They headed for the hand-carved oak staircase. “I inherited this house from my mother after she inherited it from an uncle. She started a boarding house with the extra rooms, and when I inherited the place I continued with it,” Leontine said as she climbed up to the second-floor landing and made her way up the next set of stairs to the third floor.
The hall opened on the third floor with a runner of green Asian design. A large black woman was dusting an end table and arranging a vase of flowers. “This is Greta,” Leontine said. “She has been my best friend since we were children. When I took over the place she offered to move in and help me.”
Greta smiled at Dinah with sparkling black eyes and gave a warm laugh. “Nice to meet you, Miss Steele. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“It's Ms. Steele, or you can call me Dinah. Thanks for the welcome. This city is so beautiful. It reminds me of a different time.”
“I'm glad you like it.” Greta turned back to her chores.
Dinah and Leontine walked to a door about a third of the way down the hall. “My great uncle built this for my aunt during the last part of the nineteenth century. He inherited his money from his father, but he was the second son, so he didn't inherit everything.” Leontine opened the door into the gorgeous suite. “I'm so happy to have another lady tenant. Don was all right, but I assumed that he…” She tilted her wrist up to her mouth, mimicking taking a drink. “Anyway, this is the ladies’ floor. I have only one other lady tenant at this time, and I usually save the nicer suites for them. I have discovered over the years that they are gentler on the rooms than the gentlemen.” She walked into the room and opened the drapes. “The paper has turned on your phone, and the DSL, whatever that means. Cellphones don't work in Firemountain; the town council doesn't want them up here. This is your sitting room. I hope there are enough bookcases. Mr. Emery told me that you had requested a lot of them.”
Dinah looked around the room. Two of the walls had floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and then there was a writing desk with the phone on it, and the internet connection. The carpet was thick and a blush color. The upholstery on the deep wingback chairs and the sofa was burgundy and the furniture was made from wood with a rose tint to it. The pieces were obviously old and hand-carved.
“Through that door is your bathroom.” Leontine indicated a door near the entry to her rooms. She opened a set of double doors into a huge bedroom, with a hand-carved wardrobe and a huge four-poster bed. Deep burgundy bed curtains were tied in place around the four posts and a brocaded bedspread with patterns of flowers draped along the bed. The windows had sheers with burgundy drapes that matched the bed draperies. Another deep wingback chair stood in the bedroom. There was a huge fireplace in both the sitting room and the bedroom, with stacks of split wood in the woodbins next to them.
“Wow,” Dinah said, “this is too much.”
Leontine put Dinah's suitcase on her bed, and Dinah put her messenger bag on the desk. Dinah opened the door and saw the bathroom was a different color. Blue tiles ran along the cabinet, and a deep bathtub with massaging jets rested against one wall. When she opened the shower, she saw that there were three nozzles facing toward the center of the stall. Next to the toilet was a bidet. Along the shelf next to the bathtub were several scented bath oils. On the floor was a thick blue rug that rested on the vinyl flooring.
Dinah returned to the sitting room. “This is amazing.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Leontine said. “Now, these are the ground rules. Breakfast is at six thirty, dinner is at seven, lunch is fix-it-yourself from anything in the refrigerator. Just make sure you clean up when you're done.” Leontine turned toward the door and walked out of the room. “One last thing. You have to be in the house by ten PM. If you aren't back, by then we will lock you out for the night.”
“Why? Is crime that high here?”
Leontine paused, her fingers growing white as she gripped the door handle. “No, but other things walk about during the night. This is Firemountain; you were brought here for a reason. If don't make it here by ten, then find someplace safe to stay the night.” Leontine shuddered. “Besides, a proper young lady shouldn't be out that late unescorted.” Leontine closed the door as she left.
Dinah walked to the wingback chair by the window and picked up the phone. There were three phones in her rooms: one on her desk, one by the window, and one in her bedroom. She sank down into the soft chair and pulled out the letter Klinton had sent her. She dialed the number written on the letter.
