The Haunting at Sebring Hotel (A Riveting Haunted House Mystery Series Book 13)

by J. S. Donovan

  Asher entered and squeezed through the tight corridor. He landed behind a mirror in Andrew Warren’s room. The old man sat at a chair by his window listening to a twenty-something-year-old talk about her job. Her eight-year-old daughter played with dolls on the floor. The man was quiet, polite, and wholesome. The twenty-something-year-old must’ve been his daughter or granddaughter. She was pretty, young and wholesomely dressed. Judging by her age, she must’ve had her daughter when she was a late teenager.

  Asher spied on them for a while. The old man was an expert listener. When it was time for his guests to leave, he hugged them and escorted them to the door. He spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV and napping. Bored out of his mind, Asher decided to take a break from scouting and walk through the hotel. He snuck into the bar, hoping to play his game without anyone noticing.

  Much to his shock, James Hunt was seated in the back booth and typing on his classic keyboard. An unlit cigarette hung out of the unkempt writer’s lip. He appeared to be so caught up in his narrative to light it. Impressively keeping his cigarette in his mouth, he sipped a glass of bourbon. He didn’t acknowledge Asher’s entrance.

  He shouldn’t be in here, Asher thought. The bar was closed until Mom got back. Asher didn’t have the guts to confront him. Also, he didn’t want to make Raven mad by throwing him out. Leaving the man to his own devices, Asher went to the ballroom and got lost in his video game.

  His phone dinged.

  Fritz is home, Justin wrote.

  Asher put his phone away and proceeded upstairs to his last suspect. He watched Fritz through a peephole behind the bed.

  Wearing his grimy jumpsuit, the lumbering man shouted into his phone.

  “Oh, you want the car too? The house wasn’t enough?” Bitterness laced Fritz’s words. “… Uh, huh. Sure. I’m the problem. Your life was perfect before you met me… Tell Jim! I don’t care. He won’t do anything… Good! Do it!”

  Fritz hung up the cellphone and threw it. Asher flinched, thinking it would hit him. The bed’s pillow absorbed the blow. Fritz stood in place. He boiled in rage. He sat at the edge of the bed and squeezed fistfuls of the covers. He cooled down and turned on a crappy Western. He looked like he’d spend the rest of the night watching TV.

  Asher sought out Raven and found her seated on the railing surrounding the ballroom. She gently swayed her legs. Her head was tilted down, looking at the tables, chairs, and checkered floor.

  Asher cautiously approached. “What are you doing?” His voice wavered.

  Raven patted the railing next to her. “Join me.”

  “Uh… That’s not really that safe.”

  “Okay, bye then.” Raven pushed on the railing, ready to jump.

  “No!” Asher shouted as he ran to her.

  Raven stopped herself. Giggling, she swiveled around to face Asher. “Gotcha.”

  Asher caught his breath. “Don’t do that.”

  “Afraid I was going to get hurt?” Raven asked.

  “Yeah. Duh,” Asher fixed his drooping glasses. “Haven’t we had enough near-death experiences?”

  “What’s life without a little risk?” A cruel smile crawled up Raven’s face.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you,” Asher replied.

  Raven said, “You should be thanking me.”

  “For what?”

  “Saving you from that thing on the fourth floor,” Raven replied. “Also, has there been a reason why you haven’t spoken to me since then?”

  Asher rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been busy.”

  “You’re a terrible liar,” Raven said pointedly.

  “Look, it's just a lot to process,” Asher replied. “I thought my mind was going to explode after we got out of there. I didn’t want to leave my room.”

  “Scaredy cat.” Raven stuck out her tongue.

  Asher said, “It’s called being smart.”

  “If you were smart, you wouldn’t have gone upstairs in the first place,” Raven reminded him.

  “It was your idea!” Asher explained.

  Raven thought for a moment. “Oh, it was, wasn’t it?” She giggled to herself.

  Asher put his hands in his pockets. He glanced around the empty ballroom. Raven stayed seated on the rail but was facing Asher’s way.

