The sick feeling morphed into something else. I was angry. Angry that children had been hurt. Angry that Daughdrill thought he could harm me by sending that demented child after me.
I understand now, Harper. I know what you want me to know. You were a fighter. You were never a quitter—you never gave up on Jeopardy or any of your family. Not even your Momma. I know this about you because you never gave up on me, either. And you knew that I’m like you. I am a fighter too, Harper.
And this isn’t over yet.
Chapter Eight—Harper
For a long time, none of us said a word. After I helped Momma to her feet, she sat on the couch and stared at Mr. Daughdrill, who hadn’t moved an inch. It was Addison who spoke first. “I think you killed him, Harper. I think he’s dead for sure. Truly I do think it.”
“No, he’s not. I can see him breathing, Addie.” I did see him breathing, didn’t I? Or was I imagining that? I felt sick all of a sudden and panicked. “I’m sorry, Momma. I didn’t mean to do it.”
And then I heard him moaning and murmuring, “Ann, help me, girl. Ann…” His eyes were open, but he couldn’t move his mouth. Had I broken his jaw?
Momma stiffened her back and sat up straight on the couch. She tucked her feet beneath her, posed as pretty as any picture, without making a move to help him. She stared down at her father, and we all watched him move his fingers. Yes, he was starting to move now. He might even be up and moving in a few minutes. She said, “Girls, you get cleaned up and get dressed for bed.”
“Shouldn’t we call a doctor or someone?” Addison asked in a small, scared voice.
Momma shook her head once and tilted it as if she were posing, just like one of her old photo shoots. All the tears and desperation I saw on her face had been replaced with something else. Something cold and calculating, something ladylike and calm. I think I would’ve rather had her tear my hair out than behave so calmly.
“You just leave everything to me, Addison,” she said as she rose from the couch and smoothed her pencil skirt. Neither one of us girls moved. All we could do was stare at her. Had she lost her senses? We needed to call the police. I’d probably be arrested. “Do as Momma tells you now. Both of you.”
In unison, we said, “Yes, Momma.” Addison took my hand and led me out of the parlor, into the Great Room and into the hallway that led to our rooms. “Stay with me tonight, Harper. I can’t sleep by myself.”
“All right, Addie,” I said as I sat on her bed and stared off into the distance. My body shook, my hands hurt, and I could see bruises on my fingers. I couldn’t stop staring at them. These were proof that I had it too. I had the same rage Momma and her father had. Even Aunt Dot had it. I saw that tonight. Deep inside me, the Daughdrill rage had lain hidden all these years, but it was there. And now I would go to prison. People who kill people, people who beat people, they send them to prison. I’d probably die in prison.
Addie was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear her. Then she put her hand under my chin and stared into my eyes. “Harper, can you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you. I’m so tired, Addison. I just want to sleep.”
“You heard Momma; we have to get ready for bed.”
“I just want to lie down,” I murmured, feeling so lightheaded I feared I might actually faint. My hands and head throbbed.
I lay on her pillow and drew my legs up to my chest. Without another word, Addison removed my shoes, covered me with her worn but heavy quilt and crept in beside me. I stared at the wall for a few minutes, but it didn’t take long to fall asleep.
“It’s all right, Harper Louise. I won’t leave you. It’s okay. Go to sleep now.” Addison sniffled as she scooted up to my back.
I tried to say, “Thank you, Addie,” but I found that I couldn’t speak. I was too tired. I fell into a black, dreamless sleep.
I woke up feeling cold and realized that the quilt had been pulled off me. I reached behind me, thinking that Addison had stolen it in her sleep, but it wasn’t there. The quilt was not on the bed. I sat up and looked for it. We must have kicked it off because it was lying on the floor at the foot of the bed.
Get up, pie-face.
I sat up in my bed straight as a board, like one of those old dolls whose back refused to bend because of age. “Jeopardy!”
You coming or what?
“Jeopardy Belle?” A smile stretched across my face because I knew that voice. Addison stirred beside me. She reached for me, but I was already on my feet. I heard Jeopardy’s light steps traveling down the hall toward the Great Room.
