Berkley Street Series Books 1 - 9: Haunted House and Ghost Stories Collection

by Ron Ripley

  “If it’s not, he’ll still be here?” Henry asked, looking from Gordon to Shane.

  “Yes,” Gordon answered. “We won’t have to worry about it, though.”

  “No?” Henry said. “Why not?”

  “Because he’ll kill us,” Gordon said. “He’ll kill each of us, and if we’re lucky, it’ll be quick.”

  Shane finished his drink, looked at the empty glass, and then smiled sadly at Henry as he said, “It won’t be, Trooper Martini. So don’t get your hopes up.”

  Chapter 51: Back into Griswold

  Shane was carrying an old backpack, and it was heavy. Over one shoulder he carried a long-handled shovel. He followed Gordon while Henry was behind him. The ground was wet from the storm of the previous night and the sun pierced through the leaves in some places. Around him, the air was heavy and uncomfortable.

  Shane still had a slight buzz from drinking with Gordon.

  Hell, I’m sweating like a pig, Shane thought. He pulled a bottle of water out of a pocket on the backpack and drank deeply. Can’t dehydrate. Not now.

  Shane put the water away, shifted the shovel on his shoulder, and listened to the forest. The animals ignored the men and called out in their own way. Above him, Shane could catch glimpses of the sky, and it was free of clouds.

  Here’s hoping Abel’s asleep, Shane thought, and not waiting for us to come back.

  Gordon turned away from the brook, leading them in towards the center of Griswold. The forest was thick around them, young trees growing in tight groups between the older ones. Elms and oaks, young birches between thick pines. Ferns sprouted up in various places, and occasionally a chipmunk darted by. Squirrels yelled at them from the trees, and the random bird added their cries to the mix.

  It’s almost peaceful, Shane thought. The fact that there’s a homicidal ghost is the only drawback.

  The forest opened slightly, revealing the cemetery. It was smaller, more pitiful in the light of day.

  Gordon stopped a few feet beyond the tree line, and Shane went to stand beside him, Henry in the back.

  “Here we are,” Gordon said softly.

  “Where’s the grave?” Henry asked.

  Gordon pointed to where the small marker could be glimpsed.

  “Will it take long to get to the coffin?” Henry said.

  “Don’t know,” Gordon answered.

  “Yes,” Shane said, heading towards Abel’s marker. “Digging a grave takes longer than you might think.”

  Chapter 52: Courtney Returns

  Courtney had a difficult time breathing as she sat in her car. She had made the decision to return to Griswold. Courtney was back in a place she had sworn never to return to it. But the ghost, Carl, had told her how Shane was going to confront Abel Latham, possibly alone.

  I can’t let him do it alone, she thought, shivering. I can’t. No matter how afraid I am, I have to help him. He helped me. Saved me. I love him I have to make sure he’s okay.

  Still, fear gripped her. She took Shane’s dog tags out from her under her shirt, brought them up to her lips and kissed them quickly, as she might a cross.

  Alright, Courtney, she thought. You can do this. You’ve done it before with Shane. If you get to him, everything will be alright. You know that. Remember the lighthouse. Remember getting out before.

  You can do this.

  Courtney took a long, deep breath, kissed the dog tags once more, and slipped them back into her shirt.

  She looked out at Griswold and the scene was hauntingly familiar. An abandoned pickup sat in the center of the ghost town. A small sedan was parked beside it. She stared at the vehicles, the engine of her car idling. Her hands clung to the steering wheel and she tried to get control of her heart which beat rapidly. Rain pounded down upon the car, blurring the world beyond the windows.

  Shane’s here, he needs my help, I know he does, Courtney thought. This is how I can show him how much I care. This will show his ghosts that I care.

  She nodded to herself, forced her hands to let go of the steering wheel, and she turned the engine off. On the seat beside her was a small piece of iron. Courtney picked the cold metal up, clutched it and got out of her car. She winced at the force of the rain, stumbled, and dropped to her bad knee, the one injured in her flight from the dead children.

