“Makes sense. Your strongest connections are facilitated by setting, a physical element, or loved ones. But even so—”
“It’s more than that.” Aubrey felt positive she was onto something, the pinging rattling like steam through metal pipes. “Eli could have spelled out his message on any number of occasions. Right here or in Piper’s office last week.”
“Don’t discount the other option, Aubrey. ‘Friendly ghost’ didn’t describe him all those years ago. It could be a sadistic spirit luring you toward more harm than good.”
Absently, Aubrey drew her fingertips over the half-moon scar on her chin. “I don’t think so, Levi. Not this time.”
“So what’s your bottom line? What are you saying when it comes to Eli Serino’s ghost?”
She stared at him. “We need to go back to the house on Acorn Circle—for Eli, and for whatever it is he so desperately wants to communicate about those missing boys.”
“And what, specifically, makes you say that?” His gaze had stopped moving too, reconnecting with Aubrey’s.
“When we were at the house on Acorn Circle, do you remember the pinging sound? It was so distinct, connected to Eli from the moment we went inside.”
He offered no reply.
“What if I told you I heard it right now—since about the time the letter box took flight? Would that be enough to convince you?”
“Not really.” His dark stare moved from hers to the far corners of their living room. “It probably has more to do with the fact that I hear it too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Whether the body in Maine turned out to be an unrelated John Doe or Jude Serino, Aubrey and Levi agreed to table that much while seeking out Eli Serino. “Hopefully, home-field advantage will give Eli the platform he needs.” Aubrey said this as she settled into the passenger seat of Levi’s car. Instead of a listing sheet, she held on to the two pieces of green construction paper.
Interestingly, accessing the house on Acorn Circle proved to be a low hurdle. It had been years since they’d visited the property, the odds greatly in favor of an occupied house. But a search of public records had left Aubrey and Levi intrigued. The house had been bought and sold eight times in the past dozen years.
“Must be some kind of all-time high,” Levi had said as Aubrey switched from scrolling through town records to her old haunting grounds: Multiple Listing Service. She found the house, which was, once again, listed with Happy Home Realty—the real estate firm best known for hard-to-move properties. But Aubrey didn’t recognize a single realtor, including Dawn Carmichael, who currently represented the listing. Levi and Aubrey decided the easiest way in would be to pose as interested buyers. When Dawn recognized Levi’s name—Ink on Air’s most popular news contributor—she was quick to forgo realtor basics, like financially qualifying potential buyers. They grabbed at the perk, and Dawn agreed to meet them at the house on Acorn Circle.
The car slowed as Levi navigated the long, winding driveway. “What, um . . . what’s your plan when she wants to accompany us on the tour?” he asked.
“I was thinking about that. One possibility, you act standoffish.” She flashed a smile at him. “Shouldn’t be a stretch.”
Levi smirked in reply.
“We could tell her I’m the one who’s dying to see the house. You keep her talking outside while I take the tour.” The car stopped twenty yards short of the house.
“You’re not serious? Aubrey, if you think I’m letting you go into that house alone . . .” He shook his head. “Then clearly you forget the details of our last visit.”
Aubrey stared at the once-pristine property. Years of come-and-go owners had taken their toll; the reproduction colonial hadn’t fared well. Overgrown shrubbery swallowed the front, a tired façade, and paint-chipped shutters. The once-stately property bore all the markings of a movie-lot haunted house. Regardless, she addressed Levi’s remark as if they were approaching a house with a welcome mat that said “ordinary.”
“I’m not that person anymore, Levi. You should know that. As for future predictions, am I concerned I may have to navigate new and not particularly inviting aspects of this gift? Yes.”
“Okay, then—”
“But the gift, I know; it hasn’t owned me in years. I’m not afraid of Eli Serino.” She ran her fingers over a pockmarked arm. “I’m not foolish either. I’m not sure you’d get me to take a return trip to a motel room on the Delmarva Peninsula.” It was the place Aubrey had experienced her evilest encounter with the spiritual world, resulting in bite marks on her arm, the scar on her chin. “But this,” she said, pointing to the house, “I can handle. Eli was a bully, not a true threat.”
