In deep thought, Stephanie approached the dining room window once again and looked out. Everything seemed darker than before. In fact, it seemed as if the edges of her property dropped off into a dark abyss.
Why did I buy this house? Why couldn’t I have chosen a newer home in a new neighborhood?
Just as Main Street curved into town, there were numerous newly-built homes that would’ve been perfect for the kids and perfect for her.
“I’m stuck with this,” Stephanie whispered. Her finances were in good shape, but she certainly wasn’t in a position to put this house up for sale and go buy another one. And selling this house probably would’ve been an uphill battle. According to the real estate agent, the home had been on the market for several years before she came along, all bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to buy a fixer-upper.
Stephanie’s feelings of anger about Brett’s death came back around for another spin. Her husband passed away and left her alone. He died and now she had to raise their three children without any real help. Stephanie felt guilty for feeling this way, but her feelings were real nonetheless.
As she looked out the dining room window at the darkness around the house, she felt as if her life would never be what it should have been. Here she was, a day’s drive and then some from Chicago, where she’d built a life with her husband and children, trying to do it all on her own. If Brett hadn’t died, they would’ve never come to Georgia. Illinois would still be their home—a home where everything had been normal for so long.
Chapter 7
“Timothy!” Stephanie shouted up the steps the following Friday morning. “Today is trash day, honey. Can you help come down and help me get some stuff out to the curb for the trash man?”
Timothy shouted that he’d be down in a moment. Biting the tips of her nails, Stephanie darted back to the kitchen. She wanted to get rid of the regular trash and the boxes she’d brought up from the basement. But another goal was to also to bring up the blood-stained rug from the basement so she could put it out with the trash, too.
After seeing the person running away from the window, the rug had been on her mind. It was time to get rid of that thing. She didn’t know what happened to it and she didn’t want to know. She was logically sure that the person who looked in her window had nothing to do with the rug, but she still wanted it gone.
While Stephanie had never considered herself to be a superstitious woman, something pecked at her mind day and night at this point. She wondered if the rug being in the house perhaps had something to do with all the odd things happening since she and her children arrived. Regardless, the woman knew that if the rug were out of her house, she’d be able to think clearer. Yes, it needed to go.
After Stephanie got the rug out to the road with the other trash, thanks to Timothy’s help, she breathed a sigh of relief. That should take care of that.
“I’ve got a job interview today, Timothy. I can’t be late for that. Get Jane and Jonathan to hurry up. You guys are going to Grandma and Grandpa’s again today.”
“Okay, Mom. I remember. Oh my way.”
She rushed up the walkway behind Timothy, making him speed up. “Seriously, we need to leave in thirty minutes.”
“Okay. We’ll be ready.”
~~~~~
When Stephanie came out of her job interview, she couldn’t help but look at her reflection in her car window. She wondered how she’d done. Wondered if she’d made a good enough impression to possibly be considered for the position. As she headed back home, meandering down the scenic Main Street and looking at the buzzing shops and restaurants, she finally lowered her shoulders and relaxed. Stephanie assured herself that she’d probably made a good impression, even if only because she was used to competing in a place like Chicago.
Stephanie thought about going by her parents’ house to pick up her children on the way home but snickered as she passed by the street leading back to her parents. On a whim, she decided she’d go home and relax for a moment before calling her mother and father. Plus, knowing her mom, she’d probably want to spend as much time as possible with her precious grandchildren.
Stephanie pulled into her driveway, grabbed her bag, and headed up the walkway. As she turned the walkway bend, the front porch now in sight, her eyes bulged. She stopped dead in her tracks. Her mouth hung open and her bag slipped out of her hand. The rug that she’d found in the basement—the rug she and Timothy had carried out to the street this morning—was rolled out on the front porch. The bright daylight shone down on the bloodstain, illuminating it like a welcome sign.
“Oh my gosh. No,” Stephanie said. She looked around, feeling as if the entire world had stopped spinning. The trees in the hills seemed like eyes looking down at her. Their branches were like the arms of onlookers, pointing and laughing. Quickly, she grabbed her bag and stepped up onto the porch. She started to grab the rug to roll it up but stopped. “Don’t touch it, don’t touch it.”
Once inside, she pressed her back against the closed door and shut her eyes. The thumping of her heart was the only sound she could hear. For several minutes, she tried to reason as to how in the heck the rug could’ve moved from the trash pile at the road back to her front porch. And how could it have been rolled out right in front of her door.
The neighbors. Since moving into the house, she’d waved at a few people down the street on her way to the main road, but she hadn’t met anyone in the houses directly next to her own. She wondered if perhaps either of them had teenagers who were known as the neighborhood pranksters. So many things just weren’t making sense.
When a bolt of confidence and boldness struck Stephanie, she pulled the front door open and decided she’d finally go introduce herself to the neighbors. There had to be some explanation as to how the rug got back onto the porch. And, just maybe, one of the neighbors had been home to see whoever pulled it out of the trash then put it on the porch.
Stephanie wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and brainstormed what she’d say as she headed down the street. The houses were on large lots, and she had to walk a little further than she would have in Chicago to meet her neighbors. But no distance was too great for this cause.