“Harper? Where you going?”
“Come on, Addison. It’s Jeopardy!”
“Really?” Addison was by my side now, and I held her hand as we hurried down the hall following Jeopardy’s footsteps. This was a dream come true! Was I dreaming? I had dreamed so many times of Jeopardy’s return. But I knew I was awake—I could feel the cold floor beneath my bare feet, and my lungs burned because the air all around me was cold. I glanced back and saw Addison’s pale face. Her teeth were chattering.
I could hear Momma’s radio playing in the parlor. It wasn’t loud, not like earlier when she was entertaining Dewey Landry, but low and quiet. She was talking to someone, but who? Surely not Jeopardy. There was no love lost between those two. I paused to eavesdrop on her conversation. No, she was on the phone. I could tell by the tone of her voice. I wondered if I would see Mr. Daughdrill lying on the floor dead if I peeked into the parlor. There was no time to consider that. As we tiptoed through the near-empty Great Room to head up the stairs, I heard an odd sound. A thump. No, two thumps. Momma wasn’t on the phone after all!
A man murmured in the other room. Was Dewey Landry back? Knowing that someone else might be in the house, I raced up the stairs with Addison in tow. We had to find Jeopardy and keep her out of sight. Way out of sight. I’d have to warm up Momma before I told her that Jeopardy had returned. Unlike Addison and Loxley and me, Momma had unpredictable moods. She might not be happy that Jeopardy had returned. But why? I’d never understand it.
And after what happened tonight, perhaps it was me Jeopardy should be afraid of. I nearly killed someone. But he wasn’t dead, was he? Momma said he wasn’t. I was sure he was hurt pretty bad, though. I forced the memory out of my mind, and Addison moaned behind me as she stubbed a toe on a worn step.
“Quiet,” I whispered to her as we hurried up the last of the steps. We were on the second floor now, and if I thought it was cold downstairs, it felt like the freezer of the soda shop up here.
Addison hugged me and said, “Harper, I’m afraid. What are we doing up here?”
“I heard Jeopardy’s voice, and so did you. Jeopardy is here.” And then as if she were hurrying us along, the attic door slowly began to open. It squeaked on its hinges as it opened wide inch by inch, like Jeopardy was welcoming us inside her castle room. There was nothing but blackness in the attic, but I had to go on. I had to see Jeopardy Belle. I wanted to hold her in my arms and never let her go. My heart pounded as I thought about finally telling her how sorry I was that I had wrongly blamed her for destroying my dress. How sorry I was that I didn’t do more for her. And if she wasn’t happy at Summerleigh, we’d run away. The three of us. Jeopardy, Addison and me. We would leave Desire, Mississippi, behind and go explore the world. We were all smart and hard-working. We could make our way in the world.
“Come on, Addison,” I said, smiling back at her as we raced to the attic.
But what about Loxley? I argued with myself. Addison whined again. What was the matter with her? We stood in the doorway now, peeking inside.
“Jeopardy Belle, where are you?”
She didn’t answer, but I could sense that she was watching us from the darkness. “Come on, Addie.” I hurried into the cluttered room. It wasn’t as cold in here, and Jeopardy had been kind enough to light a candle. It wasn’t much of a candle, only a few inches of white stub, but it was enough to illuminate her makeshift bed. I laughed to see it.
/> “Jeopardy? Why are you hiding? Come out this instant.” I laughed at her playfulness. But then Jeopardy did not emerge from the shadows. Addie clutched my hands and stood in front of me. She put her pale face near mine. I didn’t realize until that moment how tall she’d gotten; she was almost my height, and I was nearly as tall as Momma.
“Harper Louise, we can’t stay here. Jeopardy isn’t here. You were dreaming.”
