“Like I said, we’re going to need to monitor him, at least for another day.” He stood back up, gesturing toward the back of the room. “We’re not really set up to be a 24-hour-facility, but I think I can cobble together a few overnight shifts. It would hardly be the first time.”
She took a swig from the bottle, hoping the water would help wash the sour taste from her mouth. “Are you sure? I would really appreciate that.” Capping the bottle, she pushed herself up to stand across from him.
“We’ll make it work.”
Guilt pricked at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to deny the kindness. What would the alternative be—taking Preston to a true emergency clinic in another town? She couldn’t even imagine the cost associated with that. Not that this would be cheap, either. But at least it was local, and they were already here. “Thank you,” she repeated, locking eyes with him for a moment before she cast her gaze over his shoulder, toward the doors beyond the front desk.
“You can come see him, if you’d like.” He turned and led her towards the back.
She attempted to smooth her tangled hair with her free hand as she followed him, glancing at the clock on the wall. Almost 6:00 a.m.
“We’ll call you if there are any complications. No news is good news. But you can certainly call at the end of business hours today to check in.”
She wondered if this was a subtle attempt to make sure she was leaving now. Unable to resist, she feigned confusion. “Oh, I just figured I’d stick around. It’ll be naptime soon anyway.” Glancing back toward the waiting area, she added, “What time is breakfast?”
He laughed, a deep, pleasant sound. “Buffet service starts at 6:30. All you can eat.”
She chuckled with him as he pushed the door open. “Don’t worry, I’ll get out of your hair after I say goodbye to Preston. I don’t imagine it’s good for business to have a frightening-looking woman sleeping on your couch.”
He stood back to allow her to pass, his gaze lingering on her face for a few beats. “Definitely not frightening.” The corners of his mouth twitched into the hint of a smile as he cleared his throat. “But, yes, we do try to discourage clients sleeping in the waiting area during business hours.”
“I get it.” She caught sight of Preston, sleeping in a cage along the back wall. Her chest twisted with an overwhelming mix of relief and heartbreak as she took in his shaved legs and plastic cone. Before she rushed toward him, she turned back to Dr. Holt, nearly bumping into him. “Thank you, so much, for saving him. And please tell everyone else—the tech that came in last night, the ones who stay tonight—I said thank you. I’m truly grateful.” Blinking back the sting of tears, she hurried across the room.
4
She bolted upright in bed, the series of thumps that had awakened her still ringing in her ears. Fumbling for the light, she pulled the covers against her chest, as though that could offer some protection against whatever had made the noises. What the hell was it? She scanned the room, her pulse skittering in jagged bursts. Why was this happening to her? Hadn’t she been through enough?
Nothing in the bedroom appeared to be the source of the disturbance, but her instincts told her the sounds had originated from somewhere else in the house. And it definitely wasn’t the cat this time—he was still at the vet’s.
Reaching for her phone, she sucked in a breath as she noticed the time…1:06 a.m. Exactly the same time she’d been awoken last night. She glanced back up to the hallway door as she jabbed at the screen, pulling up the keypad just in case she needed to call 911. In addition to occurring at the same time, though, whatever she’d just heard sounded similar to last night’s mysterious disturbance, and that hadn’t been an intruder. Not a living one, anyway.
As if on cue, a haunting moan shivered through the air. Her lungs froze as a fresh spike of fear pierced her chest. Oh, God. There really was something wrong with this house. Fighting the urge to dive back under the covers and hide, she slowly climbed out of bed, unsure what exactly she was going to do. Check the house, for starters, she decided. Her mind was still begging for a more reasonable, less terrifying scenario. A quirky appliance, maybe?
With each tentative step, she paused, waiting for something else to happen. As she made her way into the hall, a chill enveloped her, and she crossed her arms, rubbing the goosebumps rising on her skin. Below her, the stairway unfurled into shadows cast by the upper hall light.
A loud crash rang out behind her, and she jumped, a scream tearing from her lips. She spun around, searching for the source even as she backed toward the top step. The slice of bedroom she could see through the doorway remained empty. She kept her eyes trained on the open door as she inched backwards down the first few steps; then she turned and bolted the rest of the way down, focused only on getting closer to an escape route.
Nothing chased her down the stairs, and she paused with her hand on the knob of the front door, huffing out ragged breaths. What were her options now? Was she going to sleep in her car?
Maybe you can go back to the vet’s office couch, some crazed voice in the back of her head suggested, and she fought down a bubble of hysterical laughter. How did she get herself into this? The answer came to her, complete with vicious images, and she deflated, sinking back into the door. Her options really were limited. She literally had nowhere to go, and now, with a hefty vet bill in her future, a hotel room was more out of reach than ever.
Time to fall back, once again, on the lessons her father had always instilled in her. She needed to rely on herself. With a heavy sigh, she pushed away from the door and crossed the living room, snapping on lights along the way. When she reached the fireplace, she examined the dusty iron tools, selecting a dangerous-looking poker.
Climbing the stairs, she wielded the weapon in front of her chest, her heartbeat thudding in her ears. Nothing appeared out of place in the bedroom, but she checked any possible hiding places thoroughly while keeping an eye on the door to the adjoining study.