  “Damn it!” she muttered. Courtney held onto the door and pulled herself up. Her knee ached with a dull throb. A glance down showed fresh blood on her pants, the cloth torn and stained.

  Come on, Courtney, she scolded herself, you can do this.

  She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, tried to shield it with her body, and typed in Shane’s number. As she got ready to hit ‘send’ the phone blinked.

  Low battery, it read.

  Courtney frowned, and before she could make the call the phone died. The screen became black. What the hell?

  A cold, terrible realization stole over her.

  Oh no. Oh no, no, no, she thought, her inner voice filled with panic. All of her resolve left her and she dropped her phone as she turned back to the car.

  But the sound of gunfire ripped through the storm and Courtney turned towards it.

  Shane, she thought, and began to search for the man.

  Chapter 53: Looking for Shane

  After seeing Courtney DeSantis leave Shane’s house, Marie had become concerned about the man. When she left Uncle Gerry’s place Marie returned to Shane’s and knocked on the door. No one had answered. The house was silent.

  It was then that she did a search for him, to see if his name popped up anywhere in the State’s law enforcement system.

  Marie wasn’t terribly surprised when it had. He was with the State Police. Marie had called the State Police barrack in Manchester and told them she wanted to speak with Shane. A trooper named Henry Martini had requested a delay. Marie was told Martini was investigating several murders, and evidently, Shane was assisting them.

  They didn’t tell her how. The staties had been pretty tight-lipped on the phone about it.

  But, she thought, sighing, They usually are. Always need to do it in person with them.

  Marie had thought the polite refusal to send Shane along was odd. Usually, they would send the individual along.

  After their flat out refusal to assist, Marie had tried to think of a reason why. It was then she had remembered the murdered State Trooper, Glenn Jackson. He had been killed and found in an abandoned town.

  One of New Hampshire’s ghost towns.

  Marie Lafontaine thought of all of this as she pulled into the driveway of Gordon Bay. After she had made the decision to find Shane and check on him, Marie had gone to the State Police Barracks in Manchester. The troopers on duty had told her what had happened the night before and how Gordon Bay had been friendly with the trooper who had committed suicide on the beach.

  Marie parked her car next to Shane’s and got out. She went up to the front door, knocked on it, and waited for a reply. When no one answered, she knocked harder.

  Frowning, Marie went around the side of the house to the building’s rear. She climbed the porch and banged on the back door. After a minute, she leaned closer, peered through the glass, and tried to see inside. On the kitchen table, she saw an empty bottle of bourbon and a pair of tumblers. A box of shotgun shells stood open on the counter.

  What are they hunting? Marie wondered, stepping back. She turned and looked out over the lake and saw multiple sets of shoe prints in the sand.

  Marie looked at them for a moment, then returned to her car. She sat down, pulled out her phone, and did a quick search for Griswold. In a minute, she was on a website which talked about various ghost towns of New Hampshire. Griswold was one of them.

  It spoke about a ghost named Abel Latham, and how he had killed his own children before he was lynched. The last reported sighting had been by a man named Gordon Bay.

  Griswold, Marie thought. But how do you fight a ghost with a shotgun?

  She turned her attention
back to her phone and typed her question in.

  Chapter 54: Things Best Left Covered

  Shane had dug graves before. More than a few. Some he had been afraid would eventually be his own. But he had never dug up a corpse before.

  First time for everything, he thought.

  Shane stood a few feet from Abel Latham’s marker, holding the shotgun. Gordon was on the other side, keeping watch. Henry was in the grave, shoveling away. They were only a few feet down.

  Shane straightened up. The forest had gone quiet.

  “Gordon,” Shane said softly.

  “I know,” Gordon whispered. Henry didn’t seem to notice their exchange, as he kept moving earth.

  “What are you doing?” a voice asked.

  Shane jerked his head around and saw Andrew. The boy stood in the cemetery with his dog, Rex.

  “Oh Jesus,” Henry said in surprise.

