Victoria House (Haunted Hearts Series Book 2)

by Denise Moncrief

  The woman had no mobile phone of her own, so he punched in the number for her live-in handyman. Truthfully, he suspected Chase was being handy in more things than just renovating Laurel Heights.

  “What do you want, Grayson?”

  “Peterson?” He was startled by the antagonistic greeting, but gratified that he’d guessed correctly.

  “You called me. You should know whose number this is.”

  “No, I didn’t know. I called the number blind.”

  “Then, how’d you get my number? This is a pay-as-you-go phone.” He paused and then answered his own question. After all, Peterson was an ex-cop and an ex-con. “Why are you searching Laurel’s phone records?”

  Sometimes he didn’t want his suspects to understand his methods, but he couldn’t put one over on an ex-cop. Not a sharp one like Peterson.

  “I had probable cause. Now, I need to talk to the two of you. So quit playing games with me and open the door.” Had he managed to sound authoritative enough?

  “The reason we’re not answering the door is that we’re not home.”

  “Don’t insult me. I can see you moving around in there.”

  “If you see someone moving around in the house, it’s not one of us. We’re in Little Rock right now. If you don’t believe me... Don’t you have some way to triangulate the signal of this phone to verify my location?”

  Peterson had to be well aware the use of that kind of technology was outside the county’s capabilities.

  He chose to ignore the man’s mocking tone. “What in God’s name are you doing in Little Rock?”

  “None of your business. I’m handing the phone to Laurel. Tell her what you told me. I think she’ll give you permission to enter her house and do a search.”

  Peterson’s cut-to-the-chase comment surprised him, and for a moment he was speechless.

  “What’s going on?” Laurel’s panicky voice hit Gray’s eardrum hard.

  He filled her in on the previous discussion he’d had with Peterson, told her what he’d found out about her family tree, and explained why he thought the weird things going on in her house weren’t just paranormal. A living, breathing human being had been breaking into her house while she slept.

  “You have my permission to spend the night. Do any kind of investigation you want.”

  He finally breathed. She had given him exactly what he wanted.

  Then she hit him with her conditions. “When I said any kind of investigation, I meant paranormal, you understand? You can search for a hidden entrance to the house. You can search for evidence of a break-in. You can do what ghost hunters do when they are trying to debunk a supposed haunting. But you do not have permission to search my personal belongings looking for evidence against me. If you want to do that get a warrant.”

  She had totally misunderstood him, but since she was being cooperative, he’d take her up on her offer. He and Josh had always wanted to do a nighttime investigation of Laurel Heights. If she had killed James Standridge, maybe she’d left something in plain sight that would be admissible in a court trial.

  “Fine. I’ll stick to your conditions. So I have permission to enter without a warrant?”

  She hesitated. “Yes.”

  “All right, then.”

  The call ended just as abruptly as it had begun.

  Not only had Laurel Standridge been dealing with the death of James Standridge, a cousin she didn’t even know she had, but she’d been harassed by a seemingly malicious ghost. The woman was on the verge of vacating the property and disappearing. When would Gray get another chance like this?

  He glanced at Josh. He’d apparently heard enough of Gray’s end of the conversation to understand what had been happening at Laurel Heights. Josh’s eyes danced with excitement. It had been a long time since the two of them had investigated a haunting.

  ****

  Tori settled into the desk chair in her motel suite and stared at her computer screen. The WIFI at the Ozarkan was slower than molasses in January. She had just entered Lady Of the Lake Legend Arkansas into the search engine and took another bite of Greek yogurt while she waited for Google to spit up the list of potential sites she could visit. It was the last thing she planned to do before she went to bed. She’d put it off all night, anxious about what she might find.

  At the top of the list was the North Central Arkansas Paranormal Society. As soon as the site finished loading, she fell back in her chair and stared at the screen. “Wow!”

  She recognized two of the three names listed as founders of the Society. She scanned the most recent post dated over a year ago. Apparently, the group had ceased their paranormal investigative adventures, and she wondered if that had happened when Josh McCord and Mitchell Grayson quit being friends.

  She had already planned to do a web search on Grayson. The thought had actually flitted through the back of her mind several times in the last few days. Was she ever surprised to find he had a little side interest going on! Was he still involved in paranormal research? If so, that was another good reason to keep the man at a distance. She detested paranormal investigators, considering them all a bunch of con artists. Not one of them had ever produced real evidence of a haunting. Not one.

  Grayson had posted an article about Victoria House bemoaning the fact that the society had been denied access for the purpose of a paranormal investigation. She remembered the request, filtered through her lawyer. Of course she’d refused them entrance into the house.

  She shivered, wrapped her robe tighter around her, and read the story Grayson had posted relating to the legend of the Lady Of the Lake.