For some reason, she didn’t like that room. It didn’t make her quite as uneasy as that front bedroom on the other end of the hall, but it still felt…off. Initially, she’d thought it was the clutter, but maybe there was another reason for her discomfort.
She approached the study slowly, brandishing the poker like a sword, and scanned the room from the doorway. Her gaze caught on an empty space on the wall, then dropped to the framed picture on the floor. The portrait of the man—Pastor John, presumably—now lay face-down on the wood floorboards. Above, the woman who must have been his wife still stared out from the matching frame, her stern expression suddenly appearing almost accusatory.
Okay. At least here was a physical cause for the crash—a picture had fallen off the wall. The adrenaline drained from her body like air from a leaky balloon, and she sagged against the door frame, the tip of the poker hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Or maybe it was pulled off the wall, on purpose. Although there was a logical explanation for this latest scare lying in front of her, it was tough to deny the timing…the portrait had fallen right after a second night’s worth of mysterious noises and disembodied moans. She still didn’t know what to make of that, and she really didn’t want to think about the possibilities right now. Her mind felt foggy and her head ached. She needed to at least try to get some rest, as unlikely as that might be.
Not up here, though. She shut the door to the study behind her, and then the bedroom door as well as she trudged back downstairs. At the landing, she followed the back staircase the rest of the way down into the kitchen.
It felt safer in here, with the bright lights and the close proximity to the sliding glass door leading out to the deck. The lock on the screen door was broken, but she pushed the slider open anyway to let in some air. At this point, she was less afraid of what might be out in the dark woods than whatever was in the house.
With a sigh, she examined the contents of the fridge, eventually pulling out the milk. When she was a child, her mother used to m
ake her a mug of warm milk when she couldn’t sleep. A pang of grief flowed through her as she poured her own mug and heated it in the microwave.
She eased into a chair at the round kitchen table, propping her elbows on the laminated wood surface and cradling her chin. A pile of paperwork sat in the center, and she studied the top sheet: her new work schedule.
After leaving the vet’s office this morning—yesterday morning, technically—she’d returned home to get a few hours more sleep on an actual bed. Not surprisingly, though, her muscles had rebelled further from their time on the couch, seizing into tight, painful knots. Once she’d lurched downstairs and had a late breakfast, she’d brought her yoga mat out onto the deck and spent an hour stretching in the sunshine.
Once she’d showered, she pulled on her favorite summer dress, a sleeveless lime sheath that brought out the green of her eyes. She dusted bronzer across her cheeks and twisted her red hair into a casual knot, then headed back into town. She stopped at the vet’s office first, to check on Preston, annoyed with the little flip her stomach did in anticipation of seeing Dr. Holt. He must have been at lunch, or in an exam room, because she didn’t run into him, and the resulting surge of disappointment irritated her further. What was wrong with her? She was fresh off a broken engagement. To a complete jerk, as it turned out. She shouldn’t even be noticing a man right now, much less thinking about one.
What she did need to think about was a job. Ideally, she wouldn’t be here very long. But in the meantime, she had no income, dwindling savings, and a looming vet bill. And a potentially haunted house that might be difficult to sell.
So, she’d walked up and down Main Street, slightly amazed at the number of “Help Wanted” signs in windows. Tourist season, she surmised. She’d ended up applying for a hostess position at a restaurant and bar called The Boatyard and had been hired on the spot. Her training would be during the lunch shift in—she checked the clock—about nine hours. At some point, she’d need to get some more sleep, or she’d scare the customers.
A thread of anxiety thrummed through her veins as she studied her schedule. After everything she’d been through the last few nights, a new job shouldn’t even faze her, but she didn’t have any experience in the restaurant industry, unless you counted eating out. She’d studied business in school, at her father’s urging, and most of her summer jobs had been at one of the Connecticut-area banks he managed. After graduation, she’d moved to New York City with her college roommate and eventually found an entry-level job at a prominent brokerage firm.
Then, after working her way up to broker’s assistant, she was laid off unexpectedly as plans for a merger swirled. As was common in the business, she was given no warning, no time to possibly collect client information or sensitive material. Instead, she was quietly escorted out of the building after being given ten minutes to collect her personal items.
It hadn’t even been the worst part of her day, as it turned out. But getting laid off like that had begun the downward spiral of her life that had landed her here. She gripped her mug, fighting to push the memories away. She couldn’t bear to think about it right now.
Swigging the last of the milk, she stood and brought the mug to the sink. She used the bathroom, locked the back slider, and retrieved the poker from where it stood propped against the kitchen wall. Carrying it with her, she crossed into the living room and found her phone by the fireplace. She’d keep both things nearby—it was the best she could do.
God, she missed Preston. Just having another living being in the house had been comforting, even if he did spend most of the time beneath her bed. Hopefully he’d be ready to come home today, after her shift. She’d only have an hour window at that point to pick him up, but the vet’s office wasn’t far from The Boatyard.
The television here only received basic channels, but she found an old sit-com rerun to keep her company. No way was she spending the rest of the night in the room adjoining the study. She snapped open a blanket printed with seashells, giving silent thanks she’d had the foresight to wash it the other day as she inhaled the fresh scent. Then she settled in to spend yet another restless night on a couch.