Dumbfounded, I blinked at her. I didn’t dream any of this. I heard Jeopardy! She called me pie-face. “I didn’t dream that candle, Addison. I didn’t dream her voice; I know it like I know yours. It was her, all right. She’s here, but she’s being ridiculous. Jeopardy, if you don’t come out right now, I’m going back downstairs. I mean it.” I waited. Still nothing. “All right, you give me no choice. I’m counting to three—no more games. One…two…”
At the far side of the room where the junk was stacked the tallest, where there were trunks and crates arranged haphazardly on top of one another, I saw Jeopardy. But only for the briefest of seconds. It was as if a shaft of moonlight had hit her, revealing her hiding spot to me. She still wore those clunky white shoes, the one she’d taken from Momma. Her wild hair was around her shoulders, and she looked as pale as a sheet of paper. She even had her purse on her shoulder, which I knew was impossible. The sheriff’s deputy had brought the shoes and purse to us the day they found them. Then she vanished. There was no more light, except for the candle.
And then I knew the horrible truth.
Wherever she was, Jeopardy was never coming home. I hadn’t seen her at all, not living and breathing Jeopardy Belle. This was not her, just her shadow. Wild and brave Jeopardy was gone forever, and I’d seen her ghost. Addison saw her too because she was crying now. And then as quickly as I understood the horribleness of it all, I felt myself falling.
I welcomed the darkness.
Chapter Nine—Jerica
To my dismay, Hannah’s phone went directly to voicemail. I hoped that meant she was communicating with her paranormal investigator friends and trying to pull together a few who might help me clear Summerleigh of its unwanted residents. The events of this morning left me feeling desperate, and I never wanted to swim in Dog River—or any other river—ever again. I left Hannah a message about my encounter at the river and immediately called Jesse.
“Hey. You busy?” I asked.
He paused, and I feared that he’d say yes, but he didn’t. “Let me set this down.” I heard a thud, and then he said, “What’s going on?”
I paced the floor, twisting a strand of hair in my hand as I talked. How would I say this without sounding like a lunatic? “Do you think the boy and Mr. Daughdrill are connected somehow?”
“What? I don’t think so. The McIntyre family was gone from Summerleigh in the 1870s, and the house was vacant for a long time before it was sold again. It wasn’t until John Belle won it that Daughdrill came around. He wasn’t hurting for money. The man owned several homes and hundreds of acres. Why?”
I plopped down on the couch and sighed. “You’re not going to believe what happened to me this morning.” I told him everything. Jesse knew there were ghosts at Summerleigh, but they were different now. It seemed they weren’t limited to the house but were stalking me around the property.
I could hear the worry in his voice. “That’s not good, Jerica. That’s not good at all. Listen, I know this might sound inappropriate, but I really wish you’d spend the night here tonight. I’ve got the guest room, and I wouldn’t mind the company. I could use a skilled helper. This boat isn’t going to build itself.”
I smiled at that. It did sound like fun, and I’d never worked on a boat before. But the nagging feeling that I shouldn’t go was strong. I glanced around my kitchen as if I would see Marisol pop up at any moment. She’d be the only reason why I would stay here. What about my daughter? What if I wasn’t here? Would she be able to fend off the boy? “I’d love to help you with that project, I really would, but I don’t want to take advantage of our friendship. And I know this sounds crazy, but I need to be here.”
“I’ll bunk out at your house, then. Just for tonight. I mean, surely you know I’m not trying to be pushy. I’m really concerned. If that boy tried to drown you, who’s to say he won’t attack you again? I don’t want you to be by yourself there.”
I leaned back and looked around the corner into my living room. No way was big, tall Jesse Clark going to make a comfortable bed for himself on my wicker couch. But I did see an air mattress in the upstairs closet. To be honest, I liked the idea of someone else being here. I just couldn’t leave Marisol. What if she didn’t follow me?
“That sounds great. Would you mind? And bring whatever information you have about the McIntyre family. Maybe if we dig a little deeper, we could find something to help us identify this boy. The thought of those two working together is more horrifying.”
The phone line began to whine, and there was a strange crunching sound like the connection was breaking up.
“Jesse? Jesse, can you hear me?” And then the phone went dead. Okay, that’s just weird. I had to call the phone company about this. Twice in one week could not be a coincidence. I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. It was a text from Jesse: I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I breathed a sigh of relief and texted him back a smiley face.
