Haunted Collection Box Set

by Ron Ripley

  When he reached her house, and the cabbie had let him out, Grant hurried up to her front door, ringing the old brass bell that hung to the left. Several minutes passed, and Grant rang the bell again.

  His heart beat increased as seconds passed again to minutes. The palm of his left hand became slick with sweat as fear that she was out crept into his thoughts.

  Just as the thought entered his mind, the door opened.

  Leanne Le Monde looked down at him, saw the package in his arms and the bandage on his hand, and shook her head.

  “Your situation is worse, is it not?” she asked, an imperious tone to her words.

  Grant could only nod.

  “What do you need from me, young man?” she asked. “Did I not tell you to dispose of the doll?”

  “I couldn’t,” Grant said, his voice hoarse as he showed her his hand. “I was lucky to escape the apartment. She wanted to kill me.”

  “You use the wrong tense,” she corrected, “Anne still wants to kill you, and she will do so as soon as you afford her the opportunity.”

  “Please,” Grant begged, “how do I get rid of her?”

  “You need to speak to a professional in this type of situation,” she replied, “and that is not me.”

  Leanne began to close the door, and Grant said, “Wait! Won’t you let me in?”

  She nodded toward the package. “I’ll let nothing like that cross my threshold, young man. I have not lived so long by taking such foolish chances.”

  “Who can I talk to?” Grant implored. “Who can help me get rid of her?”

  The old woman’s hard façade cracked, and in a soft voice, she said, “Look up a man named Jeremy Rhinehart. He knows how to take care of problems such as yours. I do not know how much he costs, but I assume it is a large amount. And you would do wise to mention that I recommended him, else he might charge even more.”

  Before Grant could ask her anymore questions, Leanne Le Monde closed the door, the tumbling click of the deadbolt loud even against the back drop of the French Quarter.

  Chapter 31: Learning about the Bear

  Victor felt unwell. His head throbbed and his throat was sore, there was a dryness in his mouth, and his tongue felt larger than normal.

  In the guestroom on the second floor, where Jeremy had so recently stayed, the heroin addict lay on the bed. Sue was, as she had said to him before she shot up, on the nod. It was an unattractive sight to see. Mucus ran unchecked from her nose, her mouth was open with spittle leaking out one corner, and her eyes were rolled up, revealing the whites to any who bothered to look closely.

  From what he had read online, Victor knew she would be sick when she woke up. Violently so. He had brought her a bucket to throw up in when she awakened, but he had a fear she would aspirate while on her high.

  He had gone up several times to check on her, turning her head once to make certain she didn’t die.

  Victor had left the hall light on so she would be able to see when she woke up, without the glare of the bed lamp in her eyes. He waited for her to descend the stairs, or for Jeremy to knock on the front door.

  There was a fear that the next person who knocked wouldn’t be Jeremy. That it would be some stranger with brilliant green eyes, possessed by the malignant spirit of Rolf. The dead man had no love for Victor, and it seemed as though he was intent on murder.

  The fact that there was no way he could protect himself from an attack left Victor with a sharp, biting sense of paranoia. He had enough food to last for several days, but eventually he would have to leave the house, and the thought terrified him.

  A sharp knock on the door caused him to leap off the couch.

  He looked at the door, wondering if he should answer it.

  Again, a knock sounded a hard, authoritative rap that made Victor’s decision for him.

  He walked to the door, took a deep, steadying breath, and opened it.

  A uniformed police officer stood there, her radio squawking with unintelligible chatter. She had blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun and a body camera that was aimed at Victor. Her sharp features were set into a serious visage and her hazel eyes were focused on Victor.

  “Good evening,” she said, “my name is Officer Lee of the Pepperell Police Department, and you are being recorded on my body camera. We’re going through the neighborhood searching for this woman.”

  As Officer Lee lifted up a piece of paper with an image of a much healthier Sue Jeffries on it, Victor saw that there were other officers canvassing the street.

