Sleep Savannah Sleep
Page 1
Sleep Savannah Sleep
Alistair Cross
Contents
The Dead Don’t Always Rest in Peace
Praise for Alistair Cross
Acknowledgments
The Players
Part I
1. Arrival
2. Intrusion
3. Initiation
4. Malice
5. Overture
6. Domesticity
7. Carnival
8. Violation
9. Missing
Part II
10. Suspicion
11. Haunted
12. Unearthing
13. Unrest
14. Affliction
15. Inquisition
16. Condemned
Part III
17. Visitation
18. Reversal
19. Unveiling
20. Sleep
21. Aftermath
22. Departure
About the Author
Also by Alistair Cross
Bibliography
The Dead Don’t Always Rest in Peace
Jason Crandall, recently widowed, is left to raise his young daughter and rebellious teenage son on his own - and the old Victorian in Shadow Springs seems like the perfect place for them to start over. But the cracks in Jason’s new world begin to show when he meets Savannah Sturgess, a beautiful socialite who has half the men in town dancing on tangled strings.
When she goes missing, secrets begin to surface, and Jason becomes ensnared in a dangerous web that leads to murder - and he becomes a likely suspect. But who has the answers that will prove his innocence? The jealous husband who’s hell-bent on destroying him? The local sheriff with an incriminating secret? The blind old woman in the house next door who seems to watch him from the windows? Or perhaps the answers lie in the haunting visions and dreams that have recently begun to consume him.
Or maybe, Savannah herself is trying to tell him that things aren’t always as they seem - and that sometimes, the dead don’t rest in peace.
“SLEEP SAVANNAH SLEEP hooks you with a small-town atmosphere that quickly turns ghostly cold. Beware a plethora of twists and turns …” – Michael Aronovitz, author of Alice Walks and Phantom Effect
Praise for Alistair Cross
THE CRIMSON CORSET
“Put Bram Stoker in a giant cocktail shaker, add a pinch of Laurell K. Hamilton, a shot of John Carpenter, and a healthy jigger of absinthe, and you’ll end up with Alistair Cross’s modern Gothic chiller, “The Crimson Corset” - a deliciously terrifying tale that will sink its teeth into you from page one.” - Jay Bonansinga, New York Times Bestselling author of THE WALKING DEAD: INVASION and LUCID
“Alistair Cross’ new novel THE CRIMSON CORSET … is taut and elegantly written taking us into the realms where the erotic and the horrific meet. Reminiscent of the work of Sheridan Le Fanu (CARMILLA, UNCLE SILAS) in its hothouse, almost Victorian intensity, it tells a multi-leveled story of misalliance and mixed motives. The language is darkly lyrical, and the tale is compelling. Read it; you'll be glad you did.”- Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, author of the SAINT-GERMAIN CYCLE
THE ANGEL ALEJANDRO
"Alistair Cross’s THE ANGEL ALEJANDRO is an intriguing tale that pits evil against good and keeps the reader on edge with surprising shifts and changes."- New York Times Bestseller, Dianna Love
“The Angel Alejandro sets the bar high for urban fantasy; Alistair Cross brings thrills, chills, and otherworldly delights to every page. I’ve never read a novel like it - it delivers terrifying, in-your-face horror even as the romance and humor melt your heart and make you laugh out loud. I came away from this book pumped full of adrenaline and deeply satisfied. An excellent read!”- Tamara Thorne, international bestselling author of HAUNTED and CANDLE BAY
“The Angel Alejandro is as lush and ethereal as it is visceral and unholy. A demonic horde seeks to swallow up the citizens of Prominence made vulnerable by their weaknesses. Those who take a stand against the evil are emotionally damaged as well; particularly a sheriff who battles his personal demons in a bottle. The author had me rooting for each of them in spite of, or maybe because of their flaws. With masterful pacing, Cross brings a small mystery to a raging boil that threatens every soul in Prominence. His exquisite prose drew me into the story as if I were living it. Highly recommended.”-QL Pearce, author of the Scary Stories for Sleep-Overs series, and Spine Chillers: Hair-Raising Tales
Praise for Thorne & Cross
“Mother is about as disturbing as one can get. Thorne and Cross are seriously twisted individuals who know how to horrify and entertain at the same time.”- Fang-Freakin-Tastic Book Reviews
“A delightfully sinister walk up the shadowed staircase to the room Mother arranged especially for you. So, what’s in the cupboard? What’s she hiding in the basement? Inside the garage? Under the floorboards? With Mother, Thorne and Cross reanimate the “familiar,” leading you down a path of familial treachery that gets midnight-dark all too quickly.” - Michael Aronovitz – author of Phantom Effect
“In The Ghosts of Ravencrest, Tamara Thorne and Alistair Cross have created a world that is dark, opulent, and smoldering with the promise of scares and seduction. You'll be able to feel the slide of the satin sheets, taste the fizz of champagne, and hear the footsteps on the stairs.”-Sylvia Shults, paranormal expert and author of Fractured Spirits and Hunting Demons
“In this classic-style gothic, young Belinda Moorland takes a job as governess for the children of Eric Manning, whose family mansion, Ravencrest, was reassembled stone by stone after crossing over from England. Now stalked by a bevy of quirky, shady characters … the sinister estate and its naughty nightside hijinks take center stage in this expert tale of multi-generational evil - and love. The Ghosts of Ravencrest will chill you and make you hot and bothered at the same time. There’s nothing like a stay in a California town created by Thorne and Cross!” - W.D. Gagliani, author of Wolf’s Blind (the Nick Lupo Series)
Sleep Savannah Sleep
© September 2017 Alistair Cross
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.
