“Who else knows where you are?” she asked.
“Eric. And he’s the only one who knows how to get here, too. He knows better than to tell anyone.”
“Talked to Raymond?”
“Not in a couple of days. Oh, I forgot—we were supposed to play golf this afternoon. I’ll have to call him and cancel.”
“Don’t tell him where you’re hiding out. The fewer people who know, the better.”
“He’s got no clue what’s been going on with me, anyway.”
“Hmph. What else is new?”
He ignored her jab at his father. She was right, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.
Mom evidently picked up on his feelings, because she changed the subject. “How’s Carmen?”
“Carmen’s great. She’s in the house.”
“So was my dream about you guys right?”
He heard the smile in his mom’s words. He smiled a little, too.
“On the money,” he said.
“Y ’all take care of each other,” she said. “I’m praying for you.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll call you later.”
As he climbed the deck’s steps, Carmen flung open the patio door.
“Come in here, quick,” she said.
“What’s wrong?”
She grinned. “It’s good news. Sammy’s back.”
Chapter 38
C
old, syrupy air had gathered in the alcove, where Andrew had set up the computer on the desk.
He and Carmen sat in chairs in front of the laptop. A message waited on the screen: GESS WHO
“Could it be Mr. Sammy?” Andrew chuckled. “Thanks for coming back, man. And again, I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”
OK
“I’m curious,” Carmen said. “How old are you, Sammy?”
AM EIGHT
“Eight years old when he died,” she said softly. “God, that’s so sad.”
“Can I ask you . . . how you died?” Andrew asked.
IN SAD PLACE
Sad place is morneng.
Before, Sammy had told him that the sad place was a house. A house Mika owned. A wealthy heiress, Mika could conceivably own a mansion.
He’d been nursing a theory about the mansion. It was time to test it.
Carmen watched him, waiting for him to speak.
“I want to ask you about the sad place, Sammy,” he said. “Have I been there before?”
YES
A thrill coursed through him. He felt the same way he did when he was writing and he had discovered the perfect words to express himself. Inspired.
“Was I there when my dad and I got in the car wreck?”
YES
Carmen’s eyes were bright, excited.
Adrenaline flooded his veins. It took a concerted effort for him to sit still.
“It’s all starting to make sense,” he said. “I went in that house when my Dad’s truck turned over. My cell phone didn’t get a signal so I wanted to find a phone. Talk about creepy. That place was something out of a horror movie.”
“Did you see anyone in there?” she asked.
“Not at first. But I felt . . . cold. There was this wind that came from upstairs, practically knocked me down.”
ME
“You?” he said. “That was you, Sammy?”
I WAS LONLEY
“My goodness,” she said. “I bet he came home with you. Rode you piggyback out of there.”
YES
Awed, Andrew could only shake his head.
“What else did you see in there?” she asked.
He stroked his chin, casting his thoughts back to that strange place.
“One of those cats,” he said. “It was in a room, watching me.”
HERS
Carmen’s face soured; she absently touched the scratch on her cheek from her battle with the felines. “Anything else?”
“I met an old, tall black man, too. Said he was the caretaker. I can’t remember his name.”
WALTR
He snapped his fingers. “Right. Walter. Eccentric guy. Anyway, he told me they didn’t have a phone. After that, I left—hell, almost ran out of there. Like I said, the house was creepy. The whole time I was in there, I felt like I was being watched.”
WERE BY LOTS US
“He was being watched by lots of you?” she said. “There are more ghosts in there?”
LOTS OF US
A shudder passed through Andrew and seemed to travel to Carmen, because she shivered, too.
“What about Mika?” he said. “Was she there?”
YES SEEN YOU
He nodded. In light of what he’d learned about Mika’s talent to view him from afar, it didn’t matter whether he had encountered Mika face-to-face at her mansion or not. He had been on her turf, and she had been observing him. And that was when she’d decided to pursue him.
Sad place is morneng.
Still, as much as he’d learned, he didn’t understand everything Sammy had told him. Some pieces of the puzzle eluded his mental grasp.
And then it hit him.
Dad.
His father knew something about the estate. He never would forget the shiftiness in his dad’s eyes when, at the hospital in Statesboro, he’d asked him whether he knew anything about the place he’d driven them to on that fateful, rainy night. Dad had claimed not to know anything about it, swore to have forgotten why he’d taken that bizarre, wild excursion off the highway. Andrew had sensed that his father was lying. But he had left it alone. It hadn’t seemed to matter, and he’d disregarded it as one of those secrets that his father might never share with him.
Until now, he hadn’t realized how important it was to know the complete truth.
He fumbled out his cell phone.
“Who’re you calling?” Carmen said.
“My dad. It’s time we had a chat about some things.”
Chapter 39
O
n Saturday, Raymond was making deals. In the real estate business, the weekend was the busiest time of the week for showing houses and closing sales.
Working allowed him to take his mind off his tumultuous personal life, granted him a few hours of peace. However, he’d brought The Nightmare File with him to the office. In case inspiration visited him.
