Fire on the Ramparts (Sugar Hill Book 2) Page 7

  “Why don’t you hang out there for a few minutes? See what else you get.”

  “Got it,” she said as she waved her gadget around. I closed my eyes and “felt” around the room. I gasped as whatever was in here quickly darted out. It was heading for the basement too! Then the pain came back. I grimaced and clutched my side.

  “What is it, Jessica? You feeling something?” Megan touched my arm, genuine concern on her face.

  “Yeah, I’ve got this pain in my side. It’s coming and going.”

  “What kind of pain? Are you hurt, or is this some sort of transference?”

  Transference. That was a good word for it. I could hardly think of how else to describe it. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Okay, well, let me know if it gets too bad. I don’t want you to put yourself in danger.”

  In danger…

  “Did you hear that?” James asked. He’d been on two investigations with us and had never intervened until now. He didn’t move out from behind the camera, but I could see his puffy face was sweating. I felt sorry for the guy. He was never going to last in this business if he didn’t get in better shape.

  “Yeah, I heard it,” I replied. I pulled the digital voice recorder out of my pocket. “Why don’t we do a session, Megan? Before we go to the basement.”

  “What did you guys hear?” she asked. “I thought I heard a whisper. I assumed it was you.”

  “Nope, wasn’t us,” James and I answered simultaneously.

  “Okay, let’s do a session. I’ll sit here. Jess, you go first.”

  I cleared my throat and waited for a moment. It was always nerve-wracking thinking about what to say. “We know you are here. We heard you speaking to us. Do you want to talk to me or to Megan?”

  I remembered to count to five in my head before I asked another question. The audio recorder was my favorite tool for ghost hunting. It picked up voices that the human ear often missed. Except we had heard the voice just a minute ago. Maybe we wouldn’t need the recorder in here.

  “My name is Jessica, and this is Megan.” I counted to five again in my head. I heard something that sounded like a bag of flour sliding across the floor.

  “Did you…” I began to ask, but Megan interrupted with a nervous laugh.

  “Yes. Keep talking. We’re getting some action now. I guess they didn’t want to stay hidden after all.” She grinned as she looked around the room. “Do you know where that was coming from?”

  “I think the doorway there, the one that goes from the kitchen to the basement.”

  Megan hopped up and opened the door. “Like someone was dragging something down the stairs?”

  Nodding, I walked to stand beside her. For some reason I felt like there might be safety in numbers. I mean, we had been warned. We were in danger. “Did you just make that noise? We can hear you.”

  After a few seconds, I asked, “Can you make another noise? I know it takes a lot of energy, but speak really loudly this time.” I waited another few seconds, then Megan and I gasped as we felt a breeze blow past us down the stairs.

  “Is the front door open?” Megan asked James. He looked behind him and shook his head. “Okay, so the door is not open. The air conditioning and heating units have been turned off. I don’t see any windows open in here. I can’t imagine what that could be.”

  “Might be a window open down there. Or a door.”

  To another world. A dark world where you don’t want to go. I kept that thought to myself.

  Megan agreed and called down the stairs, “We are coming down now.” Suddenly the pinch in my side returned, and I gasped at the sudden pain. “Oh yeah, that’s not a normal pain. Definitely transference.” Sometimes I felt the pain of others, and on a few occasions it had helped us figure out what happened to the ghostly occupants of the houses we visited. Most of the time there was no way to prove what I felt, but I believed the messages were accurate. At least in the case at the Halloran Hotel, we were able to prove it. Enid Halloran had died of blunt force trauma, which explained the almost debilitating head pain I experienced during last year’s investigation. The older I got, the worse these episodes became. And now I was twenty-five. Would I live to be thirty? I couldn’t imagine exploring haunted houses all my life. I would most certainly not enjoy it if I needed to be on pain medicine.

  “Hold on to me, Jessica.” Megan pulled out her tiny yet powerful flashlight and waved it on the steps in front of us.

  After a few seconds the pain lessened but didn’t completely vanish. “Can you hear that?” I asked as we descended. I could have sworn I heard someone crying. No, that was whimpering.

