by Knox, Abby
So, I calm myself, and let whoever it is believe she has the upper hand. She wraps what feels like a length of thick, rough rope around my wrists. My brain somehow recalls a trick I saw somewhere, probably during a late night true crime documentary binge, so I clasp my hands together and hold my elbows wide as she binds my hands. I just hope it works to create enough slack to rescue myself when the opportunity comes.
Chapter Nineteen
Blake
I realize I’m still in the trunk of a car when I’m jostled awake by the sudden slamming of brakes. No telling how long I’ve been here.
My hands are tied behind me with duct tape soI try to work my hands loose. When that doesn’t work, I squirm until my head covering comes off, then kick at the taillights as hard as I can until one breaks, hoping that it’s enough for another driver to notice and call the police.
But when the lid of the trunk flies open, I realize my efforts were in vain. The two thugs pull me out of the trunk and toss me to the dirt. They’re going to go ahead and kill me now.
Chapter Twenty
Dahlia
I’ve been pushed and pulled down into the basement by my struggling attacker, and now the rope around my wrists has been looped and tied to a chair in a dark corner of the basement. My lantern was left overturned upstairs in the struggle, and the only light comes from a pen light gripped between my attacker’s teeth, which seems like poor planning to me.
I can hear the person breathing and muttering about some nitwits forgetting to leave the duct tape for her to use. Something about this tells me this was not a well thought out plan to capture and do god-knows-what to me and Blake. Oh god, I hope Blake is OK. I have to fight the lump in my throat and focus on my escape.
“Who’s there?” I ask.
A moment passes before a familiar female voice replies. “I suppose it doesn’t matter that you know who I am, because you’re not getting out of here alive.”
I don’t know why she’s doing this to me, but I know who the voice belongs to.
“Amanda? What in the world?”
“Shut up,” she replies coldly. “Where’s the money?”
“What money?”
Amanda huffs in exasperation, and in the next moment I feel something cold and metal against my throat. She’s not good at tying rope, but she’s got a gun, which significantly reduces my chances of getting out of here.
“I should be in Mexico by now. This house was supposed to end up in probate court and the county was going to take possession for back taxes owed. But crazy old Esther had to go fuck it all up because her husband decided to screw us over at the last minute.”
The familiar cold snap fills my lungs again, but this time, I don’t feel that sense of dread from earlier. Instead, I feel an odd sense of understanding. Either that or I’ve lost my marbles out of terror.
“Amanda. Put the gun down. You don’t have it in you to kill me.”
“What I don’t have is patience, you stupid girl,” she says. “I know Esther figured it all out and must have told you where the money was. Where is it?”
I honestly don’t know about any money, but I think my best bet to stay alive is to play along. I close my eyes and try to think what Esther would want me to do right now.
“Esther never told me about any money, but I’m happy to help you find it, Amanda,” I say calmly, doing my best to keep my voice from shaking. “Tell me more about it and maybe something will ring a bell for me.”
I hear her fidgeting in the dark. In that space of time I realize where I am. I’m sitting on the antique chair in the corner of the basement, and the rope Amanda has used to tie me up is from the noose that had been hanging from the joist. A fresh wave of terror washes over me and I struggle not to hyperventilate.
“If you let me help you, Amanda, you won’t have to kill me. I won’t breathe a word, I swear.”
Finally, she spills it. “John Milton was going to help us. And then he didn’t.”
“Help you with what?” My fear is starting to subside because I’m dying of curiosity and because she’s no longer pressing a gun against my skin. Although, in the dark, I can’t see exactly where she’s pointing it.
“Mason Construction approached the mayor and me several years back, looking for an incentive not to move out of town. More people were moving into town and commercial taxes were going up to help pave roads, add more emergency services. Mr. Mason didn’t like that. He employed six hundred people here at the time, so we knew that we’d lose the election if we let that company go. The council wasn’t going to listen to reason about the tax incentives the mayor proposed, so we secretly cut them a deal. We’d make sure they’d win all the city’s project bids. We let the company know how low to bid in order to win.”
I’m confused. “Lowballing every project in town doesn’t seem to be much of a monetary reason to stay put,” I say.
Amanda replies, “But cost overruns and change orders add up over time, and pretty soon the city was overpaying for everything. And in return, Mason gave the mayor and me a percentage. Not huge amounts—a little here, a little there. And in order to hide the paper trail, the mayor and I cut in John Milton, too. He was the city finance director at the time, as I’m sure Esther told you. He stowed the money here.”
My mind is racing as it processes all of this information. “Here? Literally here in the house?”
“Why do you think I’ve been so willing to help you organize and plan this ridiculous Fall Festival? Out of the goodness of my heart? No. When that house went to your silly little department, I needed to keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t understand. You never saw any of the money in all those years?”
“We did, in the beginning. But then John got himself a conscience at some point and stopped. He threatened to go to the police. The only reason he didn’t is that he knew it would ruin Esther. Then one day, he just couldn’t take it anymore. He went down to the basement and never came back up.”
