“I heard Jeopardy’s voice, and so did you. Jeopardy is here.” And then as if she were hurrying us along, the attic door slowly began to open. It squeaked on its hinges as it opened wide inch by inch, like Jeopardy was welcoming us inside her castle room. There was nothing but blackness in the attic, but I had to go on. I had to see Jeopardy Belle. I wanted to hold her in my arms and never let her go. My heart pounded as I thought about finally telling her how sorry I was that I had wrongly blamed her for destroying my dress. How sorry I was that I didn’t do more for her. And if she wasn’t happy at Summerleigh, we’d run away. The three of us. Jeopardy, Addison and me. We would leave Desire, Mississippi, behind and go explore the world. We were all smart and hard-working. We could make our way in the world.
“Come on, Addison,” I said, smiling back at her as we raced to the attic.
But what about Loxley? I argued with myself. Addison whined again. What was the matter with her? We stood in the doorway now, peeking inside.
“Jeopardy Belle, where are you?”
She didn’t answer, but I could sense that she was watching us from the darkness. “Come on, Addie.” I hurried into the cluttered room. It wasn’t as cold in here, and Jeopardy had been kind enough to light a candle. It wasn’t much of a candle, only a few inches of white stub, but it was enough to illuminate her makeshift bed. I laughed to see it.
“Jeopardy? Why are you hiding? Come out this instant.” I laughed at her playfulness. But then Jeopardy did not emerge from the shadows. Addie clutched my hands and stood in front of me. She put her pale face near mine. I didn’t realize until that moment how tall she’d gotten; she was almost my height, and I was nearly as tall as Momma.
“Harper Louise, we can’t stay here. Jeopardy isn’t here. You were dreaming.”
Dumbfounded, I blinked at her. I didn’t dream any of this. I heard Jeopardy! She called me pie-face. “I didn’t dream that candle, Addison. I didn’t dream her voice; I know it like I know yours. It was her, all right. She’s here, but she’s being ridiculous. Jeopardy, if you don’t come out right now, I’m going back downstairs. I mean it.” I waited. Still nothing. “All right, you give me no choice. I’m counting to three—no more games. One…two…”
At the far side of the room where the junk was stacked the tallest, where there were trunks and crates arranged haphazardly on top of one another, I saw Jeopardy. But only for the briefest of seconds. It was as if a shaft of moonlight had hit her, revealing her hiding spot to me. She still wore those clunky white shoes, the one she’d taken from Momma. Her wild hair was around her shoulders, and she looked as pale as a sheet of paper. She even had her purse on her shoulder, which I knew was impossible. The sheriff’s deputy had brought the shoes and purse to us the day they found them. Then she vanished. There was no more light, except for the candle.
And then I knew the horrible truth.
Wherever she was, Jeopardy was never coming home. I hadn’t seen her at all, not living and breathing Jeopardy Belle. This was not her, just her shadow. Wild and brave Jeopardy was gone forever, and I’d seen her ghost. Addison saw her too because she was crying now. And then as quickly as I understood the horribleness of it all, I felt myself falling.
I welcomed the darkness.
Chapter Nine—Jerica
To my dismay, Hannah’s phone went directly to voicemail. I hoped that meant she was communicating with her paranormal investigator friends and trying to pull together a few who might help me clear Summerleigh of its unwanted residents. The events of this morning left me feeling desperate, and I never wanted to swim in Dog River—or any other river—ever again. I left Hannah a message about my encounter at the river and immediately called Jesse.
“Hey. You busy?” I asked.
He paused, and I feared that he’d say yes, but he didn’t. “Let me set this down.” I heard a thud, and then he said, “What’s going on?”
I paced the floor, twisting a strand of hair in my hand as I talked. How would I say this without sounding like a lunatic? “Do you think the boy and Mr. Daughdrill are connected somehow?”
“What? I don’t think so. The McIntyre family was gone from Summerleigh in the 1870s, and the house was vacant for a long time before it was sold again. It wasn’t until John Belle won it that Daughdrill came around. He wasn’t hurting for money. The man owned several homes and hundreds of acres. Why?”