It was a busy day, but he planned to leave soon, to play golf with Andrew. He hadn’t talked to his son since they’d met at the driving range a couple of days ago, but he assumed that they were still on for their three o’clock tee time at Hidden Hills Country Club in Stone Mountain.
As he was ushering a young couple out of his office, after having them sign paperwork expressing their intent to purchase a property, Tawana ran up to him, eyes flashing.
“Uncle Ray! Have you heard the news?”
“What news?”
“Someone burned down your son’s house. It’s in the paper. Cops think it was arson.”
Shock hit him a kick below the belt.
“You’re kidding,” he said.
She gave him the day’s edition of
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
.
The story was in the Metro section. “Writer’s Home Destroyed, Arson Suspected.”
The reporter had briefly interviewed Andrew. His son said that a woman was stalking him and that he was certain she was responsible for the fire. The authorities stated that they were investigating the claim.
“He hasn’t called you?” Tawana asked. Her tone made it clear that she would be upset if he’d talked to Andrew about this and hadn’t shared the news with her.
“No.” He took the paper into his office and threw it on the desk.
He couldn’t believe something like this had happened to Andrew, and he hadn’t told him a goddamn thing. Here he was, expecting to play golf with him this afternoon, and his boy’s house had been burned to the ground.
Didn’t he matter to Andrew? Wasn’t he important enough to inform about something like this?
Get over it, Ray,
a voice in his head chided him.
You’ve got a long way to go before you join your son’s inner circle. You’ve recently started spending time with him after years of neglecting him. Why the hell would he tell you?
The Nightmare File lay on the corner of the desk.
He’d suspected that something had been going on lately with Andrew. Could this be it? Was this the connection that he had been seeking?
For all of their sakes, he hoped that he was wrong. But he had to find out for sure.
He reached for the phone.
As he did, it rang.
Incredibly, it was Andrew.
As Raymond pressed the handset to his ear, a powerful frisson gripped him, as if something vital yet frightening had clicked into place, at precisely the right time. Every nerve in his body shouted that his nightmares were on the verge of being explained by revelations soon to come.
But first, he launched into safer territory.
“I heard about what happened,” Raymond said. “Ver y sorry to hear about the house.”
“Yeah,” Andrew said. He sighed; he sounded far older than his thirty-one years. “Still can’t believe it. But the past week’s been full of craziness.”
“The story in the paper said a woman’s been stalking you?”
“They printed that, huh?”
“I wish you’d told me about this earlier, son. I . . . I might be able to help you.”
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing, Dad.”
Gooseflesh appeared on Raymond’s arms. This was the strangest conversation he’d ever had in his life.
He opened The Nightmare File. His fingers twitched.
Andrew didn’t speak, but he was breathing hard. Something was eating his son alive inside. It was obvious that his son wanted to talk, but wasn’t sure of himself.
I’m the father. Time for me to act like it and take the initiative to tear down this damn wall between us.
He cleared his throat.
“Andrew, this may sound like a crazy question, but answer it for me, anyway. Does the name Mourning Hill mean anything to you?”
Chapter 40
A
ndrew couldn’t sit still any longer. He bounded out of his chair and paced through the living room.
“What is it?” Carmen asked.
He held up his finger, signaling her to be quiet. He needed a moment to think.
Does the name Mourning Hill mean anything to you?
Sad place is morneng.
His heart boomed like thunder.
“What is Mourning Hill?” he asked his father slowly.
“It’s a house—a mansion, actually,” Dad said. “It has a long, twisted history. Probably means nothing to you, but I figured I’d ask. After all, we were there.”
“I know.”
“You . . . you do?”
“When we were driving back from Savannah. We flipped over across the street from the place. I asked you about it later, but you said you didn’t know anything about it.”
“Christ,” Dad said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know . . . shit, this is a mess.”
“That’s an understatement.” He had to bite his tongue to keep from cussing his dad out with every four-letter word he could think of. Why the hell had his dad lied to him?
“I’m sorry for lying about it,” Dad said. “But we’ve gotta help each other now. Tell me where you’re staying, son. It’s time you learned the full story.”
Andrew gave Carmen the highlights of the discussion with his dad.
“He’s on his way,” he said. “We’ve been pulling our hair out over this shit, and all along he’s had info. The liar.”
“Drew, maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt. What would you have thought if he’d told you about this mansion two weeks ago?”
He shrugged. He didn’t want to admit that she had a good point. It felt better to hold on to his anger. Directing anger toward his dad was a comfortable—and familiar—feeling. He had years of practice with it.
“You wouldn’t have believed him, and you know it,” she said.
“Okay, probably not,” he said. “But he should have let me make the decision about whether I chose to believe him. Don’t try to sweep it under the rug.”
“But you guys have just started getting to really know each other. Stands to reason that he’d hide something that might make you doubt his sanity, maybe push you away from him. Right?”
“All right. Yeah. Come to think of it, last time I saw him he
did
ask me whether anything was going on with me. He had this strange look when he asked, too.”