by Corwin, Amy
“You’re awake?” a plump, middle-aged nurse in cartoon-covered scrubs asked from the doorway. “Bet you’ve got a headache, too. Let me find the doctor—he can prescribe something for you. Back in a sec.” She didn’t wait for his answer, or his questions, but turned around and disappeared down the hallway.
When her squeaky footsteps faded, he got up with a wince. He had to get back to Nora. He glanced around, feeling a momentary confusion before he staggered over to the small closet in search of his clothing. A plastic bag with his wallet, cell phone and fist full of loose change lay on a shelf next to his shoes. He felt around, but there was nothing else except a little gritty dust. No sign of his clothing. They’d probably cut them off when he’d arrived at the hospital.
His pulse rate kicked up a notch. He studied the dark windows. Night. He had to get out of here.
Moving and breathing were painful. He gripped the closet door to steady himself. A wide bandage wrapped his chest under the hospital gown. A broken rib or two, along with a bruise—he felt his forehead gingerly—a cut with several stitches above his left temple. Nothing worse.
A sickening memory of crumpling metal brought an oath to his lips. His vehicle was gone. All that sweat and work—a wave of anger washed over him. He clenched his fists, pressing them against the soft edge of the mattress.
This wasn’t the time to worry about the loss of his truck, no matter how much it hurt. He had to find something to wear and get back to Autumn Hill before anything happened to Nora.
Nora. She was what was important now.
He picked up the phone, only to slam it down again. She didn’t have a cell phone any more. They were cut off from each other. He glanced at the blackness outside the window. She was in danger—there could be no doubt of that. Not now. His vehicle had been sabotaged by someone at the James place.
Someone was determined to get rid of the competition and be the sole heir to the fortune. He’d already tried to kill her once, and now he—or she—had tried to kill him.
Well, he wasn’t that easy to kill. He grabbed the phone again and called Frank Leonard.
“Do you realize what time it is?” Frank asked by way of a greeting. “It’s nearly midnight.”
“Great. So there won’t be much traffic to delay you. Go to my house, pick up some clothes, and bring them here.”
“Gabe? Is that you?”
“Yes—now can you do that for me? I’m at the hospital. When can you get here?”
“No, I can’t do that for you. I repeat in case you were too sedated to pick it up the first time. It’s nearly midnight. And what are you doing at the hospital anyway?”
“A minor accident. I’m fine.”
“Nora—was she hurt?” Frank asked sharply.
“She wasn’t with me.” Gabe took a deep breath before he continued, “And I think it’s about time you leveled with me—what is going on? What didn’t you tell me about this situation? I’m not much good to Nora or anyone else if I don’t know all the facts.”
Silence. Gabe could almost hear the gears in Frank’s head spinning. “Something’s wrong at Autumn Hill.”
“No kidding,” Gabe interrupted dryly.
“I didn’t want Nora to go there alone and I, well, I’m not much use in a wheelchair.” Frank’s hurried words sounded defensive.
“What about the police? What have they got so far?”
“They haven’t been much use, either,” Frank replied. “And like I told you before, with Autumn Hill’s reputation for ghosts, I thought you could use that as an excuse to accompany her.” He paused, and Gabe had the sense that he was thinking furiously. The silence almost hummed with the vibrations of his agitated brain cells. “I do have some suspicions, though. I’ve been doing an inventory of Archie James’ finances to ensure we can cover the taxes and settle the estate.”
“And?”
“Fifteen years ago, James had significant assets in various investment vehicles. Then he started making withdrawals—large withdrawals.”
“Blackmail?”
“No, I don’t think so. I found some paperwork that indicates he’s been converting it into gold. At least the sums he withdrew are roughly equal to the sums listed in the gold procurements. And the transactions usually occur within a week of each other.”
“Gold,” Gabe repeated, his mind churning. No wonder the James cousins had been so avid about visiting Autumn Hill. They were treasure hunting. “Did his relatives know about this?”
