The Eton Bluff Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 4)

by Robin G. Austin

  I quiz Todd on the gunshot and he assures me he knows what one sounds like, but that no one was in the barn shooting. He shrugs when I suggest it was residual energy and says it sounded real enough to dive for cover.

  “Then we felt the spiders,” he whispers. “I jumped up and turned on the light. They were everywhere. Some of them were headless... and they were crawling like they were alive.”

  Todd looks back at Owen and tips his head in his direction. “He was covered in spiders, thousands of them. He took off running and we had to run after him.” Todd wipes his forehead. “When we got back, all the spiders were gone. They just disappeared. I read on your website about doing séances. I’d advise against doing one here.”

  I ask who was the last to leave the barn the day Morgan fell. He tells me Owen forgot his money and had to go back in while they waited in the car. When I ask about the most recent activity, he calls for Owen. The kid looks up from his top secret coding. So far he hasn’t said a word.

  “Come over and tell Jack about what happen yesterday. I need to visit the pit ‘trine.”

  Owen looks back to his computer like he can’t tear himself away. He’s got a heavy dose of pale yellow and peach around him: modesty and shyness. Maybe a secret or two.

  He slaps his palms on his desk before jumping up and flopping in the chair beside me. “What do you want to know?”

  His voice is mild and timid, his body language too, but something else is going on with the guy. I hate to play tricks on my clients, but I need to know what that something is.

  I lean forward. Mojo has returned to stand beside him. “What happened to you?” I whisper.

  His eyes get big and they twitch around the room, which causes him to see Mojo and he jumps.

  “In the barn, your last supernatural experience?”

  He sits up straight and watches the wolfdog out of the corner of his eye. “Ah, my coffee cup. I had it next to me on my desk yesterday morning. When I reached for it, it was gone. Charlie takes things.”

  I nod my head up and down like that proves everything. His Adam’s apple slides up and down like he believes me. “So have you found it yet?”

  He shakes his head no, as if I’m a horror movie he’s watching.

  “Did you check the loft?”

  He glances up. “I’m afraid of heights.”

  Chapter Eleven

  §

  Todd comes back into the barn and goes to work. Owen’s already hurried back to his computer. I’m walking around feeling guilty about baiting Owen, but also sensing his guilty conscience about what, I don’t know.

  Since Todd said they’ve all been in the loft, he was either mistaken or Owen’s fear of heights is a new affliction. Whatever is going on with the guy, I don’t believe it’s just spiders that are under his skin and tangling up his nerves.

  I finish my coffee and head to the loft. It’s closer to fifteen feet high than the twelve I estimated from the photo. The ladder is as old and unsteady as the barn. Zeda yells for me to be careful. When I turn around to tell her I will, Owen’s got his head down. I can’t get a good read on the kid and trying to is draining me.

  On each step up the ladder, I stomp to see how steady it is. The rungs are thin and a few are wobbly and unlikely to pass a building inspection, which they apparently didn’t get. It would be so easy to misstep, especially with a cold medicine buzz.

  I still feel the kids have the wrong impression about Charlie or whoever the ghost is. Right now though, I’m more interested in Morgan’s spirit than Charlie’s. I want to make sure that his residual energy isn’t here and adding to the haunting.

  When I reach the loft, I look around and step up. The floor is solid and the railing is intact. The ladder’s bolted to old but solid wood. Unless he was on the ladder, there’s no way he could have fallen.

  Six eyeballs are watching me. Mojo has gone back to sniff around the bales of hay. “No coffee cup up here. I’m going to try to get a sense of the energy. You guys can ignore me for now.”

  “Will do,” Todd yells.

  With my eyes closed, I ask for Morgan Nordquist. The loft is warm with sudden chilly bursts. All the heat from below is escaping through the boards that missed the patch job.

