Shadows Fall

by Denise A. Agnew

“Hey wait!” Roarke chased after the fleeing teen. He caught up with her. “It’s all right! No one’s going to hurt you.”

  The girl tripped and fell on her hands and knees in the gravel. Melissa made it to Jilly as Roarke crouched beside her.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked the crying girl. Jilly continued to sob, but she climbed to her feet.

  Melissa tried to reassure her, seeing the stark fear her eyes. “It’s all makeup. Everyone in the basement is just dressed up. It’s not real.”

  Jilly wore a long wool gray coat, but she shivered. She was quite a bit shorter than Melissa’s five foot eight, her alabaster pale skin and long midnight hair giving her a ghostly appearance as well. A lanky blond teen boy rushed out of the building, his stride breaking into a run.

  “That your boyfriend?” Roarke asked.

  “Yes.” She dashed toward him, and the boy caught her up in his arms.

  The boy pulled back far enough to look into her eyes. “Jilly, what the hell happened? Bess and Danica said you’d run out of the building screaming about evil.”

  Jilly shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go home.”

  “What did you see?” Roarke asked.

  Jilly buried her head in her boyfriend’s shoulder. “This place is evil. I’m psychic. Always have been. I heard stories from the time I was a kid that this place has seen horrible things. It’s all true. Dirk take me home.”

  “On behalf of the haunted house crew, I apologize for the scare,” Roarke said, doubt written on his features. “We knew it was set up well, but no one intended to start a panic.”

  Jilly’s eyes rounded again. “It isn’t you. You’re not scary and neither are any of the other people. You are not what I saw in that basement.”

  Roarke glanced from Melissa to the Jilly and asked again, “What did you see?”

  When Jilly simply shook her head, Roarke did an upnod toward the boy. “Maybe you’d better get her home.”

  The boy kept his arm around Jilly. He couldn’t be more than eighteen, and his fierce expression said he didn’t like Roarke telling him what to do. He didn’t challenge Roarke’s far stronger, larger frame and turned Jilly away and towards the south parking lot.

  Melissa’s attention swung back to the van and the weird driver parked in the north lot near her car. Fantastic. The figure sat in the van, never looking away from her for a moment. Every hair on Melissa’s body stood up.

  Roarke put his arm around Melissa’s shoulders. “What is it?”

  She’d already had enough of the mysterious. She glanced at the van again and explained about the guy passing her like she stood still on the mountainous driveway. “He didn’t go inside with the teenagers. He was just watching us like he watched me go into the building.”

  Several people left the building at once. A man, woman, and two teenagers. Melissa glanced at her watch. Eleven thirty. The attraction stayed open for another thirty minutes. Maybe she shouldn’t worry. This entire night had blown up into pure weirdness.

  “Come inside until the haunted house closes. You’re not going to your car with that guy sitting there,” Roarke said.

  “That’s a deal.”

  He kept his arm around her as they walked back to the building. As she glanced upward at the windows in the shrouded building, she shivered.

  Chill wind brushed her cheeks, and the icy air made her long for a hot drink. When they entered the building, he released her, but his eyes shadowed with serious concern. “Do you want to go up to my apartment? You could get warm up there. I won’t be long.”

  She hesitated. Did she want to? “All right.” He gave her his keys and told her the apartment number. Linda and two zombies watched from Linda’s table.

  Melissa took the elevator. She normally took stairs, but she felt drained beyond the normal. Tonight had been weird as hell. For the first time in her life she wasn’t sure if what she’d seen in the one room had been a real ghost or someone trying to scare her. That unnerved her on a whole new level. Then Jilly’s wild claims that the place was haunted by evil ... Melissa wasn’t sure about that, either. True, there might be some presences here that weren’t pleasant. She’d never encountered anything truly evil before in any location.

  When she stepped out on the third floor, she admired the beautiful hallway decoration. Most apartment complexes didn’t put that much effort into the hallway, but Steele Company had designed with luxury in mind.