All Rights Reserved
Glass Apple Press
Cover Design by Mike Rivera
This one is for my sister, Kim,
who frequently scared the hell out of me, always defended me,
and always, always let me hang out with her and her friends.
I love you, Kim.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to acknowledge, with deep gratitude, the people who offered their assistance, support, and time. They are, in no particular order:
Heather Anderson, for general awesomeness; Tamara Thorne, for reading this book to me over and over until it sounded just right; Q.L. Pearce, for her eagle-eye and wonderful friendship; Berlin Malcom, for putting so much effort into me and my work; Libba Campbell, the best editor in the world; Chris Serrano, for adding the “finishing touches” (and giving such great massages); Alfredo De La Paz, for inspiration; Tim Marquitz, for answering my morbid questions without flinching; and Nick Jackson, for patience, legal advice, and generosity.
As always, all leaps of logic, artistic liberties, and errors are mine alone.
•A.C.
June, 2017
The Players
JASON CRANDALL, massage therapist
BRENT CRANDALL, his son
AMBER CRANDALL, his daughter
HALLIE BESSNER, waitress
DOTTIE BLANCHARD, neighbor
JIM COOPER, aka COOP, mechanic
TABITHA COOPER, his grandmother
SAVANNAH STURGESS, a local
LIAM STURGESS, her younger brother
SCOTT STURGESS, their father
EVIE STURGESS, their mother
FLYNN GARVEY, realtor, Savannah’s boyfriend
TRAVIS DELGADO, a local
MARLEE DELGADO, his wife
MARSHALL REDDING, the sheriff
FRED DE LA PAZ, local
ED GREGORIO, attorney
JACQUELINE WINTERS, attorney
WARREN FITCH, judge
BRADY ELKINS, deputy
BETH, Hallie Bessner’s sister
JOY ROSWELL, local
MR. CHAZEN, Amber’s teacher
Honorable Mentions
JULIA CRANDALL, Jason’s wife (deceased)
STEVIE ROSE, Amber’s friend
HOWARD BLANCHARD, Dottie’s husband (deceased)
RACHEL DELGADO, Marlee’s daughter
JIMMY DEXTER, student in Los Angeles
CHRIS HANSEN, salesman
WILLIE WESTON, grocery store owner
MRS. JENSEN, neighbor in Los Angeles (deceased)
DR. HARVEY, doctor
INGRID BOOTH, Dottie’s friend
MELBA, Dottie’s friend
LUCILLE, Dottie’s friend
SANDY, waitress
FATHER GERALDSON - Priest at St. Ann’s
ROGER SIMMS, Jason’s childhood therapist
Miscellaneous
RUBY, Amber’s doll
REGINALD BREEDLOVE, Amber’s bunny
VIRGO, one of Dottie Blanchard’s cats
GEMINI, one of Dottie Blanchard’s cats
QUEENIE, Joy Rossner’s poodle (deceased)
T & C ENTERPRISES, a business conglomerate (Scott Sturgess is CEO)
On the Air
**COASTAL EDDIE, deejay
In the Pages
**HOLLY TREMAYNE, author
**KATHRYN MCLEOD, author
**Repeat Offenders (characters who have made appearances in other Alistair Cross or Thorne & Cross novels)
Part 1
1
Arrival
“This is it? Seriously? It’s like we’re moving into Hill House.” In the passenger seat, Brent looked uneasy.
Jason Crandall turned to his son. “It has character.” He looked up at the old Victorian. But he’s right. It’s creepy. Surrounded by mid-century houses, the decrepit Victorian seemed like a flaw on the neighborhood, a stain on something otherwise clean. The cat’s claw vine climbing the walls shrouded the house, as if trying to hide it, the violently yellow blossoms creating a diversion from the faded wood siding - as did the bowers of honeysuckle that accented the yard, draped the veranda, and sweetened the air. Two second-story windows peered out from between the lush vines, looking like the eyes of a hunted beast.
Surrounded on both sides by white split-rail fences coated in spindly climbing roses, the property was spacious, with a small courtyard beyond a wisteria-choked arbor that lead to the back yard. “I don’t know. I think it’s charming.” He offered his son a grin, and shut off the silver Legacy. The annoying squeal - probably a fan belt - went silent and Jason made a mental note to hunt down a local mechanic.
