by Rimmy London
It was an account from a local resident, and Vance had been right. The man was very convinced. He spoke of vicious beings and how to ensure they didn’t cross from the mansion to any neighboring homes.
It was crazy.
The way the man spoke had chills breaking out on Chase’s arms. He sounded nearly insane. Going on and on about evil spirits and why they preferred abandoned houses over occupied ones. He explained what would happen if the house were to sell, and Chase felt a dull shock radiating through him. Breathing harder, he took a moment to really look at the image.
The man was in classic 90s fashion, short-sleeve, plaid button-up shirt and jeans. His hands were on his hips, and Chase scanned over his arms before catching a glimpse of something. A dark spot on the page. He moved the image closer to the window until it was illuminated by sunlight.
And there, above his wrist on the inside of his forearm… was a tattoo of three stars, staggered together. Chase’s head spun, and he read over the caption for the first time.
Harold Fillmore, Neighbor of the Poppyridge Mansion.
His mouth went dry, and his breath was suddenly hard to control. He pressed Abigail’s number on his phone, listening to it ring while he pulled away from the curb with a screech.
Abby was getting close. She could hear a scratching sound not far off, but she circled around, staying behind shrubs and trees. Still, it was hard to see anything in the encroaching darkness. Her heart pounded, but she refused to turn back and leave Champ out in the woods alone.
Finally, she caught a glimpse of something. A quick movement in the brush. It was directly above a fallen log, nestled between two trees. She inched her way forward, constantly searching the darkness while honing in on whatever was causing the movement. When she was a few steps away, she recognized Champ’s tail whipping back and forth.
She abandoned all caution and rushed forward, relief and fear flowing through her simultaneously, and dropped to the log to see him stretched out on the ground. His head was lifted and staring directly at her as if he’d heard her coming, and his tail whipped back and forth excitedly. But his front leg was caught in a rope, tied so tight it had started to sink through and bleed on one side. He’d stretched his body as far away from the offending rope as he could and lay on the ground, still pulling at his leg.
Abby dropped down, rubbing his head. “Hey, boy,” she whispered, “Let’s get outta here.” She glanced up, frightened when she could barely see past the few trees around her. Darkness was falling fast.
The rope was fastened to a cord, which had tightened severely around his leg. She had to look a second time before she realized what she was up against. “It’s a snare,” she whispered, trying to coax Champ closer to loosen the tension. He whined and backed away again, cinching it tight on his leg. “Hold on,” she pleaded, pulling and dragging him close enough to create some slack in the rope.
She found a thin stick and wedged it under the crossing-point of the cord around his leg. With a small back and forth movement, she was able to move it up in small segments. She held firm to Champ’s leg at the same time, assuring he couldn’t pull the trap tight again. Finally, it looked large enough, and she carefully maneuvered Champ’s leg in one hand and the snare in the other, hoping to slip his paw through without catching it up on the rope.
“Hey!” A voice shouted from directly behind the trees, followed by the rushing sound of footsteps. Abby screamed, dropping everything.
Champ reacted fast, darting out from the snare before it could tighten again. Abby dove over the log, just catching sight of someone behind her. A hand gripped her shoe, and she kicked it off, scrambling to her feet.
“That’s my kill!” The voice screeched again, deep and frantic.
Abby glanced behind her as she ran, seeing a dark outline of a man hurling over the log and toward her. Frantic, she followed Champ’s shadowy outline. But he was racing away, with eyes much more adapted to the dark. And he was quickly fading.
A branch whipped across Abby’s face, and she ducked down, placing a hand over the pain. The footsteps had stopped behind her, but she ran as fast as she could manage in the dark, finally catching a glimpse of the construction lights.
Suddenly the man barreled through the trees beside her, slamming her down.
“Champ!” she screamed, bringing her knees up and using all her force to hurl him off of her. He grabbed at her arms, pushing her back into a tree trunk.
“You threaten everything!” he shouted, leaning in close enough that she could just make out his features.
“Mr… Fillmore?” Her knees were shaking and his hands squeezed her arms so tightly, crushing her. “Let go,” she pleaded. “I’m your neighbor. Abigail.”
“No!” His eyes were wild, and he shook her with each word. “You will have them attacking our homes. That dog is the only creature that will keep them satisfied, and you’ve ruined it!”
Abby was gasping with the tree’s bark grinding into her back. Whatever was going on with Mr. Fillmore, he clearly wasn’t himself.
He leaned in, inches from her face.
“Call your dog,” he whispered, digging his fingers into her arms.
“You’re hurting me,” she said quietly, keeping her voice from shaking.
“Call him,” he repeated, “or I’ll take you instead.”
Abby glanced down to see a large knife strapped to his waist. “Okay,” she breathed. “Okay, I will,” She looked into his face, fear radiating through her at the absolute rage in his eyes. “Just let me go so I can whistle for him.” She kept her face calm, watching as he looked her over and finally stepped away.
She dropped down, digging with her hands and feet to scramble to the side. Pushing up, she turned to see him pull the knife from his belt. Screaming for help, she dove to the side, feeling something hit her shoulder. But she didn’t stop, barreling through the branches and brush until coming out again on open ground and running with all her strength.