  I walk under an arch to the back of the barn while rubbing Morgan’s door key between my fingers. The area is dark and damp and the air is thick from the bales of moldy hay that are stacked at the far end. I hear a chirp and squeak and fear I’ve found the roosting place of bats, but it’s too dark and the rafters are too high to see their furry faces. I go back to the front before I attract too much of their attention.

  I’m hyper from the coffee and my sinuses are irritated, but I’m sure I could lie down and fall fast asleep. The occasional tapping on keyboards or quiet exchanges by the three downstairs is barely keeping me awake. I’m not sure if it’s my own energy, a spirit, or the mold spores that I’m experiencing.

  I toss some rock salt and say a silent prayer before whispering Morgan’s name. “I hope you’ve already crossed over but if you’re still earthbound, I’d like to help you. Can you give me a sign if you’re here?” There’s a crash downstairs.

  “Sorry, Jackie.” This is from Zeda.

  “Jack, not Jackie” I whisper. I take out my phone and click through the photos until I find Morgan’s. Then I place my fingers over his smiling face and hold his key with my other hand. My mind is floating and soon, I stop feeling the hard floor beneath me.

  “Jack?”

  I fell asleep. How long?

  “Jack? You still up there?”

  I confirm I am.

  “We’re going to lunch now. If you leave before we get back, be sure to lock the door.”

  I mumble something that sounds like okay. Lunch? My phone is still in my hand. It’s already twelve thirty. It wasn’t even eleven when I came up here. I pace back and forth to get my blood moving. When the door downstairs closes, I’m ready to face the haunter of the barn.

  “Okay, Charlie. Is it all right if I call you Charlie? I’m here to help you. You have everyone’s attention with the spiders. That’s you, right? Seems like you have some unfinished business. Why don’t you tell me what it’s all about. Can you give me a sign that you’re here; one where I don’t fall asleep again?”

  I hear scraping below and go to the railing while hanging on tight. It’s not that I think Charlie will push me over, but after losing more than an hour to sleep, he hasn’t won my trust.

  Mojo is trying to climb the ladder. I tell him he can’t come up and that I’m working. He knows what working means since he isn’t a novice ghost tracker. He sits down and gives me a sad look.

  “You’re supposed to be checking out the spiders, especially the decapitated ones. You can also search for a missing coffee cup, but no peeking at the computer screens. Give me ten more minutes and I’ll let you outside.”

  He grunts then turns around and heads back to the east corner. That’s definitely a place I’ll need to check out later.

  I sit down and ask for Charlie again. I’m sensing he doesn’t appreciate the name and I can appreciate that. After a long silence, I remember I need to call the barn’s former owner. If I’m lucky, he’ll agree to meet with me later today.

  The phone rings four times then I hear a couple of clicks. It’s an old-fashioned answering machine. I leave my name and number and a message that I’m writing a book on old barns in Minnesota.

  Somehow, I think telling the man I’m a spider exterminator won’t get me much information. On my last job, my client insisted that I work undercover as a history buff. I like the idea and telling little white lies are better than getting doors slammed in my face.

  I get comfortable on the floor but keep my eyes open. Mojo is restless. He must need to use the pit ‘trine. I’m giving Charlie and maybe Morgan one last chance before letting him out.

  “If there is a spirit here, I would like to communicate with you. I can hear and understand you. I’m here to help. Y
ou’re dead now, and it’s time for you to go to the light. Trust me, it will be a hundred times better than this old barn, and your love ones will be there to meet you. Please give me a sign that you’re here.”

  The downstairs is beginning to smell like burnt coffee. That’s not possible. The microwave is off and there’s no stove, not even a single burner that I saw on the makeshift counter. It’s getting stronger and I’m getting nervous. First about anything burning with me stuck in the loft, and second that it’s Charlie trying to get me to go to the ladder.

  I’m not afraid of you, I say in my mind. I’ve come to help you.

  I’m waiting and listening and smelling the coffee burn. There’s nothing to hear and it’s not a good idea to keep waiting. I go to the railing again. I have to lean over to see the lunch area. There’s no smoke or flames. The smell of burnt coffee fades as quickly as it came.

