The Haunting of Hillwood Farm

by Kathryn Knight

“I’ll be upstairs for a while, then,” Alice added, after coming out onto the porch to announce she was going to take an afternoon nap. She gave them both a broad smile, her eyes crinkling in what could have been a wink, before going back inside the house. The screen door slapped lightly in her wake.

  Callie waited for Alice’s footsteps to fade up the stairs before twisting in her chair toward Luke. “She knows.” The words came out in a cross between a hiss and a whisper.

  He shrugged, sliding his gaze away from the fields beyond the porch railing. “Maybe.”

  A thread of anxiety wound through her. “Did you say something?”

  Reaching over, he clasped her hand, linking their fingers on top of the wide wooden armrest. “I think she’s just reading our body language. We’ve both probably seemed a bit…content this morning,” he said with a roguish grin. When she didn’t return the smile, he squeezed her hand. “It’s fine, really. I think we all have bigger problems to worry about.”

  It was true, and his comment jiggled something in her brain. Something that had tried to present itself this morning while they were in bed, before he’d erased all coherent thoughts. “What happened with Blair?”

  His expression turned dark, the surprise registering in his eyes. “What?”

  “Blair. You said she was your ex, right? And earlier this morning, you suggested you’ve had relationship issues in the past, too. So what happened?”

  He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Yeah, she’s my ex. We were together for about six months, and she was…” Clearing his throat, he started again. “She was mentally unstable, I guess you could say. Things ended badly.”

  Her heartrate accelerated, and she pulled her hand away. “What do you mean, badly?”

  A deep crease formed between his brows. “Callie, there is absolutely nothing between me and her now.”

  She shook her head. “But…how did it end?”

  “Like I said, she had some serious problems. Depression, addiction, jealousy. She was…I guess you could say she was stalking me, at the end. Coming to my house, my work, the law office, here. Telling me lies, like pretending her mother had died to gain sympathy. I had to threaten to get a restraining order to make it stop.”

  The word ‘jealousy’ rattled through her head, and her blood went cold. “And…that made her stop?”

  “Yes, finally.”

  She stood up, pacing across the weathered planks of the porch. “How do you know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Leaning against the railing, she chewed her lip as she gathered her thoughts. “Luke, your family mentioned her the other night at dinner, and a picture fell down. You’re saying she was obsessed with you, and this ghost—this female ghost—hates me. Her name begins with a ‘B’, and while it didn’t occur to me before, I’m seeing it now. The unfinished letter in the flour…it could have been a capital ‘B’.”

  Silence stretched out as his gaze focused on something in the distance. Shaking his head, he dragged his hands over his face before looking up to meet her eyes. “But she’s not dead.”

  “And you know this for sure? One hundred percent?” Her muscles tightened, her fingers gripping the wooden rail behind her.

  He pressed his lips together. “Apparently, she took off. Her roommate got in touch with me, because she was upset about the unpaid bills. The roommate called her mother, too, and her mom said this wasn’t unusual behavior, that sometimes she would just get in her car and drive away, without letting anyone know.”

  A wave of dizziness washed over her. “So no one really knows where she is.”

  “I guess not.” Some of the color drained from his face.

  “Did…” She squeezed her eyes shut as an image of the terrifying figure standing over her bed flashed through her mind. “Did she…have long hair?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, my God. We need to find out if anyone’s heard from her. Right away. Do you still have her mom’s number?”

  “I can find it.”

  Chapter 20

  It didn’t take long for Luke to find the number, since he’d called it just a few months ago, when he began to suspect Blair was lying about her mother’s death. As Luke spoke into the phone, Callie walked restless circles through the house, from the doorway to the office, through the living and dining rooms and the kitchen, returning to the back hallway where doors also led to the garage and the laundry room. On one pass, she paused at a shelf in the living room, studying some of the family pictures. The glass in Luke’s parents’ wedding photo had a crack in the corner, and she wondered if that was the frame that fell the other night at dinner. If Blair was the culprit, was she expressing her anger over the derisive way the Turner family was speaking about her? Or had it been Henry, sending a warning? A message to his family, that Blair was the other—threatening—presence in the house? Did Henry know how to stop her? Please, Henry, help me, she pleaded silently, closing her eyes. She braced herself for the stabbing pressure associated with a connection, and the hissing static that would likely block any message from Henry, but nothing came.

