“Let me talk to a few people and see what I can do. Would you like me to take the dress with me now?”
She considered it. If she dared touch the dress again, it had to remain with her. She had more questions now than ever.
“I’d like to keep it. If they are willing to test it for blood, I’ll take it in myself.”
He slanted his head toward the side and lifted his brow like he couldn’t understand her attachment to a piece of clothing that didn’t even belong to her. “Well, here you go then,” he said, holding it out.
Addison jerked back.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“My…umm…hands are dirty. I don’t want to get anything else on it. Could you put it back for me?” It wasn’t the perfect response, but it was the only thing she could think of to say.
He eyed her suspiciously and then did what she asked. When the lid was closed, she took it from him, sliding it back underneath the bed.
“Knock, knock,” Luke yelled from downstairs. “Addison, you here?”
“Excuse me a minute,” she said.
“A friend?” the man asked.
“He’s…” Luke had become a friend, someone she trusted. The thought of their growing relationship caused her to smile without even being aware of it.
The man cleared his throat. “You were saying?”
“He’s restoring the house for me.”
She walked to the top of the stairs and called down. “Luke, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
Introductions were made, followed by the former detective saying he had to be going. Addison and Luke followed him outside where he promised to be in touch again over the next couple of days.
After he’d gone, Luke turned. “Is he the actual person who worked the case? How did you find him so fast?”
But Addison wasn’t listening. She narrowed her eyes, staring at the house.
“What is it?” Luke asked.
Something wasn’t right.
CHAPTER 27
Cabinets slammed. Drawers opened, then banged shut again. An angry, hurricane-like wind tore through the air, ripping the living room curtains from their rods and tossing them from wall to wall like rag dolls. Luke’s mouth gaped open. He stepped inside, shielding his eyes with a hand as if trudging through a sandstorm.
“She’s angry,” Addison yelled. Her hair swirled around, slapping against her face.
“Why—what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have to. Think. What did you talk about with the detective—did he say anything to cause it?”
The chaos around her made it difficult to concentrate. She ran through the conversation in her mind, the detective’s words resounding in her head. He’d shot down just about every assumption she’d made, all the while remaining in a neutral state. He didn’t disagree, he didn’t agree either. And Roxanne had been there to hear it all. Maybe that’s what had her so upset. If Detective Houston cared what happened to her once upon a time, he didn’t anymore.
“I got the impression he didn’t believe me,” Addison said. “He had sound objections for everything I presented. In the bedroom, he said the carpet had always been there, which meant the stain was from something predating the murder. It can’t be true—it just can’t.”
“What about the dress?”
“He didn’t say it wasn’t blood. He suggested it might be nothing more than spilled wine.”
“Why doesn’t he just have it tested?”
“He offered to take it,” Addison said. “I didn’t want to give it to him.”
“Why not? You need answers. How else are you going to get them?”
“You know why. I need to return to that night one more time. I feel like I’ve missed something. I was sure Roxanne died in that room. I need to see it again.”
A knife flew through the air, narrowly missing Luke’s face. Other silverware followed, all directed toward the door. It was as if Roxanne was playing a game of darts, using the door as her dartboard.
“You have to do something!” Luke yelled.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know—see if you can get through to her.”
“She’s not alive. It’s not like I can control a spirit.”
Luke wrapped a hand around Addison’s wrist. “This has to stop! She’s tearing the house apart.”
“You should go.”
He shook his head. “No way. I’m not leaving.”
“She won’t hurt me, Luke. Please.”
He didn’t budge.
Addison breathed in. The words stuck in her throat like a thick, rubbery mass had lodged there, making it almost impossible to speak. “Roxanne, stop,” she croaked.
Roxanne was not swayed by her soft words.
“It’s not working,” Addison moaned.
Luke placed a hand on her shoulder. “Try again. Let her know you mean it.”
“What if—”
“Try again, Addison.”
She stretched her hands all the way out in front of her, fingers spread. She would get through this time. She had to. “Roxanne! This is my house. You will stop this. Now.”
The silverware clanked to the ground, the drapes fluttering into a sagging heap over them. Once again, the house was silent.
“Nice job,” Luke said, patting her on the back.
But something was wrong. She couldn’t feel Roxanne’s presence any longer. In fact, it wasn’t until that moment that she realized she’d felt her presence all along.
***
After everything had settled for the night and Addison convinced Luke to go home, she went up to her room. She’d thought about getting out the dress, but decided against it. It was late and she was tired. It could wait until tomorrow. In the hours that had passed, she hadn’t felt Roxanne had returned. What have I done? She tossed and turned in bed for almost an hour before deciding to find out.
“Roxanne, are you there?” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
She tried again.
“If you’re here, please let me know.”
Still nothing except the drip, drip, drip of a leaky bathroom faucet.
Addison tried a few more times, and, defeated, turned to the side and gave in to sleep.