A shiver runs through me. “The rope. The chair. Oh god.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Blake
No.
Nobody is going to die tonight. Least of all me. I’m Blake Fucking Pritchard, the most feared and hated bartender in town. And I’m about to fuck people up.
I let go with a massive kick to the chest of the dude closest to me. Not expecting it, he stumbles backward and loses his balance. He’s on his ass long enough for me to fight off his partner one-on-one. He’s ready to fight off a kick from me, but he’s not expecting me to bear down on him head first and take him out at the knees. The brawl continues until the two dudes are groaning on the ground, whimpering like a couple of little bitches.
The duct tape still biting into my wrists, I manage to shimmy one leg and then the other through my arms so that my wrists are now in front of me.
I raise my arms above my head, and then forcefully bring my bound hands down against my middle, the sudden movement spreads my elbows across my ribcage and makes the tape start to give way. I have to do it a number of times, but it works to break the tape and free my hands.
Bloodied and tired and also very confused, I take the keys to the truck and drive like hell.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dahlia
“But wait, Esther said he died of natural causes.”
“Maybe he did,” Amanda says, “but once you make someone think she’s either losing her mind or her house is haunted, you can make her believe lots of other things, too. The so-called haunting incidents, as well as the chair and the noose, was a nice bit of theater to keep old Esther out of the basement and away from the cache of money, don’t you think?”
“But if you know where it is, why do you need me?”
“Because we only took out a little bit at a time. And about half of it has come up missing. Esther is the only explanation. She must have found it and moved it just as we were getting close to being found out. The last finance director got too close to figuring us out;
he suspected something was up when he looked at the old books. He was getting real tired of the projects going to the same contractors over and over again, all of them employed by Mason Construction.”
My mind hits on something else. This must be why people were quitting left and right from city hall. Either they quit, or maybe they were low-key asked to quit.
“But if she found it, why wouldn’t she go to the police? And why wouldn’t she have told me about it?”
“Do you think I understand how that batty brain of hers worked?”
I can’t stand her talking about my friend like that. Even knowing my anger might get me killed, I blurt out, “You made her that way! You all drove her mad!”
As my anger flares, I hear a loud clank and a rushing wind. When the door at the top of the stairs flies open, a blast of cold air rushes past me and startles Amanda so badly she drops the gun. As it skids across the basement floor, I lunge for it, dragging the chair with me. My hands pull free of the rope and I grab the gun.
The next thing I know, money is raining down all around me. Hundred dollar bills. Thousands of them.
Keeping the gun trained on Amanda, I glance around and see that the cover fell off an old ventilation shaft and the air moving through it is what’s causing the money to fly all around us.
I search Amanda’s pockets and find her phone, which I use to call the police.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dahlia
I’m wrapped in a blanket at the police station, trying to convince anyone who will listen to me that Blake is in trouble, when the man himself bursts in the door.
“Oh my god, Blake!” I immediately begin to sob. Ugly, full body sobs.
“D! You’re all right. Thank fuck. I drove to the house and you weren’t there. I had no idea where you went…”
He’s trembling now, almost as badly as I was earlier this morning. I pull the blanket around both of us while reassuring him that I’m fine and not the least bit hurt.
We give our statements to the police, both of us still in shock over what happened tonight. I’m still processing the idea that I had to subdue Amanda Hall, a pillar of the community, and that Mayor Pete is wanted for questioning.
As things wrap up, we learn that John Milton had, over a period of years, stashed away over a quarter of a million dollars in the unused ventilation shafts in the basement of the Milton House.
I let out a shiver and Blake circles his big arms around me. “You’re safe, D. I’ve got you.”
I look at him. “But that still doesn’t explain the feeling of dread and the coldness. And how did the ventilation shaft just fall open? Do you think maybe Esther’s husband was trying to get our attention? Maybe in the afterlife he wanted to make something right?”
Blake kisses me on the forehead. “I may not be convinced of all that afterlife stuff, but I also can’t explain some of the things that happened. So I guess…you win the Halloween bet. You’ve got me at your beck and call, Fall Festival director. For forever.” He pecks me on the nose.
“So you actually believe in ghosts?”
“No, I don’t. I just want to spend as much time as possible with you.”
Epilogue
Fall Festival, one year later
Dahlia
“Oh shit, what does the mayor need now?” I hear my husband say as I clip-clop into the bar in my pumpkin-colored heels.
“The usual, and one more thing,” I say, plopping a manila envelope onto the bar.
I’ll be honest; it feels pretty good to be mayor. I’ve spent a whole year dismantling everything the Halls had set up to use our government to benefit themselves, and now it’s time to celebrate.
