Case One ~ The Deceit (Trudy Hicks Ghost Hunter Book 1)

by Lori Zaremba

  She hoped it was the alcohol making him this stupid, but then again, if the truth was in the wine, as the saying went, the alcohol could just be showing his true colors.

  “Go to bed, Jason,” she said with barely concealed anger. “You’re drunk, and I’m over it.” With that, she stomped away to go and check on Patrick. When she realized Jason didn’t follow, she collapsed weakly in a chair near where Patrick slept soundly.

  Sometime later, after she helped Dana up the stairs, Trudy slipped between the sheets of her lonely bed. She turned off her thoughts of Jason, and at some point, she must have fallen asleep.

  ***

  Vanessa

  Watching through a mist, Vanessa stood frozen as the elevator doors closed. She never saw anyone so angry in her life. A chill swept through her.

  Nathan came to her, and since she wouldn’t meet his eyes, he pulled her into his arms. Without saying a word, he picked her up and carried her to the sofa and held her sobbing form on his lap. He waited until she cried it all out, soaking the lapel of his finely crafted jacket.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?” He shifted so she could rest her head on his dry shoulder.

  There was silence, and then she started shakily from the beginning.

  Wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, Vanessa spoke softly. “My life was a fairytale.” She smiled tightly at the memory. “Or so I thought. Carlson was like a prince, and we had the most perfect wedding a girl could ask for.” She delicately explained what happened on the wedding night. “It was awkward, and I blamed myself. Carlson and I had a special kind of love for each other and a deep-seeded friendship. Our marriage was odd but, for the most part, pleasant.” She nervously squeezed her hands together. “But then the pressure from our families began, and they wanted a grandchild.” She glanced up at him. “I knew I had to come up with a plan to get pregnant.” She started crying softly. “I never expected to meet someone like Douglas. Oh, how I loved him, and I was devastated when it ended. I knew he would end up being trouble. He is too good a man to not care about a child that may be his.”

  Vanessa told him everything that transpired since. “The blackmail…” She sobbed. “I gave birth to Chase the same night Carlson was murdered. I went through some tough times, but everything changed the night I met you.” Her voice broke when she said, “You mean the world to me, and I don’t want to lose you too.”

  Nathan lifted her chin and pressed his lips to her cheek.

  Vanessa finished with the accusations that Douglas had been throwing at her this past month or so.

  When Nathan said nothing, she looked up at him anxiously. “Do you hate me?”

  “Never. I understand why you did what you did. I am sad that you’ve had to endure so much alone.” He hugged her tightly as she trembled. “It should have been simple, in my opinion. Men don’t question if a child could be theirs. Most do not give it a thought. I think your Douglas is looking to fill a void.”

  He pondered the subject for a moment.

  “Perhaps Mrs. Thorton is unable to conceive again?” Nathan continued. “Maybe he sees this as a way to offer her another son.”

  “He can’t take my son!” Vanessa jumped up and started pacing. She stopped and looked at him. “Does he have legal rights to Chase?”

  “He has no proof. Chase looks just like you, and besides, a woman of your status…your family would crush him.” Nathan poured bourbon into two crystal glasses.

  “I don’t want this ever to reach their ears. If Carlson’s father learned his son was gay, it would kill him.” She took the glass Nathan offered her. “Don’t they do blood type testing now?” Vanessa croaked as she gulped a large swallow of the fiery spirit.

  Nathan assured her it would not come to that.

  “Could there be another father?” he asked quietly.

  Vanessa almost threw her glass at him in her quick anger. She softened when she saw something in his eyes and realized this was hurting him.

  “Nathan, you may not believe me, but I have only been with you and Douglas. There was never anyone else.” Her voice cracked as she became overwhelmed by a flood of emotion.

  He set his glass on a nearby table and reached for her. Pulling her once again into his embrace, he kissed her forehead and then found her lips. “I’m honored.”