The first house Stephanie came to was clearly from the same time period as her own but smaller. She stepped up onto the porch, careful to not hit her head against wind chimes, and knocked on the door. Seconds later, the door’s curtains fluttered a bit then a man, who looked to be in his late fifties, answered the door.
“Hi, I’m Stephanie Case,” she said, smiling. “My kids and I moved into the house right here. I don’t know if maybe you’ve seen us out in the yard or something.”
The man opened his door all the way and stepped out onto the porch. He then extended his hand to introduce himself. “Nice to meet you, Stephanie,” he said. “I’m James Banks. And yeah, I think I have seen you and your kids. Do you have twins?”
Stephanie nodded and smiled again. “Yep,” she said. “Those would be my kids. I also have an older son.” She didn’t feel as nervous at this point. Mr. Banks came across as the friendly sort of guy. “Sorry for taking so long to stop by and introduce myself. I’ve just been so busy.”
“No, that’s fine. I understand.” He chuckled and jingled the change in his pockets.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you too long, Mr. Banks, but I wanted to ask you if you saw anyone around our house this morning.”
James glanced toward Stephanie’s house then answered. “No, I can’t say that I did,” he said. He looked into Stephanie's worried face. “Is there a problem?”
“Well,” Stephanie began, worried that she’d sound crazy. “Maybe not. I just don’t know for sure. You see, I had a rolled up rug up with all the trash when I left this morning. When She went on to explain the situation with the rug, that she and her son had taken it out for trash day this morning and when she’d come home just recently, it was spread out on her front porch. Of course, she neglected to mention the bloodstain.
James’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Wow, um,” he said. “That is rather strange, I have to say, and... um…” He stopped speaking and simply nodded his head.
Stephanie got the sense that the older man wanted to say more but was reluctant to do so. She wondered why but wasn’t going to press the issue, especially since this was her first time meeting the guy. “Okay, well, thank you,” she said. “And sorry for bothering you. I just thought I’d check to see if you’d seen anything.”
“Oh, no problem,” James said. “If you’d like to, later on this week or something, you’re welcome to come back and meet my wife. She’s gone this morning, but she might have seen something. She’s always looking out the window... the nosey sort, she it.”
Stephanie chuckled, thanked the man for the invitation, and then left, promising to come back and meet Mrs. Banks. Confused and frustrated, she headed back toward her own house to the neighbor on the other side. She knocked and waited, but nobody answered. Opting to not push it, she turned and went back to her own house with the rug incident niggling on her mind.
On the porch, she rolled the rug back up. Carefully, because of her heels, Stephanie drug the rolled-up rug back down her walkway toward the street. Just as she’d dropped one end, a man’s voice came from behind her. A startled gasp slipped out of her lips. It was James Banks, smiling and pointing at the rug.
“I can help you with that,” James said.
Stephanie admitted that she was startled but took the man up on his offer. Together, the two carried the rug back to the street and leaned it against the rest of the trash.
“Yeah, I saw you struggling a bit, so I thought I’d come and help you,” James said. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you getting rid of such a nice rug?”
Stephanie glanced at the rug, hoping the man hadn’t noticed the bloodstain. She looked back at him and smiled.
“Well, I actually found it in the basement. There was quite a bit of stuff left down there from the previous owner. That’s all these boxes here. The rug just doesn’t fit our style and well, I didn’t know if it had mold since it had been in the basement. ...And I don’t want to keep it.”
“Looks like a nice heirloom kind of rug,” James said.
Stephanie forced a smile. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”
“Does it have a stain on it?” James asked.
Stephanie was a bit taken aback by the very specific question. “Um, yes, it does. I don’t know how it got back up to the porch, but I just want it gone. I can’t explain the feeling, I just want it gone.”
James hesitated before speaking. “You seem like a nice young lady,” he said. “And your kids, from what I’ve seen from afar, seem nice, too. Typical, happy kids. It’s nice to see. So, I guess I should maybe tell you a little about the house.”
“Tell me what?” Stephanie asked, eagerly. “What is it, Mr. Banks?”
James Banks hesitated. He looked at her and then looked away. “Well, it’s not a pretty story, I’m sad to say. The first owners of the house were the Billington’s. He was a lawyer in town until his business started failing because of his drinking. Things went south fast for them. Anyway, long story short, one night Carl Billington came home from work and killed his wife. The way I heard it was she fell on a rug in the living room after he shot her.”
Stephanie gasped. “This rug? This is the rug that a woman died on? Why is it still here after all this time?”
“I’m not sure. All the residents since then haven’t lasted long in the house. I think the longest anyone has lived there since is about three years.”
Stephanie looked stricken. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe nobody told me.”
“I’m sorry to make this worse for you, but the house is rumored to be haunted. Everybody in Moorestown knows it, Stephanie.”