  “Yes,” Victor said, nodding, “I saw her earlier. I offered her something to eat and the use of my phone. She looked like she could use both.”

  Officer Lee put the picture away and asked, “May I come in?”

  “Sure,” Victor said, stepping aside and leaving the door open.

  Lee’s eyes darted around the main room, saw only evidence of Victor’s habitation, and came back to his face as she drew out a notepad and pen. She flipped it open, took his name, phone number, and birthdate, and asked him for specifics about his interaction with Sue. Victor left out any information about Rolf and the offer to inject herself in his house and fabricated a story about her eating a small meal of left-overs and using his phone.

  “Do you know who she called?” Lee asked.

  Victor shook his head. “She took the phone in the other room, spoke to someone for about a minute, then came back in and handed it to me. I asked if she needed a cab or a ride, but she said she was fine. She had spoken with a friend, she told me, and that this friend would pick her up down by town hall.”

  Lee nodded, wrote the information down and then she hesitated and asked, “How are you holding up?”

  The question caught him off guard, and he stuttered as he asked, “What do you mean?”

  Lee gave him a small smile. “I was one of the responding officers to your wife, Mr. Daniels.”

  “Oh,” he whispered. His throat clicked audibly when he swallowed before he answered, “I’m not holding up that well, actually, Officer. But thank you, thank you for asking.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Daniels,” she said, putting her pen and notepad away. “And thank you for the information.”

  A sense of guilt flashed through him as he nodded. “Anytime. Let me know if I can be of any more help.”

  Officer Lee smiled and left his house.

  Victor closed and locked the door behind her. He wandered back to the couch, dropped down into it, and hoped Jeremy arrived sooner rather than later. Having Sue in the house was no longer just a burden, but detrimental as well. Victor had no intention of being charged with obstruction or harboring a fugitive, or whatever other charge he might fall under with having Sue upstairs.

  He needed Jeremy to get to the house, find out what Sue remembered about her interactions with Rolf, and then drop her off in Boston, Massachusetts or Manchester, New Hampshire. Somewhere far away from Pepperell.

  A lighter knock sounded on the front door. It was a familiar tone, and Victor sighed, knowing it was Jeremy on the other side.

  Victor hastened to the door, opened it, and was relieved to see the older man. Jeremy leaned on his cane, stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  “Why are there police all over your neighborhood?” Jeremy asked.

  “Because of the girl,” Victor answered, motioning toward the stairs.

  Jeremy looked surprised and then asked, “Is she awake?”

  “Not yet,” Victor said, but then the sound of Sue vomiting filled the house.

  “Ah,” Jeremy said, “the familiar noises of heroin addiction. Come, Victor, let us prepare some tea. She’ll need something hot and soothing in her when she’s done.”

  Victor looked at him, surprised.

  Jeremy gave him a tight smile, patted his bad leg and said, “Opioid addiction is a difficult burden. It took me years to wean myself off the morphine they had prescribed to me for my injury. I am well-familiar with side-effects of opiates. Now, let’s mak
e that tea.”

  Victor could only nod, and follow Jeremy into the kitchen.

  Chapter 32: A Conversation with a Junkie

  Jeremy sat in a chair in the spare bedroom. The only light came from the hallway, and it barely revealed the features of the young woman on the bed in front of him. She had accepted the tea in silence, as did he.

  “Who are you?” she asked, her voice raw and pained.

  “Jeremy,” he replied.

  “You’re the one he wanted me to talk to,” she said.

  “I am,” Jeremy agreed.

  “So,” she said, her voice bitter, “what do you want to talk about?”

  “The bear,” Jeremy said, sipping his tea, “I’d like to talk to you about Rolf.”

  Even in the dim light, he was able to see her shudder, and he wondered how much she remembered. Or how much she suspected.

  “I don’t know too much,” she said after a minute. “He was good. You know? He said the right things to me, told me it was alright to take my medicine. I think he was using me, though. When I was high.”