  Once the drink calmed her nerves, Nathan was able to reason with her that as long as she stood her ground, never admitting Chase was Douglas’s son to anyone, they would find a way to convince him to drop his accusations.

  “You have to live a normal life so Douglas will know you are not intimidated by him,” Nathan advised.

  Twilight softened the room as she pondered what he had said.

  Nathan stood and offered her his hand. “Come to bed, my love.” He lifted her to her feet and touched his lips to hers.

  “Go on,” Vanessa said, “I’ll join you in a moment.” She watched as Nathan made his way into the bedroom and blew her a kiss when he shut the door behind him.

  Vanessa turned and brushed at the tears that gathered on her cheek. Composing herself, she walked forward into the center of the room. The strange mist returned and gathered around her feet. Vanessa gazed up as she spoke. “Find him for me, please. Please find him.”

  ***

  Trudy

  A loud banging on her door woke her from her dream. “Find who?” she asked and rolled over when Jason burst into the room.

  “Trudy, are you up?” he whispered harshly.

  She moaned. “I am now.” Sitting up, she reached over to switch on the lamp on the bedside table. She noticed the time was now 3:30 a.m. It had been less than an hour since she came up to bed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Something happened.” He walked toward the bed, cussing as he bumped into the side table.

  “Are you still drunk?”

  “No. I don’t know…maybe. Look at my hand.” He leaned over her.

  Trudy had no idea what he was babbling about, but she looked at his hand and saw the red stain. She raised an eyebrow in question.

  “Vanessa did that.” He sat awkwardly on the bed and appeared to still be a bit shaky.

  “What did Vanessa do?” Pushing her hair out of her face, she rubbed her eyes awake.

  “She…” He paused to stare. “What are you wearing?” He lost his train of thought when he noticed the skimpy little tank top Trudy wore. It was stretched to capacity to accommodate her full bosom, and she had on a matching lace thong.

  She pulled the covers up to shield herself from his roaming eyes and became annoyed. “Go back to your room. You’re still drunk.”

  “I can’t go back there!” He slumped and leaned away from her.

  “What are you trying to tell me, Jason?” Trudy tried to be patient.

  “Please,” he whispered, and she could see how edgy he was.

  “What’s wrong, Jason?” she murmured, feeling dread.

  The silence became almost deafening before he finally spoke. “She…she raped me.”

  “What?” Trudy asked, confused.

  “She had her way with me.”

  “Who?”

  “Vanessa,” he all but bellowed.

  It took some time, but he told Trudy what had transpired, not leaving out any of the details. “She snuck into my bedroom and took off her clothes. She was smiling, and I could see her bright red lipstick. She pressed her lips to my hand. I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed. Trudy, she climbed on top of me, and I couldn’t do anything to stop her as she rode me,” he rasped.

  “Stop.” Trudy jumped out of bed, disturbed by what she was hearing, and yanked on a robe.

  “Then Vanessa called out for Douglas and just disappeared,” he finished, not meeting her eyes.

  “Wait, she called out for Douglas?” Trudy spun back to him, confused. “Are you sure she didn’t ask for Nathan?”

  “What the hell does it matter?” he said with dismay.

  “It just seems odd that she would call out for Douglas, tha
t’s all.” Trudy ran a shaky hand through her hair.

  “That’s odd to you?” he said incredulously. “In all the crazy shit that’s happened, that’s what you find odd.” He leaned forward on the bed and put his head in his hands. “I’ve had enough of all this oddness, Trudy. I’m done.”

  She heard the exasperation in his voice and came to stand near him. “What are you saying, Jason?”

  He looked around the room and then warily at her. “I’m not cut out for this.” Coldness crept into his eyes. “I have to get the hell out of here.”

  She knelt in front of him and covered his cold hands with hers, her mind full of questions that she couldn’t ask and that he didn’t want to answer. She felt the sorrow rushing into her throat.

  “Jason, maybe it was nothing. Just a dream.” Regretting the words as soon as they passed her lips, Trudy flinched at the fury in his eyes.