  What do I do now? Asher thought. He had a girlfriend. Kind of. But what did that mean? Asher wasn’t sure. Raven craned back her head and studied the ceiling mural. Asher felt the room getting awkward.

  “I’ve been hunting a killer,” Asher said.

  Raven’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  Asher took a few steps closer. “I can’t really talk about it.”

  Raven slid off the railing and walked until she was a foot from him. “You’ve got to start from the beginning.”

  Standing so close made Asher feel nervous. He put on a strong face. “My brother and I found a list of names carved in the elevator shaft… well, more like in a little tunnel by the elevator shaft.”

  Raven was greatly intrigued.

  All the attention made Asher want to tell her everything. However, he knew Justin would kill him. “I really can’t say any more about it.”

  Raven crossed her arms. “Then I don’t believe you.”

  “But I’m telling the truth.”

  “Liar.”

  Asher’s pride flared up. “I have proof.”

  Raven gave him an oh really look.

  Asher said, “The list of names matched up with a bunch of missing people. The couple that was staying here a little while ago went missing, too. Now that could just be a coincidence, but I believe it’s much more.”

  Raven lit up with excitement. “You’re tracking a real killer.”

  Asher nodded. “I guess I am. But, he could be someone who did all his dirty work years ago. The most recent name on the list went missing fifteen years ago.”

  “A cold case,” Raven said. “This is awesome.”

  “That’s all I can share right now,” Asher said. He didn’t want her to investigate the suspects on her own and ruin the whole operation.

  Raven asked, “Have you found out how he killed his victims?”

  Asher said, “No.”

  Raven replied, “Oh well. It’s still cool.”

  “Not really. If he learns that I’m tracking him, he’ll kill me. Please, Raven. Don’t tell anyone,” Asher begged.

  “Who would I tell?” Raven asked.

  “I don’t know. Your dad,” Asher guessed.

  “You don’t have to worry about me. I know how to keep secrets. If you knew the stuff I’m hiding, you’d faint,” Raven said.

  Asher wasn’t sure what to say to that. He said, “I want to involve you, but I don’t think Justin would like it.”

  “Your brother is such a buzzkill,” Raven replied.

  “He stood up for me when no else would,” Asher said.

  “I didn’t know you respected him that much?” Raven asked.

  “He’s my older brother. The guy has been through some stuff, but he’s not an idiot,” Asher replied.

  Raven admired his respect for Justin. She asked, “Who do you think is the killer?”

  Asher replied, “I wish I knew.”

  Raven took his hand. “We’ll find out together.”

  Asher smiled at her.

  Not wanting to mess up the investigation, Asher convinced Raven that they should relax and investigate after they were rested. He took her back to his room and they played video games until late in the night. At 1 am, he walked Raven back to her room. She hugged him goodnight and slipped inside the dark suite.

  Exhausted from the day of spying, Asher walked to his suite when someone called his name.

  He turned his head. Andrew Warren stood in the hallway. He wore an ironed button-up, dark slacks, and fancy black shoes.

  “Hey, Mr. Warren,” Asher said awkwardly.

  “Come here for a minute,” the old man beckoned.

  Asher contemplated run
ning to his room. Afraid of being rude, he obeyed the man. Standing in the middle of the hallway in the dark of night left Asher in an awkward position. If this man was the killer, Asher’s only defense would be to scream.

  He came to a stop about two yards from the elderly man.

  “How are you?” Warren asked kindly.

  “Good,” Asher replied. He buried his hands deep in his pockets.

  “I didn’t see you today.” Warren sounded like a concerned friend.

  “I was caught up in other stuff,” Asher said. “Do you need a new towel or something?”

  “No, I’m okay. I just thought it was strange you or your brother didn’t house clean today. Is your mother around?” Warren asked.

  “Not right now,” Asher said, wishing that he hadn’t revealed that information.

  Warren hunched over slightly, resting his hands on his knees. “You’re a bright young man, Asher.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Asher replied.

  Silence lingered between them.

