by Rose Pressey
“He’s gotten much better since then. I think he even has a license now.”
“What about the ghosts?” She shifted in the bed.
“Are you telling me they’re evil?” I straightened in my chair. “Am I dealing with the spirit of a serial killer?”
She turned her head and stared out the window.
“Lacey? Hello?” I waved my hands. “Talk to me.”
She tilted her head back in my direction. “No, no. You’ll be fine. I’m a bit dazed right now. Don’t listen to anything I say.”
I took in a deep breath and let it out. She was in pain. I supposed that could obscure her mind.
Rob burst through the door as any crazed husband would. His eyes wide and hair disheveled. To be honest, I was kind of glad to get the heck out of there. I didn’t like hospitals in the first place. Thankfully, I had the closing as my excuse. I would visit her later—when she wasn’t in a building with a morgue in the basement.
***
Within minutes, I circled the parking lot looking for a space. This was it, no turning back. I’d convert that diamond in the rough. No longer could anyone say I never finished what I started.
The bank was in the largest building in town. It towered over everything else. By big city standards, though, it was small. I parked and trudged my way to the entrance. When I reached the sidewalk, a tall, thin man with salt and pepper hair approached. His suit fit every angle of his body and his red tie looked like pure silk. His shoulder brushed mine as he passed. I stumbled forward, but caught myself. He rushed through the revolving door. Had he seen me? Had he noticed almost knocking me flat on my face?
“How rude,” I mumbled.
I moved through the revolving door and emerged into the lobby of the bank. A large round table with a huge centerpiece greeted me as I walked over to the elevators.
I took in a deep breath, pausing with my finger hovering over the elevator button. Ninth floor. My heart rate spiked at the thought. I forced myself to push the button. The doors sprang open and I reluctantly climbed in. Thank goodness the enclosed space had a railing to hang onto because I clutched it the whole way up. The fact that they had something to grasp onto in the elevator in the first place was extremely disconcerting. After what seemed like an eternity, the elevator dinged and the doors opened. I rushed off, glad to be out of the small moving coffin.
A woman with over-bleached blonde hair and a too tight blue blouse sat behind a large desk. She tapped a pen against the desk as she stared at the computer screen. She hardly glanced up as she directed me to a room down the hall. Glass walls revealed a long conference table and several people sat around talking. As I moved through the door, the conversation screeched to a halt. The rude man from the parking lot sat on the opposite side of the table. His eyes narrowed as he studied me.
“Ms. Hargrove?” The balding middle-aged man asked.
“Yes, but, please, call me Alabama.”
He furrowed his brow. I didn’t care if he didn’t like my name. I’d come to accept it. My parents named me after the state where I was conceived—thank heavens they hadn’t fooled around in Alaska.
“I’m Daniel Seay.” He stretched his arm across the table for a handshake.
His suit was too tight—it stretched across his shoulders making his movements strained. Didn’t anyone know what size clothing to buy around here?
“This is Payne Cooper of Cooper Development. He’s the owner of the house you’re buying.”
“Nice to meet you.” I stuck out my hand.
He hesitated as if I had cooties, but finally grasped my hand. Whatever his reason, I did not care. All I wanted was to get to work on the house.
One time-consuming hour later and a million signatures, and I was on my way to Maple Hill Road. My mind flashed back to the scene of the shadow in the window and Lacey’s words rang through my head. A couple of years ago, I had joined a few brave others and started investigating the paranormal. We’d gotten a few things on video and had a lot of fun in the process. Needless to say, I had been in haunted houses before, this would be no different. I hoped.
The air outside was still, which gave the house a spooky feeling as I parked the car and climbed out. It didn’t stop me from trudging up the sidewalk, though. When I reached the door, I realized I had a problem: no key. They had forgotten to give it to me. How could I forget something so important? I wiggled the knob just to be sure. It was locked, so I grabbed my phone.
