But, even though this place was in the middle of nowhere, after the popularity of the show’s episode, Riley figured there were all kinds of weirdos trying to get onto the property without permission. Skulking about in the woods at night searching for … what? The ghost of a little girl? Of Orin still roaming the premises?
When the other SUV pulled away from the kiosk, Brie inched forward and rolled down the window.
“Hi, folks!” said the man in the booth. He was in his sixties, Riley guessed, and had a full head of white hair. “What’s the name on the reservation?”
“Higgins,” said Brie. “Jade Higgins.”
The man took the paperwork and dipped back into the kiosk. Now it was Jade’s leg’s turn to bounce violently. The car swayed slightly with the force of it.
“Chill, girl,” Riley said.
“Can’t!” she hissed, chewing on a thumbnail for a moment. “What if there was some mix-up or I made the reservation wrong and they don’t let us in? I’ll die if I have to wait another year.”
The friendly white-haired man reappeared, handing a slightly smaller stack of papers back to Brie. “Always a pleasure to have guests in the master suite. That’s where the most activity happens!”
Ugh. Of course it is.
Jade grinned and leaned toward the driver’s seat, craning her neck so she could see the old man better. “Thank you! We’re very excited.”
After a few more particulars, Brie was handed both a parking pass and a map. The man waved them forward to the house. “Have a fabulous stay!”
“We will!” chirped Jade.
The two-story ranch house was made mostly of dark wood. It wasn’t nearly as large as Riley had pictured. On the show, the building seemed massive, but the real thing was modest at best. The peaked awning over the front door was supported by a pair of columns with large stone bases. Huge bay windows sat on either side of the front door, and several Adirondack chairs lined the open patio.
Brie pulled into the small parking lot to the left of the house. Three other cars sat in the lot. Riley wondered if any of them belonged to the local paranormal team which helped guests conduct investigations most weekends of the year. The website said the team stayed in one of the detached guesthouses.
The women grabbed their things and made their way toward the front door. They walked together in pairs, chatting quietly in a tight pack. Riley hung back. The spring evening was cool, bordering on chilly. She huddled a little deeper into her thin jacket.
It’s just a weekend, it’s just a weekend.
The sweep of headlights from a newly arrived car bounced across the front of the house, causing long, jerky shadows to scatter along the façade like startled birds. The car idled at the check-in kiosk.
Something tickled the back of Riley’s neck and she shivered. She rubbed the spot against her shoulder as goosebumps sprang up on her arms.
When the same sensation danced like fingertips across her neck again and down her arm, she ran a hand over the thin fabric of her jacket.
It was a breeze, she told herself. She was just cold.
All at once, a looming presence materialized behind her. It was the feeling of being watched, of eyes tracking your every movement. She hunched into her shoulders, turning sharply. Only the quiet, dark forms of the cars and trees stared back. She shook her head. Already psyching herself out. The house wasn’t haunted. Her room wasn’t haunted. She would have a nice, relaxing weekend. All she needed was to get some sleep and she’d be fine.
An icy breeze swept past her then and her teeth chattered. It felt like a gust off the surface of a glacier. Yet with another two steps, she’d moved out of it.
Heart hammering in her chest, Riley stopped abruptly and reached a hand out behind her. Cold, biting air stung her palm. She yanked it to her chest.
Just breathe, Ry. It’s nothing.
She stood frozen. Waited for an apparition to form, a dark figure to peel away from the shadows. But nothing happened. Her heart rate started to slow to a normal pace.
The end of her jacket tugged down. Not hard. More like a child trying to get her attention. It was the side where she held her duffel and purse. It was the worst case of déjà vu she’d ever had.
Swallowing, she flicked her gaze down, just enough to see if there was someone standing beside her. She half expected to see a small, upturned face peering around the bulk of her belongings on her shoulder. But no one was there.
Shit.
“Ry!”
Her gaze snapped up.
Jade stood on the other end of the patio, a hand on her hip. “You can’t run now, girl!”
