Haunted Hideout: Paranormal Suspense (The Haunted Ones Book 1)

by Dorey, Michelle

  “What’d you do?” It was so like Mom to want to crash early and read a book with her feet up.

  “The old devil slipped a hundred dollar bill to the bouncer and said she was a friend of the singer, some old blues legend. Then she turned to me and told me to go back to the hotel.” She shook her head and laughed. “She rolled in at around four the next morning. Turned out she did know the singer and they partied until all hours.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “How old was she then?”

  “That was only a few years ago. She was eighty-eight.” Her eyebrows rose but there was a small smile on her lips. She leaned forward and peered out the front window looking for the entrance to the parking lot. “You remind me of her in a lot of ways. I’m glad you’ll finally get to meet her.”

  I turned to look out the window, trying to picture what she’d look like. From the sounds of it, she might not be as dotty as I’d originally thought. Which brought me to the question I hadn’t dared to ask. Even I had my limits being insensitive. How long would I be banished to the hinterland in Canada? Until she died?

  ***

  We didn’t stop at one of the terminals, instead followed a service road around to where hangars were for smaller companies. Dad had made all the arrangements, chartering a plane to take me directly to the airport in Kingston. We entered the office at the front of one and Mom went to talk to the clerk behind the counter while I wandered over to see what plane I’d be on. I hoped it would be the Lear we took a few times, but if it was a Gulfstream I’d suffer through it. After all, the flight would only take a short while. I had checked on Google and Kingston was less than 300 miles away—an hour and a half tops in a jet.

  There was only one plane parked out front and my eyes almost popped out on my cheeks when I saw it. What the hell? It was tiny! No first class, champagne flight for me. If you could call it a plane! It looked more like an oversized mosquito. It not only wasn’t a jet, it only had one engine. I could tell because there was only one propeller sticking out the front.

  Good grief, the boat Cerise’s father had was bigger, and it didn’t have to go up in the air!

  Some random guy around my age came out of an office behind the counter and shook Mom’s hand. She pointed to me at the window and he gave a wave. Uh-oh, from the stripes on the epaulets on his shoulder and the wings pinned to the chest of his blue jacket, I realized this guy was going to be my pilot. He did have a cute smile, but I wanted someone Dad’s age to be behind the wheel or whatever you call it in a plane. I wandered over and Mom introduced me to Roy.

  “How long have you been a pilot?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Longer than you!”

  “Keira, Roy’s licensed on a lot of different aircraft and he’s very capable,” Mom said, her voice edgy. “Your father specifically requested him.” She tilted her head at me. “Do you think for one second we’d entrust your life in the hands of someone with less than a five-star rating?”

  “Okay, okay!” I said, waving my hands. I looked back at Roy. “You just look... so young.”

  He gave a smiling sigh. “Don’t worry, I get it all the time.” Tilting his head toward Mom, he added, “Your mother’s right though. I am wicked good.” He smiled again. It didn’t give me much comfort, but he seemed okay.

  Mom bent over and gave me a quick goodbye hug. My eyes started tearing up. Sure, I was taking a chartered plane and the pilot was cute, but I was still basically being kicked out of my home. I hugged back stiffly.

  I was still teary-eyed from leaving Mom at the gate, but even through the film on my eyes, the plane still looked miniscule. As we approached it, it seemed to get smaller and smaller somehow. He opened the door on the passenger side, taking my suitcases and setting them into the cramped rear. There were only four seats on this plane, counting the two up front at the controls.

  “You’ll ride up front with me,” Roy said. “It’s the most comfortable seat on the plane.”

  My eyes were saucers as I slipped into the seat and looked around at the instrument panel and gadgets. The pilot and I were going to be shoulder to shoulder.

  “This won’t take long. We caught a break in the traffic. It looks like we’ll be in the air in ten minutes.”

  To the right of me, in the main section of the airport, large airliners were taxiing down the runway lining up for their take-off. At least it was a clear day with blue skies and hardly any clouds to break the vista. I could be thankful for that at least.

  He settled in next to me and placed a set of headphones on his cropped, blond head. His head jerked from side to side and he closed his eyes. “Roxanne, you don’t want to put on the red light.” His singing voice was no threat to whatever band had played that tune!

  I could only stare, openmouthed when he started to laugh.

  “Just kidding. It never gets old for me, seeing the passenger’s face when I do that.” He started flipping buttons and checking instruments.

  “You’re hilarious, all right. I hope you can fly this plane better than you sing.” I tugged the seat belt over my lap and snapped it shut. Dad, I’m going to kill you if I don’t crash first.