  Asher said, “I should probably get to bed.”

  “Of course.” Warren straightened up. “I just wanted to tell you that you have a bright future ahead of you. A young man that learns the value of hard work at a young age is destined to go far.”

  Asher smiled awkwardly.

  “I’ll let you get back to it then,” Warren said.

  Warren returned to his suite. As he stepped inside, Asher said, “Mr. Warren.”

  The elderly man turned his head to him.

  Asher asked, “Are you really a Freemason?”

  A smile grew on the side of Warren’s mouth. “What do you know about the Masons?”

  Asher glanced down. “I know they do a lot of rituals. Some of them used to live here.”

  Warren stepped out of the doorway to his suite. The door clicked shut behind him. “There’s a lot of rumors about the Masons these days. Some of them are quite disturbing.”

  Asher wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into.

  Warren said, “The Masons aren’t a secret society. They are a brotherhood. A fraternity, some might say. Do you know what is?”

  “It's like a club,” Asher replied.

  Warren nodded. “Yes, a very special club. I’ve been at this lodge most of my life. Some of my fondest memories are within these walls.”

  Asher thought. Literally within the walls or figuratively?

  Warren continued, “My brothers have moved on, but I keep the torch lit. What we have shouldn’t be forgotten, but passed down into the next generation of bright young men.”

  “But don’t you kill people in your rituals?” Asher asked, instantly regretting he let his tongue slip.

  “Where did you hear that nonsense?” Warren asked.

  Asher shrugged.

  “Listen carefully. Whatever lies the internet or other sources are trying to fill your head with are ill-founded. Only the initiated understand our modus operandi.”

  “But what about your sacrifices and all your cryptic messages?” Asher asked. He knew he was digging his own grave, but curiosity got the better of him.

  Warren asked, “Do you wish to have wisdom?”

  “Yes,” Asher nodded. He got ready to run if the man took a step closer.

  Warren said, “You can’t transmute gold into lead. Why?”

  “Because they’re two different things,” Asher guessed.

  “Good,” Warren said. “But some great men have claimed to have done that very thing.”

  “What does this have to do with sacrifices?” Asher said in a loud whisper.

  Warren said, “You’ll see. Answer me this, how would you produce gold out of lead?”

  “You can’t. I just said they’re two different things,” Asher said. “I guess you try painting one, but that wouldn’t be real.”

  Warren replied, “Exactly. Can a pear tree grow pomegranates?”

  Asher shook his head.

  “Why?” Warren asked.

  “Because plants can only grow their type of fruit,” Asher said. He was uncertain where this was going.

  Warren asked, “Can you expect a man to change the fruit of his life if he’s caught in a certain way of thinking?”

  “Maybe,” Asher replied.

  “He can’t,” Warren declared.

  Asher was confused. “People change all the time.”

  Warren said, “Their actions, sure. But what about their heart and mind? The core of who they are?”

  Asher thought aloud. “Gold can’t change. Lead can’t change. Man can’t change, either… man, that’s depressing.”

  “There is a way,” Warren said.

  “How?”

  Warren said seriously. “He must become gold.”

  “That’s impossible,” Asher said. “We are who we are.”

  “Not if he is born again,” Warren said. “To be born again, the old way must die. Completely. Only by being gold at the beginning can he be gold forever. Only by being a new tree can he produce new fruit.”

  Asher asked, “So you’re saying that the sacrifice you perform is your identity, not actual life… right?”

  Warren smiled proudly. “I knew you were a smart young man.”

  Asher smiled with his pursed lips.

  Warren said, “The lodge where you stand doesn’t follow the ways of the traditional Masonic order, but our knowledge is very much the same. We simply apply it differently.” He yawned. “My, it's late. I should get to bed. My granddaughter is coming over tomorrow and I don’t want to be snoring her whole visit.”

  He reopened his door.

  “Mr. Warren,” said Asher.

  “Hmm?”

  “What sort of fruit are you bearing?”

  There was a twinkle in Warren’s eye. He wished Asher a good night and vanished into his suite.

