The modernized hallways of this old place had been impeccably designed to make one forget that Tranquil View had housed the insane. Dark wood remained, and the narrow hallways stayed the same, but their polished marble floors and Victorian reproduction paintings lining the walls gave the massive building a calm facade with hints of present day sensibility. Considerable amounts of money and work cloaked the original internal structure.
He regretted, in retrospect, joining this haunted house event for Tranquil View. Jana Peterson’s request that he join the effort for charity had seemed strange to him. After all, she’d expressed distaste for Halloween. He’d gathered from some of the more snooty people in the building that charity was the only reason the haunted house had a chance here.
As he walked, he thought about Melissa and contrasted her looks against Jana’s. Jana had a rack, and probably had quite a few men sniffing after her. Roarke wouldn’t be one of them. He found Melissa winning hands down. The realization disturbed him.
After all, Melissa wasn’t his type. When he’d first seen her with that toss of long, wavy, auburn hair that hung practically to her waist, he’d thought she was damned pretty. Then he’d seen the total package. She wore the thick hair parted slightly off center, and it suited her oval face, small nose and well-cut chin. Freckles danced over her nose, and the fact that she wore no makeup that he could tell surprised him. Her green eyes didn’t take shit off of anyone, but inner warmth seemed to glow from her. Her purple tie-die blouse and the low-rise jeans had completed the picture. No, that wasn’t true. Her old-fashioned sneakers, brilliant purple to match the top, and the brown suede purse with a peace symbol and fringe on it had almost made him laugh. Still, something about Melissa Allan ran rings around Jana’s aggressive, self-important ‘tude.
He heard voices as he descended the staircase, and at the first floor rotunda lobby, he found Jana and Pearl. Pearl Hancock had money out the ying yang. Her husband had left his manufacturing wealth to her when he’d passed. She enjoyed her money, but didn’t flaunt it. He liked her and her grandmotherly way.
“Oh, Pearl, there he is,” Jana said, her smile wide and meant to be charming.
Jana wore impractical clothes for the work they intended to do—a tight white t-shirt with some flowers on it, and white pants with white pumps. He almost snorted. Was she serious?
Pearl’s salt and pepper hair lay against her head in a mannish cut, and her striking features and ramrod straight thin body reminded him of a few soldiers he’d known. Her light, feminine tone defied her tomboyish figure and looks. “Hey there, Roarke. I think we’re the only ones here tonight.”
He adjusted the tool belt and caught Jana staring at his package. He tried not to laugh. “People are already bailing on us?
Jana waved one hand and a glittering ring flashed. “There really should be ten of us on this project, but several called today and told me they’ve come down with the most awful stomach bug.”
“Great.” He shrugged. “Then let’s get moving. All we really need to finish is the basement, right?”
Pearl bit her lower lip, and her green eyes looked worried. “Why did the haunted house committee decide to use that basement anyway?”
“Because it’s creepy as it gets.” He put his hands on his hips. “At least that’s what others tell me.”
Pearl’s frown showed genuine discomfort. “I know. Even I’m afraid of it.” She rubbed her arms. “I was down there once and it’s awful.”
“I’ll make you a deal. If you ladies want to check and see what repairs are needed in the rest of the haunted house, I’ll work on the basement myself. You don’t even need to go down there.”
Jana perked up. She actually placed her hand on his left bicep and squeezed gently. “With all your muscles it shouldn’t be a problem for you to take care of whatever is required.”
Right. He moved out of her grip. “Let’s go.”
After Jana unlocked the two sections toward the back of the first floor that had once been administration offices, he took the keys and headed toward the entrance to the basement.
“Wait.” Jana’s breathy voice followed him as she trotted his direction.
He stopped short of the door and turned toward her. She moved too close to him for his comfort. He stood his ground, uncertain if her actions related to blatant flirtation or an attempt at intimidation. Her flowery scent came on strong and he leaned back a little and tried not to wrinkle his nose. “Hey Jana, what’s up?”
