He stepped into a foyer with enough room to fit two people comfortably. Before him stood a closed door he’d been through many times. Made of steel and several inches thick, it was bare except for a black box halfway up the left side—an electronic lock.
“Lift your face to the camera, please.” A digitally altered voice came from a speaker located in the ceiling. Father MacLeod stood still, staring into a small red light above the door, awaiting a prompt.
“Thank you,” said the voice. “You may enter.” A buzz sounded, and the door opened. When the priest passed through, the door closed on its own.
Father MacLeod gazed at the scene. He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and smiled.
“Welcome back, John Doe.” The woman’s voice, welcoming and seductive, opened his eyes.
“Please—call me John.”
The woman chortled. “Of course: John. We are, after all, friends, despite our arrangement. Speaking of arrangements, I believe we have someone to your liking. She’s new and possesses the trait you covet most.”
The priest’s eyes glistened as he nodded.
“I’ll be right back,” she assured him, sauntering to a spiral stairway at the back of the greeting room.
He gazed around the large room. The polar opposite of the outside, the interior of the building was immaculately clean with ornate furnishings. Period antiques complimented the décor which resembled a Victorian-era parlor. He’d ceased to be stimulated by the ambiance of the waiting room after his first few visits, but there was something here that never failed to excite him. The odor in the waiting room was exquisite. The smell of sex permeated the air. He had no idea how they accomplished it, but it had the desired effect on him. He was alone in the room—as was the policy of the establishment—so there was no embarrassment. His attention was called back to the spiral staircase by the clicking of heels.
The woman who’d met him at the doorway was followed by another. Father MacLeod held his breath when he saw her. She was young—he guessed no more than her early twenties—and wore a silk negligee that barely covered her ass. Her hair was long, fiery red, and fell in ringlets at her shoulders. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw her legs were thin but shapely. Her breasts were enormous. The redhead held her place at the staircase while her madam approached the priest.
“Is she to your liking, John?”
His breathing resumed. “Are they real?”
“Of course.”
“Then, yes. I like her a lot.”
The woman smiled. “Shall we proceed then?”
The priest nodded. His hand went to his left rear pocket. He withdrew a wallet and counted out three hundred-dollar bills.
“I’m sorry, John, but this one is more expensive.”
He didn’t hesitate to pull out another hundred-dollar bill. The madam nodded, and, as was customary, held out her hand. The priest placed the cash in her palm. She folded it in half with one practiced hand and slipped it into a slot in her dress. She angled her head up and to the left, then nodded. He knew there was another camera there.
“Enjoy yourself, John.”
Father MacLeod closed the distance between himself and his purchase and offered his arm to be led up the staircase.
CHAPTER 8
The front door of the Moore house inched open. Nora heard no hinges squeaking, wood moaning, or voices from the other side. Whoever was pushing it was in no hurry—if, that was, someone was actually behind it. Horror movie clichés came to mind, and the urge to flee taunted her. She couldn’t be the only one who felt the need to run, but a quick glance revealed the others had remained in place, their eyes also drawn to the door. Her breathing slowed even as her pulse quickened. She stood with her teammates.
When the door opened halfway, she changed her mind. She wanted out of there.
In the time it took for her to blink, the door slammed against the wall of the house. The impact—as loud as the crack from rifle fire—had her screaming as she stepped away. Her teammates recoiled, colliding with her as they jumped back. They held onto one another as much to stabilize themselves as for security.
The officer remained where he was, gaze glued to the door, right hand at his hip, his fingers on the butt of his gun.
Nora wasn’t one to scare easily. She’d seen things that would make the bravest of men cower. She’d been witness to the darkest of evils involving women and children. She’d participated in events that would’ve caused lay people to doubt their sanity. But while each investigation had had its challenges and dangers, none of them had affected her like this. The Moore house made her blood run cold—her skin prickled from the bottom of her spine to the tip of her head. Her chest felt hollow, as if all her emotions but one had been drained. Only fear remained, tainting her blood and spreading through her veins.
Her faith had always been adequate armor. Her God-given empathic abilities steeled her, preparing her for whatever was to come. If those abilities failed, she could count on Agnes or Catherine to back her up. The three of them had covered each other’s asses since she had joined the team. This morning was different. Catherine was not among them, for one. And as equally distressing, not one member of her team had felt anything emanating from the Moore house. Investigating something that might be powerful enough to block out all three of them—to hide even the faintest evidence of its presence—had never happened before. It frightened the hell out of her. She looked to Agnes for reassurance. The right look from her lover would not only put Nora at ease but give her the strength and confidence for what might follow. But Agnes’ eyes were locked on the door, as were Celeste’s. Nora followed their gaze.
Nobody moved. Though Nora wasn’t picking up on anything, she knew something had pushed that door open. As the seconds ticked past, she should’ve been relieved when nothing further happened. Her reaction was the opposite. Her arms and legs shook, the muscles in her face tightened, and her eyes widened. So great was her tension, her shoulders cramped. She had to leave this place. Leave now! She lowered her sights from the door, released her hold on her teammates, and stepped back. When Celeste gasped, Nora stopped.