  “I don’t hear anything.” We stood in silence with James on the stairs behind us. Megan clutched my hand now. That was a sure tell that she was “feeling” something. I was glad it wasn’t just me. “Dang, it’s cold down here. Is this normal?”

  We moved into the space and spread out. James followed Megan as she waved her device. “Getting some major spikeage. Jess, how are you feeling? Anything else? Can you hear or see anything?”

  The pain hit me so hard I nearly doubled over. I felt the sudden urge to cry for help as I fell to my knees.

  “Oh my God! James, get Jessica.” Megan pushed a button on the walkie-talkie and shouted, “Mike, get in here. Jessica needs help!” Then the tapping began.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  It was steady and growing louder. I could hear it, but I couldn’t be sure they could. The pain increased in intensity, and I nearly gagged. “Where is that coming from? James, don’t you dare leave us down here.”

  “I’m trying to get a wider shot. I see something!”

  I pushed up from the ground and managed to sit cross-legged still holding my side. What was this feeling? A gunshot? A stab wound? Someone had definitely been hurt here, a woman, and she wanted her mother.

  “Talk to me, Jessica.”

  “There’s a woman here. She’s over there.” I pointed furiously at the far wall. As I did, the ghost slid back into the wall and an expression of terror crossed her face. She began to fade before my eyes. I gasped at the sight, and the pain began to subside. “Oh no! She’s in the wall! She’s in the wall! Get me something!” The banging grew louder, and I could hear footsteps upstairs. It had to be Becker and Mike. They ran down the stairs, but as soon as Mike’s foot hit the basement floor the banging stopped.

  “Jessica? Oh no, she’s passed out.”

  But I wasn’t passed out. I was still with them, in the in-between place where dreams and consciousness met.

  And that was where they were. The two women: one younger and one older. Both with long, unbrushed hair, torn clothing and dirty hands.

  Hands that had been digging for centuries to get out. I could see the younger woman quite plainly—she wanted me to see her. And I could see the wound, the black, bloody wound that was evidence of her horrific demise. As I watched in terror, unable to move as she reached for me, her long fingers extended to supernatural lengths and gripped my arm. Her pale face glowed and then vanished, revealing the bone underneath it.

  “No!” I screamed in terror. Whether she meant to hurt me or not, I did not want her to touch me. But now she was leaning closer. Her fetid breath again filled my nose.

  With a dry, dusty voice she said, “Find me…” She squeezed my wrist once more before she released me. Again I screamed, unable to verbalize what I saw. Mike and Becker lifted me off the cold floor as I writhed. I was fully awake now, and I let them carry me outside.

  Mike’s voice shook, even as he tried to remain controlled. “Jessica. Are you with me? Stop filming, James. Grab my phone! We need a doctor.”

  I found my voice and squeezed his hand. “No. I’m fine.”

  “The hell you are. Look at your skin…it’s red.” He held my arm gingerly and stared at my wrist. “What happened?”

  “She wants out. She’s in the wall, Mike. They are both in the wall! We have to get them out!”

 
That wasn’t what he expected to hear. He rubbed his hand across his shaved head and put his arm around me as I sobbed. “Come on. Let’s get you in the van.”

  “Please, we can’t leave them in there.” I leaned on his shoulder.

  “It’s okay, Jess. It’s going to be all right. That’s a wrap, guys. We’ll meet in the morning.”

  Megan joined us long enough to glare at me, but I couldn’t do anything but cry. Mike held me and carried me to the MHP van.

  As I clung to him, I glanced back at the house once more. That’s when I saw him, the other one. He’d stayed hidden most of the night, but he was there. Watching us.

  Watching everything.

  Watching and waiting.

  Chapter Nine – Summer

  “What the frick, Avery?” I gasped as my cousin nearly tripped over me. “What the heck are you doing running around in the dark? And what happened to the lights?”

  “Summer? What are you doing here?”

  I crossed my arms and looked at her like she was crazy. Did I need her permission to show up here? Hadn’t she called me looking for a housekeeper? Needless to say, I didn’t say that. “You called me all freaked out. Remember? Now what’s going on?”