  Melissa found Roarke’s apartment, which was positioned on the backside of the building and only one apartment from the elevator. She wondered how many apartments Steele Company had constructed inside the massive building. Obviously downstairs in the north wing they’d kept at least the first floor in ragged condition for the haunted house. She couldn’t blame them from wanting to profit on Tranquil View’s former history. Who wouldn’t?

  She unlocked Roarke’s apartment and stepped inside. His mother’s apartment. Thankfully a lamp burned on the opposite side of the room on a table near a brown leather couch. She entered and locked the door including the deadbolt. An odd unease continued to haunt her. Jilly’s act, if it was an act, had almost convinced Melissa that the girl believed she’d seen something evil in the basement. Right. Now she’ll have me seeing a bogeyman around every corner.

  Yes, Melissa believed in the paranormal, but unlike some she didn’t believe it stalked humans every moment of the day. She stood in the marble foyer and absorbed the interior. She was an interloper and needed the lay of the land before considering where to sit and wait. She’d heard apartments here ranged from studios with barely seven hundred and fifty square feet, to more elaborate spreads of almost two thousand feet. This apartment looked closer to two thousand feet. Still feeling as if she intruded, she stepped from the foyer onto the hardwood floors leading into the living room. The black leather couch and love seat dominated the living area. Perhaps because this was a third floor apartment, it had a high ceiling with a small crystal chandelier hanging in the middle. A dark wood coffee table between the love seat and couch was strewn with copies of sports and financial magazines. A newspaper lay rolled in its plastic covering. Thick throw rugs made certain feet wouldn’t freeze. A large flat screen TV was mounted in a niche across from the couch with a fireplace below that. A nearby shelf held electronic equipment. A side table between the couch and love seat sported an eight by ten photograph of a woman who closely resembled Roarke.

  “His mother,” Melissa said out loud.

  She tried to imagine what had happened to his parent, and the agony he must feel if he thought about it too often. She tried to imagine losing one of her parents like that and couldn’t. Her mother was so cautious she’d barely leave the house.

  From the living area, the room flowed into a good-sized dining area with a dark wood table that could seat five. A vase of fake flowers sat in the middle. A large and elegant gourmet kitchen completed the area. She wandered into the kitchen, impressed by the old world, dark wood cabinetry, stainless steel appliances and gorgeous granite countertops. Upscale indeed. She returned to the foyer and the hallway that led to a bedroom, she was certain. She hesitated, then stepped into the semi-dark hall.

  Intrusion into private spaces should bother her, but Roarke had brought her curiosity to a high level. She went past a large bath that probably acted as a guest bath. She flipped on the light. Whirlpool tub in the guest bath? Double granite top sinks? Separate shower? Holy cow, talk about luxury. She moved to the end of the hall and found the master bedroom. It was a good sized room with two dressers and a bed. The king sized bed was mucked up with sheets tossed this way and that, as if Roarke had charged out of his bed and forgotten to make it. Maybe he never made it. She pictured him lying there, buck naked. A huge flush filled her face as her imagination did a good job of filling in the blanks. She knew, from looking at his solid muscular chest, that the rest of him would prove the same. Hard. Masculine. Primal. Arousal fluttered in her loins, and her nipples went hard.
>
  “Holy cripes,” she whispered as she stared at the mussed sheets.

  The room smelled like him—spicy sandalwood and musk, maybe even leather. Jeans and a long sleeved red sweater lay over a chair near the dresser. She stepped into the room far enough to see the master bathroom, also illuminated by a nightlight. It featured double sinks, more granite, a huge whirlpool tub and separate shower. She pictured him standing at that sink with her, going through their morning ablutions.

  “No way.” She snorted softly. Another part of her acknowledged that she wanted to know it all. She wanted to experience a night in his arms, to discover what making love with him would be like. “Not likely to happen.”

