“Let’s sit next to the fire.” Mom nudged them before her heading into the living room. At least the fire provided some illumination.
Shit! If the storm had knocked the power out it would soon get cold in there. And no dinner. They squatted down on the floor, huddling close to the heat source. Angela noticed that there were only two logs left on the hearth. That wouldn’t get them through the night.
Maybe they could leave and get a hotel room. There was no way she wanted to stay in a cold house with no power. Especially not after what had just happened upstairs. This house was starting to feel seriously creepy.
EIGHTEEN
Jake
JAKE’S CELL PHONE LIT THE WAY down the hallway to the cellar door. This was the very last place he wanted to be, with all the spiders and creepy-crawly things down there. He hated any and all kinds of bugs. He flipped the light switch on his way by, so there’d be light when and if the main breaker had somehow tripped, and he could turn it back on. Highly unlikely but still, one could hope.
He crept slowly down the old stairs, keeping his hand on the handrail. He pointed the beam of light along the wall where he’d seen the electrical panel earlier. But it was hard to tell if the main breaker was in the on or off position.
He inched forward, about to take the next step when he got shoved from behind! Hard. He flailed down the stairs, grasping for the handrail but missing. He hit the cement pad at the bottom with a resounding thunk that knocked the wind out of him.
His phone had gone flying at the same time, landing with a clatter and going out. Damn! Now he was in complete darkness. He winced with pain as he got to his feet.
Damn it! The kid? He pushed him? He took a deep breath. That shove had come out of nowhere and was really strong. There was no way that puny kid could have possibly sent him flying like that! He was almost two hundred pounds for God’s sake. Even Lydia and Angela wouldn’t be able to manage it. It had to be a guy. The kid had said he’d seen that guy again.
Oh shit. Maybe he hadn’t been lying.
He had to get the hell back upstairs! There was someone in the house! The drug cartel? Oh God. Pain once more arced in his shoulder when he slid his hand in his pocket to grab the lighter. He flicked it on as his other hand reached for his weapon. He’d find the phone later; it was probably busted up anyway.
The lighter’s flame did little to pierce the darkness, but it was enough to see the next stair. He held his breath, listening. There wasn’t a sound on the stairwell, no breathing or anything to indicate that whoever had pushed him was still there, but he couldn’t take a chance. He’d be no good to anyone if he got broadsided again. Not breathing, and listening with all his might he went up the stairs slowly.
When he got to the upper landing he fumbled at the doorknob. He had left the damn thing open when he started down, but now it was shut. He twisted it, but it remained firm. Uh oh—they’d locked the door. Oh shit. They had the family!
He twisted, hunching lower and kicking the door with everything he had. The vibrations shuddered through his shins but still the door stayed shut. He gave it another kick and then another, winding up for another assault when it flew open.
“Jake! What the hell?” Lydia’s shocked eyes were locked on the gun.
He pushed past her, shielding her with his body. “Get down!” he hissed at her. “Where are they?” His eyes tried hard to see into the kitchen and down the hall. Only dark shapes showed from the dim light of the fire in the other room—too small to be grown men.
“What? They’re here?” She darted out and raced down the hallway to her kids. “Oh my God! Do something!”
All he had was the damned lighter to see anything! They could be hiding anywhere!
But why were they hiding? There’d been plenty of time to snatch the family or even kill them while he’d been locked in the cellar. “Did you see anyone in the house?”
“No but—”
“That old guy!” Mark’s voice was high-pitched, nearly hysterical. “He’s still out there! He stared at me through the window!”
“Oh my God!” Lydia’s wasn’t much better.
“Stay together by the fire. Don’t move. I’ll check the house.” Damn it! The lighter was getting hot in his palm but he held it high slowly creeping into the kitchen.
“My cell phone is on the counter! It’s got a flashlight app too!”
He swung his arm to the right and sure enough Angela’s phone was next to the sink. He scooped it up, letting the lighter drop right after. He found the buttons and immediately was rewarded with a beam of light. He kept his gun high, shining the light around the room. But there wasn’t anything there. He made his way through the rest of the downstairs, each room revealing nothing more than the furniture.
When he left the empty room at the back and returned to the living room, he stared over at the three of them, huddled together in front of the fire. “Stay here. I’m going to...” He cocked his head, listening hard. There was something upstairs. A muffled, low sound thrummed from above. He put his finger over his lips signaling them to be quiet and made his way to the staircase. The sound got louder with each step.
He jumped when all the lights came on. He blinked his eyes at the sudden brightness and slipped the phone in his pocket. The lights blazing just confirmed the power outage was storm related.
But there was someone upstairs. The someone who had pushed him and then locked the door! But each step higher, was more and more puzzling. They were running water in the bathroom? His eyes narrowed. A diversion. He’d bust in the door and they’d jump him from behind. Ignoring the closed bathroom door he darted into Lydia’s bedroom and then the boy’s. Nothing. He peered into the small bedroom next to Lydia’s. Again, clear.