“It’s creepy, Dad. Seriously creepy.” Brent leaned back and assumed his usual air of annoyed indifference.
“But creepy in a cool way, right?” asked Jason.
Brent’s eyes, the color of seawater, looked unimpressed. “Only if you like haunted houses.”
“It’s haunted?” In the back seat, Amber sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Even Ruby, the blond, blue-eyed doll that never left her arms, looked alarmed.
“Of course it isn’t haunted.” Jason shot Brent a warning look. “It’s just old.”
The three of them stared at the house and it seemed to stare right back. All in all, it didn’t appear pleased to meet them.
“Let’s go have a look around.” Jason undid his seatbelt. “After that, you two can help me unload.” A large moving van was a day or two behind them; the small trailer they’d pulled contained only the essentials - and most of Jason’s massage equipment. He knew he was being optimistic about how quickly he could get his studio up and running, but he couldn’t help it. His new business was the entire reason he’d bought the house. It had a basement complete with its own entrance, so Jason could work without having strangers traipsing in and out of the family’s living space. Overall, the old Victorian was ideal, even if it was a little spooky.
Then again, the whole town - or what he’d seen of it so far - was pretty spooky, too. Quaint and quiet, Shadow Springs was a startling contrast to the buzzing pace of Los Angeles. Jason told himself this would be good for him - good for all of them.
Here, just outside of Ojai in Ventura County, they’d begin their new lives, free of bad memories. That was what Jason had told himself a hundred times in the past weeks - it was what he had to believe.
Inside, the house would be gorgeous once it was spruced up a little; it had a two-way fireplace separating the formal living and family rooms, an old-fashioned white-tiled kitchen with a breakfast bar and a sun porch, a spacious dining room where an ornate glass chandelier cast prisms of light despite the dust, and a mud room and bathroom at the east side of the house. Out back, a vast cobblestone terrace led to the backyard where more cat’s claw, cape honeysuckle, and even some blood red trumpet vine climbed the tall black wrought iron fencing.
Upstairs were the bedrooms. Brent immediately chose his room, shut the door, and left Jason and Amber to finish putting things away. He hadn’t even bothered retrieving his air mattress - and when Jason found it, he carried it up to Brent’s new room, where his son was sitting on the hardwood floor, staring at his hands.
“Don’t you knock?” asked Brent.
Usually, he did, but Jason hadn’t thought about it. “Sorry about that. Here’s your temporary bed.”
“Does it have a pump?”
“Built-in,” Jason said. “That way you won’t be up half the night huffing and puffing.” He smiled. “I was thinking ahead, see?”
“Thanks.” Brent took the box and stared at Jason. “Anything else?”
Jason watched him a moment, debating whether or not to try and talk to his son. Brent had never been one for accepting change, and this move would be no exception. Jason recalled the time they’d gotten a new car when Brent was nine years old. He’d thrown himself to the floor in a burst of tears, demanding to know what was wrong with the old one. It had taken some time to get him calmed down, but Brent had never fully accepted the new car; for years to come, he seemed to resent it. He’d gotten a little better with age, but not enough that Jason didn’t worry about how the boy was going to survive in the ever-evolving real world. At last, Jason shook his head. “Nope. That’s it. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
“I’m sure I’ll survive up here all by myself.”
Jason stepped out of the way and Brent closed the door.
He stared at it, wondering how he and Julia had born such a moody child. He knew the answer, of course. My father, that’s where he gets it from. Despite the fact that the two had never met, Brent was just like his grandfather - something Jason wasn’t thrilled about.
He sighed and headed down the dark cherrywood hallway stopping to look inside each of the many rooms that lined it. All were more than spacious enough for their belongings, but the bathroom was his favorite. This was the kind of room you could spend a lot of time in. With a claw foot tub, black-and-white tiles, and bronze fixtures, it had an antique, and very cozy, ambience. And though he wasn’t much for sitting in the tub, this one was big enough to fit him and he found himself looking forward to some long hot baths.
He shut the
bathroom door and headed downstairs, noting some pretty severe creaks on the steep shadowy staircase; he’d have those fixed as soon as he could. Hell, I could probably do it myself. There was something about the idea of fixing up the place with his own bare hands that excited him. And it will keep me busy. Right now, that was more important than anything: Keeping busy. Otherwise, he’d start thinking - and thinking never led anywhere good these days.
Downstairs, Amber was struggling with a suitcase - one-handed, so as not to disrupt Ruby’s place in her arms. The doll’s corkscrew curls bounced and jounced as Amber fought to get it open.
“Would it help if I held Ruby?” Jason asked.
Amber looked at him, considered, then continued. She wasn’t the type to shrink from a challenge. Amused, Jason leaned against the curved hardwood banister, watching her. She successfully unlatched the case and got it open. “Jeez!” she exclaimed. “All I wanted was Ruby’s other dress. She gets very tired of wearing the same one all the time.”
Jason smiled. “I’ll bet she does.”