“Emery here,” a harsh male voice said.
“Hi, it's me, Dinah. I just wanted to let you know that I got here. I'm at the boarding house. Wow, what a room.”
“Glad you like it. Don't mess with her curfew. You will be locked out. She doesn't open that door for anyone. Take the remainder of the day off and see the town. This is the town that Walmart forgot.” He chuckled at his own joke.
“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dinah said. She hung up the phone and dialed her mom.
“Hi, this is Suzanne. I’m so lonely and despondent since my only daughter left me to move across the country abandoning me to a life of spinsterhood,” the answering machine told her.
“Ha-ha. Funny, Mom. I just wanted to let you know that I've arrived. Wow, this room is unbelievable. I thought I would let you know that I'm here. I have internet though, so my email works.” Dinah gave her mom her phone number, told her that she loved her, and hung up the phone.
She took a quick shower, changed into fresher clothes, and made her way back downstairs. Greta and Leontine were sitting in the parlor watching the television. “If you need something to eat, feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Just make sure you clean up after yourself,” Leontine said, looking up from the TV.
“You don’t need to tell her to clean up every time, Leo,” Greta said, nudging her friend with an elbow. “Help yourself, my dear, and don’t let Leo give you a bad time.” The women turned back to the TV and Dinah went into the kitchen.
Her stomach rumbled as she made her way into the huge kitchen with a commercial stove that had six burners and grill-griddle combination, two Sub-Zero refrigerators, and a huge butcher-block counter. Copper pots hung along the ceiling, reflecting the summer sun. The kitchen window looked out over a small herb garden in the back, and Dinah saw an outdoor table and chairs just outside the kitchen door, along with a large propane gas grill. A fancy coffeepot with an espresso maker attached sat on the counter, filled with black coffee. She grabbed a mug from the rack and poured herself a cup, enjoying the flavor of the freshly ground coffee.
She remembered when her mother tried to talk her into taking a job closer to their home town, and one of the arguments she used was how Dinah would know whether the coffee would be good in Firemountain. Dinah smiled, feeling the warmth of the coffee spread through her. Western Washington was the Mecca of coffee and even the stuff in people’s homes was good; well, at least this home.
She pulled open the fridge, and found a huge bowl of deep red cherries. The color was so dark they were almost black. She rummaged through a few of the drawers and found packages of lunch meat and cheese. The breadbox had a couple of different kinds of bread. Another container had a thick soup with chunks of meat and vegetables. She ladled out a bowl of soup and slid it into the microwave. While the soup was heating up she made a sandwich and grabbed a handful of cherries. They were sweet. These must be local, she thought, savoring the juicy sweetness. When the microwave dinged, she took her food outside and sat at the table and looked around the mowed lawn and huge beds of flowers. The temperature was mild and the skies were clear blue.
After she finished with the dishes, she decided to take a walk. She strolled down the two-lane street. All around her kids were playing in the early summer warmth. The houses, though not as big as the boarding house, were well maintained and the yards were trimmed, with huge flowers and trees. Trees were lined along the streets and down the median of the road, casting cool green shad
e over the sidewalk.
Near the end of the street Dinah saw a small towheaded child in a stained dress. Her blue eyes had circles under them that were so dark they looked like bruises. A streak of grime ran across her right cheek, and she stared at Dinah, not moving or saying anything. The rundown house behind the child was close by. The lawn was shaggy and yellow in parts. The trees hung dangerously close to the eaves of the house, and the paint flaked around the edges.
“Hey there,” Dinah said.
The girl glanced over her shoulder. In the house, a lace curtain twitched.
“I’m Dinah.” She held out her hand.
The girl laced her fingers behind her back. “I’m Anna.”
Dinah dropped her hand. “Do you live here?” She pointed to the house. Her vision slid into its second sight. Something was wrong with the house. She didn’t see the weird shadows, but the house was surrounded by a gray nimbus, like it was alive.
Anna stared at Dinah. “I see dead people,” she whispered.
