* * *
Starting in the basement, they went through every nook and cranny of the house bit by bit. Corrine Devonworth sat the event out, choosing to stay in her bedroom the whole time. The chef, as well, remained safely in her chair near the fire.
Moving to the main floor, they swept through every cabinet and pantry in the kitchen, behind the furniture in the living room, and in the closet in the main hall. Frank took on the study alone, not wanting anyone to disturb the evidence that may remain in there.
Finally, they looked through the bedrooms on the second floor and went up to the attic one final time to have a peek.
“You’re not going to find her hear. Annabeth is already long gone,” Bethany informed them as she remained in her rocking chair at the window.
“What do you mean?” Pritchard demanded, at his wits end with the evening's events.
“She went out this window,” she pointed at the circle she was staring out.
Pritchard walked over and pushed on the panes. “That’s impossible, Mother. This window doesn’t even open.”
“I’m telling you, that’s where she went,” Bethany insisted.
Pritchard turned to Frank and Sonja with his arms folded in defiance. “See? What did I tell you? We can’t take my mother’s word for anything. She might as well have told us she’d seen a ghost.”
At the mention of ghosts, Sonja felt a prickle along her neck that made her uncomfortable. Frank glanced over at her with large asking eyes. He was on the same wavelength as she was, and it was spooky.
Was it possible that there was something supernatural involved in the evening's events thus far, not just some random killing? If it were true, this homicide had just gotten a whole lot more complicated . . . and spooky.
All of a sudden, Sonja no longer wanted to be in the creaky attic.
* * *
“Go ahead and get some rest, Sonja. I’m going to stay up and make sure no one goes into that study,” Frank said as he stood in the darkened hallway near the front door. Realizing they weren’t going to get a whole lot more done tonight, and because no one had ever shown up to help yet, it seemed only right to call it a night.
“Frank, you need to sleep, too. You can’t just stand around all evening,” she protested, examining the dark circles that had developed under his eyes. This was far from anything he’d planned on for the evening. What was supposed to be a simple night with his fiancée at a silly white elephant Christmas party had turned into a real nightmare.
“I’ll pull a chair over and sit if it makes you feel better,” he gave a weary smile.
“Can’t you let me take a shift, at least?” she asked, grasping his warm hand in hers. It was surprisingly comforting.
He shook his head adamantly. “No, you’re not an official police deputy.”
Sonja rolled her eyes. “Do you have anyone else? For heaven’s sake, we never even heard back from Marie.”
“I’m planning on calling her, trust me, just as soon as you’re upstairs.”
“What if no one is coming?” she pressed, looking at him closely.
“Believe me, I trust you more than anyone else I know, but I also have to keep things as close to normal police procedure as possible. One slip-up could mean I let a killer slip through my fingers.”
Sonja chewed her lower lip, knowing that he was absolutely right. As much as she always wanted to help, and as often as she found herself in the thick of things, this really was his show. Finally, she nodded. “Okay, I understand.”
“Good. Hopefully, Marie found someone from Carlsberg to come out here and help me. If and when they arrive, I’ll let him take a shift and come up to bed with you.” The words rolled off his tongue so easily, you’d think they were already married.
Sonja felt her heart begin to pound restlessly in her chest again. The phrase come to bed rang in her ears, sounding so strange to her. More than likely, she was going to be hearing and saying that often once they were married.
She shivered, partially from excitement and partially from nervousness. Even though she knew they wouldn’t be sharing a bed that night, it still freaked her out to be staying in the same room as him.
She loved him, but they’d never done a single thing more than kiss. Heck, they’d never even made out, really.
“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, gripping her shoulder and squeezing it.
Smiling up at him, she shook her head. “Nope. No ghosts tonight, I hope.”
He narrowed his gaze at her and gripped her tighter, offering his support. “Are you positive about that? I saw the way you looked up in the attic. It’s not a face I’m unfamiliar with,” he admitted.
Sonja knew she had very telling expressions, and sometimes she wished she had better control over her emotions. However, they’d had too many cases together—and far too many involving the supernatural—for Frank not to be able to see the signs.
While she had felt something upstairs, she refused to believe it would amount to anything until she had better evidence. When the ghost made an appearance, she’d then tell Frank what she’d seen.
She used to keep things from him, to protect him, but now it was a useless gesture to do so.
“I’m positive there are no ghosts,” she lied, “just dead bodies, senile old ladies, and psychotic madwoman on the loose.”
Frank let out an airy laugh under his breath. “Sheesh, don’t remind me.” He leaned down, kissing her on the lips. Sonja’s face grew hot, hotter than she’d ever felt it before, and her chest swelled with a sensation unlike anything in her experience.
Heck, she’d take spooky ghosts and ghouls over this nervousness any old day of the week. “Goodnight,” she said quickly, darting up the stairs and closing the door behind her.
CHAPTER 14
* * *
Letting out a long sigh, Sonja nestled herself down under the heavy reindeer patterned comforter, finally feeling a little bit more cozy and relaxed. The nagging sensation of a potential ghost being nearby remained in the back of her mind. However, she’d been able to mostly push that temporarily aside so she could hopefully get some sleep.