  Luke approached her as he finished up the phone call, leading her over to the couch. She angled herself into the corner, her foot still bouncing with the need to move.

  Rubbing his temples, he pulled in a breath. “Mrs. Adams hasn’t spoken to her daughter in years, so she doesn’t know very much. The roommate had called, like I mentioned, saying Blair disappeared and looking for some rent and utility money. She said Blair left a lot of things in their apartment, but she did take her purse, her keys, her phone, her car. It wasn’t the first time she’d taken off, which is why no one reported her missing. Plus, she’s an adult. It’s her right to go missing if she wants,” he finished with a shrug.

  Nausea bubbled in her throat. “She must be dead. Maybe she had an accident.”

  “No one’s reported finding anything, at least according to Mrs. Adams. They would have contacted her if they found an accident scene. But I did call my Dad right after I talked to her. He has some friends who can do extensive searches on people and get much more info than we could online. He was very concerned about why I was asking for help researching Blair, though. He and my mom were not fans.”

  “I can imagine.” She tapped her fingers against her thigh. “Did you tell him why you were asking?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you and Gram first, and I certainly can’t imagine telling them Hillwood is haunted over the phone. Once I talk to Gram, maybe I’ll see if they can come over tomorrow evening so we can talk.”

  “Maybe it’s time we told them. If Alice agrees, that is.” She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to organize her spiraling thoughts. “If Blair is dead, why did she come here to start trouble? She was here before I even met you all. Henry warned me of the danger the first day I came to Hillwood.”

  “She wasn’t a stable person when she was alive. There’s no reason to believe her ghost would be any different. When I ended it, she went completely off the rails. She probably still harbors a lot of anger aimed at me. Maybe my family, too. They all had some choice words for her when she tried to contact them to stay connected to me.”

  A violent shudder rattled through her. “God. That sounds horrible. No wonder she’s turned most of her aggression toward me. But, still…there has to be a way to stop this. If her body is out there somewhere, at the bottom of a ravine or something, we have to find her. Give her a proper burial.”

  “That sounds…challenging.”

  “That’s where I come in. Maybe Henry knows, and he can help.”

  His jaw tightened. “I don’t know, Callie. If it’s Blair, and she’s after you because she’s jealous, maybe it would be best if you just…walk away.”

  “You want me to go?”

  Anguish clouded his features. “Of course not. The selfish part of me wants to be around you all the time. But I don’t want anything to happen to you, especially if I can stop it.
”

  “It’s too late, though. She’s shown us she can follow me. And she was already a dangerous presence before I came on the scene, remember? Henry was worried she’d hurt you or Alice. And she gains strength every day that passes. I’m not leaving until this is finished. Maybe this is my chance to actually save the people I…people I care about.” She glanced down at the faded fabric of the couch, startled by her near-admission. The people I love. It was true. She loved both Luke and Alice. A steel fist closed around her heart. How had she let this happen? Loving people led to pain.

  He reached over, wrapping his hands around her twisting fingers. “None of the things that happened in your past are your fault, Callie. You don’t need to redeem yourself.”

  I do. Out loud, she said, “I’m not leaving. I will stop this thing from hurting the people I care about.” Even if it came at the expense of her own life. And if she succeeded, she would also be putting a troubled spirit to rest. It wouldn’t change what had happened to Andrew, but it was something.

  A shrill ring pierced the silence, and they both started. Luke’s phone lit up on the coffee table. He peered over, picking it up. “And that’s my mom. Right on cue. Clearly my dad told her I’m asking about Blair, and now she’s probably in panic mode.” With a heavy sigh, he slid his thumb across the screen. “Hey, Mom.”

