Slamming the back doors on the van shut, she walked around and hopped into the driver’s seat. As she drove across town toward the farm, rain drops began to slowly plunk onto the windshield. She turned on her wipers just as the buckets began to pour, falling on her van’s windows like waterfalls.
She began to feel as if she were in a horror movie, stupidly on her way to spend a night alone in a haunted house—certain to meet her doom in the most gruesome manner possible.
The farther she got from town and into the rural farmland, the darker it became. She turned on her brights to try and pierce the curtains of rain. Nothing seemed to help.
Crossing the wooden bridge over the canal, she came up the drive all the way to the house and parked. She took a moment to look at the place, peering at its dark windows and half expecting to see the silhouette of a dead man hanging there.
The building seemed to sag in the wetness of the evening, almost as if it were an old man’s face, frowning about his coming death.
Shivering, Sonja braced herself and got out. Running around to the back of the van, she grabbed her overnight bag and bolted up the creaky porch steps until she stood under the awning. Sighing gratefully for the protection from the rain, she tried the door.
It was locked.
“I should have guessed,” she would need to find another way in.
Moving over to the window behind the porch swing, which bobbed slightly in the wind, she tried to pull it open. It didn’t budge. “Darn it,” she muttered.
Finally, she had another idea. If she remembered correctly from what Benjamin said, this old building had a cellar for storing coal. Maybe that meant there was a coal shoot as well. She’d seen in a movie once where the reluctant hero, forced to spend the night in a haunted house, fell through the coal shoot on accident to get inside.
If the house had one, it was sure to be open.
Moving around the side of the house, she tried to be quick as to not completely get soaked through her clothes. Reaching the side of the house near the back, she let out a little fist bump when she realized she’d found the metal doors for the coal shoot.
“Please be open.” Bending down, she pushed on the doors and the old spring gave easily. Carefully, she pushed her bag through first and watched it slide down into the darkness. It was like watching something disappear into a bottomless pit.
Shivering from fright, she knew she would have to slide into that darkness next. Putting her feet into the hole, she tried to talk herself into doing it. “Okay, Sonja,” she told herself. “It’s just a cellar. Nothing to be afraid of.” Taking a deep breath, she counted. “One . . . Two . . .”
Suddenly, the flash of red and blue light out of the corner of her eye stopped her. One of the police cruisers was pulling up in front of the house.
“Oh no,” she muttered. “What is he doing here?”
Soon, another light, most likely a flashlight, begun to pass over the house. It bobbed up and down and started heading her way. She debated just diving down, escaping the search, but didn’t have a chance.
The flashlight came around the corner and narrowed on her sitting there, in the rain, her butt in a puddle of mud, with her legs halfway down the coal shoot.
“Sonja,” Frank called, standing there in his uniform and wide brimmed hat. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Uh,” she mumbled. “Going down the coal shoot?”
“What the heck for?”
“I’m investigating,” she shot back, feeling embarrassed. “Because you won’t.”
“You’re aware that this is private property still and that it belongs to the city of Haunted Falls?”
Sighing, she rolled her head back. “Yes, Frank, I’m aware.”
“Are you also aware, that to go inside, you must be accompanied by a city official?”
Sonja paused, raising an eyebrow at him. “What are you getting at?”
“To go inside this farmhouse,” he said. “You have to be accompanied by me.”
“You? You’re going back in the farmhouse tonight?”
“It’s my duty, isn’t it?” he asked. “To investigate every aspect of Benjamin’s death?”
Sonja was quiet for a second but then began to giggle.
“What?” he asked.
Soon she was laughing out loud.
“What is so funny?” he asked, giggling a little himself.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away,” she proclaimed. “I knew that good man I looked up to was still in there somewhere. You’re too brave to ignore an injustice.”
“Well, I suppose you’re right,” he replied, laughing. “At least I’m not the one with my legs stuck in a coal shoot.”
Both laughed heartily.
“Now, come on,” he said, walking over and helping her to her feet. “You’re getting soaked.”
“So are you,” she replied over the gale of the wind.
“Let’s go inside before these ghosts of yours are scared off by our laughing.” He jangled his keys in the air.
Following him back around the house, they climbed the porch steps, unlocked the door, and went inside.
CHAPTER 14
* * *
Neither of them spoke as they entered the dark farmhouse. In any other situation, the two of them might have had a conversation about their earlier argument, about the argument that had lasted the last few days. This would have been accompanied by a slew of apologies.
However, both of them made a silent agreement that now was not the time.
Sonja knew her boyfriend well and knew he was sorry for the way he had acted. He’d shown that by simply coming to the farm that night.
She made a mental note to take him out to a steak dinner on another night that week, just to show him that she still loved him despite the moments of weakness, and that thought helped keep the jitters away while they both took a seat on the couch.
“Should we go upstairs?” Frank asked at a volume that was barely audible as if he were afraid someone might hear—ghosts, maybe? Sonja’s gut told her that he was slowly becoming a true believer, and perhaps after tonight, he would be.