“I don’t know what he told his nieces and nephews. I didn’t know about it, and I was Archie’s lawyer.”
“Where is the gold secured?”
“Again, I don’t know. There’s no paperwork indicating any storage or security fees, and I would have expected there to be.”
“Unless he hid the gold somewhere in his house.”
“Yes. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
“It certainly may explain the ghosts.” Gabe chuckled and winced at the sharp pain in his side. “Looks to me like someone knows and is searching for it.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Frank acknowledged. “So you can see why I believe you need to keep an eye on Nora. If you’re there, she may be safe until I can figure this out and the police can identify the person responsible for Archie’s death. He was a peculiar man and considering the situation with the gold, it’s not surprising that he expected something to happen. However, I don’t think he really thought he’d be murdered over a few gold bars.”
“How much gold are we talking about?”
Frank remained silent for a moment. “I shouldn’t be discussing this with you, but he converted around two million over the last fifteen years. The oldest purchases will have increased significantly in the interim. I would hesitate to give you a more accurate value until I’ve been able to conduct a full inventory.”
Gabe found it difficult to breathe. Over two million in gold. “That’s good enough.” He shook off his shock, but couldn’t shake the increasingly desperate feeling that Nora was in trouble. “Do the police have any leads in the James’ murder?”
“The detectives haven’t shared anything except the basics, which you already know.” Frank yawned noisily. “It’s midnight. Get some sleep.”
“Later. Can you get my things and bring them to me? My sister has a spare key to my house.”
Gabe could hear the sounds of Frank’s jaw crackling as he yawned again, sighed, and then said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
A doctor and the plump nurse came through the doorway. Gabe waved them to wait. “When will that be?”
“Around eight. No, make that nine, tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow! I can’t leave Nora alone that long—” He broke off, gritting his teeth and turning away from the two medical staff who were watching him curiously. “She’s alone.”
“Sir, please get back into bed,” the nurse interrupted, reaching for the phone.
Gabe turned his shoulder to her. “Frank, I need to get out of here tonight.”
“I’m not releasing you tonight.” The doctor glanced at the chart in his hands, frowned, and blocked the doorway.
The nurse nodded in agreement and held out her hand again for the phone.
“Frank—” Gabe hunched over the handset.
“Tomorrow at nine. Get a good night’s rest.” Frank hung up.
Gabe handed the phone to the nurse and reluctantly sat on the edge of the bed. The doctor checked his eyes and vitals, asked about his memory of the accident, and reiterated the instruction that he was to stay in bed until the morning. Gabe had a mild concussion and a hairline fracture of one rib and was fortunate to have escaped worse injuries.
He didn’t feel fortunate. He felt restless and worried. What was Nora doing? He eyed the phone. He’d forgotten to tell Frank Leonard to contact her, somehow, and let her know what had happened.
And he’d forgotten to tell Frank about the severed brake line. He had no idea how serious the sit
uation was.
When the doctor left, he tried Frank’s number again, only to have his call go immediately to voice mail. Seething, he left a terse message and hung up. A taxi—he started to dial information but then he hung up. No point in getting a taxi if he couldn’t get into Autumn Hill. They’d all be in bed by now. The chances of them leaving the dog ramp in place were slim-to-none.
He was stuck here until morning, whether he liked it or not. He just hoped Nora locked her bedroom door.
Chapter Nine
Nora went to bed as early as she dared, but she couldn’t sleep. The strange bed, while firm and comfortable enough, wasn’t her bed. And while the decorations in her room were bad enough in daylight, at night they looked grotesque. The sheet was hot and sticky. She moved to a cooler spot and tried to relax. When she closed her eyes, she kept hearing strange, whirring, rustling noises and seeing faces watching her from the depths of the carvings and wallpaper.
Moonlight reflected oddly off the gilt and created small flashes of light as clouds—or something—obstructed the moon. Was that dark spot and sudden glint just moonlight or a peep hole with someone watching her? She turned over and buried her face in the pillow, willing herself to go to sleep. The air on her cheek and neck felt icy and damp.