“I was hoping I could get you alone.”
“That sounds ominous.”
She placed her hand right in the center of his chest. “You must know that I like you.”
“I like you, too. But not that way. Friends only.” Cut to the quick and no misunderstandings. He’d always found that communication technique the most effective, especially when it came to predatory women.
She didn’t remove her hand. She pursed her lips. “Friends I like. I could see a lot of advantages to being your friend. Friends with benefits I like even better.” Her lower lip protruded in a sure-fire seduction technique.
“What do you want, Jana?”
“You. You’re the only man within a hundred miles around here that has ...” Her gaze traveled up and down his body in unmistakable appreciation, “... certain attributes I’m looking for. Muscular. Tall. Potent.”
He chuckled. “Potent?”
She started a little circle with her hand, rubbing between his pecs in a caress designed to tease. “You’re fairly new in town. Knowing a city council member can also help with a job search.”
His lips tightened and he gently pried her hand off his chest. “I’m not looking for a job right now. I’m retired from the Marines, and I’m comfortable. I’m thinking about my options.”
Jana licked her lips. “Marines.” She spoke the word like it was candy or potato chips or maybe even double chocolate ice cream. “Delicious.”
Roarke’s patience began to slide. “You didn’t answer my question, Jana. What do you want?”
“I told you. You.”
“Sorry. I’m not for sale. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He turned away, key in hand.
“I won’t be excused.” Now her voice held a shrewish character that raked over his senses like needles.
He was getting irritated. “You don’t have any choice, Jana. Look, you’re a beautiful woman. But I’m sure you know that. I’m not interested in any relationship right now.”
That revelation made her eyes widen, but he’d said the wrong thing. She stepped closer again. “So you think I’m beautiful?”
Oh, shit, O’Bannion. When are you going to learn to keep your fuckin’ mouth shut? “Yeah, you’re pretty. Any man can see that.”
“Then you can’t be oblivious to me. We could be mutually beneficial to each other. I want you, and you could use my power. I have many useful connections in this town.” She smiled. “Besides, I’m sure I could make you interested in sex.”
Holy shit. This woman made a hooker look patient. “Jana, I understand you’re a ... powerful woman and all that. My answer isn’t going to change. I’m not having sex with you. Ever. You can’t seduce me. I’m not attracted to you.” He didn’t like being cruel, but he’d added that last bit to cool her jets. He turned away before he could see her expression.
He opened the basement door and the heavy old door made the predictable shriek of old hinges. A rush of damp, musty air flew past them.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Jana said behind him. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“Oh, yeah, I have a good idea,” he said calmly as he glanced back at her.
Her mouth popped open, then something akin to rage spilled over her pretty features. “There are many things about Simple you don’t understand.”
He almost snorted. “What? That there are a lot of power-hungry individuals who think they can run the show for everyone? It didn’t take me being here long to see that. I’m not af
raid of you, Jana.”
Her milky skin went red and her eyes blazed with anger. She clenched her fists at her sides. Her transformation punched him in the gut. A strange feeling came over him, as if he’d just glimpsed something that didn’t belong. Something out of place had moved through her eyes, a sinister intent unnatural and weird. He half expected her to hurl curses. Without another word she threw a contemptuous look and left. Holy crap. Maybe the woman figured any man would jump her bones if she threw herself at him. Maybe most men would. He didn’t sleep with women like Jana, and it didn’t matter what the hell they looked like or how much they flattered him.
He flicked on the light and illuminated the steps leading into the basement. He closed the door behind him and pocketed the key. His tool belt clattered a little as he took the steps. They creaked under his feet. He tried to shake off the weird feeling he’d gotten as Jana had left. He tried to recall if he’d ever run into a woman as blatant about wanting sex from him. He couldn’t. Something else bothered him about her, too, and he couldn’t put his finger on it.