Sonja shook her head no in answer to his question and cuddled closer to him on the couch. She was used to dealing with ghosts on a regular basis, but something about this particular haunting really unnerved her.
“Okay,” Frank whispered. “We’ll both stay down here in the living room tonight.”
She nodded her agreement.
“You can have the couch,” he said, “I’ll take the chair.” He motioned toward the recliner near the cold fireplace.
“Stay with me,” she whispered, “just for a little while?”
“You should get out of those wet clothes,” he said. “Or you’ll get sick.”
“What about you?” she asked, noting he was almost just as wet.
Both of them had been so nervous entering the house that they’d forgotten how chilled they were from the soaked clothing.
“Right,” he nodded. “We’ll take turns in the bathroom on this floor.” It was clear at this point, he didn’t want to go upstairs either.
Suddenly, Sonja remembered her bag was in the cellar and gasped.
“What’s wrong?” Frank asked, looking behind himself anxiously as if he suspected someone—or something—to be there.
“My bag,” she managed to choke out. “It’s in the cellar. I dropped it down the coal shoot.”
Her boyfriend’s face turned pale and drooped in a, you’ve got to be kidding me, sort of stare.
“I can go get it,” he offered, swallowing hard and sending his quivering Adam’s apple up and down.
“No,” Sonja shook her head. “We’ll go together.”
* * *
It took them a minute to locate the cellar door. The basement door was the same size as any normal door and stood prominently on one side of the kitchen. The cellar door, however, was a skinny little wooden panel inside the back of the walk-in pantry. Sonja couldn’t help but think that, i
f she were a young child and this were her grandmother’s house, she would dread going into the pantry to grab something every time she was asked.
Heck, she’d been afraid to walk past the basement door in her mother’s Victorian style home most of her childhood.
That’s how she felt now—like a frightened little girl again.
The pantry, despite the packages of fresh food and spices, smelled overwhelmingly musty. Sonja began to wonder if something had died in there, maybe in one of the walls, like a rat or a bird. The thought of death crawled up her spine like a spider, giving her a shiver.
“You okay?” Frank asked.
Sonja nodded. “I’m fine,” she lied.
“Good,” he nodded, forcing a smile. Reaching out, he pushed on the panel and it swung open, revealing a rickety stairway, flat bare boards one after another, leading down into the darkness below.
“Gosh, I hope there’s a light down there,” Sonja whispered.
The small opening only allowed for one person at a time, and Frank went first. Sonja appreciated his bravery but was also nervous about having her back exposed. What if the ghost came up from behind and grabbed her neck?
She shook off the thought, realizing she’d come here to do some more investigating, not to cower in the corner.
One creaky step at a time, they walked down into the old cellar. The air was thick with dust, only growing denser the further they ventured into the inky depths. It was difficult to breathe, and Sonja let out a strained cough, keeping a hold on Frank’s wet shirt the whole time, not wanting to lose him.
“Is there a light?” she whispered when she felt the concrete floor beneath their feet.
There was a quiet brushing sound while Frank felt along the wall. “I’m not finding a switch.”
“Maybe it’s a pull string,” she suggested, using her free hand to feel the air above them.
As her hand brushed something she grabbed a hold of it. It was definitely a small chain of some sort hanging from the ceiling. “I think I found it,” she said, giving it a tug.
There was a dim, yellowish flicker and the light came on.
Sonja screamed.
There was a body standing directly in front of them, staring them down.
CHAPTER 15
* * *
Frank instantly began to laugh. “It’s a mannequin,” he noted. “Just a mannequin.”
Opening her eyes, which she had closed tightly shut in fright, she saw the outline of a cracked plastic figure standing in front of them. The bare lightbulb which hung from the ceiling bobbed back and forth, casting eerie shadows on the fake painted eyes.
“Ohh,” Sonja groaned irritably. “A stupid mannequin.” She hit the old hollow display item and knocked it over into a pile of dirty rags. It made a rattling sound as it fell as if it were full of rocks. “Why did Benjamin have a mannequin down here?”
“You sure screamed,” Frank sighed, letting out another chuckle.
“Hey,” she protested, beginning to laugh a little herself, “I felt you jump a mile high.”
“I did,” he agreed. “I admit it.”
“All right,” she finally let go of his shirt. “Let’s find my bag and get the heck out of this creepy cellar.”
“Right.” He pointed with one finger. “I think the coal shoot is over there.”
Walking over, they found the metal slide with a large wooden bin at the end of it. “Should be in here,” Sonja noted, leaning over. Even with the hanging bulb on, it didn’t cast enough light to see inside the deep bin.
“Let me,” Frank offered, mounting the sidewall of the box and jumping inside. “Okay,” he sighed, leaning down into the dark and feeling around. “I think I’ve got it,” he announced, standing up with the bag in hand.
“Oh, thank heaven,” Sonja smiled, taking the bag from him. “Now, let’s get back upstairs.”
Almost as if in response to her last sentence, the lightbulb began to dim, then flicker. Finally, with a quiet pop, the bulb sparked inside and went out.