They could only be in Angela’s, if they weren’t hiding in the bathroom. He tiptoed across the hallway, wincing from the squeak of the floorboards.
He inched into the open doorway and pointed the gun, scanning the room quickly. A glance into the closet came up empty. He left the room and went down the hall, opening the bathroom door and then stepping to the side, out of the line of fire. After a minute, listening hard for anything besides the water rushing into the tub, he edged out and swung around, his gun high, ready to fire. But again, nothing. He’d gone through the whole upstairs and come up empty. There was nowhere else to hide that he hadn’t checked.
He went back to the bathroom, peering around before he stepped inside. Leaning over, he flipped the lever, shutting the water off. He stood watching the water, thinking hard. Who turned the water on? Could they have got out of the bathroom and raced down the stairs without him hearing? And what about Lydia and the kids? They would have yelled if they’d seen anyone.
What the hell kind of cat and mouse game was going on?
His shoulder still hurt from landing on the floor. Someone had definitely pushed him but where were they? He shook his head. It made no sense, but they had to be outside the house now. They sure as hell weren’t inside! He leaned and yanked the plug up from the drain before leaving the room.
When he reached the bottom stair, Lydia stepped out of the living room. She leaned closer, whispering. “Did you find anything? What the hell is happening here?”
He pulled her arm so that they were closer to the kitchen out of earshot, “Look. Someone pushed me down the stairs and then locked the door to the cellar! If you didn’t do that then maybe that old guy that Mark keeps seeing got in. But he’s not here!”
“What was upstairs? It sounded like someone was running a bath! We haven’t left the living room since the lights went out. What the hell is going on, Jake? Are we even safe here?” Lydia looked like she was ready to kill him or start crying.
“Let me check the outside. There’s got to be footprints!” He ushered her to the front doorway and grabbed his jacket from the hook. “Lock the door behind me. Don’t open it for anything. Got that?” He slipped the jacket on and then opened the door. He paused, seeing the pristine drifts o
f snow that had gathered on the front veranda. Even to the lump of white that was the vehicle, nothing marred the velvety surface of the banks of snow.
He stepped back inside and shut the door, locking it. When he turned, Lydia’s face was screwed tight with worry. “They’re not at the front of the house. No one’s been anywhere near it.” He left her where she stood and continued down the hall to the back door.
When he opened it and peered out at the snow, again it was smooth. Nothing had disturbed the blanket draped by Mother Nature. He took the cell phone out and shone the light out into the yard. Again no sign of footprints. An icy blast of wind hit his face and he stepped inside once more, locking the door. What the hell? No one outside and he’d checked every inch of the house.
By this time the kids had joined Lydia standing in the hallway staring at him. Angela was the first to break the silence. “There’s something wrong here. I don’t think there’s any guys trying to break in. It’s. This. House.”
NINETEEN
Angela
ANGELA TOOK A DEEP BREATH and rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to warm up. The way everyone was staring at her, their mouths hanging open would have been funny in any other situation. But not now.
“I think this house may be haunted.” She didn’t have to wait long to be shouted down. She’d expected Jake and Mom to protest and was ready for it. The thing that cinched it was the water running in the bathroom. That room was seriously creepy.
“That’s crazy! Angela!” Mom shook her head and let out a long sigh.
Jake walked past them and hung his coat on the hook by the door. He slipped his gun into the holster at the back of his pants. “The house is old, Angela, but—”
“She’s right!” Mark’s face colored, masking the freckles in a pinkish hue. He continued, “I saw that old guy staring in the window. But you didn’t see any footprints. And how did he just disappear from the beach?”
Angela’s stomach fell to her knees. She’d thought the poor kid had been making it up. And now he was the only one on her side! She took a deep breath and let it all out in a rush. “I saw a face in the mirror. A girl with dark hair and then she was gone! She opened my bedroom door earlier and I saw her again!” Her heart raced reliving it in her mind.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mom took a step closer, her hand rising to circle her shoulders but Angela batted it away.
She snarled at her mom. “You wouldn’t have believed me! Hell, you accused me of stealing that whiskey and then drinking it!” Mom’s eyes opened wider, as the knot of the mystery bottle appearing unraveled in her head. But even if a ghost or entity had put it there, why Jack Daniels Honey? Dad was dead and...
Jake walked by them again, his words thrown over his shoulder, “I don’t know about any of this, but I need a stiff drink right now.”
Mom shot a look and then followed Jake down the hall and disappeared in the kitchen. It was just Mark and her now. Angela’s hand squeezed her brother’s shoulder, “I’m sorry for calling you a nerd...and for not believing you about the old man.”
He looked up at her and shrugged. “Did you really see a face in the mirror?” He stepped closer, so close that his shoulder pressed into her arm. The poor kid looked fascinated and petrified all at the same time.
She nodded quickly. “Yeah. She was about my age, and she looked sad, come to think of it.” She tilted her head at Mark. “I wonder how she died.”