  “We heard a big boom, and Jamie saw someone in the upstairs hallway. The lights just went out.” Avery clutched my arm, and I could feel her shaking.

  “You two. Get a grip, y’all. The big boom was probably thunder. It’s about to storm, and it looks like it will be a doozy.”

  “I’ve heard storms before, and that was no storm,” Detective Richards barked back.

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, how do I know what it was? Maybe it was a power surge. That happens a lot in old houses like this. Let’s go check the breaker box. It’s in the basement, scaredy-cats.”

  “It can’t be that,” Richards snapped. “I’ve never heard a breaker box sound like breaking glass. It was nothing like a power surge. Nothing like that at all.”

  “Fine. It was a big scary ghost. Now give me that flashlight so I can check the box. Some detective,” I said with a bleak laugh. I walked back through the kitchen and opened the basement door. I hated this basement, but it was nothing like the one at Sugar Hill. That basement felt horrific and always had a bad smell to it. Even though the air was dank here, it wasn’t smelly and there were no rodents clawing at the walls trying to rip off my flesh. I accidentally kicked an ill-placed cardboard box, then walked over it and opened the panel. Sure enough, the main breaker had been flipped.

  “Hold this a sec?” I handed Avery the flashlight and used both hands to flip the switch up. It was stubborn and didn’t want to flip back into place, but it did eventually obey me. Naturally the brave detective hung back and didn’t offer to help. Some hero. And of course, the lights came on. “See?”

  Avery’s blue eyes clamped on me. “I know we heard something. It sounded like glass breaking or maybe a chandelier crashing to the floor. And what about the person Jamie saw upstairs?”

  “I bet I have the answer to that. Follow me.”

  We walked back up the basement stairs, and I closed and locked the door behind me. I always locked the one at Sugar Hill. “Come on, y’all. I’ll show you the ghost.”

  “Mock me if you want to, but I saw someone up there. Maybe a transient. Someone looking for shelter from the storm? I don’t know. I never said it was a ghost,” Richards grumbled as he followed me up the wide staircase. As if it wanted to prove me right, the thunderstorm broke loose over us. The sound of thunder shook the walls of Thorn Hill and set the glass chandeliers tinkling as we arrived on the second floor.

  “Welcome to Alabama, y’all. Home of big, scary thunderstorms at all times of the year.” I couldn’t help but smile at them. Sure, Avery had something to be afraid of, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t this thunderstorm. And I seriously doubted if the family ghost would reveal himself to Jamie Richards. But then again, I was no expert. I wasn’t even the “anointed one.”

  “I know I saw someone, Miss Dufresne.”

  “Please call me Summer. And I don’t doubt you saw something. Was it that?” I pointed down the hall as I flicked on the light. There at the far end, standing between two suites, was the marble statue. I always hated that thing. That was an odd place to put a statue, but this was an odd house, no question about that. “I’d like you to meet Champion Dufresne and his dog, Spider. Champion was the son of Chase and Athena—their eldest son, to be more precise. He lived here from about 1835 to right before the War. In fact, he became something of a recluse. He shot himself dead cleaning his gun.”

  Richards looked relieved. He was one good-looking man, and except for being a little jumpy tonight, he seemed like a decent guy. Kind of the all-American type. Probably used to women falling all over him. I squinted as I appraised him, hoping he didn’t realize how intimately I was assessing him. He was probably a reasonable lover, and I had no doubt he’d like to please Avery up one side and down the other. Although he hadn’t yet. How did I know? It sure wasn’t because my cousin confided in me. It was just that Richards had the “I’m-so-hungry-I-could-eat-a-bear” look. Surely Avery wasn’t pining over Jonah Blight. No, I couldn’t imagine that. Not at all. What a jerk that guy was!

  With surprising jealousy, I wondered if Avery had seen the Lovely Man. If she’d lost her desire for a flesh-and-blood man. If Ambrose had come to her. If he’d kissed her and claimed her as his own as he once did me? I stole a peek at the ring, as if that would tell me what I wanted to know. It told me nothing. The silver ring with the rubies only served as a pretty reminder that I had been rejected by him. And by my family.