“Like that,” she groaned nervously.
“Come on,” Frank said. The sound of him shuffling about indicated he was getting out of the coal bin. “Let’s just get up those stairs.”
He stood next to Sonja and put his arm around her to help guide her toward the stairs when a loud noise from above them caused him to stop. It was a loud thud, like a door swinging open and hitting the wall.
“What was that?” Sonja whispered.
“It sounded like the front door opening.”
“Did you lock it behind us?”
“I don’t think so,” he admitted.
“Frank, how could you?”
“Hey,” he said, his voice calming down a little. “It was probably just the wind blowing it open.”
“You’re probably right,” Sonja agreed.
They stopped whispering to each other again when they heard the sound of footsteps across the wooden floor above them.
“That’s not the wind,” she gasped.
“Someone’s upstairs.”
The couple went uncomfortably quiet while they listened. The sound of feet moved through the living room, standing near the fireplace, and then headed into the kitchen.
“It’s in the kitchen,” Sonja squeaked.
“Quiet,” Frank ordered with a whisper.
Slowly, the footsteps crept into the walk-in pantry. Sonja couldn’t see the top of the stairs in the darkness, but she knew someone was there at the panel.
Had she closed it behind them, or left it open? She couldn’t remember. She’d been so creeped out about having to come down into the cellar that she hadn’t thought twice about it. Her assumption was that she’d left it open.
A sudden slamming sound echoed through the basement, causing both of them to jump.
Well, it was closed now.
The room suddenly grew cold, so cold that Sonja wondered if her wet clothes might just freeze to her skin. She huddled closer to Frank, grasping at any semblance of warmth he gave off.
The top stair creaked as if someone’s foot was on it. It paused there a moment and then started coming down. One after another, like the beat of the seconds counting down to their doom, the unseen person walked down the steps and into the cellar.
“Someone’s . . . in here . . . with us,” Sonja whispered, barely able to get the words out.
The sound of feet shuffled closer, moving across the concrete floor toward them.
Sonja wanted to shout who’s there or show yourself, but couldn’t make her voice work.
Finally, the feet stopped right in front of them, but they couldn’t see anyone there.
Sonja felt her breath catch in her throat, waiting for something to happen.
The air grew even colder. She realized she could hear it breathing.
In the darkness before them there seemed to be a dim swirl of glowing mist. At first, it didn’t look like anything, but soon the cloud began to form features.
Sonja could feel Frank’s skin growing sweaty and cold from fear.
Seconds later, a face appeared in the darkness—a familiar face. It moved close to her, right near her ear.
You’re gonna die next, it whispered.
CHAPTER 16
* * *
The specter disappeared as quickly as it’d come, but neither Frank nor Sonja waited around to see what else might happen. Running like two chickens with their heads cut off, they darted up the stairs and out into the raining night, both jumping into the police cruiser.
Frank slammed the key into the ignition and they drove out of there, leaving Sonja’s van and both of their bags behind.
“I did not just see that. I did not just see that. I did not just see that,” Frank told himself over and over while he drove.
“It was Spook,” Sonja commented. “I saw him. It was Spook from The Spook Crew.”
Frank swallowed hard. “I-I know. It looked just like him.”
“Now, do you believe me?”
<
br /> “I wish I didn’t,” he replied. “I wish I’d never gone in that darn farmhouse.”
“Well, we did,” she sighed, scrunching down into her seat.
“I can’t believe it,” he moaned.
“Did you hear what he said?” Sonja asked. “He said I was next. He’s going to kill me next.”
At this, Frank paused, taking in everything he’d learned and experienced in the last few days. “You think Spook drove Benjamin to kill himself?”
Sonja shook her head. “I think he killed Benjamin himself.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Frank blurted. “How can you prove someone who is dead committed a murder?”
“You can’t.”
“Then how do we stop him from killing you next?” Frank shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m even saying any of this.”
“I can,” Sonja sighed.
“Okay, I’ll take you to your parents’ house. You can stay with them for tonight.”
“No,” Sonja disagreed. “I want to stay with you, at your place.”
“My place?”
“Please,” she begged. “I don’t want to be alone tonight, and I don’t want to be without you.”
Frank hesitated and then nodded. “Okay. You take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
* * *
Sonja was awake most of the night staring up at the ceiling. She’d asked Frank if he had any salt and then used it to make a circle around the bed. She informed her boyfriend that a circle of salt was meant to keep out evil spirits.
He took the precautionary measure to put it around the couch where he was sleeping as well.
When early morning arrived, they both got up groggily, the whole nightmare of the night before seeming so far away.
“I think we should go see Maddy at the hotel,” she told him while she watched him brew a pot of coffee.
“Maddy?” he raised one eyebrow. “She’s in town?”
“After Benjamin called her the other day, she drove up to see if she could help.”
He shook his head. “I’m beginning to have flashbacks to when their whole darned TV crew was in town causing problems.”
Red Velvet Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 15) Page 6
