Brown Eyed Ghoul: A Ghostly Paranormal Romance Series (The Peyton Clark Series Book 3)

by H. P. Mallory

  “I didn’t make anything difficult,” the doctor argued.

  “All you had to do was remove the blockage!” Junior yelled at him.

  “Junior, please, calm down,” the doctor beseeched.

  “You had to complicate it, didn’t you, Dorothy? You never wanted me; you lied to me!” Junior’s voice became hysterical. Then he spoke again, “Well, now the joke is no longer on me!”

  “Please, please, Junior,” begged the doctor as he started to sob. “Please!”

  But the only response he received was the ear-splitting crack of the third bullet.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The floor of the stairs shook beneath our feet. At the sound of the gunshot, a woman’s scream reverberated through the walls of the hospital. A deep, echoing rumble rattled dust off the stairs and, too late, I recognized the sound of fast moving footsteps.

  Suddenly, the nurse appeared at the top of the stairs. Drake and I didn’t have time to duck out of sight but it didn’t make any difference. She continued to scream as she bolted past us. Her eyes were wide in terror and her already pale skin had lost any remaining hint of color. She looked as gray as the moon. I wasn’t even sure she realized we were there.

  Her kerchief floated off behind her, revealing a greasy mop of blond hair. When she got to the door, she ignored the large hole in the center and reached into her pocket for the keys. Fumbling slightly, she finally succeeded in opening the lock and wrenching the door open. With a final, haunted look back at us, she hurried through the door.

  I turned to Drake and gulped audibly. He stayed quiet. The echoing noise of the gunshot, crying baby, screaming nurse, and thundering footsteps gradually died down. Now, everything stopped in an eerie quiet. I stared up at the doorway to the hallway, wondering what would happen next?

  Without thinking, I steeled myself with unflagging determination, and grabbed the railing as I started up the stairs after him. Drake grabbed my arm before I could even take a step and hissed, “Peyton, no!” beneath his breath.

  I stopped, but not before the weight of my foot settled on the creaking step. I heard a shifting weight on the landing above us. Then a heavy, booted footstep. Then another. Panic flooded me. Drake’s eyes went wide as well.

  As quietly as I could, I removed my foot from the stair, but it creaked again. We heard another heavy footstep from upstairs. They sound was definitely moving towards us.

  “We need to get out of here,” Drake said in an urgent whisper. The heat of his breath made me jump. He took my hand and we started to tiptoe down the hallway, listening intently to the sounds coming from above us. I pointed at the doorway to the restroom I’d entered earlier in the day and he nodded. Risking one last glance toward the sound of a fourth footfall, he slowly and silently opened the door to the small bathroom and gently pushed me inside.

  The stairs creaked beneath Junior’s weight and my breath came in short, labored gasps from my chest. Fear coursed through me and suddenly, my legs collapsed. Drake caught me as I gracelessly fell to the floor of the bathroom. He sank with me, holding me up because I couldn’t muster any reserves of strength. Taking me with him in his strong arms, he dragged us toward the door and pressed his ear up against it. I couldn’t hear anything. Finally, the baby’s screaming interrupted the harsh silence. And the footsteps started back toward the room. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  From the sound of his footsteps, Junior had to be in the hallway. He was headed toward Dorothy’s room and I knew what was going to happen next. The thought of sitting here while it happened was almost too much to bear, but I knew I was no match for Drake. Sensing that I might try to run after Junior, he grabbed me again and pulled me away from the door. My body was too weak to fight him.

  “Drake, he’s about to kill her,” I pleaded lamely from my exhausted stupor on the floor.

  “I know, mon chaton. It’s hard for me too, but we must wait and see what happens. Remember, this has already occurred in history. We’re just objective observers to it.”

  My body was still propped against his. Warmth emanated from his neck and the smell of his cologne lingered but now it mixed with a muskier smell. I wanted so badly to rest my head on his strong, sturdy chest, and close my eyes for just a moment. I forced myself to snap out of it.