  “We’re digging up your father’s bones,” Shane answered.

  Andrew walked closer, bringing the dog and a chill with him. He peered down into the grave and said, “You shouldn’t.”

  “Why not?” Shane asked.

  “He’s not alone,” Andrew replied, looking at Shane. “They buried them with him.”

  “What?” Henry asked. “Buried who with him?”

  “His best friends,” Andrew said. He reached down and stroked the top of his dog’s head.

  Suddenly, Andrew looked around, “This isn’t right. Something is wrong here.”

  Before Shane could ask Andrew what he meant, the boy and Rex vanished.

  Shane felt uncomfortable, and he turned back to look at Gordon and Henry. The older man shook his head. Henry shrugged and began to dig again.

  Shane adjusted his grip on the shotgun, scanned the tree line and thought, Who the hell could Latham have had as best friends?

  Chapter 55: Going into Griswold

  Marie sat in her car, the engine idling. She looked down the road which led into Griswold, the trees on either side of the broken asphalt battered from the passage of vehicles over the past few days.

  What are you going to do down there, Marie? the voice of reason asked. You don’t have salt. You don’t have iron. You didn’t bring a priest. How in the hell are you going to help Shane if he’s hunting a ghost?

  Marie sighed. I’ll figure it out.

  She took her foot off of the brake and drove down into Griswold. Soon, she was parked beside an abandoned car and a truck. The car looked familiar, but Marie couldn’t recall where she had seen it. The pickup had a small ‘Troopers are your best Protection’ sticker in the rear window. The rifle rack in the pick-up was also empty.

  Ignoring the car, Marie went to the truck and looked in the driver’s side-window, saw the door was unlocked, and there were shotgun shells on the passenger seat.

  I bet they’re loaded with salt, she thought. Marie opened the door, reached in and picked up the five shells. She tucked them into a pocket and glanced at the two buildings which still stood. A church and a country store.

  Word was the blood evidence showed that both Jackson and Quill had been killed in the store, Marie told herself. Whoever had the shotgun would have gone inside, if they were hunting a ghost.

  Marie crossed the short distance to the store and went in. On the floor, she found the shotgun, a double-barreled weapon. Marie broke it open, found the right shell had been fired and extracted it, dropping the empty casing on the floor. She reloaded it with a fresh shell from the truck, secured the weapon, and examined the place quickly. Across the room from the front door, there were fresh marks on the wall.

  Walking over, Marie squinted and saw several large pieces of rock salt embedded in the old wood. Now, where are you, Shane? Marie wondered, leaving the store. Marie stood out in the sunshine, adjusted her grip on the shotgun, and listened.

  Chapter 56: Pay Dirt

  Shane was back in the grave, his turn with the shovel when he struck the old coffin.

  A dull thud sounded.

  Oh thank God they didn’t bury him too deep, Shane thought. His shoulders hurt, and his back ached. Sweat dripped steadily and unpleasantly down his spine. He reached up, grabbed his water off the edge of the grave, and had a drink before he said, “I’ve found it.”

  Henry came over and looked in while Gordon remained where he was.

  “What do you need?” Henry asked.

  “For this to be over,” Shane said. “Get me the hatchet in the pack, please.”

  Henry nodded, set the shotgun down, and opened up the pack. A moment later, he handed the hatchet down to Shane.

  “Thanks,” Shane said, passing the shovel up to Henry. With the hatchet in hand, Shane slipped the leather hood off it, spread his feet wide, and began to hack at the old wood of the coffin’s top. Several hard blows and Shane was through to the interior. Patiently, and carefully he widened it, making certain the light of day would shine upon the casket’s dubious treasure.

  Soon, Shane pulled pieces of wood away, throwing them out of the hole. Finally, he could see clearly.

  The remains of Abel Latham lay in the confines of the casket. Little remained of his flesh, the clothes rotted on his large frame. Tucked between the corpse and the coffin’s sides were other shapes.

  Unable to see it clearly, Shane squatted down, pried up another length of wood, and the sun fell fully upon the unknown item.