  Chapter 21

  Luke had suggested, quite vocally, that she find a substitute for her Wednesday night class. But she needed the exercise. She needed the money. And she needed to get away from Hillwood for a few hours. She’d assured him she’d be okay—she’d be surrounded by people at the gym. Even while she drove, there would be lots of other motorists around. It sounded right, even though she knew she couldn’t make any guarantees. But the other option was just putting her entire life on hold until this was done.

  He’d walked her out to her car, then kissed her as though she were leaving for a month before he’d turned back to the house. His parents would be over soon. Truthfully, she was glad she’d miss at least the first part of this visit. She didn’t feel like hearing the whole ‘can’t you see she’s a scam artist’ conversation again.

  She started the car, buckling her seatbelt as she wrinkled her nose. It had been days since she’d driven her car, and a dank musty odor mingled with the faint smell of smoke. With a frown, she glanced at the windows, to see if she’d left one down. But it hadn’t rained since Sunday night, had it? She reached over and touched the cloth cover of her passenger seat.

  A sudden chill filled the interior of the car, and she stilled, her heart leaping to her throat. Something rustled behind her, and the back of her neck prickled with an awful sense of being watched. Her hand trembled on the gearshift as she slowly lifted her eyes to the rearview mirror.

  The horrible, dripping figure slumped in the backseat. Blair. Her head hung down, face hidden by ropes of tangled, wet hair. A sickening giggle floated through Callie’s head, and she opened her mouth to scream. Nothing came out; her vocal chords were paralyzed by fear, like in a nightmare.

  Get out, a voice screamed in her head, and this was her own voice. But before she could force her frozen muscles to obey the command, the gearshift tore from her grip, ramming itself into Drive. Callie’s foot flew off the brake pedal, shoved by an unseen force, as the gas pedal depressed on its own, sending the car lurching forward onto the grass beyond the pavement.

  The scream finally emerged, ringing in her ears, as the car gathered speed, hurtling down the hill toward the pond. Panic seized her, clawing at her chest, and she fought to regain control of the car. She stomped futilely at the brakes, but the pedal refused to move at all beneath her foot. Through the windshield, the water raced closer, and she gave up on the brakes, grabbing the handle to her door. She yanked on it, intending to throw herself out of the bouncing vehicle, but the handle wouldn’t budge. “No!” she sobbed, unable to stop the mind-numbing terror from taking over. There was no escape; she was trapped. Time stretched out and contracted. She grabbed onto the steering wheel as the car careened down the final expanse of the steep hill and launched into the pond.

  A wave of water crashed against the windshield. Her head snapped forward with the impact, the seatbelt driving the breath from her lungs as it locked her body against the seat. Groaning, she worked at the seatbelt clasp with shaking fingers, trying to focus. The car floated along the surface, but the weight of the engine was already pulling the front down. She had seconds to escape. Despair coursed through her veins, mixing with the crushing panic. Even if she could force her mind to tell her what to do and her limbs to cooperate, would Blair let her out?

  Don’t look. Don’t look don’t look don’t look. But she had to see what she was up against.

  The figure remained in the backseat, silent and motionless, only slices of a pale face visible beneath the dark curtain of snarled hair. Tattered light blue fabric clung to dead flesh nearly the same color. One arm was now raised, frozen in place, wrist bent down, skeletal gray fingers curled into a rigid claw.

  Oh, God. Bile burned her throat as her stomach heaved, and she tore her gaze away from the horrific specter behind her. Water poured into the car, cold and swift. She had to get out. Scrabbling for the door handle, she yanked on it again, and this time the handle moved in her hand. The rush of relief was quickly tempered by the door’s resistance to her frantic shoves, and she realized that her efforts were pointless, even without a ghost interfering. The water pressure outside was too great; the door would not open until the car was completely submerged.