Shit.
“Coming!”
CHAPTER 3
The first floor was more reminiscent of a hotel lobby than a house. Since Riley had read up on the house’s history well before she even knew Paranormal Playground was going to feature it, she wasn’t surprised to see how different it looked now in comparison to the pictures she’d found from Orin Jacobs’ time.
After the property had switched hands, the owner gutted the lower level. From the accounts she’d read, after Mindy Cho made it to safety, the police had raided the house and found it a cluttered mess. Orin Jacobs had been a hoarder of more than young girls—the first floor a maze of boxes filled with books, old magazines, and newspapers. And, oddly enough, bird cages of all sizes. They’d been found empty, but it was clear birds had lived in them once. The man had frequented bookstores and thrift shops on a semi-regular basis.
Mindy, clearly traumatized, had clammed up shortly after she’d escaped. Most speculated she worried Orin would get to her somehow if she talked. So, while she’d told police where to find the ranch, she hadn’t told authorities about the other girls. It was the anonymous tip that came in days after her escape that finally sealed Orin’s fate.
Riley suspected the call had come in from someone who’d seen him in town. Someone who spotted him with another girl, perhaps. Someone who doubted Orin would have stopped at one victim.
The current owner, Porter Fredricks, wanted to turn the house into a bed and breakfast. He remodeled most of the main house, modernized the kitchen, and added an additional guesthouse; his failing health prevented him from completing the project. Now his family ran the business for him.
A series of cabins and horse stables sat on the other side of the large property. The ranch house itself was only open on weekends and for special occasions.
The wood floor beneath Riley’s feet was pristine, gleaming as if freshly waxed. A faint whiff of citrus lay over the more dominant scent of pine wafting in from the open door behind her. The reception desk sat unmanned in the middle of the room, and a few clusters of plush chairs and sofas filled the space to the left of the front door. Most of the chairs and sofas faced the large bay windows overlooking the now-dark grounds. Beyond the seating area was a large, rectangular group dining table. The door opposite likely led to the kitchen.
On the other side of the reception desk, a flight of stairs hugged the wall. Flickering candle flames danced in sconces spaced diagonally, mirroring the rise of the stairs.
The clip of heels on wood drew Riley’s attention to a pretty, middle-aged woman in gray slacks and a black cardigan sashaying into view.
“Hello, ladies!” she said, her stick-straight blonde hair swaying as she hurried over. “Come, come, let’s get the last of your reservation taken care of.”
Jade dropped the smaller stack of paperwork on the polished wood surface of the reception desk.
The woman clacked away on a keyboard Riley couldn’t see over the lip of the desk’s counter. “Oh, excellent! You have the master suite. That’s the Hyssop Room. Go up the stairs, then make a left and head all the way down, then make a right. The room is at the end of the short hall. It’s a lovely room.” She looked up from her computer screen for a moment to lean forward and say, “And our most active!”
Riley’s stomach churned.
“There are two queen-sized beds in
the suite and a couch. If you need more sleeping accommodations, we’re happy to oblige. It’ll be extra, of course. And there will be an extra daily meal charge on your credit card because—”
“Not a problem, not a problem,” said Jade. “We’re just grateful you could make room for a group this size.”
“You were quite persuasive in your emails, Mrs. Higgins.”
Rochelle and Riley shared a knowing glance.
After a few more minutes, an unseen printer hummed to life and spit out a few pieces of paper for Jade to sign. Riley tried to look over her shoulder to see what the grand total was, but Jade shielded it from view.
“If you ever need anything during your stay, just call. Either Wilbur, our jack-of-all-trades, or I will be there in a jiff. I’m Angela.”
“Thank you so much, Angela,” said Jade, handing IDs back to Riley and the others. “Do introductions start this evening?”
Angela nodded. “Yep! The folks from the investigation team arrived about an hour ago and will be here shortly to meet everyone. We’ll have late snacks and hot cocoa. In the morning, we’ll have a full continental breakfast served between eight and eleven.”