I made some sweet tea, cleared my kitchen table and plundered the refrigerator for something I could whip up for lunch. A light tapping on my back door drew me away from my search. No one ever used the back door, no one but Marisol and Loxley. Marisol! I hurried to open it but didn’t see any little girls running away. There was no one there, nothing except a lone bluebonnet. I picked up the dark blue flower and held it. Marisol. Thank you. I went back into the house and found a small bottle to use as a vase. I filled it with water and put the flower on the kitchen table. We needed some good luck. I stared at the flower and experienced all sorts of emotions waiting for Jesse to arrive. True to his word, he showed up promptly with armloads of books, an overnight bag and a plastic crate of folders.
“Goodness. You came prepared. Let me help you.” I grabbed the plastic file folder bin, surprised at the weight. “You weren’t kidding when you said you had a heck of a lot of research.” He shook his head, and I admired the glasses he was wearing today. “Hey, those look good on you.” He gave me a half grin, and we walked into the kitchen and deposited all of the materials on the table. “Would you like a glass of tea?”
“Sure. Sounds great. Did you hear anything from Hannah yet? I guess you know Ree-Ree is all over this. She’s gonna come over sometime today. She happened to be at the house when you called and overheard everything.”
“It’s no bother. I like your cousin. I just hope it’s not unsafe to have people around. I mean, my God. I would never have imagined anything like that happening to me. It was like something out of a movie. A horror movie.” I shivered at the memory of the boy grabbing my ankle and pulling me down into the river. If I wasn’t such a good swimmer, if I wasn’t determined to live, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. No, I’d be with Marisol. Is that such a bad thing? I walked over to the refrigerator and poured Jesse a glass of tea. I set it down in front of him and watched him arrange stacks of papers on the table. “Where do we start? Tell me what you know about the McIntyre family, in a nutshell.”
“Mariana McIntyre, the young woman who was murdered, her father’s name was Robert ‘Bull’ McIntyre. And just like his name suggests, he was a force of nature all by himself. It was strange that anyone would want to build a mansion out here in the middle of nowhere, but he was determined to do it. Rumor has it that there used to be another house on this property before Summerleigh, but it burned to the ground. The records from that time—probably in the early 1830s—are not reliable, and there isn’t much information about who owned this property then. So as far as official records go, we can only go back to the McIntyre family. Mariana had just turned sixteen when she was found dead. Let me s
ee if I can find a copy of the actual newspaper clipping. I have it here somewhere.” Jesse shuffled through his records until he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here it is.”
He slid it to me, and I silently read the headline: McIntyre Mystery Murder Friday Night. I read and reread the tiny article, but there wasn’t much information there except for Mariana’s age and a mention of her brother and father.
“Is that it? Did they ever find her killer?”
“I haven’t found any record of anyone being charged with her murder. I found nothing in any of the papers. To make matters worse, Summerleigh was full that night. It was her birthday celebration.”
“God, she died on her birthday?”
“Yeah,” he said. “After that article, I don’t find even a mention of Mariana again. But Bull McIntyre went downhill fast. His lumber mill burned, and he was accused of all types of crimes, arson, murder—two men died in that mill fire. He refused to help their families afterward. He accused them of arson and even threatened lawsuits against their widows. The women gave up their claims, but the damage had been done. All of George County turned against him. People had nothing to do with him after that, and everyone pointed at him anytime something went wrong in Desire.”
“Do you think he did it? Could it have been him I saw at the river?”
“I don’t know, but we shouldn’t rule out Mariana’s brothers. She had two, a younger one and an older one. The younger one’s name has been lost, but I do know both boys’ names started with the letter J. Military records indicate that a Jameson McIntyre enlisted in the Mississippi militia around the time of Mariana’s death, but he was never seen or heard from again. But you have to remember that times were different then. If people wanted to get lost, they could.”
The Ghost of Jeopardy Belle (The Ghosts of Summerleigh Book 2) Page 6