  “That wasn’t a dream, Trudy,” he bellowed. He ran an agitated hand through his hair and closed his eyes while he gathered his wits. “That woman used me—”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help,” Trudy interrupted, feeling a bit desperate.

  The seconds ticked by, and his silence hurt her heart.

  “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry if I let you down.” His voice was calmer now.

  “Jason?” Her voice cracked.

  He sighed wearily. “Tyler is going to stay behind and go over the footage with the Johnsons, and he will help with whatever you need,” he said before resting his head back against the pillows. She could see that he was exhausted. “There’s no way this can work.”

  She felt like he slapped her, so she sat back on her heels. “You keep telling yourself that,” she said past the lump in her throat.

  “You don’t need me,” he said softly without opening his eyes.

  She stared at him, wanting to speak and hoping he would open his eyes so she could reason with him, but he seemed so far away from her now.

  It wasn’t long before he fell into a troubled, if not a drunken, slumber.

  “I need you more than you realize,” she was finally brave enough to choke out.

  She sat back on the small couch, staring up at the ceiling for a good while.

  Trudy was mad at herself. What was supposed to be just a sweet distraction, two healthy good-looking adults enjoying one another. “Wasn’t that the intent?” She let herself down by hoping and wanting it to be more. She stood and looked down at his handsome face. “Damn you for being so lovable. Damn my stupid heart…for being so damn stupid.” Trudy started to pace.

  She knew herself that this would never work, not with the distance, her bad luck, and, yeah, her choice of careers.

  She paced for a good while before heading toward the shower for a good cry. Once she reached the bathroom, she leaned against the door and slid the lock into place. She needed privacy.

  The shower water mixed with her tears as she let her sorrow consume her. She would only allow herself one good cry. Just one.

  She had been through too much in her life to let weakness control her now.

  She heard a knock on the bathroom door but ignored it. Ten minutes later, she stepped from the shower, squeaky clean and spent. Her head hurt from crying, but she wrapped herself in one of those damn big towels and ignored the urge to curl up in the fetal position on the bathroom floor.

  When Trudy finally walked back into the bedroom, she knew Jason would be gone.

  Chapter 19

  Carrying a cup of hot coffee from the pod coffee maker Paul kindly provided her with yesterday morning, Trudy quietly made her way to the old servants’ quarters.

  Hurt and pissed off, she knew it was better for her to have some alone time.

  Hard work wasn’t always the best therapy, the shrink at the police department once told her, but Trudy didn’t agree.

  Shaking her head, she remembered she and the psychiatrist disagreed on many of Trudy’s methods.

  Pushing open the heavy door leading into the dark passage, Trudy tucked her emotions away as she made her way through an obstacle course of household items stored in the narrow hallway.

  Maybe because she was all alone, the space felt way creepier than it did the other night.

  Holding her coffee in one hand and utilizing her phone as a flashlight in the other, Trudy stopped to look inside a dusty cardboard box along the way, moving along once she realized it was mostly items from a recent decade.

  This portion of the house had been at one time occupied by the staff and later used for storage, judging by the old, broken furniture stacked along the walls.

  Continuing past several small bedrooms that could barely fit a twin bed, she found the stairwell Vanessa mentioned in her journal.

  It looked just as it had when it collapsed. Looking over the top of the plywood that had been nailed in place to keep anyone from accidentally falling, Trudy was amazed at the height. The rubble must have crashed through the floor below to the basement at least forty-five feet down. The stairwell once led to the porch out behind the kitchen, giving the household workers freedom to come and go.

  A chill crept up her spine. What if someone had been on those stairs when the structure collapsed?

  Suddenly not feeling well, Trudy turned away and headed toward the steps leading to Connie’s room. Each worn step groaned in protest as she made her way slowly up.

  The old door was stuck but opened with a quick bump of her hip. Trudy was pleasantly surprised by the morning sun flooding the room. She stood sipping the now-tepid coffee and watched as a rainbow of dust particles danced in the rays from the beveled glass window.