  Cracks ran along the walls of the bathroom and I could clearly hear the footsteps above us as Junior finished his journey through the hallway to Dorothy’s room. I was worried we lost our good spot to hear, but the bathroom must have been directly below Dorothy’s room because when Junior spoke, it sounded almost as though he were right next to me. I jumped.

  “Hello, Dorothy,” I could hear him say menacingly.

  No response, but I heard softer footsteps, Dorothy’s probably, as they backed away from him.

  “Your valiant hero is dead,” said Junior.

  There was nothing I could do. I knew how this ended. I was about to hear the murder of Dorothy Arnold, and all I could do was sit in a bathroom while it played out above me. The weight of the moment crashed down on me like a giant wave. I fought to stay alert, knowing all I could do now was listen for as many details as possible. The least I could do was gather more information to tell Ada and Jill. I focused on that one hopeful prospect, which was just enough to keep me from feeling overwhelmed and powerless. I wanted to run upstairs and save Dorothy, or escape into the night like the nurse, anything else but sitting still and enduring the torment of the moment.

  There was another, heavier footstep and then the baby started crying again. I heard a desperate shushing sound from Dorothy.

  “Junior, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to have the baby. It wasn’t my fault; we were just too late. Just leave us alone, please!” she pleaded over the whimpering infant. Her voice was low and pitiful. The tragic voice of a woman who lost all hope.

  “Leave you alone? You think you can go off with another man and expect me to leave it alone? You lied to me! You insisted the baby was mine, when you knew the truth the whole time. You disgust me, Dorothy.”

  “Please don’t hurt the baby,” she said desperately.

  “There shouldn’t even be a baby! It was supposed to be just you and me, Dorothy. You told me you’d take care of it. I tried to be reasonable.”

  “Junior, I tried, but I couldn’t. I was too far along by the time I decided to stop it; please understand that. There was nothing the doctor could do.”

  “How dare you talk about him in front of me?” Junior spat over the sounds of the crying baby.

  Dorothy’s voice became slightly hysterical as she began to cry, “What was I supposed to do?”

  “You were supposed to love me.”

  “I did! I do! I made a mistake, I’m sorry. Just please, let me get her somewhere safe and then we can be together. I promise.”

  “I’m done with your empty promises!” he yelled. There was another footstep before the baby’s crying intensified. Then a gasp from Dorothy.

  “No! No! Don’t hurt her!” The baby howled as another heavy step was followed by a lighter one stepping farther back. I imagined Dorothy pressed up against the far wall upstairs in her too small room. I remembered Junior’s rodent-like face with mounting hatred.

  Drake was no longer holding me; he was just staring at the ceiling in stunned silence. I sat rooted where I was, paralyzed by my fear of what was to come. I knew Dorothy’s ending was here; there was no other way this could go. Even though I knew it was coming, the fourth bullet shook me more than any of the others. A large thud followed the soul-shattering bang. I’m sure it was Dorothy’s body hitting the floor. The loud report of the gun rang in my ears. The baby’s crying rose to a shrill scream.

  “No!” I couldn’t help shouting at the sound of the thud, and my hand flew to my mouth to grab the word before it could escape. But the damage was already done, and I was sure Junior must have heard me. I imagined Dorothy’s soft, pale face, her dark hair splayed out around her and a puddle of blood slowly spreading around her white gown. Th
e image made me sick, but as the silence fell around me in the big, empty house, a new emotion took hold of my stomach: dread.

  If Junior suspected someone else in the house before, there was certainly no doubt about it now.

  “Who’s there?” came a shout from upstairs.

  Moonlight streamed in from the high, glazed window in the bathroom and I could see Drake’s expression of dread and fear with perfect clarity.

  “Peyton, we have to go now,” he said urgently.

  Upstairs, the baby cried.

  The large footsteps sounded again. They were coming towards the stairs. I was frozen with fear, my body pinned against the back wall of the bathroom, just listening to the heavy footfalls.