I plopped down on the couch and sighed. “You’re not going to believe what happened to me this morning.” I told him everything. Jesse knew there were ghosts at Summerleigh, but they were different now. It seemed they weren’t limited to the house but were stalking me around the property.
I could hear the worry in his voice. “That’s not good, Jerica. That’s not good at all. Listen, I know this might sound inappropriate, but I really wish you’d spend the night here tonight. I’ve got the guest room, and I wouldn’t mind the company. I could use a skilled helper. This boat isn’t going to build itself.”
I smiled at that. It did sound like fun, and I’d never worked on a boat before. But the nagging feeling that I shouldn’t go was strong. I glanced around my kitchen as if I would see Marisol pop up at any moment. She’d be the only reason why I would stay here. What about my daughter? What if I wasn’t here? Would she be able to fend off the boy? “I’d love to help you with that project, I really would, but I don’t want to take advantage of our friendship. And I know this sounds crazy, but I need to be here.”
“I’ll bunk out at your house, then. Just for tonight. I mean, surely you know I’m not trying to be pushy. I’m really concerned. If that boy tried to drown you, who’s to say he won’t attack you again? I don’t want you to be by yourself there.”
I leaned back and looked around the corner into my living room. No way was big, tall Jesse Clarke going to make a comfortable bed for himself on my wicker couch. But I did see an air mattress in the upstairs closet. To be honest, I liked the idea of someone else being here. I just couldn’t leave Marisol. What if she didn’t follow me?
“That sounds great. Would you mind? And bring whatever information you have about the McIntyre family. Maybe if we dig a little deeper, we could find something to help us identify this boy. The thought of those two working together is more horrifying.”
The phone line began to whine, and there was a strange crunching sound like the connection was breaking up.
“Jesse? Jesse, can you hear me?” And then the phone went dead. Okay, that’s just weird. I had to call the phone company about this. Twice in one week could not be a coincidence. I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. It was a text from Jesse: I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I breathed a sigh of relief and texted him back a smiley face.
I made some sweet tea, cleared my kitchen table and plundered the refrigerator for something I could whip up for lunch. A light tapping on my back door drew me away from my search. No one ever used the back door, no one but Marisol and Loxley. Marisol! I hurried to open it but didn’t see any little girls running away. There was no one there, nothing except a lone bluebonnet. I picked up the dark blue flower and held it. Marisol. Thank you. I went back into the house and found a small bottle to use as a vase. I filled it with water and put the flower on the kitchen table. We needed some good luck. I stared at the flower and experienced all sorts of emotions waiting for Jesse to arrive. True to his word, he showed up promptly with armloads of books, an overnight bag and a plastic crate of folders.
“Goodness. You came prepared. Let me help you.” I grabbed the plastic file folder bin, surprised at the weight. “You weren’t kidding when you said you had a heck of a lot of research.” He shook his head, and I admired the glasses he was wearing today. “Hey, those look good on you.” He gave me a half grin, and we walked into the kitchen and deposited all of the materials on the table. “Would you like a glass of tea?”
“Sure. Sounds great. Did you hear anything from Hannah yet? I guess you know Ree-Ree is all over this. She’s gonna come over sometime today. Sh
e happened to be at the house when you called and overheard everything.”
“It’s no bother. I like your cousin. I just hope it’s not unsafe to have people around. I mean, my God. I would never have imagined anything like that happening to me. It was like something out of a movie. A horror movie.” I shivered at the memory of the boy grabbing my ankle and pulling me down into the river. If I wasn’t such a good swimmer, if I wasn’t determined to live, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. No, I’d be with Marisol. Is that such a bad thing? I walked over to the refrigerator and poured Jesse a glass of tea. I set it down in front of him and watched him arrange stacks of papers on the table. “Where do we start? Tell me what you know about the McIntyre family, in a nutshell.”
