dealing with Elise’s cancer, he was out of his depth and clueless.
Jill James, romance writer