A woman was in the doorway.
From where they stood she looked young, maybe in her late teens. Her jeans and blouse clung tightly to her body, betraying how thin she was. Though there was no breeze, the bottom of her long, stringy blonde hair fluttered about her shoulders. Head lowered, the woman shuffled forward two weak steps. Uneasy on her feet, she bobbed left to right. She slipped, falling backward, and raised a hand to hold onto the doorframe for balance. When she was stable, she raised her head.
Too far away to get a good look, Nora couldn’t get a handle on her expression.
The woman stared at her audience for a moment and then slid backward, retreating inside the house.
The officer spun toward them. “I’m not positive, but I’m almost certain that was Mr. Lewis’ granddaughter, Gam. She’s been missing for months.”
“Months?” Agnes questioned. “You must’ve been in this house many times since then.”
“We have. Between the calls we’ve had from concerned neighbors about squatters, suspected drug dealing, and the recent death here, we’ve searched it from top to bottom many times. I was here just yesterday, and there was no sign of her,” the officer explained. “It’s possible she’s been coming and going, and we’ve just missed her, but it doesn’t add up. The front and rear doors have new locks on the outside, as does the bulkhead leading to the basement. All the windows are secure. I checked them all yesterday, and none were broken-”
“And when we walked around the perimeter minutes ago,” Celeste interrupted. “We didn’t see any shattered windows or glass on the ground.”
The officer nodded. “You ladies stay here. I’m going in the house. The girl appeared dazed. She could be on drugs—or sick. You guys have cell phones?”
Agnes and Celeste confirmed they did but had left them in their purses in their cars.
�
�Good. If I’m not out in ten minutes call 9-1-1. Tell them to haul ass over here. Don’t call before then for any other reason. If it is Mr. Lewis’ granddaughter, I want to let him know first.”
“Excuse me, but that doesn’t sound like proper procedure,” said Agnes.
“Look,” the officer said plaintively. “Mr. Lewis owns this town, and he owns the chief. I have my orders. If I want to stay on the force, I’m going to do what I’m told.” His voice softened. “Just do as I ask. I’ll come back out as soon as possible to let you ladies know if everything’s okay. Depending on who it is, I can proceed from there. Okay?”
When no one spoke, Agnes answered for the team. “Okay. It’s your town.”
Nora watched the officer as he approached the front door. He scanned both sides of the house, his right hand hovering above his sidearm. Only when he was within a few feet of the threshold did he focus on what was before him. He crossed the threshold without looking back.
Knowing someone was responsible for the door’s opening relieved much of Nora’s tension. Though still unnerved, this was something she could handle. Once the officer took the girl into custody, they could leave this place. Whether it was possessed or not, she couldn’t get away from the Moore house fast enough. The thought of going back to her condo—her home—put the faintest of smiles on her lips.
Agnes was the first to comment after the officer entered the house. “Well, that was certainly heart-attack fodder.”
Nora appreciated the levity, even if it hit close to home. “Yeah, I don’t mind saying it scared the crap out of me. I’ll be glad when he pulls her out of there, no matter who the hell she is.”
“You know,” Celeste added, “I asked you guys yesterday if all your investigations were intense. You said they weren’t. After spending these past two days with you, I’m not sure I believe you. I don’t think I can....” Celeste’s sentence died off. The officer was back at the front door of the Moore house. He was alone, waving his arm, motioning for the women to come to him.
CHAPTER 9
“Is he calling us over?” Agnes asked.
“Why would he need us?” replied Nora.
The officer continued to motion to them. After a few moments, Celeste spoke. “Maybe the girl’s hurt, and he needs our help.”
“Father MacLeod told us not to go into the house. We should listen to him,” Nora said, nearly a whisper.
The comment stunned Celeste. Could the girl have spooked Nora that much? Or does she know something she’s not sharing with the team?
Nora had been so calm at the Millman’s investigation. Except for the bit about poker, she was the same the previous evening. After all Nora had been through and seen over the years, why was she so jittery now? Without being aware of it, Celeste’s hand went to her chest, her palm resting on the cross beneath her blouse.
The officer’s motions grew more frantic. He continued to wave them in, but now he followed it by jabbing his finger, pointing inside the house.
Agnes sighed. “We have no evidence that the house is possessed—in fact, our work this morning indicated the opposite. If that officer needs our assistance, we should help him. That girl could be in trouble, or maybe there are others in the house needing attention. Best case, the girl is Gam, and he wants to make sure we let him handle the situation. Worse case, he’s calling us over to ask us, for whatever reason, to contact Mr. Lewis.”
Celeste thought it over. She stepped away from the women, approached the house, and stopped after covering half the distance.
“Why do you need us?” she shouted.
“It’s her,” Officer Jones called back. “It’s Gam. She’s weak, and I need some help moving her to my car. Once we do this, you can be on your way.” Without waiting for a reply, he ran back into the house.
“Well, that answers that. Come on, Nora, let’s give him a hand, and then get the hell out of here,” Agnes responded.