“Hello, Federal Bank, may I help you?” the female voice asked.
“Hi, this is Alabama Hargrove. I forgot to pick up a key at the closing for the house on Maple Hill.”
“Hold, please.”
Wow, she had a sparkling disposition. I sat on the porch steps and tapped my feet to the instrumental version of Funky Town.
The sound of a hammer made me turn my gaze in the direction of the sound. Sexy neighbor was back at it. He stood in the middle of his yard, pounding away at a piece of wood. His attention was on his project—he didn’t notice me watching. With each swing of the hammer, a muscle flexed. I could not have taken my eyes off him if a tornado had blasted through. He paused, and brushed a black curl from his forehead. What would it feel like to run my fingers through his thick hair? He could be dangerous for my project. Too much distraction.
“You there?” The shrill voice brought me back from my fantasy.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m still here.”
“You’ll have to get the key from the owner.”
“What?” I sat up straight.
“Yeah, he’s over on Sixth Street. At the corner of Cedar.”
I let out a deep breath. “Thanks.”
Hells bells. I grabbed my purse and headed toward my car. My attention was on the hot man next door and not the stone path under my feet. I stumbled and my foot slipped. With a loud thud, I landed on my back. A surge of panic spread through my body when I heard him call to me. I assumed he ran because within a second he kneeled over me.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I groaned and sat up. My eyes met with his hard chest.
“Would you kindly watch where you put that hammer?” My gaze traveled down the length of his body.
“I’m always aware of where I’m putting my hammer.” He hooked it through the loop on his pants, then held out his hand.
“Uh-huh.” I grasped his hand and let him pull me to my feet.
Before I found my footing, I stumbled again over the broken pavement. He gripped my arm and righted me.
“Easy does it. Is your head all right?”
I stared for a beat before shifting my gaze away from his muscular physique.
“I’m fine. I landed on my butt, not my head.”
“Well, then is your butt okay?” He grinned.
“Its fine, thanks.”
Smart-ass.
“Are you the new proud owner?” He gestured toward the house with a tilt of his head.
“I am.” I tried not to puff my chest out in pride.
“My name’s Reed O’Hara.”
“Alabama Hargrove.” He didn’t raise an eyebrow at my name. Bonus points for him.
“You’re fixing this place up?” He snorted. “What are you 5’2”, a hundred pounds wet?”
“Yes, if you must know, I’m bringing this gem back to life. You got a problem with that?” Bonus points revoked. He may be hot, but he needed an attitude adjustment.
He laughed. “No. No problem.”
I scowled. Why was he still standing in front of me?
He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Did you have this place inspected? How is the foundation? Does it have termites?”
“No…should I?” I sputtered.
“No. No.” He waved a hand. “If you don’t mind insects eating the place down around you, you’ll be fine.”
My mouth twitched.
“Or, a cracked foundation makes the whole house shift.”
I bit my tongue. Maybe I should have had
it inspected. But the bank didn’t seem to mind. Of course, I did place all my savings as a down payment. They were quick to give me the loan. Maybe I should have questioned that. Things did almost seem too good to be true.
“How much did you pay for this dump?”
I felt heat rise in my cheeks. “Excuse me? I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“I hope it wasn’t much.”
“I’ll have you know, I got a bargain. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go.” I placed my hand on his chest and pushed. His pecs were as hard as a rock, by the way.
He lifted the hammer from the hook on his jeans and turned on his heels. He whistled as he sauntered across the lawn. He was testing my patience. But he did look good in those jeans.
Chapter Six
A small brick two-story office building sat straight ahead as I wheeled into the parking lot. Only a few cars sprinkled the pavement, so I navigated my Volvo into a space right up front. Obviously, the workers filed out with reckless abandon at five on the dot. By the looks of the deserted area, I may not get my key tonight. At the least, I would leave a note instructing Mr. Cooper to give me a buzz. Pronto. Whether he would call or not was the million-dollar question.