  “Yes,” Jeremy agreed, “I am quite certain he was. He needs an incapacitated mind to take control of a body. When you’re on the nod, he can move right in. It’s like borrowing someone’s car, but in your case, it was your body.”

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. “What if he had me doing bad things? I mean, my sweatshirt is covered in blood.”

  Jeremy sighed. “Then I would have to say he did indeed have you do as you feared.”

  “My body,” she said, looking down at herself. “Oh no, that means he used my hands. My fingerprints are going to be everywhere. No one will believe I didn’t do it!”

  Panic flooded her voice, and the teacup tumbled out of her hands.

  “Sue,” Jeremy said, “you need to calm down.”

  “All the evidence is going to point at me!” she shrieked.

  Victor’s footsteps sounded on the stairs and in a moment, he was in the doorway, blocking what little light there was.

  “Sue,” Jeremy said, “I need you to lower your voice. The police may still be in the neighborhood, and if they hear you screaming, they’re going to come back.”

  The young woman sobbed, but no longer screamed. Victor stepped into the room and off to the side, allowing the hall light back in. For several minutes, Sue continued to cry on the bed, and then she was done.

  She sniffled, straightened up and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. After a long, shuddering breath, Sue asked, “What now?”

  “What do you mean?” Victor asked.

  Sue turned her attention to him.

  “I mean,” she said without any sort of intonation, “that I need to know what’s going to happen to me. Do I run or go to the police? Do I go and commit suicide, or maybe get one last bag and give myself an overdose? From what I can see, I’m pretty much done here. Cops will have a field day with me, especially when I tell them I was possessed by a ghost.”

  She let out a short, sharp bark of a laugh.

  Jeremy eyed her warily for the sound had been tainted with madness.

  “I need you to listen to me,” Jeremy said, her eyes moving from Victor to lock onto him. “Can you do that?”

  She nodded.

  “Excellent,” Jeremy said, “what I need you to do is to tell me everything, everything you can possibly remember about your time with Rolf. What you spoke of and what you did, every part of it.”

  Sue snorted, shaking her head. “That’s just it. I can’t remember, not a damned thing. I could have done anything or nothing. He told me I had a nose bleed, which is why there was so much blood on my sweatshirt. But it must have been someone else’s.”

  “Sue,” Jeremy started.

  “No,” she snapped, cutting him off. “I want out of here, as soon as possible. Can you do that? Can you at least get me into Lowell so I can catch the train into Boston?”

  “Yes,” Jeremy said, “but will you please at least try to remember?”

  Sue leaned forward on the bed, snarling, “I can’t remember anything. Nothing. Not a thing. Now either get me to Lowell or let me out of the damned house so I can get there. I can’t waste any more time.”

  Jeremy sighed, used his cane to help him get to his feet, and nodded. “Very well. Give us a few minutes, please. We’ll see what we can do about a ride for you.”

  He left the bedroom and Victor followed. They walked down to the first floor in silence, each of them taking a seat in the living room.

  “Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Victor asked.

  “Mm? Oh, yes, I certainly do,” Jeremy said, rubbing absently at his hip. “The problem is what she will do with herself. I’m worried she may attempt suicide, and I do not want that on my conscience. Then again, we don’t have the right to keep her here against her will, and I think that calling for medical help may be akin to shooting ourselves in the foot. She would certainly use the assistance you gave her as a threat if she felt it necessary.”

  “Is there something you suggest then?” Victor asked a note of frustration in his voice.

  “I will give her a ride into Lowell,” Jeremy said, “although I will try and see if she can at least wait until the morning. It would be better for her to be cleaned up and mingling with the rest of the morning commuters on the train into Boston. Such an attempt to elude the police would be unsuspected by them, and might actually allow her to get away.”

  “What do you think he had her do?” Victor asked, glancing back at the stairs.

  “Knowing what he has done in the past,” Jeremy said, “I would rather not hazard a guess. I have enough nightmares of my own without imagining anymore.”