CHAPTER 28
The air was crisp, the leaves just beginning to shake themselves free from the trees. Winter would soon blow through the sleepy town, leaving many to retreat to their homes for a season of hibernation. Unlike those who despised the cold, Addison welcomed it. The sting of winter’s chill made her feel alive.
She followed the worn-down path behind her house and surveyed the area around her. It felt like she was playing a game of “I spy with my little eye” with herself. Ever since moving into the manor, she hadn’t taken the time to breathe in her enchanted surroundings. Today with all the “what ifs” and “whys” swirling around in her head, the fresh air made her forget about it all.
Tree branches chipped and split beneath the pressure of the rubber tires on Addison’s mountain bike. She wasn’t sure where the path she’d taken would lead, or if it led anywhere at all, only that there was only one way to find out. An owl cooed above her. Could it be the same one I heard the first day I was here? She hoped so. She pictured it sitting majestically atop a tree, guiding her path from above.
A few minutes passed by. The owl sounded off again, this time more distant, farther away. But there was something else. A sound behind her. Footsteps? Another bike perhaps? She glanced back but saw nothing. The deeper she went into the woods, the quieter things were. Too quiet, as if everything was asleep. Where was all the wildlife? She’d expected to cross paths with all kinds of tiny creatures and had seen not a one.
The eerie silence circled around her. Then the sound came again, this time much louder than before. Addison stopped. This time she didn’t turn around. She hopped off the bike and listened. She couldn’t place what the sound was or even where it originated from, only that it re
minded her of the thump, thump, thump of a slowing heartbeat.
“Is anyone there?”
No answer.
Maybe it’s just an animal hiding, not wanting to show itself.
Whatever it was breathed. The breathing vibrated through the trees. It sounded human, except that it was too loud and too forceful, like a mythical giant in a fictional movie.
She spun around, canvassing the treetops, the ground. No one was there, and yet she could feel eyes on her. Watching. Waiting.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
A whooping laugh followed—a loud, shrill kind of cackling.
Addison stood perfectly still, crippled by fear, contemplating her next move. When the sound came for a third time, she dropped the bike and did what came natural: she ran. She didn’t know what she was running from, or who, and she didn’t care.
Less than one minute into the sprint for home, she tripped, her shoelace catching on a twisted branch. She went down, the side of her cheek colliding with the rich earth below. And there she remained.
***
Addison didn’t know how much time had passed when her eyes fluttered open again. She shoved a few fingers into her pocket, then pulled them out again, remembering she’d strapped her phone to her bike before she left.
The last thing she remembered was the sound of someone laughing. But what, or who? And why?
She sat up, spitting particles of damp soil onto the ground next to her. Her mouth was filled with it. The side of her cheek burned. She gently pressed a finger over the inflamed area and winced. She removed the finger and pulled it back, wiping a small amount of blood on her shirt. It had ripped in two places, a little blood wouldn’t make things much worse.
The woods were quiet again. She heard no breathing, no laughing, nothing. She could see the roof of the manor from where she was sitting, but not her bike. Where was her bike? She couldn’t remember.
The sturdy oak tree beside her offered enough support for her to rise to her knees. She caught her breath, then braced herself against it before trying to stand. She planted one foot flat on the ground and pushed up. Her body made little progress. It lifted and then sagged back down. She tried again, this time with more vigor. She shot up for a moment, hobbled around, then fell back to her knees again. She felt paralyzed, like someone had a hold of her head and was pressing down, keeping her there.
But that couldn’t be. She was alone.
Out of breath, she leaned back against the tree. Low, melodic sounds could be heard in the distance. Someone was calling her name. She concentrated. A man shouted her name, followed by a second voice, also male. She recognized the first voice as Luke’s, and breathed a sigh of relief. He knew where she’d gone, and she had no doubt he’d find her. The second voice was lower, fainter, not as easy to distinguish.
“I’m here,” she called.
Neither replied. Had they heard her?
She didn’t wait long for an answer. The next time Luke called out, he was close enough to see her hand hoisted high in the air, waving back and forth. When she was within his line of site he took one look at her and sprinted the rest of the way. The other man wasn’t far behind, inhaling big gulps of air like his life depended on it. As Luke crouched at her side, she looked past him, anxious to identify the mysterious person who had trekked into the woods to find her.
A few moments later she could see him clearly and shook her head in disbelief.
CHAPTER 29
“Dad?”
Addison’s father leaned over the side of the hospital bed and kissed her on the forehead.
“What…are…you…doing here?” Addison asked.
“I needed to talk to you.”
“I thought you weren’t coming again until next week.”
“I couldn’t wait.”
She ran a hand through her dirt-filled hair. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He smiled. “Me too.”
“It must be important if you came early,” she said.
“What?”
“Whatever you have to tell me.”
“It will keep until we get you home. I want the doctor to look at you first.”