All those thoughts diminished as he reached the bottom of the steps and was reminded why the place needed work. This section of Tranquil View hadn’t changed, he imagined, since the place was built in 1888. In this case, they didn’t want to clean it up. A haunted house was a haunted house, and people expected it to appear a certain way. Dusty and creepy was good. He shook his head. On the other hand, why wasn’t this already done? The haunted house opened this weekend and, after tonight, they had three and a half days to finish it up. Jana, as head of the committee, had told them she wanted it finished by Friday at noon. He shrugged. This wasn’t the Marines—people didn’t always spit shine and they didn’t follow military rules. He snorted softly. Jana wouldn’t have lasted a day at boot camp. Most of the female Marines he’d met could wipe the floor with her and not break a sweat.
He noticed the dirty sconces along the hallway. He’d bring cleaner from his apartment. He walked down the hall, glancing at the cells that lined it. Sixteen cells, all wood with metal rivets, and all with peep holes at eye level. He smiled. Yeah, this would scare the crud out of people. Four of the men on the committee of fifteen planned to jump out at people from these cells. He’d declined. It wasn’t his thing to scare people, at least not with a sheet over his head.
He could see why this place would enhance the haunted house experience. It was dark, gloomy, and even sinister. As he walked slowly, trying to see if there was anything he could do to increase that scare factor, a strange sensation came over him. He reached the last set of cells and noted the oppression hanging on the place. Dust motes floated in the meager lighting, and his breath puffed out in front of him. What the hell? Ice coated his veins as the room turned brutally cold in what seemed an instant. No way.
Stunned, he stopped. Again his breath fogged the air. Ridiculous. It didn’t make sense. The cold surrounded him like a cloak; it wormed and prodded and tried to get inside him, as if his will was being forced away and pushed to the side. For a few seconds he allowed a wild idea that made no sense to him. An icy intruder wished a peek inside him. It wanted, it knew, it sought fulfillment in his destruction.
He rubbed his temple and his hand shook. Fear was rising inside him for the first time since he’d returned to the United States. Cold, bitter fear with a horrible taste. Apprehension that his experiences in war had crippled him without him even knowing it. Hell, he’d escaped PTSD, he thought; he’d escaped the plague that drove so many military personnel into the booby hatch to repair their scarred souls. He ached for those who experienced PTSD, but he sure as hell refused to go there. He refused. He took a deep breath and pushed away the thick sensation, the suffocating sensation that made him want to run out of here and keep on running.
He stepped into the main room where a jumble of boxes tipped this way and that throughout the room. Dim lighting didn’t even reach the back walls, and there he saw shapes. They were weird, distorted shapes that belonged in a haunted house.
“This damn place is perfect.” He laughed, but it was half-assed.
He drew in a deep breath and it hit him like a rocket-propelled grenade. A strange smell penetrated the air, one he’d never forget as long as he lived. Copper ... metallic. Blood. His stomach roiled. Christ all mighty. Dread trickled inside him like a drip, drip, drip. This place was ill. Abhorrent. He knew it down to his soul and the sensation scared the ever livin’ fuck out of him. He shook with it, a leaf in the wind.
“You’re a Marine, asshole. Cowboy up,” he said. “Get a fuckin’ grip.”
It didn’t work. All around him the air had turned so cold that goose bumps ran across his body like insects. If there was one thing he’d learned to do in the Marines, it was to recognize danger when he felt it. Even though common sense told him he had no reason to escape the area, instinct broke him.
He turned and walked back quickly the way he’d come, his shoes making scuffing sounds on the floor. His breathing came quicker, his heartbeat drumming in his ears. It felt as if someone was behind him, breathing down his neck and wishing he were dead. He refused to run, though every molecule inside him wanted him to break into a sprint. The enemy was behind him, intent on his death, on his annihilation. It wouldn’t take much. One bullet. One well placed tap to the—
Shit, shit, shit. He pounded up the stairs. He reached the top, threw open the door and clicked off the lights. Slamming the heavy wooden barrier to the enemy, he locked it with shaking hands. Backing away, he took deep breaths, one after the other. He realized his breath no longer puffed in cold clouds in front of him, and his famous common sense and control began to trickle back. He stared at the doorway, shame heating his face and hollowing his gut. Christ, he’d never run from anything since he’d joined the military.