  In 1924, Alfred Hamilton completed construction of a new house for his second wife on the longest peninsula on Lake Jefferson. Once the couple settled into the fourteen-room mansion, a rather large house for the area in the 1920s, the peninsula became a focal point for drinking and gambling activity, both of which were illegal in Arkansas at the time. Several threats had been made against Mr. Hamilton’s life, so he had hired three rather large men to guard him day and night. Unfortunately, the new Mrs. Hamilton did not appreciate the constant company and demanded that Mr. Hamilton sleep in a separate bedroom.

  On the night of April 10, 1924, Alfred Hamilton and his wife were attacked in their separate beds, their throats slit while they slept. Many questions surrounded the death of the Hamiltons. Where were Mr. Hamilton’s bodyguards during the attack? How had someone managed to sneak into such a well-secured house? Was their deaths related to his many unscrupulous business dealings or was the attack much more personal?

  Rumors began to circulate about the couple. The most common was that Hamilton had met his wife in a brothel in the infamous Storyville section of New Orleans ten years earlier. She was proclaimed a world-class con artist and lady of the evening after her death, a woman who had taken a man away from his wife by sheer force of her sultry charms. Some believed she meant to leave that night with her former lover, a man many referred to as Big John, as well as much of the money Alfred had stashed in a basement room beneath the residence.

  No one knows for sure what happened the night of the tenth, but neither Alfred nor his wife left the residence alive, and the bodyguards were never seen or heard from again.

  Legend has it that Mrs. Hamilton often waits for her lover, watching for him from the upper floor of the house, pacing from room to room, restless and longing for him to come and take her away. Or sometimes she is seen walking the shores of Lake Jefferson. Oftentimes, a woman will stop people along the edge of the lake and ask if the person has seen John. When the person answers in the negative, the woman will disappear as if into a mist.

  Could both the house and the woman have been named Victoria? Probably. Grayson was obviously referring to her family’s past. A fresh stab of pain ripped through her heart. Had this been what her mother had meant when she told Tori she’d been named after a prostitute? Until that moment, she’d always believed the spiteful woman that birthed her had made it up, but what
if she hadn’t?

  Tori had the sudden overwhelming urge to call Grayson and ask him what else he knew about the murders of the Hamiltons. If indeed he had been referring to Victoria House. His number was in her contact list. He’d given it to her, just in case, but she’d never intended to use it, preferring to contact her co-workers through dispatch if necessary.

  She glanced at the clock. Just ten minutes after midnight. Saturday had already slipped into Sunday. She sucked in a deep breath and punched in his number. She could apologize for disturbing his sleep after the fact. When he didn’t answer, she fell back onto her bed and began to chew her nails.

  Was the man ignoring her? Just as well.

  She suddenly realized how rude waking him after a long day would have been, and she wasn’t yet ready to tell him about her family’s infamous past anyway. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready. It was just as well he didn’t answer.

  ****

  Gray had made so much noise banging on the front door of Laurel Heights that he decided they should pretend to walk away and hike back to the house via the hiking trail edging the ridge that ran behind the property. It was a moderately used trail maintained by the Arkansas State Park Service, so he was able to park his car a mile or so down the road at a small lot that serviced the trailhead.

  He checked his watch. About ten minutes past midnight. Would the intruder inside Laurel Heights still be there? Probably not. Probably waited until Gray left before exiting the scene. No matter. Laurel Standridge had granted him permission to investigate and that’s what he’d do.

  He and Josh approached the property from the rear. As they came within eyesight of the house, Josh was sweating and thoroughly winded. Gray had refused to slow his pace despite Josh’s limp, hoping maybe the accelerated metabolism would sweat some of the toxins out of Josh’s system. Despite his bedraggled appearance, Josh’s countenance appeared better than it had that morning.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” Josh whispered-shouted across the ten feet that separated them.

  Kill Josh? No. Maim him? Perhaps. “Maybe I am.”

  The man never shut up. He had talked all the way along the trail and Gray needed him to be quiet. If someone was still inside the house, he didn’t want to alert the intruder. Didn’t Josh get that was why he’d parked down the road? Hiking was not Gray’s idea of fun.

  Josh muttered under his breath, something disparaging of Gray’s intelligence, no doubt. “I have a question.” Josh usually did. “Why didn’t you stop me from drinking too much last night?” Apparently Josh knew his limits and was well aware he’d surpassed them.

  Josh could be so blunt, and so annoying in the process.

  “You’re a grown man. I don’t tell you what to do or not to do.” Actually, he had said something. Didn’t Josh remember the conversation?

  “You didn’t have a problem with that when you told me to stop seeing Ashley.” Josh caught up with him and grabbed his elbow. “My relationship with her is none of your business. Ashley and I—”

  “You’re right.” He shook Josh’s hand off. He didn’t want to get into that again. Especially not this close to the house. “Can we discuss this later?”

  “When later? You avoid me.”

  That, he did. He sighed and turned toward Josh. The man was starting to sound like a middle school girl desperate to keep a disintegrating friendship alive. “What do you want from me?”

  “If you think I have a problem, why don’t you help me instead of judge me?” Josh made Gray’s lack of involvement in Josh’s personal mess sound like a crime.

  “Would you listen if I did?” He didn’t think Josh listened to anyone.