  The image of the car sinking, with her inside it, drained the blood from her head, but the shock of the cold water soaking through her clothes, rising higher by the second, kept her conscious. Think! Mouthing a prayer, she jabbed at the window buttons, but the controls refused to work. She beat her palm against the driver’s side window in a frantic attempt to break it, barely registering the pain jolting up her arm with each strike. Water climbed up her chest as the car sank lower. Outside, beyond the glass, the evening sunlight glinted on the pond’s surface. The bright scene didn’t make sense in the context of this macabre nightmare.

  She was trapped. Desperation tightened her chest like a vise. “Please!” she cried, aiming her plea over her shoulder. “I know who you are. Blair.” The name tasted vile on her tongue, but she tried to keep her message calm despite the tremors in her voice. “Just tell me what you want! Maybe I can help you.”

  Look what you did.

  “I didn’t do anything! I never even knew you! Please, just tell me where you are, and we’ll find you.”

  Another soft giggle. I’m here. And now you are, too.

  Her last thread of control broke, and a primal sob tore from her throat. The car was nearly under now, the water licking at her neck. She was going to die.

  Get ready, a voice in her head commanded. A different voice, deeper and masculine. Bursts of pain, accompanied by static, immediately followed the words, and she suddenly understood. Henry!

  A tiny bud of hope bloomed as she fought to decipher his words. Surely Luke’s kind Pop wasn’t telling her to get ready to die. He was here to help. Would he be strong enough?

  And then there was no more time to think. She titled her head back as the water rose over her neck. Grabbing onto the door handle, she pulled in one last breath, filling her lungs as the pond claimed the car.

  Time slowed as the steel coffin sank below the surface. The rapid thump of her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Water stung her eyes as she stared down through the windshield and waited—prayed—for Henry’s voice to return. Shafts of sunlight pierced the water, revealing the hint of a shadowy object below.

  Go! Henry’s voice ordered.

  Oh, please, she begged silently, as she tried the handle. It moved, pulling forward in her hand. She threw her strength into pushing at the door, fighting against the dark haze of visceral fear threatening to take over. The door opened into the water, and relief surged through her. An angry wail, vibrating w
ith frustration, filled her head as she grabbed onto the doorframe and propelled her body out of the car.

  Up. She needed to swim up. Her lungs screamed for air, and she struggled against the primal urge to breathe. As her legs slid free, she prepared to push off the car with her feet.

  An icy claw latched onto her ankle. No! With her free leg, she kicked wildly, twisting and thrashing as pressure built in her chest. Blood pounded in her skull, and she knew she was going to have to give in and allow her lungs to inhale the water. Let me go! Please, Henry, help me. One last time.

  Her flailing arms hit something solid, and another hand encircled her wrist, this one warm and strong. Pulling her up, trying to free her from the captive grip below. Tilting her head back, she struggled to focus through the foggy blur of her fading vision.

  Luke! Somehow, Luke was here. She allowed him to catch her other arm as she resumed her internal chant for one more burst of help from Henry. The hold on her ankle loosened, and gathering her last shred of energy, she gave a powerful thrust with her other leg.

  She was free! Luke dragged her upward, and she kicked with frantic urgency. Every cell in her body blared warning sirens, demanding oxygen. Her head broke the surface, and she gasped, sucking air into her burning lungs.

  “I’ve got you,” Luke said, treading water as he helped support her. “Just breathe.”

  She couldn’t answer beyond her desperate, wheezing breaths. Dizziness engulfed her, and she splashed her limbs, terrified of slipping under again. From somewhere far away, she could hear Alice calling out, the words indistinguishable, the tone shrill with concern.

  “Just relax. I’ll get us back. I just need you to roll onto your back and float, okay?”

  She could trust him. Fighting the instinct to struggle, she allowed him to maneuver her onto her back. The sunlight stabbed at her eyes and she squeezed them shut. Luke locked one strong arm around her upper body, and as he towed her, she drifted, inhaling lungfuls of precious air.