Mr. Fillmore was shouting. She could hear him getting closer, and she glanced at the construction lights longingly. They were far to the left, but she couldn’t risk turning around. She could hear him behind her, so close it was terrifying. How was he able to keep up with her at his age?
She felt so weak and tired. Her muscles ached, and her head swam. It wasn’t until she stumbled to a stop that she realized she was bleeding. Her shirt was seeped in it. Wet, warm, sticky blood. She swayed on her feet, and the footsteps behind her paused.
“I’m sorry to do this,” she heard him say, breathing heavily. “I wanted the dog, but now I have no choice.”
She could sense him close behind her, his footsteps falling like the ticking of a clock. Her final countdown until he was directly behind her. Her head swam, and she closed her eyes at his intake of breath. But the pain never came, and in her hazy mind, there was shouting. So many voices. And lights. They flashed in her eyes, and she held her hands up, shading the brightness. She recognized the policewoman who had scowled. Construction workers shouted back and forth. Too much shouting.
She swayed again, and someone held her arms. It was a relief to let them help. She sagged into their grip and eagerly borrowed their strength.
“Abigail.” His voice was whispered, close to her face and full of a compassion that woke her senses. She could feel his arms around her, familiar now, and she held on to him. “Stay awake,” Chase urged, “listen to my voice. Just a few steps. That’s it.”
Settled into a chair, Abby felt a sharp pain starting to break through her foggy mind. Chase still had his arm linked with hers, and she smiled, finally meeting his eyes. “It was Fillmore,” she said. Her voice was dry and scratchy. He signaled to one of the policemen and handed her a bottled water. She took a quick sip of the cool, healthy liquid.
“I know,” he finally answered. “They’ve taken him back to the police station after talking to his daughter. Apparently, he’s been having trouble staying on his medication since his wife died a couple o
f years ago.”
A paramedic knelt in front of them along with the familiar policewoman. The young man began cutting her sweatshirt sleeve open.
“Do you want to press charges ma’am?” the policewoman asked. She stood, looking authoritative and strong, hands on her hips.
“I…” Abby paused. “I don’t know.”
“Uh-huh,” the officer said. She sounded less than excited about it, but she did show the beginnings of a smile when Abby looked up at her. “Well, here’s what I know. This Mr. Fillmore—your neighbor. You’ve met, correct?”
Abby nodded, glancing down at her arm as the paramedic gave her a quick shot. She’d never really minded needles, and the instant warmth and numbness were welcome.
“Right,” the policewoman continued. “Well, he had an episode years and years ago. It was about the time your pretty little house was the subject of town gossip. And one day, Mr. Fillmore comes home frantic and out of sorts, convinced that the house on Poppyridge Cove was haunted, and he needed to burn it to the ground. You can imagine how Mrs. Fillmore felt about that.”
Her smooth eyebrows arched in an exaggerated expression, giving her normally strict, bossy appearance a dash of beauty. “He was hospitalized for a couple of days, given some medication for the hallucinations, and has been on it ever since. His daughter did say he’d stopped taking it at one time and was thrown back into the very same person he’d been that day so many years prior. But his wife had always kept track of his pills. He insisted after her death that he was taking them and was fine, but it was all a lie.”
It was a lot to think about. Abby’s mind went around in circles, imagining everything from Mr. Fillmore’s perspective, repeating what he’d said to her and how he’d acted all these years. Depositing animals to appease the haunted house.
“Didn’t people realize it was him?” Abby asked, wondering how that little detail could have escaped all the police officers she’d called to her house.
“Well, no, it’s been so many years. I wouldn’t even have the information if his daughter hadn’t confided in me. Had to dig pretty deep to find any documentation on it.”
“I see.” Abby’s thoughts were slowing, analyzing everything now that she was free from the pain. The paramedic finished off the last stitch and placed a bandage across her shoulder.
“There you go, ma’am.” He smiled and collected his things.
“We can take my car back if you’d like,” the policewoman offered. She linked her arm with Abby’s, helping her up carefully with Chase on the other side.
Abby thought suddenly of her mom. Perhaps if she’d gotten help… if there had been a medication for her suffering, she could have been a good mom. Lived a good life.
They walked slowly toward the patrol car with the beam of a flashlight to guide them.
“I don’t want to press charges,” Abby said quietly. It felt right the moment she’d said the words, and she glanced at Chase to see him smiling back at her. He squeezed her gently.
“Hmm.” The policewoman lapsed back into silence, but when a light from her squad car flashed across her face, Abby thought she saw a genuine smile.
Chapter 21
Six months later
Abby stood just inside the front door, holding it open while a father carried three suitcases and trailed after his wife and four kids. The children giggled and chattered, their voices echoing through the open space pleasantly.
A large fire crackled at the far end of the room, proof that the spring had been unseasonably cool. But the persistent fog had lifted in time to leave sunlight pouring in through the lineup of massive windows above.
“Thank you,” the man said, smiling at her and nodding his head in appreciation. Their happy group bumbled up the stairs together, a non-stop chorus of giggles.