  28

  Cherry

  Justin sat behind the lobby counter and scrolled through the FBI’s “Most Wanted” list on his mother’s laptop. There were no known killers around Sebring, Maine. Apart from the hotel fire in the 1960s, Sebring didn’t have much of a known history. Justin was suspicious of anything too clean. Looking into his own life, he knew no one was perfect.

  He rubbed his eyes. Lack of sleep had become his new normal. Asher was currently away for school. He was supposed to keep an eye on the guests. The strangest of the bunch was the priest. According to Asher’s text, the man was on a different plane of reality.

  The day dragged on. A few new guests arrived, paid for a single night, and were given suites on the second floor. Justin wasn’t always good with striking up a conversation and failed to ask what they planned to do during their short stay. From what he overheard, he gleaned they were attending a wedding.

  Asher got home around 4 pm. He had a lot of homework and would have to take a break from spying for the night. Justin wasn’t happy, but let his brother make his own choices. Hopefully, his little brother would realize that a serial killer was a much bigger threat than a few bad grades. Justin grumbled to himself, lamenting school. He hated it while he was there and he hated it even more now he was gone. Deep down, he knew the reason for his disdain was his own failure. If he’d been clever enough, he could’ve convinced his peers that he didn’t do anything to McKenzie she didn’t ask for. If he wasn’t so concerned with the opinions of others, he wouldn’t hide out in the hotel all day. If only McKenzie would step up and speak the truth about him. He hadn’t heard anything since the night he visited her. The faceless man probably still stalked her. He might be trying to express his desire for freedom to her.

  Justin paced around the lobby to keep himself awake for long hours. Around 9 pm, a young woman arrived. In her twenties, she had short cherry-blonde hair, a cute face, and wore a large coat to cover her tight belly shirt and short shorts. She had dark eye shadow, red lipstick, and a distraught expression. By her quick pace and the way she constantly looked behind her, Justin could tell she was in trouble.

  She leaned against the lo
bby counter.

  “Hey,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I need a room.”

  Justin gave her the standard rate.

  The woman quickly said, “I don’t have any money. Please, I’ll leave early tomorrow morning. No one will know I’m here.”

  “What’s your name?” Justin asked.

  “Cherry,” the woman replied. “How about you?”

  “Justin.”

  Cherry’s smile didn’t fit the worry in her eyes. “Justin. I’m at the end of my rope here.”

  “Who’s coming after you?”

  Cherry shook her head. “Don’t ask me that, sweetie. I’ll only get you in trouble.”

  “I’m capable,” Justin said.

  Cherry looked him up and down. She seemed to acknowledge his strength. Justin knew it was an act. She said, “The best thing you can do for me is let me stay.”

  Justin grabbed a suite key from inside the key cabinet.

  Cherry watched his hand. She wanted that key more than water.

  Justin placed it in her palm. “Suite 213. It’s near mine.”

  “You’re amazing,” Cherry said.

  “Do you have any luggage?” Justin asked.

  “Just me,” Cherry replied. She saw the door to the bar. “Is that closed?”

  Justin said, “At the moment. You want a drink?”

  Cherry raised her trembling hands just above waist level, showing them to Justin. “Just something to take the edge off.”

  “Go on in,” Justin said. “It’s unlocked.”

  Cherry asked, “What am I allowed to drink?”

  “Whatever, just as long as you leave some in the bottle,” Justin replied.

  Cherry’s wide smile seemed much more genuine now. Her expression quickly returned to worry. “You promise I don’t have to pay.”

  Justin replied, “It’s on me.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  Justin put out his pinky. “Pinky swear.”

  Cherry locked pinkies with him. “You’re the best.”

  “Enjoy your drink,” Justin said.

  Cherry walked to the dimly-lit bar. The sway of her skinny hips and paleness of her long, bare legs drove Justin crazy.

  He quickly put to death his perverse thoughts. He’d had enough trouble with women since he got here. He wasn’t going to fall prey to his worst desires anymore. Still…