  “Well,” Victor said, sighing, “let’s hope we can get her away from here without any trouble.”

  “My hope as well,” Jeremy replied. He looked at the stairs, then to the front door, and he prayed that Rolf was still trapped within the bear.

  Chapter 33: Slipping Away

  The window to the spare bedroom opened out onto the roof of a side porch. Sue was thrilled when the sash went up without a sound, and at the ease with which she was able to remove the screen. She set the aluminum frame onto the bed and went silently back to the window. Her body was still recovering from her last high, but the food she had gotten in her before that, as well as the meals she had eaten with Rolf, had given her a surprising amount of energy.

  Sue slipped out the window, lowered herself down onto the roof and paused there, hands keeping her steady on the asphalt shingles. She listened for noise from within the house that would have told her the two men had heard her, and she scanned the street for any sign of lingering police.

  Sue didn’t see any law enforcement, and the house was silent.

  She slipped forward along the roof, saw that the windows below her were dark, and eased herself over the edge. For a moment she hung there by her fingers, then let go, dropping the last few feet to the ground, the tall grass deadening the sound of her landing.

  She stayed in the shadow of Victor’s home, his neighbor’s house dark as she hurried along towards his back yard. When she reached the corner of the house, she hesitated, took a deep breath, and then sprinted towards the hedges that marked the end of Victor’s property. Her body was tense as she ran, ready for the audible click of a motion sensor light coming on.

  Yet neither Victor nor his neighbor seemed to have one, and she made it to the hedge without being noticed.

  She covered her mouth as she took in great gulps of air. After several minutes, she pushed her way through the thick bushes and into an open field. She found herself looking at a baseball diamond, the backstop illuminated by the moon. A pair of dugouts, painted deep green, flanked the baselines, and beyond that was a parking lot.

  There were no cars or people to be seen, and Sue let out a sigh of relief. She kept to the bushes, following the curve of the outfield toward the chain-link fence that marked the boundaries of the field. Briefly, she contemplated cl
imbing the fence, but she saw an open gate behind the first base dugout, and she hurried to it.

  Sue had reached first base when she heard a noise in the closest dugout. She froze, hoping it was an animal.

  “Hello, Sue,” a man said, his voice a high, nasal pitch.

  He came up out of the dugout, a short, squat man who looked as though he had been chiseled out of brick, with far too much left over on his stomach. In his left hand, he held an aluminum baseball bat. He wore a pair of dark blue slacks, and a lighter blue shirt with a nametag and company patch on it that she couldn’t quite make out in the moonlight.

  “How have you been?” he asked, stepping between her and the exit.

  “Who the hell are you?” she snapped.

  He grinned. “It’s Rolf, Sue. Rolf. Although I am sure, I sound different. This man’s voice is nothing like my own. But, as you know, the old saying is true. Beggars can’t be choosers. He’s not nearly as lithe or nimble as you. But he does get the job done. A strong brute. And he likes his wine. In vino veritas, correct?”

  Sue shook her head, confused and afraid.

  “I want to go,” she told the dead man. “I just want to leave. I’m trying to get away.”

  “What did you tell them about me, Sue?” Rolf asked, stepping closer.

  Sue moved back, heart pounding with a growing fear.

  “What did you say about our time together?” he whispered. “Hm?”

  She stuttered as she answered, “Nothing. I swear. I didn’t tell them anything about you.”

  His nostrils flared, and he chuckled.

  “I smell a lie,” Rolf said in a gentle voice. “A pungent and foul falsehood. Wouldn’t you agree, young Sue?”

  She shook her head violently, her eyes flickering from left to right as she sought a means of escape.

  “Look at me, girl,” he said, his voice soft and sweet, “turn your eyes back to Rolf now.”

  Hyperventilating, Sue did so, and she saw a gentle smile on Rolf’s face as he swung the bat in long, lazy arcs from right to left and back again.