  Contemplating where she should start, Trudy observed the various boxes stacked around the room, a treasure trove of memories.

  Her eyes settled on an old chest that sat at the foot of the bed. Following her gut, she would start there.

  She heard the distant roar of a motorcycle, and her heart sank. Jason had said he was leaving later this afternoon.

  Her mind raced, the pit in her stomach grew, and she dashed toward the window that faced the garage where Jason parked his bike. Breathing a little sigh of relief, she realized Jason was performing some kind of maintenance check.

  Trudy found herself rooted to the spot, watching him from the fourth-floor window, almost willing him to look up from what he was doing to gaze back. When he did, she leaped back, nearly falling over a stack of books.

  Shaking her head in self-disgust, she angrily stomped toward the forgotten trunk, opening it carefully and becoming shrouded in a bubble of mothballs and lavender.

  “Whew!” Trudy tossed her head back while carefully pulling out the contents.

  There were two quilts so small they had to be for a child, a crocheted bedspread, and a christening gown wrapped nicely in layers and layers of paper. The yellowing lace was so luxurious and feminine it had to be Vanessa’s. She found a stack of handkerchiefs neatly stacked with little embroidered flowers on the corners. At the bottom the trunk, there was a sizable ornate photo album that Trudy unwrapped from a yard and a half of heavy velvet. She opened it and gave a little squeal of happiness once she realized it was Carlson and Vanessa’s wedding album.

  She carried it to the desk by the window so she could get a better look.

  They were stunning. Carlson’s beauty equaled Vanessa’s. No wonder the poor girl was blinded.

  She looked closer to see the details of Vanessa’s spectacular dress then moved on to the family photos. Harold and Theodore Wilcox seemed very uncomfortable, while Carlson’s family looked to be beaming with happiness.

  Maybe the Wilcoxes figured something out that Vanessa hadn’t yet. She sighed as she got to the last photo, which was of the happy couple pulling away in a decorated car with a convertible top. Connie pressed a dried flower between the pages. Perhaps it was from her corsage.

  She wrapped the treasures up the way she found them and placed them carefully back into the waiting trunk, saddened because the
items represented such special memories. All to be stuffed away in some forgotten trunk, in a servant’s room in the attic.

  Wiping her hands on her pants, Trudy studied the space for a moment before turning to the chest of drawers on the opposite wall. Discovering the drawers were all empty except the largest one on the bottom, she pulled out a quality cedar box that was one foot wide by two feet long. Trudy struggled to lift it out of the drawer, but perseverance paid off. The box was full of more photos and newspaper clippings.

  Sorting through the many clippings she’d already read, she found a large envelope that had a swatch of blue fabric, a handwritten note, photos, a newspaper clipping, and what appeared to be a menu for a party.

  Heiress Vanessa Wilcox Holland has a party to welcome French dignitaries.

  The party was held on November 5, 1927. Trudy recalled that was just five days before Vanessa died.

  She looked at the photos of Vanessa, and one of her with the wickedly handsome Nathan.

  She figured the scrap of fabric was from Vanessa’s dress, as the newspaper article said she looked resplendent in a gown of deep royal blue, paired with the Wilcox diamonds.

  The note was from Vanessa, thanking Connie for all her hard work and help in pulling off such a grand party.

  She found many more pictures, mostly of Chase, including when they celebrated his fourth birthday. One made her chuckle, as he sat astride the back of a white pony, his party hat tipped precariously on the top of his head. His toothless grin made her think of Aaron at that age.

  She found another envelope. This one contained three obituaries. She scanned them. Carlson, Vanessa, and the third one had her leaping up from the floor.

  Chase Holland died peacefully at his grandparents’ home March 5, 1928.

  Chase died three days after he fell from a pony and sustained a head injury, from which he never woke up. Trudy’s heart broke for the family. They had lost everyone.