Never. What had happened down there?
“Something wrong?”
Roarke almost came out of his skin as he swung around. Pearl stood there, hands on hips, expression filled with concern.
He lied. “No. I’ve got some allergies and the dust down there was getting to me. I need to come back with a mask and some cleaner. I don’t think we’ll need to do anything but wipe down the lights so people can see without tripping.”
Pearl grinned. “Fantastic. I love haunted houses. This is going to be great. I figure once we start jumping out at people from the cells they’ll freak out and run screaming.”
He smiled, but didn’t feel an ounce of humor behind it. “Great. By the way, you’ve been down there before, right? It creeped you out?”
“Oh, yes. But I figure once I’m down there with all the other committee people, I won’t feel scared at all. It’s only if I’m alone.” She rubbed her arms and giggled. “That’s when I’m spooked.” She frowned and tilted her head slightly to the side. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. I just figured you wouldn’t want to play the part of a ghost down there, that’s all.”
“Not to worry. I’ll be fine.”
Determined to forget what had just happened to him in the basement, he changed directions with his thoughts. “Pearl, question for you.”
She picked up the pail of cleaning products and rags. “Sure.”
“You live on the third floor, right?”
“Last apartment on the very south end.”
“Have you heard any strange knocking sounds in the walls?”
Her brows drew together, disapproval on her face. “O’Bannion, are you trying to say this place is haunted?”
“I’m wondering if there is a plumbing issue. Sometimes in the night I hear pipes rattling.”
“Hmm. I haven’t heard anything, but maybe there is an issue. I’ll bring it up when I see the maintenance man tomorrow. I’ve got a leak in my kitchen faucet. There’s this drip, drip at night.”
He didn’t know why he asked his next question, but it seemed necessary. “The faucet only drips at night?”
She looked at him like he’d lost his head. “Yeah.”
She shrugged. “You know how it is, purchase a piece of property and things start to fall apart as soon as you move in.”
He needed to ask another question. “The last day my mother was seen was August eighth. Did the police ask you about that day? Ask you if you’d seen anything? Heard anything? You live on the same floor ....”
Pearl’s expression softened. “They interviewed everyone in the building as far as I know. They quizzed me for a long time. But you see, I was gone up until eleven that evening. I’d just driven in from Pueblo that night and was so tired I went straight to bed. I was out like a light in no time. I sleep like the dead, so I don’t think I would have heard anything. If there was anything to hear.”
He’d expected her answer, and got mad at himself for saying anything. “I understand. Doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s get to work.”
Later that evening, as he returned to his mother’s apartment, worry wormed its way into his thoughts. He wasn’t a coward, but the fear he’d felt in the basement surpassed almost anything he’d experienced in war. The shock of it rocked him if he thought too much about that feeling of being watched. Stalked. Now, as he came to his apartment door, he looked down the hall both ways. A hall light just past his mother’s apartment flickered with a steady on and off beat. Maybe Pearl had nailed it. Things malfunctioned.
As he unlocked the apartment door, the feeling came again. Someone observed him like he was a fly or a specimen to dissect. The flickering light went out, then every light in the hall blinked and died. He’d experienced this before, when night came in the desert and generators tanked for a few minutes before a backup kicked into operation. This blackness had personality, swift and angry. It had teeth. Claws. He took a deep breath and almost choked on it. His back was against his door, heart pounding. The lights returned.
With biting swiftness, shame came over him. He fumbled with the lock and retreated inside the apartment. He slammed the door and locked it again, shoving the deadbolt home. With a shaky hand he turned on one light and then another in the apartment until the glow washed away the night. Then he stood in the middle of the living room and questioned his sanity.
Shadows Fall Page 4