  “Peyton!” Drake shouted, not even bothering to whisper anymore. “We have to leave… now!”

  But I was paralyzed. Through the haze of exhaustion, I could barely think. What’s worse, Junior was about get away with it! His brutal, senseless murder went down in history unsolved and the young girl upstairs was tortured for a century because of it. I shook my head in Drake’s direction. Maybe I still hadn’t recovered from the shock of what I heard, but I couldn’t stay powerless while Junior escaped. He was about to get away with it, but he didn’t have to. But what could we do? We were unarmed, hiding in a bathroom, and waiting to be shot like fish in a bucket!

  Drake took me forcibly by the hand as he swung the door open and started to run. I tried to follow him, but my legs buckled beneath me and I crashed loudly and painfully onto the floor.

  I looked toward the stairs just in time to see Junior’s shadowed outline appearing on the wall below. I barely had time to get my feet beneath me before he made it to the bottom of the stairs. When I saw him, I froze. Almost as if he flicked on an invisible switch, my exhaustion vanished at the sight of the gun. The murderous look in his eyes was visible from all the way down the hall, and the hair on my arms stood on end. Drake’s words from earlier in the evening came back to me as if he were saying them inside my head… if I die here, that’s it. Well, we didn’t know that for sure, I supposed. Although it occurred to me that we’d soon find out.

  Junior’s face was surprised and I watched him try to place us.

  “You!” he yelled finally from the foot of the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Junior aimed the barrel of his gun at us and all at once, my frozen legs sprang to life. I ducked and rolled just in time to miss the ear-splintering shot when it echoed through the house. Drake ran over and grabbed me. We took off in a crouched run toward the door. I cursed myself for being so stupid. I knew I put both of us in danger, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. All I could see was Dorothy and how I failed to protect her. Now I was about to fail her again. We made it to what was left of the front door, but Junior was faster. He bounded across the remaining section of hallway and aimed his gun at us again. Upstairs, the baby wailed.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” he said.

  Drake stood up straight and pushed me until I was standing behind him. We stood like that for a moment and it seemed longer than eternity. Silence descended on the house once more. Both men were looking at each other, but Junior did not fire the gun. I didn’t know what stopped him, but for the moment, I was glad for his decision.

  “Why did you do it, Junior?” Drake asked, breaking the thick, hostile silence between us. I stared at Drake in horror. Could he not see the gun that Junior was still clutching? Drake seemed as cool and collected as ever. Policeman Drake was on the scene and I felt grateful. However, I was far from safe, seeing as the gun was still smoking from its last shot and two people lay lifeless upstairs. Junior seemed trigger happy. Maybe we still had the element of surprise on our side, even if it felt less than adequate as a shield.

  “The whore took everything from me,” said Junior without lowering his gun. “She tried to leave me.” He acted as though that sufficed for an explanation.

  I couldn’t see Drake’s expression, but Junior seemed thoughtful. He spoke again, “I asked her father for his permission to marry her at her request! The humiliation I endured for her! And then, after she got herself pregnant, she had the audacity to claim the baby was mine! I could have killed her then. But she’d never have learned her lesson that way. She needed to suffer, and I had to scour every last bit of that terrible doctor from the lining of her stomach. I wouldn’t take her back until she did. But instead, she ran away—and told me she didn’t need me. All she had to do was remove it! Now, I’ll do that for her.”

  I thought of the baby Alice upstairs, alone, and hoped she was still unhurt. That was one part of the story that didn’t make any sense. If Junior planned to kill the baby, who could have saved her? Was Dorothy still alive upstairs? I heard the thud that sounded like her body hitting the floor but I didn’t see her body. Or the doctor’s. Did the nurse come back? Or did Junior’s evil killing spree spare the lives of infants? I couldn’t imagine killing an innocent child (to be fair, I couldn’t imagine killing anyone); but did Junior feel remorse? Enough to bring the baby to safety?

