Mom?
Helen hadn’t mentioned any other siblings.
“I didn’t invite anyone over,” Rose stated. “These two just showed up.”
Dressed in boot-cut jeans and a black pullover sweater, the man looked to be in his mid-fifties. Addison exchanged glances with Luke, certain she knew what was running through his mind—the same thing running through hers. If the man standing next to them was Vivian and Grace’s brother, he may have been in the attic the night they died.
The man looked at Luke. “I’m Derek, Rose’s son. And you two are?”
“Their names are Luke and Addison,” Rose interjected.
“What can we do for you?” Derek asked.
Rose cut in a second time, the wooden spoon in her hand now aimed at Luke. “This one was hoping to see the house.” She shifted the spoon to Addison. “And this one appears to be his nosey tag-a-long.”
Addison crossed her arms in front of her. “Excuse—”
“I saw the way you were eyeing my daughters’ headstone. You wanted a closer look. I bet you would’ve climbed over the fence and onto their grave if I hadn’t stopped ya. No one steps over the fence but me. Got it?”
Derek’s face reddened. “Why are you interested in my mother’s house? It’s not for sale.”
“No, no,” Rose said. “They don’t want to buy it. Luke’s a restoration something or other. You know, one of those guys who takes an old house and makes it look new again.”
Luke peeled off another business card, explaining his job for a second time. Derek listened with interest, then said, “I don’t see any reason we can’t show them around, Mom.”
A still apprehensive Rose frowned. “I … I don’t know. Not today, Derek. Not today. Another day, maybe. We have this young man’s card. We can call him later.”
The look on her face indicated she had every intention of making sure it was much later.
“They’re here now,” Derek said. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Thirty minutes?” Luke asked. “And then we’ll leave. I promise.”
Derek draped an arm around his mother. “Why don’t you go back inside, finish cooking, and I’ll give these two the grand tour?”
She leaned in like she intended to whisper, but spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “And you’ll stay with them the entire time?”
He nodded. “The whole time.”
She sighed. “Oh, all right.”
Without uttering another word, Rose pivoted on her heel and headed back to the house.
Derek grinned. “So, where are you two from?”
“Rhinebeck,” Addison said. “I actually own a manor there.”
“Oh, really? Which one?”
“Grayson Manor.”
“Huh, I’m not familiar with your place. My father was raised in Rhinebeck, but I haven’t spent much time there. Beautiful town.”
“If you’re ever in the area, feel free to stop by,” Addison said. “And I can give you the grand tour.”
“About my mother … she’s a great person. Really. It’s just, we’ve been through a lot this last year. My dad passed away, and she still hasn’t adjusted to life without him.”
“Do you have any other siblings?” Addison asked.
“I’m the only one—well, the only one still living, I should say.”
“Do you live here with her?”
Derek’s head fell back, laughing, like she’d just told a joke. “I don’t. I live across town with my wife and our two sons. I look in on Mom three or four times a week. Aside from me, she doesn’t really have anyone.”
“No friends?”
“Nah, not close ones. Not anymore. She prefers to keep to herself these days.”
“I’m sorry about your father.”
“Thanks. You know, it’s the oddest thing. Some days I still think I’ll walk through the front door, and there he’ll be, sitting in his favorite recliner in the living room, head buried in a crossword puzzle. Sounds crazy, right?”
Not as crazy as Addison witnessing the man rising from the dead.
“I went through the same thing when my mom died,” Addison said. “It wasn’t easy to let go.”
“But you have … let go? You found a way to move on?”
“In some ways, I guess. Sometimes I feel her presence, like she’s right here, standing beside me.”
Derek’s attention shifted from Addison to his sisters’ headstone. “Yeah, I know what you mean. For a long time as a kid, I thought I could feel my sisters too.”
“I noticed they are both buried here, but your father isn’t.”
“Vivian and Grace died a long time ago. My mother insisted on burying them here because she felt like even though they were dead, it kept them close to her. When they were alive, the three of them used to sit and have a picnic around this tree. Having them here is sentimental, I guess you could say. When Dad died, we talked about the best place for him to be buried and decided it wasn’t here.”
“Why not?”
“We would have had to take the fence out and move things around. Mom tried to come up with a way to make that happen at first, but she didn’t like the idea of doing anything that would disturb her daughters’ remains in any way. Besides, Dad wanted to be laid to rest in Rhinebeck.”
“Why?”
“Right before my dad’s parents died, they purchased a plot for him and my mother right next to theirs. Mom would never agree to be buried there though. She wants to be buried here, at Rosecliff Manor, which would be fine if the estate stays in the family.”
“I thought you said she didn’t want to do anything to the spot where Vivian and Grace are buried?”
“Well, Mom wants to be cremated, so that’s not really an issue.”
The keys to the vintage Ford slipped from Derek’s hand. Luke bent down, picked them up. “Nice car.”
“Yeah, my dad left it to me. Personally, I’d rather be driving my truck any day of the week, but Mom gets a kick out of seeing me in this old thing. I figure if it makes her happy, it’s the least I can do. So … you two ready to see the house?”