  “Relax. I graduated top of flight-training class.” Again his grin, the glare from the pearly whites flashing, “Of course, there was only me in the class but that doesn’t matter, right?”

  Seriously? I was about to take my maiden flight in a small plane and a Jerry Seinfeld wannabe was the pilot? Going to see a grandmother I’d never met in some hick town wasn’t bad enough? This was a nightmare. I shook my head and looked out the side window again.

  “Okaaay. I see this is going to be a loooong flight.” He flipped a few more switches and the motor whined to life.

  The vibration seemed to go right through me. I’d been on commercial flights before but seeing the propeller twirl so close at the front of the plane made my stomach clench. I clasped my hands so tight together on my lap that my knuckles were ivory.

  Beside me, Roy leaned forward and slipped the navy jacket off his shoulders and loosened his tie. There was a small smile on his face and for the first time, he looked professional. We might just make it.

  The plane started forward, every crack and dip in the runway registering in my gut. When I looked out the side window, at the wing of the plane, and saw it fluttering, my breath caught in my throat. The wing was so flimsy. Was it gonna fall off?

  But surely that was normal. I mean, how many planes actually crashed considering how many were in the air? Not that I would know these statistics, considering the only source of news in my world was Facebook and Google.

  He mumbled something into the microphone next to his lips and the plane began to accelerate. I swallowed hard and stared dead ahead, noting the small lights bordering the black tarmac speeding by, faster and faster. I barely dared to breathe as the end of the length of runway closed in. The hum of the tires became softer and then was gone. I looked out and saw the dark surface below me. We were up!

  Roy looked over at me and smiled. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  As I was about to answer, the plane rocked on some turbulence and I clutched the arm rests. “We’re not there yet.” I muttered.

  Higher and higher we went until the clouds drifted by like cigarette smoke. Still the plane seemed to be hitting potholes, bumping and bouncing. What happened to the clear, blue sky? This was more like riding waves in a small boat.

  The breakfast of sausage and eggs churned in my stomach. My mouth watered and I covered it with my hand, staring wildly at Roy.

  He reached down and handed me a wax paper bag. It almost didn’t open fast enough before my entire breakfast was deposited inside. My eyes watered and my mouth tasted horrid. When I glanced over at him, he smiled and shook his head.

  “Don’t worry about that. It happens to the best of us.”

  I tried swallowing and my free hand dug in my purse for a tissue and gum. I wasn’t sure what to do with the soiled and smelly bag. A hot flush crept up my
neck. Despite what Roy said, this was embarrassing. “How much longer will this turbulence last?”

  “Another three hours, thereabouts.” He nodded toward the bag. “You might want to keep that handy.” He grinned. “Can you crack the window a little?” Again the chuckle. “Just kidding.”

  I closed my eyes and sighed. This was going to be an ordeal.

  FIVE

  I WAS A WET DISH RAG stumbling out of the plane three hours later. My knees were limp noodles, and my hair was plastered on my cheeks soaked with sweat. I wasn’t sure if undergoing a root canal would be worse than riding in that cramped tin can next to Roy whose joke cracking hadn’t let up.

  The fresh air felt good on my skin. The sun was still high in the sky, pouring down like honey as I scurried across the tarmac in Kingston.

  “This is where I take my leave.” Roy nudged me as he set my suitcases on the tiled floor. “The Customs desk is right over there. Good luck to you, Keira.”

  “Thanks Roy.” I managed to make a small smile. “It was a real experience but at least I’m here in one piece.”

  He put two fingers to his forehead and with a slight nod he saluted me and then sauntered down the corridor. A jaunty whistle of the tune he’d sung just before takeoff followed him. Who the hell was Roxanne?

  “CANADIAN CUSTOMS” emblazoned the high counter just ahead, where a dark-suited, middle-aged woman sat. When I walked over I handed my passport to her and smiled. She glanced at the photo and eyed me suspiciously comparing the two.

  “How long will you be in Canada?” She typed on a keyboard while her eyes flitted to me, daring me to lie.

  “I’m here visiting my grandmother who isn’t well. So, I’m not sure.” Why did I suddenly feel like a criminal, like I was trying to hide something? I hated how these serious bureaucrats could do that to people. Yet if she refused entry into this backwater, would that be so bad?

  “Any drugs, alcohol or firearms in your possession?”

  I chuckled. What would she do if I said yes? For a moment I was tempted. “No, ma’am. Left my forty-five at home, right next to my stash.”

  She leaned forward, placing her meaty elbows on the counter. “You do realize I have the power to do a strip search, don’t you?”

  Oh my God. From the glint in her eye, she’d probably enjoy it! “Sorry. I crack jokes when I’m nervous. Seriously, I haven’t anything but my clothes.”