To help calm her nerves, she thought of all the fun Christmas traditions she’d be doing with Frank and her parents in the coming week.
While Sonja had always been a fan of ghost stories, horror movies, and Halloween as a holiday, it had always been Christmas that helped calm her in times of need. She dealt with anxiety on a regular basis but had found out a number of years ago that listening to Christmas music or reading a romantic holiday-themed story was often enough to calm her nerves.
It was a little trick she’d started back when she was still a child. She’d watched a horror movie that had really spooked her. She was having trouble falling asleep and was afraid that the killer from the movie was going to pop out of her closet and take her away at any moment.
Thankfully, her mother had been there for her and had snuggled down into the tiny bed to keep her company. As Sonja had started to finally relax and let the nightmares go, her mother sang a very quiet rendition of Jingle Bells to her. Moments later, Sonja was fast asleep with images of candy canes and snow in her mind.
She’d relied on this little method countless times to get to sleep, as she did right then.
Quietly to herself, she hummed the solemn tune to Oh Holy Night while she let her eyelids flutter shut. In the darkness of her own mind—a world of her own—the images of all her neighbors, family, and friends came to her. They were gathered in her mother’s home sipping hot cider and eating sugar cookies in the shapes of aspen trees.
Sonja brought out a large delicious tray of warm Peppermint Christmas Waffles in small serving sizes for everyone to enjoy. Even though it was only in her head, she could smell the scents of the food wafting her direction.
The block Christmas party was her absolute favorite tradition, and this year would be no exception. She looked forward to having Frank there with her and having him u
nder the mistletoe.
She shivered with a wave of excitement and nervousness again. Her eyes opened and she was back where she started, thinking of him possibly coming up those stairs.
There was no way she was going to be able to get to sleep now, not with his handsome face constantly staring at her from the blackness of the backs of her eyelids.
Sighing, she stared up at the ceiling above her.
That’s when the knocking sound began.
Her heart thudded in her chest as she sat up straight to get a better look at the ceiling. Was someone up there?
She realized it must be Bethany again and settled back down onto the bed, trying to keep any Christmas ghosts from invading her mind. Her moment of solitude didn’t last long. The knocking came again, like a child banging a drum.
Only this wasn’t a drum, it was someone’s knuckles rapping on the floorboards above. Someone in the attic was trying to get her attention.
Sonja, unable to resist her curious tendencies, was alert and listening.
* * *
Slipping back into her shoes and pulling on her jacket against the evenings deepening cold, she walked over to the bedroom door. Cracking it open just an inch, she peered down the steps to where Frank sat in front of the study.
Did she dare try to sneak out without him noticing? Would he tell her to go back to bed or would he insist on investigating the potentially paranormal happening with her?
Frank had never been very comfortable with the realm of the supernatural and often shied away from any such involvement. He’d even asked Sonja to stop talking to ghosts a year or so back. It didn’t take long for him to come to the realization that it simply wasn’t possible. If he wanted to be with Sonja, to marry her, he’d have to spend the rest of his life dealing with ghosts poking around.
He didn’t like it but had come to some sort of terms with it.
Sonja figured it was best if Frank didn’t see her and didn’t tag along. Some ghosts were shy after all, and there was no knowing what exactly they were dealing with here.
This got her mind whirring about the possibilities. Who exactly could this ghost be? An old member of the family? Terrance perhaps?
In Sonja’s experience, the ghosts of murdered people hardly showed up right away looking for help. She figured it probably took them a while to even figure out they were dead, let alone realize she was the one who could actually see them. She was closer to the veil than most other living people.
Opening the door just far enough for her to slip out, Sonja stepped out onto the upstairs landing and darted behind the corner of the wall before Frank could see her. She’d left the door sitting open, but she hoped her sweet fiancé didn’t notice or think too much of it.
If anything, maybe he’d think she left it open to feel closer to him, to feel safer.
Shuffling down the hall past two other bedrooms, she came to the attic door. So far, it appeared that no one had noticed her. Thank goodness for that, she thought.
Carefully opening the attic door, she glanced up the stairs. It was totally dark like someone had spilled ink on an old picture. The same familiar musty smell wafted down toward her, along with something else. The distinct touch of vanilla was behind everything.
Was it some sort of perfume that Bethany had been wearing earlier?
It seemed to be the only explanation.
Walking into the stairway, she shut the door behind herself. Taking the steps one at a time, she slowly made her way, peering up and through the railing once her head was level with the floor.
That’s when she saw it.
A pair of bare feet, the ankles draped in a white hospital type gown, were standing across the attic above where the guest room was.
Sonja’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes scanned up the white dressings, across the pale arms, and to the wide-eyed face of a young girl. It was the very same woman Sonja had seen wandering the woods outside earlier that evening.
It was Annabeth.
CHAPTER 15
* * *
The stranger, upon spotting Sonja staring at her, smiled with a strange wickedness that seemed to sift up into her eyes like smoke. As she turned to face Sonja head-on, the paranormally sensitive woman saw the bloodied blade in the girl’s hand for the first time. It was a letter opener, and it was stained red with Terrance’s blood.