“Mariana McIntyre, the young woman who was murdered, her father’s name was Robert ‘Bull’ McIntyre. And just like his name suggests, he was a force of nature all by himself. It was strange that anyone would want to build a mansion out here in the middle of nowhere, but he was determined to do it. Rumor has it that there used to be another house on this property before Summerleigh, but it burned to the ground. The records from that time—probably in the early 1830s—are not reliable, and there isn’t much information about who owned this property then. So as far as official records go, we can only go back to the McIntyre family. Mariana had just turned sixteen when she was found dead. Let me see if I can find a copy of the actual newspaper clipping. I have it here somewhere.” Jesse shuffled through his records until he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here it is.”
He slid it to me, and I silently read the headline: McIntyre Mystery Murder Friday Night. I read and reread the tiny article, but there wasn’t much information there except for Mariana’s age and a mention of her brother and father.
“Is that it? Did they ever find her killer?”
“I haven’t found any record of anyone being charged with her murder. I found nothing in any of the papers. To make matters worse, Summerleigh was full that night. It was her birthday celebration.”
“God, she died on her birthday?”
“Yeah,” he said. “After that article, I don’t find even a mention of Mariana again. But Bull McIntyre went downhill fast. His lumber mill burned, and he was accused of all types of crimes, arson, murder—two men died in that mill fire. He refused to help their families afterward. He accused them of arson and even threatened lawsuits against their widows. The women gave up their claims, but the damage had been done. All of George County turned against him. People had nothing to do with him after that, and everyone pointed at him anytime something went wrong in Desire.”
“Do you think he did it? Could it have been him I saw at the river?”
“I don’t know, but we shouldn’t rule out Mariana’s brothers. She had two, a younger one and an older one. The younger one’s name has been lost, but I do know both boys’ names started with the letter J. Military records indicate that a Jameson McIntyre enlisted in the Mississippi militia around the time of Mariana’s death, but he was never seen or heard from again. But you have to remember that times were different then. If people wanted to get lost, they could.”
“So he disappeared after her murder?”
“I can’t be sure. It’s pretty close, as far as timelines go.”
“This other McIntyre, the younger boy, I wonder what his name is. Hannah told me that she believed I had some authority with the ghost because I own the house now. She thinks if I knew his name, I could command him to leave. Any chance we’ll find it in here?”
“I’ve looked for years,” he confessed as he opened a folder. Seeing my expression, he quickly added, “But today might be my lucky day.”
I accepted the folder and skimmed through the lists of births and deaths. Geesh, Jesse had put in a lot of time on this. After a few minutes of paper shuffling, I sat back and closed my eyes. This wasn’t the time to get a headache, but I could feel one coming on. The house was quiet except for the ice cracking in Jesse’s glass. I half expected to hear that light tapping again at the back door. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like for Jesse to meet Marisol. Would she like him? Surely she would have. He was kind and loving, just like Eddie used to be before the drugs sucked his soul dry. And then my house phone rang. I gasped and put my hand on my chest. “Excuse me. That must be Hannah.” I picked up and said, “Hello?”
“Jerica, this is Ben, Ben Hartley. I’m on my way to Summerleigh. I have something to tell you. Please, promise me you’ll wait for me to arrive.”
“Wait for what, Ben? Are you okay?” I looked at Jesse, who raised his eyebrows.
“It’s something I should have told you a long time ago. I’m driving down. Be there in about an hour.” And with that, he clicked the phone down and the line went dead.
“Ben?” I held the phone up and put it back on the base. I turned to Jesse and said, “You’re never gonna believe this, but Ben Hartley is on the way here. He says there’s something he has to tell me.”
“Well, I guess we might as well keep plowing through. There is a chance I missed something. I mean, this is a lot of information. You ready to dig deep?”
My stomach was growling, but my fear was growing too. I chewed on my bottom lip, wondering what in the world Ben wanted to tell me. And why couldn’t he have told me on the phone? Or the other day? There was nothing to do but wait. I took my seat beside Jesse and began shuffling through the papers, looking for any reference to the McIntyre family that I could find. This might be the slowest hour of my life.
I suddenly snapped my fingers. “Wait a second. That book. I found a book in the potting shed, and I’ve been meaning to show it to you. I think I put it in the bookcase.”