5
Jesse Holt said goodbye to his friends and left The Boatyard, which was still fairly crowded at 12:45 at night. Then again, it was a Friday in June, and The Boatyard was a favorite gathering spot for both locals and tourists, especially when there was live music, like tonight.
Straddling his bike, he strapped on his helmet and started the engine. He probably shouldn’t have stayed so late, since he had to go into the office in the morning. One Saturday a month, he made sure he was available for clients who couldn’t get in during the weekdays and needed appointments for issues beyond what the techs could handle.
Of course, the people in this town also knew he would be there in a heartbeat if there was an emergency. Even the new residents could easily find that out from his after-hours message. Lark Cavanaugh had.
A pulse of desire burned through him at the thought of the enticing redhead. Not only was she gorgeous, she was funny, even during as stressful a time as her cat’s illness. Clearly, she loved animals, which was always a plus for him…in fact, she’d said something along the lines of her cat being all she had. What was that about? He recalled she’d said she had recently moved here, but he had no idea if she meant permanently or just for the summer. And his tech had filed Lark’s paperwork before he had a chance to look at it.
Leaning into a turn, he left the streetlights of Main Street behind, slowing only slightly as his bike’s headlamp became the only illumination in the otherwise unbroken darkness. But he knew these roads like the back of his hand, having spent most of his 29 years here. Hell, he’d even moved back into the house he’d been raised in after his father passed away and his mother decided to join some of her friends at an oceanfront retirement community. Financially, it had made a lot of sense, and since he’d promised his father he would keep the family business going—the vet office started by the elder Dr. Holt—it made sense in terms of location as well. In ten minutes, he could be at work…not a bad commute.
Cool wind whipped over his face, carrying the briny scent of saltwater and seaweed. Pine trees edged the road, their ranks parting only occasionally to reveal dirt lanes leading back into the woods. A few more turns and he was rumbling down his own driveway, a smile tugging on his lips as the silhouettes of his two dogs appeared in the window.
He parked in front of the garage and cut the engine, sweeping his gaze over the property. The house sat on nearly an acre, and much of the surrounding land remained undeveloped. Two-thirds of the entire town was protected from development as part of the Cape Cod National Seashore. While the population often swelled to 20,000 during the summer months, the year-round population hovered around 2,000 residents, making Truro the least populated town on Cape Cod. Sometimes the isolation came with an accompanying sense of loneliness, since it was just him and the dogs, but after some of the places he’d lived during his military duty, he usually appreciated the tranquility.
He knew Heather had been hoping they’d get back together when he finally returned home from Afghanistan after his final tour as an army vet. He’d served the required three years after being accepted into the Health Professions Scholarship Program and having his veterinary schooling paid for by the military. Heather Clancy, his on-again-off-again girlfriend since high school, had maintained contact throughout all the years he’d been in school and in the military, and while he appreciated the effort, he’d let her know—as gently as possible—that their last break-up really had been their last, that he didn’t see a future for them together. He was sure in her mind, they’d only broken up because he’d left for his military tours, and when he came home last year to help his father, she’d still seemed to believe they’d find their way back to each other. While it was tempting sometimes, especially when the loneliness set in, he knew it wouldn’t be fair to either one of them. He didn’t love her. Not in the wa
y he knew he’d need to in order to spend a life together. He’d seen deep, unconditional love in his parents’ marriage. They’d truly enjoyed spending time together; they had still been best friends even after 34 years together. When his father passed away last fall, a part of his mother had died, too.
With a sigh, he removed his helmet and swung his leg off the bike. His more vocal dog, a pit bull mix named Bosco, was barking happily, while Benny, an older chocolate Lab, just wagged his tail in wild arcs, keeping his canine gaze on Jesse to make sure he continued on into the house.
A scream split the night, and Jesse froze, muscles tensing. What the hell? Instinctively, he reached for the 9mm he’d carried at all times overseas, but his hand came up empty. His own gun was locked in a safe in the house. He debated running into the house to retrieve it as both dogs barked frantically, their howls now ringing with alarm.
“Help! Help me!” The voice was female, high-pitched and filled with terror.
He hit the flashlight feature on his phone and took off, running around the garage toward the backyard. The cries seemed to be coming from somewhere behind his house, but he couldn’t make out anyone in the open area of lawn leading down to the tree line.
A choked sob echoed from the dark woods at the bottom of the hill, and he speed up, his well-trained muscles quickly closing the distance. He vaguely remembered hearing the old woman who’d owned the property abutting his had passed away recently, and that relatives might be moving in. He wondered if he was about to get involved in a domestic dispute. Whatever was going on, a woman was clearly—and urgently—in distress, and he wasn’t about to ignore her pleas for help in favor of waiting for the cops.
He slowed as he reached a large pine, pausing behind the thick trunk to scan the woods. He didn’t want to barrel into a dangerous situation unprepared. On the other side of the river, something shifted in the shadows, and Jesse stilled, keeping his body hidden as he searched the darkness.
Ghost Moon (Haunting Romance) Page 3