Mark scoffed. “The old guy looked pissed as hell! And mean, real mean. He probably killed her. I’m lucky he didn’t do something to me on the beach.” His eyes narrowed, “But why did he stare at me through the window? He’s a ghost, right? They can come through walls.”
That wasn’t a reassuring thought. “C’mon. Let’s go ask Jake what he knows about this house. He said an artist couple renovated it.”
THUD!
She jerked at the bang upstairs. Her feet trembled from the vibrations in the floor.
THUD!
Mark’s hands flew, fingers clutching her arms. She stared up the stairwell, while her heart hammered against her ribs.
Jake dashed from the kitchen, “What the hell was that?” He turned his head looking up the stairs. In another second the gun was back in his hand.
Mom was right behind him. “Mark! Angela! Come into the kitchen. NOW!” She grabbed their arms hauling them down the hall past Jake.
Angela twisted out of her mother’s grasp. “It’s the ghost! A gun’s not going to do much good against a ghost!” She jerked away from her mother.
“I’ll check it out. Stay here!” Jake was gone followed by the sound of him racing up the stairs.
Mark tugged on Mom’s arm and there were tears in his eyes. “Can we go home? I don’t want to be here.”
Angela huffed, folding her arms across her chest, glaring. “We are home! Some house they put us in! Hell House! Our neighbor’s probably Freddy Kruger!”
“Shut up, Angela!” Mom glowered at her and her gaze darted to Mark and back again, “You’re not helping!” She turned away, holding Mark close.
“This is bullshit! Jake’s not going to find anything up there and he knows it! Why won’t you just admit that this house is haunted? Just admit it! It is!” And here she’d been planning to investigate why the bath had stopped on its own and that face appearing in the mirror. It made sense now.
She looked over to her brother and sniffed. “Mark’s right. We can’t stay here. They’ve got to put us up in a hotel until they find something decent for us. Maybe a house in California. Somewhere warm.”
At the grating sound next to her, she looked over. The bottle of whiskey shot across the counter and flew into her! Holy shit!
Her mouth fell open, her eyes bulging onto her cheeks, watching. It sat there almost defiantly on the countertop. She edged away and looked over where her mother stood. Mom’s back was to her, her arms cradling Mark. “Mom?”
Angela stepped away from the counter. “Mom!” She grabbed her mother’s shoulder.
“What? What now? Honestly—”
“Mom. That bottle of whiskey just moved. All on its own! The ghost! It’s in here!” She kept backing away, letting her hand drop from Mom, staring at the bottle.
Her mother pulled back from Mark and looked down at the bottle. She looked over at Angela, her eyes getting wider. “You’re sure?”
The bottle shot down the counter and landed with a crash on the floor.
Angela bumped into the stove and jerked back. “Oh yeah. I’m pretty sure the ghost is making a statement, Mom.” God! That had actually happened!
Jake stepped into the kitchen. “Nothing upstairs. I couldn’t even see anything that fell over to make that noise.” He looked at Lydia and then over at Angela. “What? What’s going on?”
Mark was the one to break the pregnant silence. “No stiff drink for you. The ghost just smashed the bottle of whiskey.”
TWENTY
Lydia
LYDIA STARED AT THE GLASS SHARDS of the bottle in a complete daze. If she hadn’t seen it with her very own eyes—the bottle flying the rest of the way down the counter and smashing on the floor, she would never, in a million years believe it. But it had happened.
Her mouth snapped shut. If the house was haunted... She blinked a few times. Was she actually thinking that? There was no other explanation for what she’d seen. And it sure explained how the bottle had just appeared earlier. She had to stifle a nervous giggle. The ghost liked Liam’s drink? Good taste for a ghost.
Her eyes narrowed and she spun around to face Jake. “What the fuck? You guys put us up in a house that’s haunted?”
His hands rose stopping her in her tracks. “Wait a minute. Lydia. Listen to yourself. Ghosts? There’s no such thing as ghosts. Once you’re dead, you’re dead. There’s an explanation for all this even if it’s not immediately apparent.”
It was all she could do to stop herself from belting him! Her teeth ground together and she hissed the next words. “Just b
ecause you didn’t see that bottle slide across the counter on its own, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. And we...” Her hand swept the air, indicating the kids, “...we didn’t do it. I know you think we did, but we didn’t.”
Her eyes narrowed and she stepped closer, “What about the noise upstairs just now? What caused that? Or the water running in the tub all on its own? Hell, you were even pushed down the cellar steps! Got a reasonable explanation for that, Mr. FBI?”
He couldn’t look her in the eye when he replied, “No. Not all of it. The thumps could have been a tree limb coming down in the storm. You have to admit, that might be the cause. As for the other things...” He shook his head and sighed, “I’m not ready to just accept that it’s caused by ghosts. And neither should you.” He looked around at all of them. “Let’s just sit down, try to stay calm, and figure this out.”
Angela weighed in, “You stay calm! Knock yourself out trying to puzzle through this. The fucking place—
“Angela! Don’t swear!” It was bad enough that she’d used the F-bomb, let alone her daughter.
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