  She hoped to hell he didn’t have a recording device in here. He’d see her snooping and talking to herself. She smiled and returned to the living room. She went to the large living room windows that faced the back of the complex. Emerald green curtains lay open over both tall windows. An inkling of unease made her pause. She absorbed the sensation, wondering where it had materialized. With thoroughly modern amenities, the condominium seemed sanitized from ghostly encounters. Yes, touches of the antique remained in this place, but much of it defied every stereotype of haunted.

  The devil is here, she remembered Jilly crying out her fear. Melissa looked out a big window and saw the one-story building that served as a recreation and fitness center. A single light pole sent illumination into the night. Just enough for her to see woods beyond and perhaps the corner of the famous graveyard.

  She heard a soft sound coming from the direction of the living room and turned. Crying. She frowned, disturbed. At first she thought the crying came from an apartment nearby. But it sounded too close for that. From what she’d seen while out in the hall, there could be six apartments on this end of the wing. She remembered Roarke saying at one point that only one apartment at the end of the hall was occupied. He had most of this floor to himself. She sharpened her attention. The sobbing continued, this time louder. A chill swept over her as a thickness came into the air. Oh, yes. She knew that thickness well. The veil between two worlds was opening, allowing her to step through. The sobbing got louder and she shivered. An instant knowing came to her.

  “Mrs. O’Bannion?” Melissa allowed the words to come out. “Are you here?”

  The crying became even louder. Sobbing echoed in the living room and came from everywhere. She drew in a slow breath to steady the strange sensation of isolation and sadness that flowed inside her at the woman’s depression. It was a wrenching, heartbreaking sound that filled the night. The crying morphed into a high-pitched wail of utter despair. It diminished until it became a gentle, pitiful noise—a woman on her last leg.

  “Mrs. O’Bannion? Are you in there? Are you okay?”

  No answer and the crying had silenced. Melissa waited. Waited. She exited the apartment and started down the hallway. The crying started again, but it sounded as if it drifted down the hallway. She took one cautious step. Another.

  “What are you doing?”

  Melissa jumped and swung around to face a grim-looking Roarke. Grim and maybe even angry. “I heard ...” She pointed with her thumb back toward the apartment door. “While I was in your apartment I heard sobbing. I was trying to figure out where it was coming from. I think it was coming from your mother’s apartment.”

  “That’s impossible.” His words were clipped.

  She bristled inside, but kept her tone neutral. “Someone was crying in there.”

  He held out his hand. “There can’t possibly be anyone in there. It had to be the wind.”

  She snorted a soft laugh. “Yeah. That’s what every skeptic says.”

  With a shake of his head he pushed the door open to his apartment and she followed him inside.

  “I heard it,” she said.

  After he’d locked his door, he gestured to the living room. “I know it’s late. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Of course.” So he’s going to ignore what I said?

  “I’m going to take a quick shower and get rid of this zombie stuff.” He stalked down the hall.

  She took her coat and shoulder bag off and placed them over a chair. She settled on the couch and worried. She worried that he would think she was a fruitcake. Maybe this once she had imagined what she’d heard. It could have been an animal. Cats had been known to make sounds that would scare anyone. She stewed in her thoughts until she heard him coming down the hall. She hadn’t even taken the time to imagine him naked in the shower, and that surprised her. He wore jeans, a sweatshirt with United States Marines on it, and stocking feet. His hair was damp. He smelled like heaven as he sat down next to her on the couch, not far but not too close.

  “Hell of a night,” she said softly, wary of what he’d say. “Look, let me say this first. I don’t ... I’m usually right about hearing things related to ghosts. But tonight I’m not sure. So I won’t push the issue. But this building is haunted. I saw and heard things before I even entered the building.”

  He shifted and placed his arm along the back of the sofa. “So the building was an asylum and old and therefore it has to be haunted.”

  “Most likely. It would be difficult for a building like this to not absorb emotions at the very least. No one understands hauntings one hundred percent.”

  “Not even you?” His tone was critical.