  There was one thing that definitely wasn’t true of this grim winter’s night in 1910. It did not involve a Louisiana police officer and a Californian divorcee. I cursed my former stupidity. I hadn’t saved anyone. All I’d done was put Drake and me in very real danger. I looked at Junior’s gun with dread and foreboding. Fear and guilt rooted me behind Drake. My eyes traveled between the two of them but they were locked in a staring contest.

  Drake spoke again, but as he did, he took a few steps away from the door. Junior’s gun followed us and I noticed Drake was making sure I was standing behind him. He was basically shielding me with his body.

  “So why did you kill them? If you wanted Dorothy so much, why did you end her life?” Drake asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “She wrote me a letter,” said Junior. Drake continued to sidestep down the hallway. “A few days ago, she told me she was too far along to do anything about the baby. She wanted to have it. She chose that, that thing over me—his child over our future! That’s when I knew she already made her choice and rejected me.”

  “But why would you kill them?” Drake was still edging along the hallway. I realized he was making his way toward a stand on the far wall. An empty glass vase sat on top of it. I had my hands pressed to his back as I moved with him.

  “Have you ever been rejected by someone who said she loved you?”

  Drake stopped moving.

  “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I have.”

  My cheeks flushed despite the terror of the moment.

  “Then you must understand why I had to do it.”

  I saw a few glaring holes in Junior’s argument. But we didn’t have time to say anything because suddenly, several things happened at once. Drake lunged for the vase and threw it at Junior’s head. The gun went off again and I dived for cover beneath the table. Luckily, the shot hit the ceiling rather than one of us and the impact of the vase hitting his head caused Junior to drop his weapon. He was lying a few feet from it on the floor.

  “Argh!” he yelled angrily.

  Drake didn’t miss a beat. He sprinted to the gun and grabbed it just as Junior lunged for it. Drake was faster and managed to stand above Junior pointing his own gun directly at the sad, rat-faced man. When he realized his sudden impotence without the weapon, he covered his face pathetically and began to whimper.

  I wondered if Drake could fire the weapon. There were two options: kill Junior or let him live. Drake’s face didn’t give any indication of which one he’d choose. Junior looked up at him uncertainly. I received some satisfaction in watching his fear, but it couldn’t undo the horror of Dorothy’s final moments.

  Finally, Drake ended his torture. I was surprised to hear him speak.

  “You will leave now,” he said seriously, his finger on the trigger. “You will never attempt to find Dorothy’s baby. You will not tell anyone what happened here toni
ght and you will forget you ever saw us.” His voice was calm and commanding. I felt myself shrinking at the intensity of his words.

  I stayed silent. Junior merely nodded from his place on the floor. He dissolved into tears, relegated to being no more dangerous than an earthworm without the aid of a weapon. Drake gestured with the gun toward the door and Junior collected himself before sprinting out as fast as his squat legs could carry him. Outside, we saw Junior getting into his vehicle and taking off down the road, leaving only a cloud of dust.

  Neither of us said anything.

  “Drake, I’m so sorry I screamed. I never meant to… it’s just… I knew he was going to kill her, but I didn’t know it would be that terrible.” I took a breath. “And he gets away with it.”

  I stopped for a second when I thought about the fact that the nurse had definitely seen Junior and by all accounts, it appeared like she survived the ordeal. Maybe she just never alerted the authorities that it was him? For all I knew, maybe Junior hunted her down and took care of her later so there wouldn’t be any witnesses? Not that that was a mystery I needed to solve but it did still make me wonder.

  Drake’s hard gaze softened somewhat and his shoulders lowered slightly, “I know, mon chaton. You wouldn’t be you if you hadn’t tried to help. But he has to get away with it. It’s history now.”

  He took me into his arms then and I realized I was shaking from the shock of the evening. Wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, I allowed myself to relax and the adrenaline petered out of my tired and emotionally spent body. He kissed my forehead and I melted against him. Leaning back, I looked up into his eyes and my chest swelled, but before I could say anything, we heard the baby utter a low, long, coughing sob. Both our heads jerked towards the stairs.