CHAPTER 11
Finding the right opportunity to slip away once inside Rosecliff Manor proved more difficult than Addison imagined. Every room they entered, Derek followed behind, always lingering in doorways, blocking her from stepping out, doing any exploring on her own. His intentions seemed more innocent than contrived. But were they?
After a tour of two bedrooms on the second level of the house, they passed a stairway so narrow one would almost have to turn sideways to climb its steps. Addison stopped, hoping Derek would pick up on her interest and follow suit. Instead, he passed the stairwell like it didn’t exist, continuing on to the next room without uttering a word.
Addison remained. “What’s up there?”
Derek didn’t look back. “Oh, nothing.”
“There’s a stairway here. Doesn’t it go to something?”
“An attic. We don’t use it.”
“Not even for storage?”
“It’s empty for the most part. I couldn’t say for sure. I haven’t been inside the attic for ages.”
“I’d love to see it.”
Her persistence finally paid off. He reeled around, eyeing her like she’d become a nuisance. “You can’t. Thing is, I couldn’t even show it to you if I wanted to.”
“Why not?”
“It’s locked.”
“Doesn’t your mother have a key?”
“She lost it a long time ago.”
“And she never had another one made?”
He shook his head. “Don’t think so.”
“Are you sure it’s even locked?” She thumbed upstairs. “I could run up, jiggle the handle a few times, see what happens. In old houses like this, you never know—I might get lucky.”
Derek crossed his arms, leaned against the wall. “Why is it so important to you? Isn’t Luke the restoration guy? I mean, why do I get the feeling you’d do just about
anything to go up there?”
Fumbling over her words she replied, “You see, we, umm …”
Derek put up a hand, stopping her. “I see what’s going on here.”
“You do?”
“Don’t say another word. Not out here.”
He turned, signaling to Addison and Luke to follow him. They walked into a long, rectangular library. A formal sitting area with a black velvet sofa and two chairs rested over a colorful oriental rug in the room’s center. Vintage books, the kind only seen in antiquarian bookshops, lined the floor-to-ceiling, mahogany-stained shelves on all four walls.
Once inside, Derek closed the door. Voice lowered, he directed his attention back to Addison. “Do you know how my sisters died? I mean, you obviously do.”
“I’ve heard things.”
“What things?”
“I was told what happened was an accident.”
Addison stared at Derek, hoping to gain some insight into what he might be thinking. But his expression was blank and opaque, giving away nothing.
“Are you a reporter?” he asked.
“No.”
“Writing a book?”
“No.”
“You’re not?”
“No, I’m not. Neither one of us are.”
“Why should I believe you?”
His tone had changed. It was no longer playful and relaxed. It was terse. Apprehensive. Whatever trust he may have felt before had obviously vanished.
“Aside from my curiosity about the attic, I haven’t asked anything,” Addison said. “If I was a reporter, wouldn’t I ask more questions?”
“Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you were trying to butter me up before you tightened the screws, admitted what you’re really after.”
“What is it you think we’re after?” Luke asked.
“How are you two affiliated with Thomas Gregory?”
In unison Luke and Addison both said, “Who?”
“Tom Gregory. He’s a wannabe writer whose books never sold. A few years ago when his books weren’t selling, he went another route and put together a historical picture book on some of the older houses in the area, those more than a hundred years old. He included Rosecliff.”
“You mean to say your parents aren’t the original owners of this place?” Luke asked.
“They didn’t inherit it, no. My parents purchased the manor a few years after I was born. At that time, it was in desperate need of repair, which, as you’ve seen, they spent a lot of money doing. In Tom’s narrative, he discussed the night of my sisters’ deaths in detail, which was bad enough. But he didn’t stop there. He put a permanent stain on our family by alleging the police didn’t conduct a thorough investigation after they died.”
“Based on what?”
“In his opinion, not enough evidence was collected to prove their deaths were accidental.”
Addison did her best to remain impartial about the information Derek was sharing, hoping if she remained calm, he’d keep feeding her more. “How would Tom know if the investigation was done right? What makes him an expert?”
Derek shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve asked myself the same question a hundred times. I looked into him. He wasn’t even alive when it happened. For whatever reason, he made the decision to dredge up the past and attack my family.”
“Do you know anything about him or his background?”
“Aside from his age and what he does for a living, I can’t find jack shit on this guy.”
“Has anything ever come up over the years to suggest his opinions are valid?”
“His opinions aren’t valid. How could they be? When I asked around town, I found out he was a washed-up science fiction author. Washed-up meaning he wrote two novels that didn’t sell.”
“How did he go from a fiction author to publishing a non-fiction picture book?”
“Who knows? All I know is, when the book first came out, it received plenty of attention locally. I’m guessing that’s what he was after. Why else would he perpetuate such lies?”
“You’re right. It doesn’t make much sense.”
“Once news got around about it, seemed like every person in town bought a copy. There was a kind of renewed interest in what happened, almost cult-like. I caught a few people pulled to the side of the road in front of Mom’s house, pointing at the attic window, and taking pictures. It hasn’t been easy, especially for my mother, to have this all dragged up again. When she saw you on the property today, I’m sure she thought you were here because of what you read in the book.”