  Josh snorted. “You’re a hypocrite.”

  What was he going on about?

  “Now is not the time to discuss our interpersonal relationship.” He tried hard to sound sarcastic, as if Josh was being less than manly with his whining.

  “I know what you did for Ashley.”

  Josh’s words shot a dart of fear straight into Gray’s soul, and his heart stuttered.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She told me everything.”

  Everything? Why would Ashley do that? They had sworn a vow of secrecy.

  “What has that got to do with your drinking?”

  Maybe Josh didn’t know what he was talking about.

  Josh pointed his finger at Gray. “You are not pristine, my friend.”

  Pristine? What did he mean by that? No one was pure or untainted. Everyone had something to hide.

  Maybe Josh could see a connection between Gray’s secret and Josh’s drinking, but Gray still didn’t get it. “I’m not arguing that. But for right now, can we concentrate on what we’re doing out here in the middle of the night?” His question hissed between his teeth.

  He had to steer the conversation away from Ashley and what had happened one night so many years ago. The trauma had altered their lives forever. Keeping the secret from Josh had warped their threesome beyond recognition.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” Josh appeared to back down, both verbally and physically.

  As they came alongside the garage, the entire property appeared to be shrouded in a heavy fog. It wasn’t a particularly cloudy night. Neither was it chilly. The earth on their part of the world had warmed a bit with the approach of May.

  “Where should we start?”

  “I know you’re dying to get inside the house and snoop around, but we both know the garage is where the action’s at.”

  Gray nodded. When Josh was right, he was right.

  Before the night was over, Gray and Josh had experienced a paranormal event that removed any doubts that a supernatural realm existed just beyond the thin barrier of natural human perception.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day, Josh banged on Ashley Rivers’s front door. He shifted from one foot to the other as seconds turned into minutes. When she finally answered his insistent knock, he tried to push his way into her foyer, just as he usually did when he was upset.

  “Took you long enough to answer the door, Ashley.”

  This time, she stopped him with an outstretched arm. That’s when he noticed the flimsy robe wrapped around her. What was she doing dressed like that so early in the day? It wasn’t yet four in the afternoon, was it?

  He groaned. “Is he here?”

  Ashley stuck out her chin, her stubborn stance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He rolled his eyes. They both knew what he was talking about. “Forget him. I need to tell you something. It’s important.”

  “It’s always something important with you. What’s her name?”

  “Aw, come on, Ashley. It’s not like that.” He smiled the old smile that could usually charm the socks off her. “Please.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and then visually scanned the neighborhood up and down her street before backing up a step. “You have five minutes.”

  “Lover boy’s impatient, huh?”

  Her fingers rolled into a balled fist. “What are you doing here?”

  “What’s he doing here? I thought the two of you had a love nest somewhere in the mountains.”

  “Okay, that’s it. You have to leave.” She shoved him toward the door he’d just entered.

  She’d left it open as if she didn’t want to be seen alone with him. That stung a little. Okay, a lot. After all the times they’d shared...alone with each other...before she started seeing lover boy.

  He backed up a step. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay out of your business. Just... There are still some things I need to tell you...things I didn’t get a chance to tell you yesterday because... Well, because what you told me shocked the hell out of me.”

  After their last confrontation in the parking lot behind the medical clinic, she seemed even more remote. Reminding her of her blurted confession didn’t help ease the tension. He wanted to scream in frustration.

  “One more time... What do you wa
nt?”

  He burped and slapped a hand over his mouth.

  “Are you drunk, Josh?”

  “No, I am not drunk.”

  She snorted and rolled her hand at him as if urging him to get on with the reason he’d arrived on her doorstep in the middle of the afternoon when she’d rather be having sex with her new boyfriend, the good doctor. It wasn’t the first time the man had chosen one of his nurse practitioners to be his mistress. Didn’t Ashley know that?

  “I got mad at Gray and punched his lights out.”

  She stiffened and her eyes shot darts of anger at him. “You did what?”

  “Okay, maybe punching his lights out is an exaggeration, but I did punch him in the face...with my fist...hard. Halsey got in the middle—”

  “Halsey was there? Are you crazy? You know that kind of thing could get you suspended.”

  “I’m on administrative leave.”

  “Well, you know, I’m not surprised. If you hit a Sheriff’s Department lieutenant, you’re going to get into trouble over it. What’s wrong with you, Josh? I thought you weren’t drinking anymore. I thought you were going to AA.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I get it. You heard the rumors about Caroline being back in town. Did that freak you out? Is that why all of a sudden you need to explain things to me?”

  He’d heard the rumors and he had dismissed them just as he always did. Caroline was gone and she wasn’t coming back. Why did people want to turn her into the new ghost of the lake?

  His impatience with Ashley’s lack of sympathy escalated to a crescendo. He stepped closer to her so prying ears couldn’t hear. “No, Courtney Crenshaw happened.”

  Her fighting stance disappeared. No longer angry and tense. She just seemed disappointed in him. That hurt more than anything.