“What did you tell him?”
Shame flushed his face. “I lied and said nothing. Didn’t want him to think I was a nut.”
She only folded her arms over her bosom and nodded slightly. She didn’t need to say anything else. The point was made.
“I’ve always had a hard time telling him what’s really on my mind,” he said. “He acts like that with me, too. It’s like we’re handicapped or something.”
“But you’re working on it. This stuff might actually bring you guys closer.”
“Wouldn’t that be ironic?”
“Does your dad know about Mika?” she asked.
“He didn’t say, but he has to know about her. He promised to share the full story, and hey, she owns Mourning Hill.”
Just to confirm, he sat in front of the laptop. The chill of Sammy’s presence lingered in the air.
“Is the sad place called Mourning Hill, Sammy?”
Ghostly fingers plucked the keys: YES
“Sammy’s been telling me all along, ‘sad place is morneng’,” he said. “He was giving me the name of the mansion. Damn, I feel like an idiot.” He dragged his hand down his face.
She sat next to him, massaged his shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, honey. You’d told me everything, and I hadn’t put it together, either. And I know I’m not an idiot.”
He smiled thinly. Returned his attention to the screen. The cursor blinked, waiting.
More questions boiled to the surface of his consciousness.
“Sammy, you said there were lots of ghosts in that house,” he said. “Correct?”
LOTS DED
“Lots of them dead,” Carmen said. “Jesus.”
“Who killed all these people?” he asked.
HER DID TO ALL
His stomach turned.
“Why, for God’s sake?” she asked.
NEDS US
“She needs you for what?” he said.
LIKE FOOOD
“Like cannibalism?” Carmen asked. Her mouth twisted in disgust.
Terrible understanding came to Andrew.
“Not cannibalism,” he said. “She’s feeding on souls, people’s energy, something like that. Maybe that’s how she’s so powerful. She’s eating people’s souls like freakin’ energy bars.”
YES
“But how could she
do
that?” Carmen asked.
“No idea,” he said. “You know how she does it, Sammy?”
NO
“When Dad gets here, maybe we can figure it out,” he said. “But there’s one more thing I want to know right now. Sammy, are we safe in this house?”
CANT SEE HEAR TOO FAR
“She can’t see us here,” he said. “We’re outside of her range. Like I hoped.”
“Thank God,” Carmen said. “Now that’s good news if I ever had any.”
GO TYPENG MAKE TIRED
“Talk to you soon, buddy,” Andrew said.
The iciness evaporated. They rose from their chairs.
“We can finally relax, at least until your dad gets here,” she said. “One of those beds in the back looks pretty comfortable . . .” Her words trailed off as she smiled.
Taking her in his arms, he smiled, too. “Sounds like a plan.”
But anxiety weighed on his shoulders. Sammy had proclaimed that they were safe here, but it couldn’t be so easy to thwart Mika. She was too cunning. He couldn’t silence his worry that she had another trick up her sleeve.
But perhaps he was letting paranoia get the best of him. Maybe they really were safe.
Outside, dark clouds began to gather in the sky.
Chapter 41
R
aymond parked his Ford Expedition behind Andrew’s car in the lake house’s driveway.
It was half-past three in the afternoon. When Andrew had given him directions to the place, he’d advised him to expect a ninety-minute drive from Raymond’s office in Stone Mountain. Raymond violated the speed limit and made it there in nearly an hour.
On the way, he’d called June and told her that he was going to see Andrew and believed they were on the brink of a breakthrough. She wanted to come, too, but he gently convinced her to stay home, assured her that he’d call if they needed her help. He didn’t divulge his true reason for keeping her away: he was afraid to endanger her.
Combining the contents of The Nightmare File with what he’d learned of Andrew’s troubles made him feel as if he sat on a ticking time bomb. He didn’t want his wife to be around when the inevitable explosion hit.
He didn’t want to be around, either, in fact. But his involvement was no longer a matter of choice. It was mandatory.
His son needed him. It was as simple as that. For so many years, he had failed to have his son’s back. He could never erase his mistakes with Andrew, but he could do the right thing when it counted the most. Like now.
Purple-black thunderclouds made it appear as if night had fallen over the world. Blades of lightning lacerated the false twilight. Cold rain had begun to fall, driving into his face like bits of ice as he climbed out of the truck.
Clutching his briefcase, he hurried to the door.
“Hey, Dad.” Andrew let him inside. Carmen hovered behind him. Both of them wore hopeful expressions.
They thought he could solve their problems. Little did they realize that he sought answers from them, too.
They moved to the living room. He unlocked the briefcase, removed The Nightmare File, and laid it on the center of the oak coffee table, amongst other assorted papers.
“Anyone want some coffee?” Carmen asked. “Something to fire up our brain cells?”
“Coffee’s good, but this here will probably get your nerves popping.” He tapped the bulging folder. He shucked off his jacket, felt biting air. “Cold in here.”
Andrew and Carmen exchanged a look.
“That’s probably Sammy,” Andrew said. “He’s been hanging out with us, on and off.”
“Sammy?” Raymond frowned.
“Our resident friendly ghost,” Carmen said casually. “He met Andrew at Mourning Hill, decided to come home with him. He’s only a kid. He said he was lonely.”
“We’ve been chatting with him via computer,” Andrew said. He indicated the laptop in a partly enclosed corner of the living room. “He types answers to us.”
“I see,” he said carefully. He pursed his lips.
Under usual circumstances, he would have called the authorities to have his son and girlfriend committed to an institution. But these were, he had to admit, far from usual circumstances.