“What book?” Jesse looked up from a land owner’s record he was flipping through.
“I found it a few months ago and forgot all about it. It was the day I heard the girls giggling outside the potting shed.” I rifled through the bookcase in the living room and found the dusty old book in a drawer. “Here it is. The writing is faint, but I think the name inside is McIntyre.”
I leaned over him as he examined the cover. There was no title, and the cover appeared a bit worse for wear. It wasn’t a large book, more like a journal. He flipped it open and laid it on the table in front of him. “Hey, turn that light on. You’re right, this ink is pretty faded.”
“I think it’s some sort of record. Maybe for plants? Was Mr. McIntyre a botanist?”
“Not that I know of. I wish I understood all these notations. Look, there are several columns, but the headings are too faded to read. Maybe these are flower species? I need a magnifying glass to make this out.”
“I don’t have one.” I peered closer. “The more I look at it, I don’t think those are flower names. Aren’t those usually Latin? That one there,” I said as I pointed at the page, “that’s C-L-A-U-D-E-T-T-E something or other. And that one there, A-R-, is that an I? Or an L? It could be A-R-I-C-E-L-I. Grab a pen, Jesse. Hey, I’ll use my phone to magnify the writing.”
“Brilliant,” he said as he slid the book to me and reached for a notebook.
Surprisingly, the hour didn’t drag by. By the end of it, we were looking at a list of names, places and strange descriptions. At the very back of the book, we found the faint signature of Jameson P. McIntyre.
At least we’d solved one mystery and confirmed the name of one of the McIntyre sons. Little did we know that things were about to get even stranger.
Chapter Ten—Jerica
Jesse and I were still waiting for Ben to arrive. So far, he was a no-show. The afternoon was burning away; we were losing daylight, and I began to feel anxious. Not just at the idea of going into the house at night but because Ben had seemed so frail when last I saw him. I couldn’t understand his change of heart. He’d done everything he could to make sure I came to Summerleigh, leaving me those keys and walking out of the Sunrise Retirement Home without another word. If he hadn’t shown up, I would never have fallen in love with the place and th
e long-lost Belle family. Now he wanted to send me back to Virginia?
Yeah, color me confused. I checked the clock again. It was after four now. If he was coming from Jackson, he should’ve been here an hour ago. I turned to Jesse, unable to hide the worry I felt.
“Does Ben have any relatives in the area that you know about? Someone we could contact?”
“No. I can’t think of anyone. But you know how Ben is, Jerica. He’ll be here soon, and if he’s not, we can contact the state troopers or somebody.”
Someone tapped on the front door, and I hoped and prayed that it was Ben Hartley. Instead, it was Hannah. I’d been so worried about Ben that I completely forgot about her. She was here with two people I didn’t know, so I gathered she’d gotten my voicemail that I wanted to move forward with our investigation into Summerleigh.
“Hey, Hannah. Please come in. I’m so glad you could make it.”
Hannah clutched her purse as she always did and smiled nervously before introducing me to her friends. “Thanks for inviting me. These are two of my colleagues, Amy Whitehead and Rex Nylund. Both have a lot of experience in the paranormal field. Amy’s here to help me with the technical aspects of our investigation, and Rex has other skills. He’s a sensitive.” Amy nodded, and Rex extended his hand. I shook it politely and invited them into the kitchen where Jesse was tidying up our research to make room for them.
“Hey, Hannah,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Hey, y’all,” he said politely to Rex and Amy as he arranged his papers in the plastic bin and slid it out of the way.
“Jesse, I didn’t know you were here,” Hannah said, giving him a sunny smile. That was a rare thing—she was friendly but not one to smile much. I invited everyone to have a seat around the table. Since we were one chair short, I pulled the extra one up from its usual spot near the Princess telephone.
Rex said, “I hear you have a negative entity at Summerleigh. I can’t say I’m surprised, considering all of the history that’s happened on this property. What is it you hope we can do for you, Jerica?”
The Ghosts of Summerleigh Collection Page 20