The assets of the former mayor, the mayor’s wife, and Mason Construction were all seized during the investigation last year. Unfortunately, the police have never located all of the missing money, and neither have they located the mayor. Everyone’s guess is that over the years, he separately squirreled away just what he needed—without telling his wife —with plans to sail off to Mexico with the most recent finance director. People have further extrapolated that he chose to act on Halloween night while his wife hatched her half-assed kidnapping plan, Pete knowing the whole ship was about to sink.
Amanda eventually confessed to getting kickbacks from city construction projects. For years, the city wrote checks for far too large amounts to project managers, who would kick back the difference to the Halls. But the Halls couldn’t simply deposit that money in a bank, so Esther’s husband had been hiding it at the house for safekeeping.
Just before he died, John grew enough of a conscience to refuse to hand the money over to his partners in crime, but not enough to turn all the money over to the authorities. He stowed all of it in a vent in the basement that he had intended on turning into an apartment to rent out.
After he died, the Halls tried to make Esther think that the house was haunted or that she was losing her mind. Either way, they figured, they’d get her out of the house so they could look for their money.
Now that everyone in town knows the real story, sign-ups for the ghost tour have maxed out. Even though I can’t prove or disprove there were ever any ghosts at the Milton House, the Halls’ shenanigans have provided the town with enough gossip to make Milton House a popular point of interest. There’s even talk of awarding prizes to anyone who can stay overnight there without chickening out. Nobody has taken me up on that bet yet.
I hop up on my knees on the barstool, prop my hands on the bar, and lean over the bar to kiss my husband as he sets down my drink. He pulls me in by the front of my shirt and lays a claiming kiss on my mouth.
“Wearing my shirt again, I see,” he murmurs into my mouth, sending shivers down my spine.
“If you don’t like it, you should change your wardrobe. Buy yourself less cozy things, like golf shirts.”
Blake snorts a laugh and I giggle as we each picture him in a golf shirt.
Popping one button open at my neck, he says, “You got it wrong. I like you in my shirts.”
I kiss him again, nibbling his bottom lip playfully. “Then I’ll wear them as long as they fit,” I say.
He quirks one eyebrow up at me. “Whatever that means, Madam Mayor.”
I smile at him and wave the envelope in the air. “Which brings me to the other super-fun game I’ve invented for this year,” I say.
He gestures to the painted jack-o’-lantern. “You mean in addition to everything else you’re making me do?”
I sigh and shoot him a knowing smile. “Well, this is a very specific game, only for you.”
Blake lolls his head back and looks toward the ceiling as he lists off all of his responsibilities for today. “Let’s see. Dunk tank, trick or treating, scavenger hunt, pumpkin pound cake judging, and setting up all the special effects for the ghost tour of the Milton House.”
I reach down and grab my drink off the bar and sniff it, wrinkling my nose.
“This again.” He shoots one hairy eyeball at me. “It’s not watered down. You haven’t even tried it.”
“Open the envelope,” I say.
He mutters but does as I ask. “Like I really have time for one more goddamn Halloween game.”
I kiss him on his scruffy chin and the roughness of his angled jaw gives me tingles all down my chest. “I know, baby, but I promise I’ll make it worth your while if you just do this one last favor for me, please?”
I trail a line of sloppy, loud smooches down his neck until he growls.
“It better be quick and it better require nothing from me,” he says.
“Just open it,” I say.
He lets go of me and opens the envelope, pulling out the contents, which includes a piece of paper and another, smaller envelope. He reads what’s written on the piece of paper out loud. “It just says ‘Positive or Negative?’”
I nod. “You have to guess which one and then turn the page to see if you can open the second envelope.”
He grumbles. “All
right, fine. Negative.”
“Turn the page!”
He does, and reads, “If you guessed negative, go to the clock tower to find your next clue—babe, no. I’m not doing that.”
I protest. “But I put clues all over town!”
“Nope,” he says. “Changed my mind. I choose positive.”
He rips open the second envelope before I can protest, but honestly I’m not even mad.
He looks at the photograph that’s inside; it’s a picture of a pregnancy test.
“What,” he says on a strangely ragged exhale. “What do the double pink lines mean?” Blake’s voice goes breathy and trembles, and it’s so adorable I want to cry.
“The drink’s not watered down, babe. You made it too strong,” I say with a wink.
I watch his face as the pieces come into focus. “Holy shit. Are you? Are we…? Are we having a baby?”
I nod as the lump forms in my throat and my voice is choked with tears.
In one swift motion, Blake lifts me up off the barstool and up over the bar. Before I know what’s happening he has me in his arms, my legs wrapped around him. His hands go under my skirt and squeeze my thighs in tight while he kisses me hard.
“When did you find out?” he asks.
“Last week,” I say.
“You waited a week! And you’ve just been walking around in heels and working yourself to exhaustion and making ridiculous games for me to play…”
“I wanted to plan a special surprise for Halloween. You know, to celebrate one year of us getting back together.”
His breath shakes as he rests his forehead against my chest. “I’m going to be a dad. We have so much to do. How long do I have to build a nursery, Madam Mayor?”