  “Thanks, I guess. That’s a great sign. You like coffee? Me too. Now tell me how I can help you.”

  Mojo is back looking up at me; my ten minutes have passed. “Need out?” I ask. He walks to the door and I gather my things and look around.

  “Sit tight. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I close my eyes and wait for a response. When I open them, I’m staring straight at the hot spot in the east corner. I walk to the edge of the loft and look down. There’s a big bale of hay that’s surrounded by more hay. I’m gripping the railing, while testing if it will hold me.

  I’m focused on the spot and saying a prayer. Sweat chills the back of my neck. My stomach twists and turns. My hands are slippery on the railing. There’s a voice then another. They sound like an old-fashioned radio whose dial is being turned. The words scramble together. At least one voice is hostile.

  “I can hear you. Tell me what you need to leave this place,” I whisper.

  The room is silent and warm. My sweaty palms are dry again. I check my phone to see if I’ve lost time. I haven’t, but Mojo’s impatient. “Okay, sorry. I’m coming.”

  I hold tight to the railing and start to step onto the ladder. “I’ll be back. You can tell me more soon.”

  I’m glancing down the ladder when I hear, “No, stop.” It’s a shout like I heard last night when I was looking at the photo.

  “Did you hear that?” Mojo’s at the door ignoring me.

  I look over my shoulder and hang on tight as I swing my leg over the ladder. A half dozen steps down and my foot slips. My hand grabs a splintered step as I fall backwards.

  Chapter Twelve

  §

  I’m lying on my back, positioned uncomfortably on a bale of hay a foot or two from the bottom of the ladder, staring at the ceiling. I should have fallen flat on the floor. I shouldn’t have fallen at all since I was hanging on tight.

  Mojo is poking me. I push myself up and feel the sting of an angry nerve in my back and splintered wood in my hand. This place should be condemned.

  “That’s no way to make friends, Charlie, or whatever your name is. What did I ever do to you?”

  I say the words to get a reaction, but I’m almost sure my fall was the fault of an old ladder that must have shifted and made me less steady. If not, there is either a hateful spirit determined to have the old barn all to itself, or a truly evil one that is determined to kill us all.

  As soon as I open the door, Mojo charges out. I wait at the jeep a few minutes then go looking for him. He’s run so far that I can barely see him in the tall grass. He doesn’t ever take off– almost never– and especially not when he knows we’re working.

  He runs to me when I call then runs back again. I’m in no condition to go for a stroll; he finally gives up and comes trotting back.

  I consider going back into the barn until the kids return. Instead, I limp to the jeep, defeated for now. It’s time for lunch and I have slivers to pick out of my hand.

  After getting fast food, I find a park where I can eat and clear my head. Where do I start? I need to get focused on figuring out who Charlie really is and not be sidetracked by Morgan’s death, though I know Loren hopes I figure out what happened to the kid. I want the police to do that job, unless the spirit known as Charlie plans on making it part of the reason I’m here.

  First, I need to figure out what happened in the barn that is causing a haunting. The barn’s a few miles off Hedge Road, and it doesn’t have a physical address. Researching its history through the assessor’s records is complicated and not something I can waste time doing online.

  After getting directions, I drive to city hall and follow a sign that leads me to Eton Bluff Property and Tax Records. I smile and explain my dilemma. The clerk gets serious like she’s up for the task of finding the place. I tell her Rice and Alice Silver are the current owners and she disappears to the back.

  She returns to spread an oversized map on a table and points to two parcels of land. I confirm the one I know only as Spider Central.

  “Dolus Corporation,” she says. “Rice and Alice Silver.”

  Seems reasonable that the Silvers would purchase the land under the veil of a corporation. I think I’ve even heard the name before. I ask about the prior owner. I assume it’s the person I called earlier today, Calvin Harper. She confirms it is then tells me all the records before him are in storage and will take two weeks, four at the most to retrieve.