Dinah looked at the house again. The spectral form of a woman in a turn-of-the-century walking skirt stood at a bay window. The transparent figure turned and Dinah saw the back of her head caved in.
“How many are in there?” Dinah gasped, turning back to the girl.
Anna stared at her. “You can see them?” she asked.
“I can see a lot of things.”
The girl let out a low cry and ran back to the house. She stopped on the porch. “I like you, but you must leave. This town will kill you.”
Anna slammed the door, leaving Dinah on the street, stunned.
Odd, Dinah considered, and continued her walk down the street. The street ended in a large park with tree-lined paths meandering through the cool lawns. The sign called it Grove Stand Park. Dinah strolled into the park. From the playground, the sounds of children playing tag and hanging from the jungle gym reached her ears. However, the sounds were muffled and subdued. The trees and the layout of the park gave the impression of isolation.
A circle of huge old oaks over a hundred years old stood around a circle of stones. Inside the circle was a stone slab that was in the north quarter. Benches stood outside of the trees, and she sat on one. It was so quiet Dinah could barely hear the church bells ringing none, one of the sacred hours, calling the sisters in for their midafternoon prayers. They echoed through the old trees, a muffled, dim sound.
A woman knelt in the center of the circle. It reminded Dinah of the witch friend she had met on the road. A rough altar had been carved from a block of granite. On the block rested evergreen branches, a chalice, and a knife.
Dinah slid into the other sight. Green light flowed from the woman into the stone and around the circle. Dinah couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the woman seemed to be chanting.
She arose from her kneel and touched each of the stones with a small stick of wood. They flared a bright green and absorbed the energy.
The woman circled the area, touching each stone and sprinkling them with water that sparkled in the sun.
When she was done she spotted Dinah sitting on a bench and watching her. “I suppose you want to know what I was doing?”
Dinah shrugged. “I figured you were doing some kind of blessing.”
The woman frowned and packed up her belongs from the altar stone. “The energy of the stones needs to be replenished. Things are stirring in the woods, and I fear we are on the verge of something huge.”
Dinah smiled. “I’m Dinah. I’m new here. I just arrived today. What do you mean by something is stirring in the woods?”
The woman shouldered her backpack and joined Dinah on the bench. “I’m Janelle. I work for the police force. Let’s just say that crime is up. Things are rising from places where they ought to be at rest, and the sacred is becoming profane. Hence why I am blessing these rocks. This henge is ancient, brought over from Europe. I would hate to see it desecrated.”
“I met one like you on the road. She said that believing in spirits and having spells actually work was wrong. That her connection with the earth goddess was more abstract.”
Janelle shrugged. She lounged back on the bench, extending her feet, tilting her head back so her short-cut blond hair brushed across her shoulders. “I suppose that even Wicca has a modern view on energy and spirits. I wish we had the power of ancient Christianity to deal with the evils of the unseen, but for now I must go by feel.”
“You don’t see the energy you are manipulating?” Dinah asked.
“I can feel it flowing from me. I can feel things lurking in the woods, and the sacred energy from St. Sebastian’s, but no, I can’t see the energy.” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Wait, can you see things?”
Dinah told the woman of her time at the Tacoma Dome and how ever since she could see energy. Janelle remained quiet, contemplating her words.
“So you say my energy is a vivid green, like an emerald?”
Dinah nodded. She liked this woman and needed a friend.
“Well, I am happy to know that what I feel is real.” The woman stood and shouldered her pack. “I need to get to work, but call me. Let’s do lunch sometime.” She jotted down her number and handed it to Dinah.
Dinah slipped it into her pocket. “I’m going to start work tomorrow. I am the new reporter at the paper.”
Janelle grinned an easy smile. “I know. You’ll see this is a very small city. We all know everything.”
She jogged down the path, leaving Dinah to contemplate what she had learned.
“Be careful what you think here,” a soft male voice whispered close to her.