She pulled the sheet and blanket up to her chin. Ghosts didn’t exist. She knew it, but part of her huddled with fear of the dark, the unknown.
What was that? A shuffling, furtive noise came from the corner of the room. She held the covers up to her chest and strained to see through the shifting shadows. Nothing moved. The intensely black shape she thought she’d seen must have been her imagination.
Or the chest of drawers.
The feeling of being watched persisted, though. She hadn’t been able to shake it. And earlier, the others had looked uncomfortable, too. Mike and Kirsty appeared downright frightened before they mumbled goodnight and drifted away to their bedrooms.
Maybe she should sleep in Gabe’s room. There were no gilded carvings or heavy drapes fluttering in icy drafts in there. No one would expect her to use that room. She’d be safe.
Unless they were watching her and saw her go in there. Her breath caught in her throat.
She let it out. What was the point? Either someone was watching her so that changing rooms wouldn’t do her any good, or she wasn’t being watched and changing rooms was just stupid. The bottom line was that changing rooms didn’t make sense.
She settled under the covers and forced her body to relax. Despite her efforts, her mind raced, fretting over Gabe’s desertion. She rolled over and wrestled with the hot covers until she got her feet free. Cool air drifted over her toes. She wriggled them and closed her eyes.
A noise, rustling surreptitiously, padded near the door. She stiffened and listened. Soft little fingers ran over the door, making it gently tap the frame. Tap, tap, tap. The doorknob rattled.
The doorknob—did she remember to lock the door?
An icy chill spilled through the room. She pulled her feet under the covers again. Despite the heavy blanket, she shivered. Her body felt brittle from the cold.
“Who’s there?” Her shaky voice hardly rose above a whisper. She refused to be frightened—obviously someone was outside her door. She forced herself to sit up. “Who’s there?”
Silence.
The door bumped against the doorframe softly. Then, silence.
She counted to three, her fingers clenched around the satin edge of the blanket. “Who—”
The doorknob rattled, the sound vicious with the violence of the assault.
She cringed back against the covers, a scream trembling on her lips.
I can’t do this—I can’t!
Yes, she could. Whoever was out there couldn’t scare her like this. She wouldn’t allow it.
Grabbing the blanket, Nora got out of bed. She threw the cover around her shoulders and padded over to the door. The key was still in the lock. She took a deep breath, twisted the brass doorknob with stiff fingers, and flung the door open.
The hallway was empty. She glanced to her right and left. No movements or doors closing, nothing disturbed the quiet.
She was about to close her door when the darkness seemed to shift and lighten. A curling wave of pale gray mist billowed toward her, curling over the floor. Aware of a deep chill, she rubbed one foot over the instep of the other. Then she stopped, too frightened to move. Something seemed to be forming in the mist, growing taller as she stared.
All along the hallway, the doors shook within their frames. The brass doorknobs rattled, as if an angry, invisible hand twisted them back and forth.
Something’s coming—something I don’t want to see. Nora squeezed her eyes shut, shaking, too terrified to move. It’ll see me if I move. It’ll catch me here, out in the open.
This can’t be happening—I don’t believe in ghosts—there are no ghosts.
A woman’s shriek echoed down the hallway. The sound rattled through Nora’s head. It was killing someone.
She couldn’t stand it. “Stop!”
Despite her own terror, Nora ran down the corridor, her bare feet disappearing into the icy mist. She had to find whoever was screaming—to stop them—to stop it. Two doors down, she stopped, breathless.
Sucking in a shaky breath, she knocked and tried the doorknob.
“It’s me—Nora. Are you all right? Open the door!” She pounded on the door, glancing over her shoulder as the icy fog defied gravity to cascade over her thighs to her waist. “Open the door, please. Hurry!”
The shrieking lowered into frightened sobbing that drew closer to the door. Kirsty, her face distorted by terror, threw open the door and grabbed Nora. “What is it? What’s going on? What’s doing this?”