“I’m not trying to scare you, but maybe he’s upped his game.”
Even in their current turmoil, Levi’s protective instincts were touching. “Let’s just see how it goes.” She pointed to a young woman who stood in front of a luxury sedan, her realtor smile beaming from afar. Levi sighed and drove forward.
Introductions proved insightful. While Dawn recognized Levi, she clearly didn’t have a clue about Aubrey. After a blip of conversation, Aubrey suggested they go inside. At that point, it was Miss Carmichael who seemed standoffish. “Uh, of course . . . the house tour.” She twisted her hands in a wringing knot. “It’s why we’re here, right?”
“You know . . .” Levi wrapped an arm around Aubrey’s shoulder, hugging tight. She glanced queerly at him. Even in peak relationship mode, Levi wasn’t much for public gestures of affection. “Can I be candid with you, Dawn?”
“Oh, absolutely! All my clients can count on complete discretion.”
“Good to know. The truth is Aubrey’s had her eye on this house for ages. Every time it’s up for sale, she’s says, ‘Levi, now’s our chance! I just know this is the house for us!’”
“Really?” the young realtor said. “Well, it does have some . . . uncommon features.”
“And she feels it’s serendipity that so many owners have come and gone over the years.”
“Wow. I suppose serendipity would be one way to spin it.”
“Anyway . . . being as we’re not exactly complete strangers. I mean, you did say you watch Ink on Air religiously.”
“That’s true.” She smiled brightly. “Your reporting is just . . . well, wow!”
Levi cleared his throat, Aubrey cued to his response over the underwhelming adjective.
“And, my gosh, your on-camera appeal is just . . .”
“Wow again?” Aubrey offered.
“How’d you know what I was going to say?” The girl giggled, and Aubrey giggled back, patting Levi’s chest. “I’ll even tell you a little secret, Dawn.” She dropped her voice to a pseudo-whisper. “Don’t tell Levi this, but the camera’s love for his face, it’s most of the reason MediaMatters hired him.”
“Ohhh . . . wow . . . wow . . . wow,” she said in a breathy gasp. “And here I thought his stories were pretty good too.”
“Okay, that’s enough—” But Levi shut up as Aubrey discreetly elbowed him.
“Show business!” Aubrey said. “You’ve no idea how many hours Levi spends answering fan mail, signing eight-by-ten glossies. Anything to keep up his image.”
The realtor continued to nod, her gaze going starry. Aubrey patted him again, a prompt to speak.
“Uh, that’s right,” he said. “So all things considered, would you mind terribly if Aubrey and I toured the property alone—privately?”
“You mean I wouldn’t have to go in?”
“It’s not a problem for us,” Aubrey said. “I’m sure you’re busy. Maybe you have some phone calls to make?”
She giggled again. “Gosh, I can only think of about a dozen realtors who’d love to know I was showing this property to Levi St . . .” The realtor stifled her remark. “I mean, I do have some appointments to confirm. If you really don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Levi said. “I appreciate your understanding. Clearly, you know how to work with your
clients.”
A few moments later, Levi and Aubrey made their way up the front walk to the pillars and rotunda entry.
“I see being social in the right situation is still one of your strong suits.”
“Don’t complain. We’re in.” Levi punched Dawn’s realtor code into the lockbox. “Just be glad I didn’t have to agree to after-the-tour drinks.”
Aubrey laughed.
“What could possibly be funny?”
She pursed her lips. “Sorry. It’s still a cheap thrill when your reporter prowess is eclipsed by your sex appeal.”
“Keep it up, Aubrey.”
Humor vanished as the lockbox popped open, and Levi inserted the key in the double front doors. They opened in a gliding motion, as if butlers drew them steadily from either side. Aubrey inhaled deeply, her lungs filling, her mind whirling. While the memory of their last visit was clear, being there came with a tad more caution. In front of them was the expansive, marble-clad foyer, the turned staircase from which the original pinging noise resonated.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
She half shrugged and nodded. “Guess I’m not the only one who’s come a long way in the past dozen years.”