He studied the computer screen and the lines of text. He didn’t know the questions that had elicited these responses from the entity, but a reasonably coherent picture formed.
This was as bad as he’d worried it would be.
“We’ve got a ton of questions, Dad,” Andrew said. “But let’s cut to the chase. Who is she?”
Raymond sat on the sofa. Carmen brought coffee for everyone. He waited until she and Andrew were seated before he opened the file. He slid on his reading glasses.
“Of course, you’re talking about the heiress of Mourning Hill,” Raymond said. “Ready for this, kids? According to the records I’ve found, she’s one hundred and eighteen years old.”
Chapter 42
E
ric spent Saturday afternoon at one of his favorite stores: Home Depot. He picked up lawn fertilizer, weed killer, and other landscaping supplies. The pursuit of the perfect lawn was a challenging mission, and stores such as Lowe’s and Home Depot offered an abundance of products that never failed to satisfy a home improvement fanatic such as himself.
Driving back to his house, he passed the charred ruins of Andrew’s home, the area enclosed within crime scene tape. He clenched the steering wheel a little more tightly.
Psychotic broad. He hoped the cops found her and threw her in the joint for a long time. Andrew believed that she would forever elude the law, but Eric’s deep commitment to the legal system led him to hope that justice would be served, and crimes would be punished. Andrew claimed she was some kind of superwoman—like a wacko Wonder Woman with psychic powers—and while Eric tended to believe his boy was telling the truth, no one was above judgment. Even if said judgment only came from the Man upstairs.
He reminded himself to call Andrew and check on how things were going. Andrew had called when he and Carmen had arrived at the lake house that morning, but Eric wanted to touch base with him again. Just to be sure. When someone was stalking your friend, you never could be too careful.
He parked in his garage. His wife’s spot was vacant. She’d gone shopping with her sister, to buy yet more clothes and baby items for the twins.
It was amazing to think that in three months, he’d be a father to twin girls. He still felt like a big kid himself.
He climbed out of the Cadillac Escalade, popped open the rear cargo door. As he lugged the bag of fertilizer to the corner of the garage, he noted that the inner door, which led from the garage to the house, was ajar a few inches.
He’d left the house after Pam, and he was certain that he had locked this door.
Or had he? He was forgetful sometimes. Thirty-three years old with occasional memory lapses. Years of toiling seventy hours a week at a law firm could have that effect on you. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten to lock up. He was only fortunate that, this time, Pam hadn’t arrived home first, or she’d give him an earful.
He took his time unloading the vehicle. He went to the door.
Before he could touch the door, it opened all the way.
On its own.
Chapter 43
O
utside the lake house, thunder rumbled. Lightning flashes shattered the darkness, and winds sniffed around the windows, like creatures eager to come inside.
Dad had paused, letting Andrew and Carmen absorb his stunning revelation.
“She’s one hundred and eighteen?” Andrew said. “I can’t believe it. She looks—”
“Twenty-five?” Dad said. “I know. She looked to be in her mid-twenties when I met her, too.”
“You’ve met her?” Carmen asked. “When?”
“When I was in college at Georgia Southern,” Dad said. “Junior year. That would’ve been about, what, thirty years ago?”
Nervous energy propelled Andrew to his feet. He paced across the living room.
“What happened?” he asked his father.
Dad stroked his chin, remembering.
“I met her on campus. At a frat party. Wild place. Cats were doing their stepping thing, hollering, trying to impress the ladies. She was there, sitting in a corner away from the action. She was the finest woman I’d ever seen in my life, but hardly any of the cats there were hitting on her—well, only the drunk ones were, and she was brushing them off like flies. She had the kind of looks that can intimidate a cat.”
Andrew nodded. He’d initially been hesitant to approach Mika, too.
“Anyway, I’d knocked back a couple of Buds myself, so I was a little loose. I talked to her, said I hadn’t seen her around campus and knew I would’ve remembered her. I’d never forget a girl like that, man. She talked to me; she was polite, friendly. ‘Sophisticated’ is the word I’d use to describe her. Said her name was Tina—name’ll make sense later.
“I thought she was out of place at this loud party. I asked her if she wanted to go for a walk outside. Wanted to get her to myself for a while and really lay down my game, know what I mean? She was fine with that. We ended up going to her place. Mourning Hill.”
“Wow, you guys didn’t waste any time,” Carmen said.
“No kidding,” Andrew said.
Dad smiled a little. “Must say, my game was pretty strong back in the day. But I found out later that my macking didn’t have much to do with why she took me home with her. She had chosen
me.
It was only a matter of me making the first move.”
“Sounds familiar,” Andrew said.
“The estate blew my mind,” Dad said. “It was huge, full of antiques and period furniture. But a lot of the rooms were dusty, didn’t look like they’d been lived in for a long time. She said that her parents had died and left the house to her, so she didn’t use many of the rooms. A caretaker looked after the place for her. I met him. Tall, thin, older gentleman with white hair.”
“Walter,” Andrew said. “I met him, too. He looked old back then?”
“Like he was eighty if he was a day,” Dad said. “But he carried himself like a young man.”
“Sure did.” Andrew recalled the caretaker’s unexpectedly firm grip and hawk-sharp eyes. “Maybe he’s been sipping from the fountain of youth, too.”
“Could be,” Dad said. “Anyway, we went to her room . . . and, let’s just say that we got close.”
Blushing, Andrew avoided Carmen’s gaze; he didn’t want to remind her of the intimate episode he’d had with Mika.