“Perfect!” Jade said. “We’ll just toss our stuff upstairs real quick.”
“They’ll meet you at the dining table.”
As Riley followed the girls up the stairs, she blew out slow, calming breaths. Please don’t be haunted, please don’t be haunted …
The Hyssop Room was spacious; two queen-sized beds sat to the left and a living-room-like area to the right. In the middle of the back wall were a pair of doors leading to a small balcony. One of the doors stood open, letting in the cool night air. Its white, gauzy curtains fluttered in the breeze.
“Man, this place is nicer than I expected,” Pamela said. “I guess on the show we only really saw it with that weird night vision glow.”
Riley held her breath, waiting for something creepy to happen now that she stood in the “active” room. But everything stayed still, save for the curtains.
“I volunteer to take the couch,” said Rochelle, breaking the tension Riley was sure only she felt. “I’m small enough to fit on it comfortably.”
“You sure?” asked Brie. Riley guessed she was merely being polite, given that she was pushing six feet. “Maybe we can trade off.”
“Nope! I call couch,” said Rochelle. “During my gap year, I did a lot of couch surfing. Brings back memories. But it also means I can sleep like a log practically anywhere.”
“A bathtub?” Riley asked.
“Oh, I’ve done that,” said Brie.
Riley cocked a brow at her.
“I was totally shitfaced. I have no idea how I ended up there; I woke up in a panic, worried someone had harvested my kidneys.”
Riley decided she liked Brie.
When they made their way back downstairs, a new group of people stood in the lobby—two couples, as far as she could tell. They all wore skinny jeans and dark tops. The guys both had short, scraggly hair that likely fell in their eyes a lot. Riley guessed they were in their mid-twenties, too.
In the cluster of chairs and sofas in front of the bay windows, a group of two women and a man sat talking. The guy sported a sensible outfit of jeans and a button-down shirt. The women both wore slacks and blouses, like maybe they’d all driven here straight from work. Thirties, maybe.
Riley employed deep breathing exercises while pretending to listen to her friends as they speculated about the investigation team. Ten minutes later, a group of three men and one woman strolled through the front door. They all wore dark jeans and shirts, like a clan of cat burglars. One of the men carried a bulky duffel.
“Hey, everyone,” said a Hispanic guy with graying hair at his temples, a bit of a gut held in place by the black shirt tucked into his pants. “Let’s gather at the table over here and have a seat.”
The three groups wandered over and squeezed onto the benches on either side. The investigation team stood at the head of the table, their backs to the kitchen. The guy with the duffel placed his bag on the table.
Riley sat squished between Pamela on one side, and one of the thirty-year-old women on the other. Her male and female companions sat across from Riley. She was at the opposite end of the table from the team, so she leaned forward slightly to get a better look.
“We’re from Southwest Ghost Investigators. The dude sporting the sweet goatee is Mario, Nina is beside him, Derrick is sporting the not-so-sweet mustache, and I’m Xavier.”
“Your mustache is luxuriant,” Mario assured Derrick.
Derrick ran a finger and thumb down the length of it twice. “Thanks. But we both know Xavier is just jealous that we can still grow hair while all his is falling out.”
Nina laughed.
“Yeah, yeah,” Xavier said smiling, waving the other guys off. “You’re stuck with us for the weekend, folks. For now, we’re going to go over some basics and make some introductions; we’ll go into more depth tomorrow.”
On cue, Derrick opened the duffel bag and pulled out various investigation tools. Jade squealed. Or maybe it was Pamela. Out came handheld video cameras, electromagnetic field meters, audio recorders for EVPs, thermometers, and dowsing rods.
Riley mostly tuned out the instructional lecture and evaluated the group sitting at the table. The two women who came with the guy took the last spots on either side of the table’s end and hung on every word. The guy sat almost directly across from Riley. Up close, he was far more attractive than she’d registered at first. He looked vaguely bored. Likely a friend or partner who’d gotten suckered into coming. A skeptic.