  I regret to confirm the prior records won’t be necessary since I don’t plan on being in town that long. She tells me if I come back about this time next year, everything should be online.

  “I’m doing research for a book I’m writing on old barns. I’m sure this barn is quite old. Would you know anything about the place?”

  “A book about barns?” She shakes her head and tells me she’s lived in the area less than a year so she doesn’t know the history about anything here.

  I give up to go to the library. When the internet and the county records fail, there’s nothing more dependable than the keeper of knowledge. A good librarian is worth her weight in gold. I check for directions and drive the three miles to the Eton Bluff Library.

  When I see a young girl at the counter, I slump. She looks like she’s still in high school and she’s very interested in her fashion magazine, even as I stand in front of her. I tell her my history of barns cover story. She shrugs her shoulders, looking even more bored.

  “Haunted barns,” I say, leaning in and looking around as the words pass over my lips. Now I’ve got her attention, and I can almost see the gears turning in her head.

  “Like ghosts?” she asks.

  “Precisely,” I say. “I heard there’s a barn near Hedge Road that’s haunted. The ghost?” Her eyes are big and not bored at all. “I heard it may have killed a boy.” Okay, I know that I’ve reached a new low by throwing poor Morgan under the bus in the hopes of getting some small town gossip, but I’m doing it anyway.

  She looks around and leans in to whisper, “Yeah, I heard about that. It was this guy who fell out of the barn’s loft. Some say a demon threw him to the ground while he was sleeping.” She’s nodding her head.

  “What do other people say?”

  She crunches her face. “Same thing. Except for those that say he jumped to his death because he was high on drugs.” She takes a strand of her long hair and runs it over her mouth.

  “What do you think happened?” I ask.

  “To be honest? I don’t believe in ghosts. I think he was doped up and just fell. Wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened.”

  “Okay, do you have any information on the barn?”

  She points to a long row of computer terminals. All the seats are filled. “Most everything’s online these days. You can look on the internet and probably find something, but you have to have a library card to get on the website. Otherwise, you have to wait in line. That could be hours.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  She wishes me good luck with my ghosts in barns book while turning back to her fashion magazine. Libraries aren’t always the vault of knowledge I�
��d prefer.

  As soon as I’m outside, I call Loren and leave a message about the Dolus Corporation. I’m not sure what, if any, significance it has, but I know I’ve heard the name before.

  Now what? Right, the Spirit Searchers. I’d sure like to talked to them about why they abandoned the investigation and their equipment. I sit in the jeep and check their website. My messages are still unanswered; their website is still not updated. I consider leaving a third message, but search the news feeds instead to see if their bodies have turned up anywhere.

  A few minutes of searching, and I decide they’re still missing or their remains haven’t been found in Minnesota. Morbid, but it would really be nice to learn what happened to them in the barn before it happens to me.

  Maybe the prior owner can give me some insight. I take the slip of paper with the Harper phone number and hold it between my palms. “What’s your message about the barn?” I didn’t really expect to get anything, but I’m suddenly falling down a dark hole. I let myself go. All I can see is black then three numbers appear in bloody red: three, one, eight.

  Mojo’s in the backseat. He pokes me in the head. “Hey, I was getting something.” My phone is on the passenger seat. The time reads three eighteen. That’s a great message all right, but what does it mean?

  I’m searching on my laptop to figure out the numerology meaning when my phone rings. It’s Calvin Harper and I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere. Calvin’s voice is rough and he’s taking his time thinking and answering my questions about his prior ownership of the barn off Hedge Road. Finally, he says he remembers the Silvers and a deal’s a deal. He’s not giving them a refund– despite what happened to that kid.

  I assure him that they’re happy with the barn and no refund is necessary. Then I go into my spiel about my barn book, minus the ghost part I used to entice the librarian. Calvin’s silent too long then he tells me I’d be wise not to put that old barn in any book.