Nora pulled the trembling girl into her arms and wrapped the blanket around both of them as she edged her terrified cousin back into her room. Other doors in the hallway opened, rattling and squealing on their hinges like small, dying mice.
“What is it?” Drew called from the doorway across from Kirsty’s room. “Who screamed?”
Another sharp scream from their left made Kirsty flinch and grab Nora more tightly. Her fingers bit into Nora’s arms.
Candy, in a filmy black nightgown, stood a few yards away, her hands gripping her throat. “Wh-what is that?” She pointed at the icy curls of mist. “What is it?”
But the fog was already fading, seeping down into the floor and draining away the terrible cold.
Is it over?
“Did you see that?” Candy pointed a shaking finger toward the end of the hallway, past the doorway where Kirsty and Nora stood. Her eyes were dark hollows in her white, lined face. Fear had aged her, making her appear haggard in the poor light. “Did you see it?”
“What?” Drew looked pale and his hair was tousled, sticking up in strange directions. He sounded calm, but confused. He glanced from Candy to Nora and raised his brows.
“Mist or something. Dampness.” Nora struggled to find a reasonable explanation, something normal, but her mind refused to cooperate. “From the moat, maybe. The temperature—oh, I don’t know—but there must be an explanation for it.”
“The ghost—it was the ghost.” Kirsty broke off with a sob. Her fingers kneaded Nora’s arm painfully. “I shouldn’t have come—I knew it. I don’t want to die.” She let Nora hug her before pushing her away with trembling hands. “An evil spirit—that must be what killed Uncle Archie. And now it’s going to kill us.” She glared at the others before pushing Nora out of her room and slamming the door shut. “Go away. Leave me alone.” The door muffled her words but couldn’t mask the shrill edge of hysteria.
A key clicked and turned in the lock.
When Nora looked at the others, they stared back at her. “Did you see anything? Hear anything?”
“Just our little Goth Girl screaming.” Drew leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and smiled. His relaxed pose might have fooled Nora if she hadn’t seen the fear in his pale face whe
n he opened his door.
“Someone tried to break into my room. My door rattled.” Candy glanced uneasily around her. “And that mist—that wasn’t normal.”
Nora nodded, pulling the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. She still felt cold and uneasy. She pressed one frozen foot over the other. “Maybe we should go back to bed. We can talk about it in the morning. I don’t think we can solve anything right now.”
“One of you did this,” Candy exclaimed, glaring at Nora. “You’re just trying to scare us.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Nora said.
“Well, I’m locking my door, so don’t even try to get into my room.” Candy slammed her door shut and turned the key noisily in the lock.
Drew caught Nora’s gaze and raised his eyebrows. “I’ve got a bottle of bourbon if you need a glass. I know I do.”
She’d definitely like a drink, but she didn’t need it that badly. “No.” She shook her head and padded down the hallway toward her room. The last thing she needed was a glass of bourbon with Drew in the middle of the night. “I’m going to bed.”
“Don’t forget to lock your door.” He winked at her and grinned. “We don’t want to make it too easy for the ghosts, do we?”
“Oh, I plan on locking it. You don’t have to be worried about me.” She didn’t really need to warn Drew off, but if anyone was listening, they’d hear as well.
Her chest ached from tension. She let out a long breath as she closed her bedroom door behind her. As she trudged back to bed, she felt her fear slowly burn down to anger.
Something was going on here, something unpleasant, and she wasn’t going to cower in bed with her covers pulled over her head. She was going to find the truth, even if Gabe had deserted her.
Despite her decision, when she returned to her cold bed, she pulled the blanket over her shoulders and lay there, shivering. She was missing something, she just knew it, but she couldn’t figure it out.
Where was Gabe? The old, well-known feelings of abandonment and betrayal eroded her anger and ate away at her confidence. Time should have hardened her and made her immune to the emotions, but the razor edge of pain felt as sharp and fresh as ever.