“Amen to that,” Nora said, sounding more like she had the day before.
Celeste waited for the two to catch up to her. Once they were together, they walked to the doorway. Celeste peeked inside but didn’t see the cop. “Officer Jones?”
There was no response. Raising her voice, she called him again.
“In here,” came his reply.
“Well, let’s go help the man,” Agnes said resignedly.
Celeste led the way, with Nora bringing up the rear. Once they were all inside, Nora asked, “Which way?”
Bam! The front door slammed shut.
Celeste and Agnes pivoted to the door, but Nora yelped and ran straight to Agnes, clinging tightly to her.
“What the hell? What the hell?” Nora repeated as if it were a mantra.
Agnes struggled, trying to pull the woman off her. “Calm down, Nora,” she pleaded.
Nora, wide-eyed, cried, “What the hell is happening with that door?”
“Hey! What’s going on out there?”
Celeste’s raised her head, her eyes following the voice to the top of a stairway at the far end of the room. Officer Jones stood, peering down at them.
“I thought I told you ladies to stay outside?” he said, descending.
“Oh God, no,” Nora whimpered.
Celeste stiffened. “D-didn’t you wave us in from the doorway?”
His face tightened. “What? No, of course not. I’ve been looking for that girl we saw in the doorway. I’ve searched the first and second floor but saw nothing. I was about to go up in the attic when I heard a door slam. What are you guys up to?”
Celeste shivered. Agnes was still, staring at the officer, the crow’s feet surrounding her eyes more pronounced. Her hold on Nora, whose head was burrowed against Agnes’ breasts, tightened.
“Officer.” Celeste’s voice was soft, pleading. “Please, tell us the truth. Didn’t you come to the doorway, tell us you found Gam, and then asked us to help you?”
Officer Jones frowned. “Hell no—I just told you I didn’t.”
“We saw you. We heard you ask.”
He stopped on the last stair and looked at them one at a time. Celeste thought he was waiting for them to admit this was all a joke. If he was, the looks on their faces were the only answer he needed to tell him they weren’t kidding. Their frightened expressions must have been convincing—the corners of his mouth curled down, his back straightened, and he peered over their heads.
“That bang I heard. It was the front door?”
“Yes.”
He took the last step, brushed past them, and walked to it. He twisted the knob but hesitated before pulling. Celeste, noting his hesitation, walked to his side. His hand gripped the doorknob, yet it rotated between his fingers.
“The hell?” he mumbled.
Celeste backed away, returning to her teammates. “I think we’re in trouble.”
Nora groaned.
“What’s happening?” Agnes asked.
“The doorknob’s not working.”
“Probably broke when the door slammed shut,” Agnes said.
Celeste shook her head. “No, that’s not the problem.”
Agnes’ brow furrowed. The women turned toward the officer.
He stepped closer to the door, wrapped both hands around the spinning knob, and pulled. The door didn’t budge. He braced his left foot against the wall for leverage, and then pulled on the door again. Celeste could hear his straining and grunting, but his exertion proved fruitless. After dropping his foot, he waved his hands around like they were on fire. Friction burns, Celeste thought. Shaking his head in disbelief, Officer Jones joined the three women.
“You ladies mind telling me what the hell is going on here?”
“It’s the house.” The subdued reply came from Nora. She let go of Agnes and moved to the nearest window. She inspected it, grabbed the bottom sash with both hands and lifted. It didn’t budge. She pushed down on the upper portion. Same result. “I think,” she hesitated a moment, then continued. “I think we’re trapped in here.”<
br />
“Wait. What? Are you saying the house is alive? That it’s keeping us in here?” The officer sneered, but Celeste could tell it was for show. His voice was high, the words rushed—they betrayed his fear.
Nora nodded slowly, staring at the front yard through the window.
Officer Jones rushed to another window and lifted. It wouldn’t open. He searched for sliding locks. When he found them, he muttered, “Shit.” He hurried into the other rooms, repeating the same word, each time louder than the last. The sound of his fist punching a wall preceded his return. He dashed to the staircase, taking the stairs two at a time. More cursing and thumps against the walls. Celeste’s shoulders tightened, and she flinched with each impact. Minutes later he descended at a much slower pace.
Agnes and Nora had remained silent as the officer searched. While Celeste knew they had to be as concerned as she was, their expressions were neutral, which helped keep her own fright in check. She once more recalled their reactions at the Millmans’. They’d been in a supernatural situation and reasoned their way through it. Surely, Agnes and Nora would figure this one out, take control, and get them all out of here. She was about to ask Agnes what they should do when the officer spoke up.
“I don’t know what’s happening here. I’m going to want answers when we get out, and I intend to get out of this damned house right now!”
The furniture in the living room was sparse. A sheet-covered couch was set against one wall with a sheathed recliner beside it, and a mahogany end table in a corner. The officer lifted the table and brought it to the window.
“Stay back.”
The women moved to the other side of the room. He stood a few feet from the window, reared back, and threw the end table at it.
The Moore House Page 7