  I wondered how this would all turn out. If she liked Richards at all, she should end the relationship now. Or else plan his funeral. Avery caught me staring at the ring and met my gaze knowingly. With an understanding smile she said, “Thanks for ghost busting for us, Summer. It’s a relief to know the place is not haunted.”

  I couldn’t let her off that easy. She needed to be cautious. And I felt my natural mean streak rising. “Oh, I didn’t say the house wasn’t haunted. I’m just saying that statue would freak anyone out—even if you knew it was there. And I knew it was going to storm tonight.”

  “I could sure use a drink,” Richards said, licking his lips. I suddenly had the urge to kiss them. Strange, since I’d had Becker just a few hours ago. Two men in one night? That was too much, even for me.

  “I think we all could. There’s a liquor cabinet in the downstairs front room.” We silently walked down the stairs together. I quickly led them to Susanna’s room and poured us all Irish whiskey on the rocks. Avery sipped hers, but Richards didn’t waste any time with his. I poured him another and sat on the sofa beside Avery.

  The storm rolled over us. The lights flickered a few times, but we didn’t talk for a while. Avery silently mused over Susanna’s portrait and finally finished her drink. “She was so beautiful,” she whispered as she put the glass down. Richards agreed and asked who she was.

  “Susanna Dufresne, former wife of Chase Dufresne. His left-hand wife. She lived here after they split up sometime around 1820.”

  “Left-hand wife? You mean mistress? I didn’t think people did that sort of thing back in the old days.” Richards stared up at the colorful painting. He squinted a bit as if he needed a good pair of glasses. I guessed like most macho types he didn’t want to admit that failing.

  “Well, people are people no matter what time they live in. And yes, they did separate. Some folks say they divorced, although it wasn’t something that a proper person would speak about openly.” Why does this guy seem so familiar? Like I’ve met him somewhere before. That isn’t possible. Is it? The curve of his lips did seem familiar. I found myself once again thinking about kissing them.

  “It was a sordid story. Apparently she was unfaithful to him, with his cousin no less, and he married Athena. And a lot of good her beauty did Susanna. It isn’t always a blessing, is it?” I asked Avery.

  She shoo
k her head. “What happened to her? I mean, in the end? Do you know?”

  “Have you finished Aunt Anne’s videos?” I didn’t want to talk about family matters in front of Richards, but the second glass of whiskey had warmed my heart and loosened my tongue. It wasn’t like he was going to mention any of this to anyone. Anyone with a brain could see he was completely smitten with Avery. Or was it her money and prestige he was after? I felt a twinge of jealousy, but it didn’t last long. I didn’t really want to be matrone. Not really. It cost too much.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “You should. She tells Susanna’s story way better than I ever could, but I do know that the end of Susanna’s life was very different from the beginning. She was a survivor.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  Richards didn’t interrupt us but just listened intently. Retrieving the whiskey bottle from the mahogany cabinet, he set it down on the coffee table. Avery pushed her glass toward him, and he filled it halfway. Again his movement seemed so familiar. I had to have met him somewhere before. The way he moved as he poured his drink. The way he slouched back and watched us. Yes, he liked to watch. That also feels recognizable.

  Avery pleaded, “Tell me what you know. Tell me about Susanna and Chase…and tell me about…Ambrose.”

  My heart leaped at hearing his name mentioned aloud. Clearly Avery did not realize that just saying his name could be considered an invitation. Or that’s what the old ladies in our family always warned. I’d tried it, and it hadn’t worked for me. I wanted to summon him, but he never came when I called. Just then, I felt cold fingers on my neck as if someone were standing behind me, touching me. I shifted in my seat and glanced around, then snuggled back down against the pillow. No one was there, of course. What to tell her?

  “I’m not sure your guest wants to hear about our family drama,” I said with a laugh as I played with my ice cubes.

  “It’s hardly drama if it was that long ago, is it?” Richards said. “It’s just history now. Besides, I would like to hear more about the Dufresne family history.”