The Skinny Jean Quartet—who sat near the team—looked far more into it. The couple sitting closest seemed even more enthralled than Jade and the rest of their group. The guy tossed his scraggly hair out of his face with a jerk of his head and then reached out to touch a dowsing rod lying nearby; his leather-jacket-wearing girlfriend swatted his hand away playfully. The second pair switched from gazing at the team to eyeing the tools on the table, as if they could master their uses if they just stared at them hard enough. All believers.
Obviously, Riley’s four companions were believers too.
And what was Riley? A skeptical believer? A reluctant believer?
A poke to her side made her yelp. Pamela’s brows were pulled together.
“What?” Riley mouthed, then glanced around the table. The whole group stared at her, including the team. Lord, had she zoned out and started muttering?
“They’re going around the table doing introductions,” whispered Pamela. “Say your name and why you’re here.”
Riley wiped her suddenly sweaty palms down her pant legs before saying, “I’m Riley Thomas and I’m here because my best friend Jade forced me here under threat of death.”
Jade leaned forward to glare at her from Pamela’s other side, but most of the group chuckled or smiled politely.
“So you’re the group skeptic?” asked the female team member. Nina was short and pale with a dyed-black pixie cut. A small gold hoop glittered in her right nostril. “Every group has one; I like figuring out who it is before we get into the nitty gritty of the investigation,” she said with a not-unfriendly smile.
“I like to keep an open mind.”
Nina and Xavier exchanged knowing smiles. Riley wanted to knock their heads together. She couldn’t pinpoint why turning the hunt for the paranormal into a business irked her so badly, but it did.
“An open mind is all we ask,” said Nina, addressing the group as a whole. “Just know that most skeptics become believers after a weekend here.”
It almost sounded like a threat.
The introductions continued, moving on to Pamela. When they reached the attractive guy, Riley tuned in again. If there was a full-on skeptic, Riley guessed, it was him.
“Hey. I’m Michael Roberts. I’m here with my sister and her wife because … well, honestly? I lost a bet. I never back down from a bet. But I promise to keep
an open mind, regardless.” He shot a quick glance at Riley then, the corner of his mouth tipping up a fraction.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
“So we’ve got two skeptics,” said Nina. “We’ll see which one of you cracks first.”
“This place is truly haunted then?” the girl in the leather jacket asked.
“You bet!” said Xavier. “This is one of my favorite locations for investigations. We’ve recorded scores of EVPs here.”
“What did they say?” she asked, voice soft.
“More … weeping than actual words,” Xavier said.
“Like the little girl who cries downstairs at three in the morning?” Jade asked.
“I keep trying to convince them it’s actually a little boy,” said Nina.
Xavier smiled at her, then addressed the group. “Nina is our sensitive slash medium.”
“I don’t quite talk to dead people,” Nina said, laughing. “But I do sense spirits. I don’t always see them, but I can feel them. The spirit I keep sensing—the one I keep trying to convince the guys is a boy, not a girl—often likes to tease me. He’s quite fond of tugging on shirts and jackets.”
In the process of stifling a gasp, a coughing fit seized Riley. Her eyes watered; Pamela patted her back. As Riley’s cheeks flamed, she was thankful for both the dim lighting and her dark skin.
Trudging on unfazed, Xavier said, “Nina hosts monthly séances and has had some truly remarkable experiences.” His chest puffed up like a proud parent. “She was able to make contact with my mother who had passed away long before I’d met Nina. She brought up things only my family would know. It was that experience that made me recruit Nina for my team.”
Nina smiled at him. “He didn’t have to twist my arm that hard to get me to agree.”
The team then launched into an overview of what the weekend would look like—when to meet tomorrow for their first equipment tutorial and when the first investigation would start.
All Riley could think about was the … experience she had out on the patio less than an hour before. Had a little male spirit been trying to get her attention?
The Forgotten Child Page 3