She started and stared into the bright blue eyes of an older man. She figured he had to be in his fifties, since the temples of his medium brown hair were salt and pepper. Laugh lines crinkled around his eyes, and he was dressed in a gray suit with a deep red dress shirt and a green and red stripped silk tie. His well-styled hair was brushed in a way that covered his head, including, she suspected, a small balding spot on the back of his head.
He walked around to the front of the bench. “My name is Richard McPherson. May I join you?”
Dinah opened her mouth, then closed it. This was the owner of the Firemountain Tribune, her boss. Finally she nodded, and slid over. “How did you know I would be here?” she asked.
He pulled up his pants legs a bit before he sat. He leaned back on the bench, crossed his legs, and stared at the circle of stones. “I know where we send people who start working here. Leontine Rose has housed our reporters for years. I know that it is a short walk to this park, and most of our new reporters find their way here on the first day. I was out for a walk and I saw you, so I thought I would introduce myself.”
Dinah looked at him for a moment. “I didn't know you were involved in the hiring process.”
Richard grew silent for a moment, and he kept staring at the stones. “Firemountain is very special. People that can work for our paper have to meet certain… unique qualifications.”
“Did Don tell you about the blurry figures before he died?” she asked. “I can see them, you know, and now I see them everywhere. I also have dreams that don’t make any sense.”
Richard nodded. “In many ways I am so sorry that you saw them, but poor Don was no longer able to handle the stress. He was drinking more and more, and we were going to have to retire him. We really needed a new investigative reporter.” He looked at her, his eyes quiet, and his lips pursed together. He took a deep breath and continued. “When Don told us about you it was a dream come true. Emery followed the rest of your time on the campaign trail to study your writing and found it insightful. We had your contact info, so when your assignment was complete we offered you a job.”
“So what is so different about this town? I grew up in a very small town back east. This seems to be bigger, nice, clean and well run.”
He smiled at her. “Mr. Emery will explain the nature of your assignment tomorrow. My advice to you is always question what
you see, and try to separate yourself from your story, or else you will become Don.”
Dinah recalled the smell of alcohol and the wild look in his eyes. “What happened to him?”
Richard stood up quite suddenly. “He knew too much. Come on, let me buy you a drink.”
He started walking down the path to the street. Dinah grabbed her bag and hurried after him. When they exited the park he crossed the street to a small bar called The Broken Oak. She walked into the cool interior, and her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Richard had found a seat in a booth. She slid in opposite of him. He held up his hand and ordered two porters.
“Washington State has two great things going for it: wonderful coffee and great microbreweries. This one is brewed here in town at the Shattered Dreams tavern. It is closer to the university and is more...” he paused, “lively.”
The waitress brought them two tall cold glasses of a dark brown beer. It had a rich nutty taste and was so thick that Dinah could practically chew it. She sipped it and could feel the heat of the alcohol spreading throughout her body. Richard looked at her and grinned. “This porter has coffee in it?”
“Toto, I don’t think I’m in Kansas anymore,” she said. “Coffee in beer. How… Washington.”
“I thought you might enjoy it.” He took a long deep drink. “If you need anything, please let Klinton know. You will have your expense account set up by tomorrow. Tell him that the first thing I need you to do is to look into the death of Caedon Willis. Something big is coming. I can feel it in the wind. The new Willis is an outsider, and I'm worried he won't be able to fulfill his obligations.” Richard suddenly slammed down his empty glass and threw a twenty on the table. “Good day, Miss Steele,” he said with a slight incline of his head, and left the building before she could say her goodbyes.
Dinah shook her head at the abrupt departure. What had happened? Why did he leave so suddenly, almost as if he was on the verge of saying too much? She reached into her bag and took out her notebook. Her hand trembled as she made her notes. Caedon Willis and an “outside Willis”, whatever that meant. She finished her beer and left the money on the table. She strolled down the street back to the boarding house, thinking about the strange encounter with the owner of the paper.
Whispers in the Woods (Firemountain Chronicles Book 1) Page 3