Letting out a surprised shout, Sonja stumbled slightly on the stairs, falling against the wall behind her and gripping the railing to keep from falling.
“He didn’t need to die, you know. He was trying to help me,” she whispered, waving the blade back and forth like a toy.
“Help you?”
Using the blade like a glorified pointer, she guided Sonja’s gaze over to a large pile of antique boxes in the corner which had collected a net of cobwebs.
Glancing back at the girl, she realized she was gone, just vanished.
She had to be somewhere up here still, right? Was she just hiding in the boxes?
Sonja wasn’t going to take any more chances. “She’s here! Annabeth is here upstairs,” she shouted at the top of her lungs, stumbling back down the stairs to get everyone’s attention.
The thunder of numerous feet throughout the cabin came running at top speed toward the attic. The door flung open and the first person through was Pritchard, followed closely by Corrine. “She’s here? My daughter is here?”
“I saw her upstairs.”
“What’s going on?” Frank demanded, coming up behind the couple.
“Annabeth is upstairs,” Sonja urged him. Based on the blade in her hand, and the simple fact that the back doors of the cabin were open, all clues seemed to point to her as the murderer, pure and simple. Sonja wanted Frank to find her quickly.
“Annabeth? Honey?” the father cried out, flying up the stairs like a whirlwind.
“Mr. Devonworth, I must ask you to stop,” Frank called out after him. Clearly, he was on the same page as Sonja was. If there really was a murderer upstairs, the last thing he wanted was another innocent bystander running directly into danger.
Frank sped after the man, trying his best to grab a hold of him. He wasn’t fast enough.
Pritchard leaped from the top step, knocking over the very stack of boxes that Annabeth had been pointing at. “Annabeth, where are you?” he screamed.
Frank jumped out of the way as the boxes came stumbling past him down the steps. “Look out,” he called. Corrine retreated into the second-floor hallway, but Sonja wasn’t quick enough and the pile came thundering down upon her. She just managed to cover her head in time, protecting her face from the explosion of cardboard and paper.
It was like oversized confetti coming down upon her.
Shaking with surprise, Sonja slowly uncovered her face once it seemed like the downfall had neared an end. Holding her hands out in front of her, she noticed a final sheet of paper fluttering about in the air down toward her until it gently came to rest in her open arms.
“You okay?” Frank asked, before charging into the room.
“Yeah,” she admitted truthfully, examining the strange document that had seemingly come to her of its own accord.
“Annabeth. Where are you?” the disturbed father was still screaming, tearing apart other piles of boxes and throwing pieces of furniture aside.
“What is this?” Sonja whispered to herself, holding it up and reading the printed lettering at the top. The words read Terms of Commitment – Rocky Mountain Institute of the Mind. Annabeth’s full name was written out in the top field. A quiet gasp caught in Sonja’s throat.
These were the commitment papers from ten years ago when the Devonworth’s daughter had officially been sent off for psychological treatment.
Two witnesses, both needed to make the paperwork official, had their names signed at the bottom. One of the names was Corrine Devonworth, but the other one was illegible. The name on the bottom of the paper was completely smudged away as if someone’s finger had run across it.
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Sonja’s thoughts suddenly ran to the body, to the smudges on his fingers. Did this mean this was the item that had been forced from his hand when he died? If so, what could it possibly mean?
“What is heaven’s name is going on in here?” Bethany asked upon reaching the doorway, having pushed past her daughter-in-law to the door. As she squeezed in next to Sonja, her eyes flicked down to the paper.
At first, she didn’t make any sort of expression or sound at all. However, as she read on, her eyes widened, showing the strained blood vessels as her body tensed. “W-what is the meaning of this?” she gasped, snapping up the paper from Sonja’s very hands.
“I just found it. It fell from one of the boxes, one that Annabeth pointed at,” Sonja informed the older woman.
Bethany’s eyes moved back and forth, reading and re-reading what was written there. “Annabeth is telling us the truth. This is what she’s been trying to communicate this whole time.” She held up the paper. “What is the meaning of this?” she yelled again.
Frank came to the top of the stairs with Pritchard restrained so he couldn’t do any more damage to the room. It was almost like he’d completely lost it for a second there.
“Sheriff, I’m sorry about that,” he whispered.
“Just calm down a little,” he said, letting the man go. Frank looked down toward Sonja and raised a knowing eyebrow. “There is no one up here, Sonja.”
Her jaw dropping in surprise, she stepped up the stairs and peered through the railing into the room. Sure enough, with everything torn down, there simply wasn’t any hiding places for her to be. Had what Sonja had seen been a ghost after all.
“Pritchard Devonworth, what is this?” Bethany snapped again, holding up the paper.
Narrowing his eyes at the paper, he shrugged. “I can’t see that thing from here.
“Fine, how about I read you the top? Terms of Commitment,” she read out loud.
He hesitated, shaking his head. “It’s n-nothing, Mom.”
Christmas Waffle Caper (The Wicked Waffle Series Book 4) Page 6