Addison’s arm was broken. The doctor explained she’d fallen on top of it when she tumbled to the ground. He rattled on using terms like “angulation” and “fracture,” both words she had heard before but didn’t quite understand. She stared blankly into his eyes, nodding. When he finished talking, he asked if she had any questions. She looked at her dad who then walked with the doctor out to the hallway, no doubt to make sure his every concern was satisfied.
The whole day had been a blur with only bits and pieces remaining in her memory. She tried to piece it all together, starting with the moment she’d left the house to find the bike path to when she woke up in the middle of the woods. The beginning and end were clear; it was the moments in-between she couldn’t account for.
Her father returned to the room and explained they’d need to apply some type of cast to her arm before they could go.
“Where’s Luke?” Addison asked.
“At the house. I drove you here. He asked me to call and give him an update. He’s…umm…very nice.”
“We’re friends, Dad,” she said, sitting up on the bed. “He’s fixing up the house.”
“I know. He told me.”
She raised a brow. What else has he told him?
“What happened out there?” he asked.
In an attempt to quell his concerns, she said, “I tripped over something on the road. You know how clumsy I am sometimes.” This was a fact that was more than a little true, earning her the nickname of “Butterfingers” by her aunt. If she didn’t drop it, spill it, or lose it, she tripped over it.
“Why’d you leave your bike?”
Good question. She’d wondered that very thing herself. She handled the answer by pulling a switcheroo. “How long were you at the house before you found me?”
Her father leaned against the wall. “Oh, about fifteen minutes or so. Luke and I made our introductions, and he gave me a tour of the place. When you hadn’t returned after we finished, we went looking for you.”
Her dad’s phone buzzed. He picked it up and looked at it. “Luke found your bike. He’s such a nice young man.”
“You said that already.”
Her father winked. “He was so concerned about you; he carried you all the way back to the house. Looks like everything is going to be fine.”
If only that were true.
***
Back at the house, Addison relaxed next to her father on the sofa. He’d let out a series of sighs over the last few minutes which were his “tells,” something he did when he was getting ready to deliver news he didn’t like giving. He’d sighed when she was five and her rabbit died. He’d sighed when she was twelve and he had to admit to cancelling the family vacation to Disneyland because of some last minute work thing. And most recently, he’d turned up at her old house, red-faced and sullen, dried tears staining his ruddy cheeks. He hadn’t needed to speak then. She’d never seen him cry before, and she knew it meant something was wrong. Very wrong.
Addison was used to the sighing. Years of hearing it taught her the best thing to do was to wait. Eventually the heart of the matter would come out as it always did. The heavier the sigh, the heavier the confession. Today he was sighing harder than usual, a fact that she didn’t want to let scare her, even though it did.
“I’ve come here,” he began, “to tell you something that will come as a bit of a surprise to you.”
She leaned back, as if understanding the magnitude of what he was about to say would be better received with as much calm as possible. He continued.
“When you were a child and your mother came to me and told me what you’d witnessed at your friend’s house, I should have told you then that I believed you. I was wrong not to do that. And I’m sorry.”
Although relieved, it was a bit of an odd confession to make after so much time had p
assed.
“Dad, is this because of what happened at dinner last time you were here? I haven’t thought of it since then. If you have, then I’m the one who should be saying sorry. What I experienced as a kid…well…it was a long time ago. I know you never wanted to hurt me.”
“I have thought of it. A great deal, actually. It’s been bothering me ever since we parted company that night. When you told me the vision you had of Natalie wasn’t the only one, I didn’t want to believe it, even though I do.”
“You…do?” She could barely speak the words. “Why? What changed?”
“You’re my daughter. You’ve never said anything that wasn’t true.” He hunched over the arm of the couch with his back to her, his nervous gaze darting around like a bee without a flower to land on. Then he drew breath and let out the longest sigh of all. There was more.
“It means a lot to hear you believe me, even now,” she said. “But that isn’t what you came to tell me, is it?”
“I love you, Addy.”
“I know, Dad.”
She was just about to reach for him when he said, “Everything I’ve done has always been to protect you. You know that, right? You understand?”
His voice was shaky, uneven.
What was he saying—or not saying?
“You’re scaring me,” she said.
She patted him on the back with a hand. He wouldn’t turn around. He seemed—afraid. But why? Not wanting to put it off any longer, she rose, walked over to him, and crouched before him. She took his hand and rubbed it gently. “Dad, you can tell me anything. It’s okay. Please—whatever it is, won’t you feel better once you get it out?”
“What I have to say will change everything. It will change the way you look at me. It might even change our relationship.” He covered his eyes with an unsteady hand. “Oh, what am I saying? It will do all of those things.”
Addison shook her head. “I don’t believe that. Won’t you at least look at me?”
After several moments, he slid his hand to the side. “No matter what happens, you have a right to know.”
“What?”
“It’s your grandmother, Addy.”
Grayson Manor Haunting Page 11