I reached into my purse, searching through receipts and used gum wrappers and finally found a scrap piece of paper. I scribbled a quick note, stuffed it in my pocket, then jumped out, making a dash for the building as a chilly breeze flew by. Fallen leaves covered parts of the sidewalk, explosions of color leading my way to the entrance. Situated in a somewhat rural area of town, a mini business district, the office suites backed up to a densely wooded area. The wind carried the smell of damp soil to my nostrils.
Once I reached the entrance, I blew through the door, bringing with me a few fallen leaves scattering across the floor. My steps echoed as I walked down the long corridor and up the narrow stairway onto the second floor. The creepy silence and the steel-gray walls made the space feel cold and harsh. Identical dark wood doors lined the hallway. The only thing setting them apart was different names on each door. I stopped and looked from side to side. There wasn’t a directory, so I had to look at every door as I walked past. I just wanted out of there. The silence was freaking me out. What if I was locked in the place overnight?
A light blinked at the end of the hall, threatening to quit at any moment. I’d be locked in a dark building all night. No thanks. The door marked Cooper Development Inc. was on the right, halfway down. I was thankful I didn’t have to go all the way to the end. I’d leave the note and get the heck out of there.
I rapped on the door. It creaked on its hinges as it inched open.
“Mr. Cooper?” I called.
No reply. Did he have a habit of leaving his door unlocked and open?
“Mr. Cooper, it’s Alabama Hargrove, I forgot my key.”
Still no reply. Very odd. More than ever, I wanted out of there.
I eased myself in and stopped for a moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness. As I scanned the area, I made out the corner of a desk and file cabinet. A hint of light from setting dusk streamed through a small sliver of space in the window blind, casting light onto one tiny spot of the room. I blinked, trying to adjust my eyes further when I noticed papers sprinkled haphazardly about the floor. Not a very good filing system.
“Anyone here?” I asked again.
I stepped over a couple of the papers and inched further into the space. Being in his office, in the almost dark, didn’t feel right. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something was off. Nerves settled in the pit of my stomach. A faint rustling noise caught my attention and I froze. I held my breath and listened. Did the noise come from the hall? A mouse or a person? What the heck was I doing in there? I decided to put the note on the desk and get out. When I glanced at the lit corner once again, I discovered it—a hand draped limply on top of the desk. I couldn’t distinguish the whole body attached to it, but it was there, a shadowy lump.
“Who’s there?” I called out.
My heart raced as I inched my way toward the huge desk and spotted the silhouette of a man slumped over in the tall leather chair. My hand flew to my mouth as I gasped. I felt the blood rush out of my face and my stomach turn. I knew I shouldn’t have come here. Papers littered the desk just as they did the floor and other items rested in a disorganized state.
“Are you all right?” I asked into the quiet room. Papers crunched under my feet as I made my way to the desk. My breathing was loud. I sounded like a train.
No response.
“Hello, Sir?”
It sure didn’t look like he was sleeping. How could I help him if he needed it? With my finger, I nudged the man slightly. Still nothing, not even a snort or snore. Please let him be asleep. With every ounce of courage I had, I leaned in closer, placed my hand on the man’s neck, and searched for a pulse. No pulse. Hells Bells. I screamed. Something warm and sticky covered my fingers. What do I do now? I gazed down at my hand. It was covered with blood. Dead. The final frontier. I cringed as I wiped my hand on my pants. I felt woozy.
My hands shook. I stumbled backward. My vision blurred and I struggled to breathe. The coppery scent from my hand smacked me in the face. My mouth felt as if it was stuffed with a bag of cotton.
Time stood still as the room seemed to spin. I wanted no part of this. The police needed to come right away. Snapping out of my daze, I turned on my heel to get the heck out of there. As I pivoted, my ankle twisted and I fell flat on my face. The carpet burned my cheek, but that was the least of my worries.