“I suppose there wasn’t much you could do once the book was released, but did you ever consider talking to Tom, telling him your side of the story? I mean, I assume you were here the night your sisters died.”
It was the “in” Addison had been waiting for, the one she hoped would shed new light on what happened to Vivian and Grace. Instead, Derek became silent. It was like he’d gone numb, like he was somewhere else, back in time perhaps, recalling the events in his mind.
“Derek,” Addison asked. “Are you okay?”
His eyes widened, snapping him back into the here and now. “No. No, I’m not.”
CHAPTER 12
“You all about done up there?” Rose yelled. “Thirty minutes passed thirty minutes ago.”
Derek hollered, “It’s not their fault, Mother. It’s mine. We’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Thanks for taking time to show us around,” Luke said. “I mean it. This place is amazing. We can’t thank you enough.”
“Hey, look. I’m sorry I accused you two of anything. It’s just been hard, you know?”
“There’s no need to apologize. Sounds like your family has been through a lot lately. You have every right to be on edge.”
Although the visit wasn’t a complete loss, it was far from what Addison had envisioned. With no sign of the girls and no way of getting into the attic, she felt like she’d failed—not only herself, but also the girls.
Derek stood. “Hey, I almost forgot. There’s an old homestead house out back. More of a storage shack, really. It was already here when my parents bought the place. Used to play in there as a kid. It’s so old it has a historical plaque on the front. Thought you might be interested in taking a look at it before you leave.”
Luke nodded. “Absolutely.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Addison caught a faintest glimpse of white. “Do you mind if I use the restroom first and meet you two at the homestead when I’m done?”
Derek considered the request. “I … guess so. I tell you what, we’ll head out back. I suggest you steer clear of my mother. It’s best not to let my mother know you’re in here without me.”
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t want to get you in any trouble.”
Derek cracked a smile. “I’m concerned for your sake, not mine.”
He and Luke left the room. Once they were out of sight, Addison glanced over the sofa, seeing what she thought she had before. “Shadow? Where did you come from?”
She bent down, reaching a hand toward the cat. The cat jerked away. Addison retracted her hand. “All right, all right. I get it. You don’t want me to pick you up.”
Shadow crossed the room, stopping in front of one of the bookshelves. He looked at the books then back at her, almost like he was trying to tell her something. While she pondered the unlikely possibility, Shadow rubbed his head across the spine of a few books on the bottom shelf.
“What are you doing, you crazy cat?”
Shadow responded by ramming the top of his head against the same set of books a second time. They slid back, and Addison heard a tinging noise which couldn’t have come from one of the books. She walked over and knelt down. Shadow scurried out of the room.
Reaching back, she felt behind the books, and her hand came to rest on something thin, cold, and hard. She fisted her hand around the object and pulled it toward her, surprised when her eyes came to rest on a long brass key.
Footsteps approached.
“What are you doing in here? Where’s my son?”
Addison looked over at Rose. Hands on hips, Rose stamped a foot on the ground, waiting for an answer. Addison closed her hand around the key again, slipping it inside her back pocket. “I was admiring your library.”
“Where’s my son?”
“He’s showing Luke the homestead house. I hear it’s quite old.”
“Why aren’t you with them? You were supposed to stay together. He told me you’d all stay together. This isn’t a museum or an exhibit on display. It’s my house.”
“I was with them,” Addison lied. “When I was in the library earlier, I was so intrigued by all of your books, I wandered back here while they were talking. I doubt Derek saw me leave. Please, don’t blame him. Blame me.”
The sincerity in Addison’s voice seemed to win Rose over. For now.
“I suppose I can’t blame you for wanting to spend some time in here. It’s my favorite room in the house.”
Addison spread her hands to the side. “This room is amazing. You must have over five hundred books.”
“Over a thousand, actually.”
“Which one is your favorite?”
“Asking me which is my favorite is like asking me which of my three children is my favorite. All of them.”
“Oh, I should tell you Shadow was in here a few minutes ago. I tried picking him up, but he ran out.”
Rose’s complexion paled. “What did you just say? How did you know Shadow’s name? I never mentioned him to you.”
In an attempt to repair the damage, Addison said, “Your son must have said something to me.”
“Why would he?”
“Why wouldn’t he? Shadow is your cat, isn’t he?”
“Was my cat. Shadow’s dead.”
CHAPTER 13
Derek stood on the front porch steps, his hands shoved halfway inside the back of his pant pockets. He watched Addison hoist herself into the truck, watched Luke rev the engine a couple times before steering the vehicle onto the road and driving away. They seemed like decent people, but thinking back on the previous hour he’d spent with them, he believed his mother had been right to express initial concern. They were meddlesome. And though Luke’s knowledge of the manor couldn’t be refuted, his self-proclaimed affection for the place seemed like a lot more than admiration alone.
Addison Lockhart 02-Rosecliff Manor Haunting Page 4