“They’re a happy group,” Chase said.
Abby spun around to see him walking from the kitchen with his green ‘kiss the cook’ apron dusted in flour. She heeded the message and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him long enough to have her thoughts fading. But not completely. There was an especially persistent one she couldn’t let go of.
“So, are you going to tell me what you’re up to yet?” She leaned to the side, trying to catch a glimpse into the kitchen.
“No, you don’t.” He grinned and kissed her forehead. “C’mon, I need a quick break, anyway. But I have to be back in twenty minutes.” He pulled the timer from his apron pocket, proof of the countdown.
A tight grin stretched across her lips as she tried to give him a stern look through her happiness. It never worked.
On the back porch were two white swinging benches and a few rocking chairs. The brilliant white contrasted beautifully against the gray-blue of the siding, and paired with the ocean air, it was magnificent.
Champ’s head lifted from where he’d been curled up on the sunny end of the deck, and he padded over to meet them, circling them four times in his excitement before finally stopping to accept affection. “Hey, boy.” Abby paused to rub his favorite spot on the side of his neck. “Let’s go!”
He leaped down the stairs and pranced in place, visibly frustrated at their slow pace. The walk was familiar, a cobbled pathway through their grass that met with a sandy trail. Posts on either side were worn and perfectly imperfect, strung with rope and occasionally tilted. They stopped only to slip their shoes off—a feat that they could easily accomplish while holding hands.
Their cove was vacant even though the sun had shown itself clearly now, beaming hot and strong on their skin.
Chase loved the feel of her hand in his, smooth and delicate. He glanced down at her, imagining a day when she would be dressed in white, looking back at him. Her eyes were on the ocean—they always were. She seemed constantly mesmerized by it as if searching for a treasure in the crest of a distant wave.
“Are you sure you want an outdoor ceremony?” he asked, transfixed on her quick smile.
“I do,” she answered calmly.
He tightened his arm around her, holding her close against him. “You don’t think our guests will freeze to death or be blown away in a gust of wind?”
Her body shook gently as she laughed. “No, that won’t happen.” She tilted her head and looked up at him. “I trust the universe to give us a peaceful, beautiful beginning.”
Champ dug his paws through the sand and sat down next to them, looking out at the water as well. He was a very good-natured dog, and the thought made Chase smile. “Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, Bee, it’s to trust your instincts.” He sighed. “An outdoor wedding, it is.”
She leaned back against his chest. “Can you believe it? I hardly can, so much has happened in a few short months.”
His fingertip slid across the ring on her hand, “Yes, it has, and none of it was what I’d expected. More like a wishful dream that managed to come true.” He tucked his head aside hers, giving her a full hug and swaying to some imaginary melody. “I wish I could have been the one to give you everything you wanted, especially this house. Surprising that the very person trying to keep you away would end up leaving you enough money to finish the remodel and then some.”
“Mr. Fillmore didn’t know what he was doing before, how could I blame him for that? He’d been off his medication for nearly two years, and no one knew. His mind wasn’t right. I can understand that.”
Abby thought back to her childhood, wondering if she was just imagining it or if the pain had dulled even more. Perhaps this tiny bit of grace she’d extended to Mr. Fillmore would be a healing ointment to her past.
She glanced back at Chase. “He’s got a kind heart,” she finished, coming quickly back to the present.
“How’s he doing?” Chase asked, pausing when a beeping rhythm vibrated in his pocket. He silenced it quickly, and they started a lazy walk back. “Do you want to visit him tonight?”
Abby reached for his hand. “I was planning on it. He’s enjoying the facility, it’s very comfort
able. And he’s closer to his daughter but still independent, which they both like. It’s an ideal situation.”
“And thanks to your kindness, he’s able to live out the rest of his life in peace.”
Abby shrugged. “It wouldn’t feel right to see him go to jail.”
Chase nodded. “Very true, but also very genuine of you.” He stepped up his pace and pulled her with him. “We need to hurry if you want your birthday cake to be absolute perfection.”
“Okay, but—” She swayed back, forcing him to stop, although he glanced anxiously at the house. “Just one more thing. I want you to know this.” She lifted her eyebrows pointedly and waited until she had his full attention. “You have given me everything I’ve ever wanted, Chase. Everything. Just knowing your heart and having you with me… that’s all I need. The house is just wood and nails.” She grinned. “A genius told me that once.”
“Oh yeah? A genius, huh?” He stepped in next to her, and his eyes stilled. A smile pulled at his mouth, and gently touching her face, he lowered his lips to hers. “Well, can I share this wood and nails house with you?”
“Absolutely.” She felt so drawn to his warmth, it was impossible to resist leaning in, and her eyes brushed closed just as their lips met.
His kisses were different now, with some mystical ingredient that hadn’t been there before. Somehow their time apart had awoken something inside her. A realization of her connection to him, and of how much deeper it ran. Deep enough to have her feeling torched inside, burning her lungs and throat with a delicious heat.
Her hands settled gently against his sides, and like an afterthought, she was distracted by his strength. The defined ridges of muscle he seemed to think nothing of. But just as her hands slid to his back, he stepped away.