  “What the hell is that?” Henry asked.

  “It’s his best friends,” Shane said softly. “There are dogs buried in here with him.”

  Nearby, a dog let out a long and angry howl.

  Chapter 57: A Storm Arrives

  Marie walked along the broken asphalt of Griswold’s main street. She looked from left to right and back again in an effort to find Shane. Her footsteps were loud, but the forest was quiet around the town, broken only by the sound of a howl from off to the left.

  The shadows vanished as thick clouds rolled in suddenly from the east, and she looked at them. They were dark, speeding across the sky.

  That looks like rain, she thought, frowning. There wasn’t anything in the forecast about rain.

  Another howl rang out, quickly joined by a second and a third.

  Coyotes? Marie wondered. She knew it couldn’t be wolves. New Hampshire hadn’t seen any wolves in decades.

  A man yelled, the cry coming from the same direction of the howls, and Marie turned sharply to the sound.

  The howls rang out again, and the unknown man shouted in an angry voice.

  I bet that’s Shane, she thought. What the hell has he gotten himself into this time?

  Tightening her grip on the shotgun, Marie ran towards Shane’s position. Above her, the sky continued to grow darker, and a few drops of rain fell. Quickly more arrived, and soon the storm struck the land. The roar of thunder caused the ground to shake, and lightning lit up the underbellies of the clouds.

  Marie’s hair was plastered to her head, her clothes clung to her, and several times she slipped, nearly losing her balance.

  Again the howling commenced, and someone screamed.

  Marie caught sight of a slim path leading into the woods, and without hesitating, she ran towards it.

  Chapter 58: Abel Latham’s Friend

  “Get me out!” Shane snapped at Henry.

  The dogs were howling, each cry nearer than the last.

  Henry reached down, grabbed Shane’s hand, and helped him to climb out of the grave.

  The rain was cold, the drops painful and hard as they struck bare skin. Gordon had stepped closer to them. Henry looked around, and Shane said, “Henry, keep an eye on Gordon. He knows what he’s doing.”

  The trooper hesitated and looked as if he might argue, but then Henry shook his head and dropped to a knee. Shane grabbed his backpack and pulled out his knuckledusters. He slipped them on before he found the bag of steel wool from Gordon’s house.

  “What the hell?” Henry asked.

  Shane looked and wished he hadn’t.


  Abel Latham’s best friend was only a few feet away. It was the ghost of a large, black Irish wolfhound, and it wasn’t alone. Shane counted four of them, and they were spread out.

  Four, Shane thought. And two shotguns. Four rounds altogether. Plus my knuckledusters.

  The dogs charged.

  Shane dropped the bag as a great hound charged at him. He brought his right hand up and waited.

  It only took one of the animals mere seconds to reach him. Amid the thunder and the lightning, Shane heard and saw the shotguns. Two of the dogs vanished, and then Shane felt a tremendous pain as the dog who had charged him latched onto his leg. Teeth, excruciatingly cold, punctured the flesh of his thigh.

  The dog growled and tried to rip the muscle from Shane’s bone, and Shane screamed with fury. He brought the knuckledusters down onto the hound’s head, and the beast vanished. Shane stumbled to the side, nearly tumbling down into the grave. Henry shouted, and one of the dogs was on him, knocking the man down.

  The trooper clung to his weapon and tried to beat the dog back, but the barrel passed through them.

  More howls raced through the night, and the dogs were once more rushing out of the forest.

  Oh no! Shane thought angrily. The bones! I’ve got to burn their damned bones. We’re too close to the grave!

  “I remember you!”

  Shane turned and saw Abel Latham, the ghost striding out of the forest. The dead man grinned wickedly, but not at Shane.

  Abel’s attention was focused solely on Gordon Bay.

  Chapter 59: In a Nightmare Once More

  Gordon’s hands refused to listen to his brain. His feet and legs mutinied as well. Immobile, Gordon stood and watched as Abel came towards him, the man’s long legs devouring the distance between them.