I scrambled across the floor and struggled to get away from the morbid scene, shoving the papers on the ground out of my way. Visions of the corpse flashed through my mind—bent over and motionless. After what seemed like an eternity, I crawled forward, my knees slipping on the papers as if I were crawling over ice. I’d probably left my DNA all over that room. I prayed he killed himself, otherwise how would I explain being in there. I reached up, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled myself up in the now completely dark room. On wobbly legs, I knocked the door out of my way and ran for my life. My feet couldn’t move fast enough.
My steps echoed off the walls. The only other sound was the pounding of my heart in my ears. As I rushed out of the office—bloody hand and all—my mind raced. All I wanted was to flip a darn house, now I’d discovered an honest to goodness dead body. I stumbled down the stairs trying not to join Mr. Cooper in the hereafter as I navigated the dimly lit corridor. The stairs seemed narrower as if they were closing in on me. My feet felt heavy as if I wore concrete shoes. The only light was a faint cold fixture high above the stairway. When I reached the exit, nothing had ever looked so good. My heart thundering in my chest, I lunged out the door. As I sprinted down the sidewalk, I reached for my cell phone. Remnants of blood still on my hand, I punched in the numbers.
Chapter Seven
My heart thumped and I struggled for air. Adrenaline had set up camp in my body. I needed to calm down and get a grasp on the situation. Instead, I screamed like a crazed lunatic. The vision of the body was burned into my eyelids. At least at the funeral parlor the body looked like someone was just sleeping. But this guy wasn’t taking a siesta.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“A dead man,” I screeched as I clutched the phone, getting it bloody.
My car was still a couple hundred feet away. It was like a beacon in the night.
“Calm down, Ma’am. What’s your name?”
“I’m trying to stay calm, but there is a dead man in there, blood on my hand and…Oh my God. I can’t breathe.” I gasped.
Why wasn’t she freaking out like me?
“I need your name, Ma’am.”
“Alabama.” I panted. My legs moved faster than I thought possible. I’d never felt more alone. If only Lacey was with me, although I wouldn’t want to put her through this kind of ordeal.
“No…your name.” Frustration tinged her words.
“My name is Alabama Hargrove. Can you please send the police?”
“How do you know he’s dead?”
“What? I felt for his pulse, that’s how.”
I made my way across the pavement to the car. My hands shook as if I had downed about ten espressos. I struggled with the door and climbed in, then fumbled and locked the doors. My good old Volvo served as my shelter—my refuge. All that kept me from a world suddenly turned upside down was my metal jalopy. Not reassuring, but it’s all I had. I studied the world outside my safe haven. A few leaves swayed with the wind, but otherwise, it was peaceful. The exact opposite of the way I felt on the inside.
Somehow, the operator calmed me enough to get my location and anything else she needed.
“The police are on their way,” she said.
I hung up the phone and all I could do was wait. Left to sort through the rapid thoughts in my mind. The sun had set and darkness covered the area. The only light was the eerie yellow glow from a street lamp in the distance. My hands clutched at the steering wheel and I reminded myself to breathe. Seconds after hanging up the phone, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye from the side of the office park. I glanced back. A shadowy silhouette ran from the edge of the building. A dark mask covered the person’s face. At least, it looked like a ski mask. Only eyes and mouth were visible. Even more suspicious, the person appeared to be dressed all in black. The masked mystery person sprinted to the wooded area and disappeared into the darkness as if swallowed by a black hole.
The killer. Was that the killer? Was Payne murdered?
My throat felt tight. Goose bumps broke out on my arms.
All right, I didn’t know if Payne Cooper had been murdered. He may have committed suicide, for all I knew. Or, maybe an accident? Until I had answers, I needed to take deep breaths and relax.
Where the heck were the police? Any other time they’d be here. When I forgot to add coins to the meter, they were there. Leftover lood from my hand covered the steering wheel and my phone. I grabbed napkins from my purse and wiped my hand again to remove the rest.