“How so?”
“Last time, I had to drag you in here, totally pissed off, under protest and complete disbelief.”
“So we agree you and I have both benefited from a learning curve. Do you suppose Eli has?”
“Only one way to find out.” But Aubrey didn’t move forward. Old instinct edged in, her mouth went dry, and her feet stayed planted at the entry. Levi’s hand closed around hers and she shut her eyes. His ability to bridge the ethereal and earthbound remained a strong guiding force. They moved forward together.
Last time, aside from Eli, the house was empty. This time it showed the wear and tear of many owners. The upscale layout remained, though it felt abandoned—dirty floors and banged-up walls, naked curtain rods and empty boxes strewn about—the result of an intense lack of attention or just the fast exit of terrified homeowners? Instead of an angry spirit, Aubrey had the profound sense that the emptiness before her was exactly how Eli Serino had perceived his life—hollow and abandoned. As the thought settled in her head, so did the presence of a specter.
Aubrey looked toward the balcony rail from which Eli had hung himself, bracing for the gory visual. Thankfully, it wasn’t there. He’d harbored enough energy to show himself last time, and Aubrey had never gotten the image out of her head—a gruesome glimpse of Eli’s earthbound corpse. His ghost had stood by the grand staircase, near the spot in the airy foyer where his body had twisted for nearly a week.
Eli’s ghostly account of what had happened was unforgettable: the suicide had been an accident—a cry for help gone wrong. Anticipating his parents’ arrival home from Europe, and prepared for a good show, Eli had slipped on the balcony edge. The seventeen-year-old boy ended up executing the act, as opposed to merely scaring the shit out of his parents. Aubrey imagined how it must have haunted the Serinos—Suzanne and Bruno. Had the couple returned on schedule, they might have found their son in time.
Instead, the house phone had rung as Eli twisted. He heard his mother’s voice laced with cursory interest as her son gasped, his legs kicking vainly. Eli’s mistake. He’d been unaware, until her call, that his parents had extended their European trip. The boy listened as he slipped from life to death, Suzanne conveying the message between her pro skier lesson and hot rock massage.
Aubrey shuddered at the horrific event. Back then, Eli’s spirit hadn’t been able to escape the house. She suspected the number of owners and waning aura of the Serino family had weakened his tie to the property. She assumed that eventually his earthbound soul had broken free, at least from the house on Acorn Circle. She glanced around the foyer; even so, this was still home to Eli.
“Anything?” Levi’s hand was still tight around Aubrey’s.
“Uh, yes, actually. Eli is definitely here.” The pinging rose on cue, and she smiled. “Look on the bright side; he could have heaved a curtain rod at us. Compared to Piper’s office or our house, his energy is significantly stronger here.”
“And should we take the pinging as a ‘he’s come in peace’ sign?”
“Maybe,” she said warily, the hint of sour apple tickling the back of her throat.
“So what now, we take the tour, or—”
“Mmm . . . I’m pretty certain this foyer is Eli’s hot spot.”
“Can’t say I’m sorry to hear that.”
Aubrey let go of Levi’s hand, but he remained shadow-like, less than a body width away. From her shoulder bag, Aubrey withdrew the two pieces of green construction paper. “Okay, Eli. You’ve got our attention. How about a little cooperation? What’s this all about? I’m listening.”
The air was filled with nothing but dust. While the sugary sour apple was slight, Aubrey didn’t hear a voice, not even a whisper. At the very least, Eli didn’t appear to be on the attack—his sole goal during her last visit. There was an absence of stronger markers—scents and sounds. The lack of finer details, it was part of Eli’s message. He did not have a life, but merely existed inside this house.
As she looked toward the living room, framed by massive columns, a wave of sympathy washed over Aubrey—something she’d had a hard time feeling for Eli Serino. The moment true empathy emerged, the wall sconces lit. She and Levi moved toward them.