Stephanie’s nostrils flared. She was outraged that the real estate agent hadn’t told her about something so important. Then she thought about her parents’ suspicious glances at one another – how they’d look back at the house when walking out to their car. How could her own parents not tell her about the rumor? They’d moved to this town several years ago, if not an entire decade. And like Stephanie’s father always said, Eloise was the nucleus of the town’s social sphere. If there was a rumor or reputation, that women knew about it.
Standing out on the street, just a foot or so from Mr. Banks, Stephanie looked back up at the house. She felt a chill even though it was the middle of a hot summer day in Georgia. She wondered what she’d gotten herself and her children into.
Chapter 8
Stephanie finished talking with her neighbor, Mr. Banks, thanked him for filling her in, and then headed for her parents’ house. The entire way there, she bit her bottom lip from being so angry. She had to be careful to watch her speed. When her emotions were high she tended to drive too fast.
When she got there, she ran up the front steps and let herself into the house. “Mom! Dad!” she yelled, loud enough to where all of Moorestown could probably hear. She stood in the living room with her hands on her hips until they came rushing around the corner from the dining room. She was breathing hard from being so upset.
“What is it, Stephanie?” Eloise asked. “Why did you come in here yelling like that?” Stephanie’s mother looked up at her husband, who remained silent but clearly was just as concerned.
Stephanie decided to see if her parents would be honest with her if she set them up in a situation where they could be easily.
“Mom... Dad,” she looked back and forth between them. “Okay, I’ve given some thought to what you said about the house. I think I understand your concerns about it. But I’d like to know what you know about the house. Is there anything I need to know?”
Eloise and Judd looked into one another’s eyes the same way they had during dinner that night. “You heard, didn’t you?” Eloise asked. “I can tell.”
“Where are the kids?” Stephanie asked.
“Out back, playing,” Judd said. “Sit down, Stephanie, so we can talk.”
Stephanie plopped down on the couch. She got a strong feeling that her parents—especially her mother—might have more details than Mr. Banks.
“Okay, I want to hear it all,” she said. “I just learned from my neighbor that the rumor is the house is haunted from a woman named Jeanette Billington being killed there. Why didn’t you guys tell me?”
Judd allowed his talkative wife to take the lead.
“What do you already know?” Eloise asked, ignoring the question her daughter had just asked.
“Not much, I don’t think. Basically, that Jeannette Billington’s husband shot her. On the expensive rug.”
“Yes, well, that part is supposedly true,” Eloise looked away for a moment, obviously gathering her thoughts.
“Just come out with it, Mother. You’ve had this secret for long enough that you must have already thought about how you’d tell me this story. So let’s have it.”
Judd looked sympathetically at his daughter as he reached over and patted his wife’s hand supportively.
“Well, dear, it’s a bit of a complicated story. Jeannette's husband, Carl, was arrested the next day after his wife was shot dead in the living room. I have friends who have lived around here their entire lives, so they really know all of the details.”
“I’m sure you’ve been able to get them to talk. You probably know it as well as your friends do. You certainly know it better than I do. So come on. I want to hear it.”
“They say that Carl went to his office the next morning after he killed her... he was a lawyer, you see... almost as if nothing had happened. Donny, their little boy, had supposedly been left alone in the house while Carl went to his office. From my understanding, the little boy was so distraught that he went next door to tell the neighbors that his mother was sick and that he was hungry and needed something to eat. Such a sad story. I can’t imagine what that boy went through.”
“So she lay dead on
the floor and the husband just stepped over her and went on his way? That’s cold.”
“Well, that’s what I heard. One of my friends from the salon is your next door neighbor. Susan Banks.”
“I met her husband this morning. James, is it? He’s the one who told me the basics.”
Eloise hesitated before continuing. “Well, James lived where he does now at the time this all happened. He was young then, too. His mother went to the house to check on Jeannette after she gave Donny something to eat. And that’s when she found the poor woman dead. She called the police and everything. They kept Donny at their house for a while.”
“Poor boy. He must have been traumatized. How does a kid get over something like that?”
Eloise looked at Judd again and took a breath. She continued with the story, though Stephanie could see that it was difficult for her mother to tell this story.
“Then little Donny, poor thing, had to tell the story to the police. He had to tell how he’d seen his father shoot his mother. The police went after Carl at his office. He confessed and was arrested. Apparently, the man wasn’t even sad about it, from what I hear.”
“And what about Dorothy?” Judd asked, interjecting. He was actually from the area, somewhat, so he’d known of Dorothy Palmer and her family from his childhood.
“Oh yes, that’s right,” Eloise said. “Dorothy Palmer, she was Jeanette’s mother, came to the house to live with Donny for a while. You know, to give the little boy a sense a normalcy. Had to pay off Carl’s atrocious debts, too.”
Judd nodded. “Apparently, the house was being foreclosed on and the bank was about to take it. Dorothy got the back payments caught up so Donny wouldn’t lose his home, too.”
Eloise took back over. “It seems, though, that even with Dorothy’s best efforts, Donny couldn’t get over it all. He started causing problems wherever he went. He was misbehaving in school, stealing mail from neighbors, and even breaking into houses in the neighborhood. By the time he got to be eleven, they say he was suspected of killing several pets across town. I don’t know if that’s true or not.”
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