  “Not even me. But I’ve lived with the ability to see and hear ghosts ... to sense things all my life. It’s why I’m interested in the paranormal and why I have my shop. I want to understand the paranormal.”

  He stared off into the distance for a moment. “Pearl Hancock is in the last condo at the very end. I wouldn’t think you could hear her sobbing all the way over here, though.” He scratched his chin, eyes thoughtful. “As far as I’m concerned this place is just old. It’s creepy, yeah. It makes people imagine things that aren’t there. Hell, I wouldn’t even be in this damned place if I wasn’t determined to find out what happened to my mother.”

  Of course he’d shoot her theory in the ass. But what did she expect? That she’d say the place was haunted and he’d just believe her? She decided to concede the slightest bit. “Maybe someone was playing a Halloween prank. I mean, since the haunted house is now in operation, who knows what people might do. Did management say they were going to rig weird sounds up on the floors where the apartments are?”

  He shook his head. “They didn’t tell me. But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t do it.”

  She plunged into territory she didn’t wish to venture into. “You’ve never had a paranormal experience?

  “No. If I can’t hear it, see it, or smell it, then it isn’t there. Plain and simple.”

  She tried to reign in her frustration with him as a theory started to rise inside her. “Did you ever think maybe if ghosts were real, then that’s why your mother was so disturbed? Because she could see them and hear them, too? Because she didn’t know how to handle it? Maybe that fear sent her away from here.” By the semi-disgusted look on his face, she knew she’d blurted that out too easily.

  “Pardon the bad language, Melissa, but that’s bullshit. My mother was bipolar. She was diagnosed with it almost twenty years ago. There aren’t any real ghosts here, no matter what you hear.”

  A long pause dropped between them, and she wondered why she stayed with him here at all. If the man didn’t believe in anything she did, they didn’t have a chance of pursuing anything romantic. She could be his friend, but ... Who am I kidding? I’m still attracted to him, damn it.

  He leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “There was one thing I wanted to get straight between us. That’s why I invited you up here. I wanted to apologize for kissing you the other night when I said I wasn’t trying to get an invite into your apartment.”

  She smiled slowly, one part of her wanting to invite him to do it again. “No need to apologize. Did you see me resist?”

  His expression stayed grim, as if they were discussing a
battle plan rather than a kiss. “No. You kissed me back.”

  “You took me off guard.”

  Silence dropped on the room, heavy with possibilities. “I took myself off guard. I haven’t dated in a long time.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too much work, not enough time.”

  “Maybe you didn’t want to date.”

  His gaze caught hers. “I was too caught up in my career.”

  She wondered if he regretted much, but didn’t ask. She had the overwhelming sense that she was interfering, that she had gazed into a part of his soul he didn’t wish to reveal.

  “I’d better go.” She stood.

  He rose and followed her to the door. “What do you make of that girl running out of the building earlier?”

  “She appeared genuinely frightened. We don’t know her background, though. She could be unstable.”

  “Agreed. I told Linda the whole story in case Jilly throws a lawsuit at Steele Company.”

  “You think she’d do that?”

  He shrugged. “We’re a sue happy country.”

  She laughed. “That’s true. Hey, maybe I should sue Steele Company for figuring out a way to make me see something in that room that doesn’t exist.”

  His gaze sharpened on her, and she wished she hadn’t said that. “What you described had to be a real person. I just haven’t figured out how they got out of the room yet. But I will.”

  His confidence that what she’d seen was a real person gave her a bit of relief. He wasn’t saying, out loud at least, that she was a nutball. At the same time, she also knew that maybe she’d seen a ghost. Telling him that would go nowhere fast.

  He changed gears. “Let me get my shoes and coat. I’ll follow you back to your apartment and see you to your door again.”

  She put her hand out. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Yeah, I do. Your apartment parking lot is dark and you have to walk up that alley.”

  True. She didn’t look forward to that, but she also valued independence and admittedly didn’t want to appear the wimp. She’d never had anyone to walk with her down that dark alley before. Why should she start now? “I can handle it.”