“At least he’s starting with the basics.”
“Shh . . . ,” Aubrey warned. “Don’t spook him.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
With the green papers in one hand, she tugged on Levi with her other. The turning on or off of lights Levi had witnessed numerous times over the years. Aubrey dumbed it down to Specter Presence 101. Electrical current was the most basic form of communication. But in the dimly lit room, where crooked blinds were drawn, Aubrey perceived it as more of a direction from Eli.
“And so now what?” Levi let go of her hand, taking a turn around the large empty room.
“I’m not sure. He definitely wants us . . . me in this space.” She took a few steps toward French doors at the opposite end of the square footage. They led to a brighter sunroom. To her right was a swinging door, a small glass window providing a peek into a gourmet-grade kitchen. They’d never made it that far last time they’d toured the property. Whatever specifics Eli wanted to convey, they weren’t registering.
“Uh, Aubrey.”
She turned. Levi stood about fifteen feet away, having cozied up to the fireplace, the sconces denoting the high and massive mantel where a mirror hung. “I think I found what he wants to point out.”
Aubrey hurried to where Levi stood and peered up at the mirror. Written in a heavy layer of dust was the word “Mother.”
“Oh my . . .” It was always a stunning sight, any specter’s ability to expand outlets of communication. Adding to Eli’s presence was the construction paper, which grew hot in her hand.
The two of them stepped back and stared up at the spelled-out word. The mirror was high; reaching it would require a step stool, even for Levi. He shook his head at it.
“The most acute sense of logic wouldn’t blame that on vandals or happenstance. It’s at least six and a half feet off the floor.” He shrugged. “But so what? We know Eli Serino had a bad relationship with his parents. How does finger pointing at his mother mean more than what drove him to suicide?”
“I’m not sure, I—”
As Aubrey spoke, the mirror gave way and fell, crashing to the hardwood floors. On impact, they scooted back, a sea of glass shards at their feet.
“Damn,” Levi said, looking at the mess. “How the hell are we supposed to explain that to Dawn?” Sarcasm was doused as the pinging noise rose, so loud and steady, Levi and Aubrey only exchanged a glance of confirmation. “Uh, listen,” he said to the room at large. “Sorry about the joke. Just keep calm, Eli. We’re not following quite yet, but we’ll get there.” He pointed t
o Aubrey. “Okay, she’ll get there.”
“No! Christ, he’s stubborn. It will take the two of you . . . what you need isn’t in here . . . finish what you started last time. Go!”
Aubrey jerked up her head, her gaze detaching from the slivers of glass. “Uh, sorry, Levi, but Eli just said your presence is requested too.”
“So now he’s willing to chat?”
“Seems so.” She smiled at Levi, whose sense of humor had dissolved.
“Great. And did he happen to mention a bread-crumb trail we should be following?”
“Nothing so specific. Eli just indicated that we need to ‘finish what we started last time.’ What do you suppose that means?”
“Last time, we came for the house tour. We never got further than the library and foyer.” Levi shrugged. “Maybe Eli’s old bedroom?”
He turned for the stairs and crossed through the foyer. At the same time, Aubrey felt a firm tug on her hair.
“Oww!” She grasped the back of her head, and Levi spun back toward her. “I’m guessing upstairs is not the right direction.” Rubbing her head, Aubrey hurried back into the foyer. Instinctively, she wrapped her hand around her pockmarked arm. Uninvited touch was a line in the sand; she preferred specters did not cross it. “Last time, the realtor who showed us this house talked a lot about amenities. Where’s the listing sheet Dawn gave you?”
Levi pulled the folded square from his pocket.
“There,” she said, pointing to a list of items that included a maid’s quarters and wine cellar. There was also an asterisk and the words “bonus space.”
“Interesting. All those things are on the lower level. But I don’t see how you access . . .” Levi took a turn around the foyer and peered down the hall that led to the library. “Maybe the staircase is in the back of the house.”
“Tell the ace reporter to think outside the fucking box . . . when they built the damn thing, they thought of everything but me . . .”
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