  She sniffed and lifted her chin. “If you stay any longer than three months, you must check back with Customs.” She handed my passport back and turned to her screen, dismissing me.

  When I left her station and picked up my bags from the scanning machine, an elderly man who’d been sitting on a bench strode forward. His gaze was steady from an ancient-lined face as he extended his hand to take mine.

  “Keira?”

  I nodded and felt his hand close over mine, noting the dry parchment of his grip.

  “I’m Lawrence Brady. Your grandmother sent me to pick you up.” He towered over me even though his shoulders were stooped with age. There were laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and his nose was slightly curved, like a hawk’s. There was the flash of a smile before he reached and grabbed my suitcase.

  “Are you a friend of my grandmother’s?” I had to walk fast to keep up with him as he strode across the terminal. He was lanky and more spry than I would have thought for someone so old.

  “I like to think so. I’ve worked for her for a long time. A very long time.” He paused and gestured for me to precede him through the glass doors which slipped open to reveal the warm summer day.

  My forehead rose. If he was there looking after her, then why did they need me? “How is she? I mean, I’ve never met her, but Mom told me she was ill?”

  For the first time a genuine smile formed on his lips. “How is your mother?” He stopped at a mammoth black car which—even I could tell—was a classic. He slid the key into the lock and the back hatch silently rose up.

  “She’s good. You know her?” I watched him hoist the suitcase and place it gently in the cavern at the rear of the Sherman tank. The sun’s ray cast a glint on the lettering above the chrome bumper—Cadillac.

  “Know her? I should say so. I practically raised Susie until she went to boarding school.” He slammed the lid shut and tossed the keys in the air, catching them swiftly in his gnarled hand. “Let’s go.”

  Susie? I watched him round the car and yank the driver’s door open wide before my legs kicked into gear to go to my side of the asphalt yacht. Mom hadn’t said anything about this guy, other than to say someone would be there to pick me up at the airport. And yet, he’d raised her?

  I climbed into the front seat and sank down into plush leather. I glanced to the side at his profile as he started the engine. He’d evaded my original question, avoiding telling me anything about my grandmother’s health. My hand scrambled to the side of the seat searching for my seat belt. Maybe that was part of the code for butlers or whatever he was, that they didn’t talk about their employers out of turn.

  He pulled out of the parking lot and I turned to gaze out the side window at the sparkling blue lake we skimmed by. I had known the city would be small after the hustle of New York but I hadn’t expected the quiet vista before me. A few sailboats dotted the expanse of water which the road hugged, winding its way along the small curves. We passed by subdivisions of houses and then the outer limits of the city as taller buildings came into view.

  “It’s not very far to your grandmother’s home. I would give you a tour of the city but I hate to leave her alone for any length of time.” He glanced over and his smile was tight. “After New York, Kingston might seem pretty bland. There’s a lot of history in this city though. Did you know it was the first capital of Canada?

  Did he know I couldn’t care less? I just nodded.

  The highrise condos on the outskirts gave way to squat limestone and old clapboard homes as we drew closer to the city center.

  He pointed at a large domed building. “That’s city hall,” he said. A gray limestone building spanned the whole block, topped by a pretty cool dome. For a city hall, it looked kind of small, I thought.

  He pointed to the opposite side where there was the cutest park and a marina behind it. “And that’s Confederation Basin.”

  “Confederates?” I said. “Were you guys involved in the Civil War?”

  He chuckled and just shook his head no.

  I stared out the window taking it all in, wondering when the actual city was going to appear. Where were the stores and nightclubs?

  I could hardly believe it when we passed over a bridge and the land became greener and buildings sparser. That was it? It seemed more like a small town than a city. I wouldn’t be missing much being stuck in the country with my grandmother.

  Fifteen minutes later, Lawrence flipped the turn signal on and we drove even slower than the plodding pace he’d maintained since we’d left the airport. A silver mailbox with the name “York” emblazoned in blue script marked the start of the driveway.

  “We’re here.” Lawrence’s eyes lit up and he hunched over the steering wheel, smiling out at the row of trees which bordered the gravel lane.

  My stomach clenched tight as I looked ahead at the stately stone structure. The dark gray door perched above a wide set of stone steps, while windows on each side of it, and above, formed a line on the second story. Black shutters framed each window. There was even a row of windows jutting up from the deep slate of the roof. The place was massive for just two people! Surrounding the house was a wooded lot, thick with trees and shrubs of all kinds.

  Two Grecian urns filled with a profusion of red flowers and ivy, flanked the steps, welcoming me as I stepped from the car. I gulped, looking up at the house. In New York City this home would be behind a wrought-iron fence with armed security.