Dead of Night (Hunters of the Dark #4)

by Dave Ferraro

Chapter Three

  “We’re a small school, so all of the students know one another, but most of the missing students didn’t run in the same circles,” the headmaster said, sitting back in his chair with his hands folded on his lap. Mr. Crenshaw was a good-looking black man, perhaps in his mid to late thirties, dressed in a sharp suit with a cerulean blue tie. Beside him sat the assistant headmistress, Miss Lane, the one who had talked to Valor originally and had arranged for their visit. She was a nervous woman, fidgeting in her chair and biting her nails during the conversation. She had her brown hair up in a messy bun and was probably about the same age as Mr. Crenshaw, and also dressed nicely in a navy dress suit.

  “They’re all good kids,” Miss Lane said. “I just can’t believe that they would have disappeared willingly. There’s some sort of foul play at work here.”

  Mr. Crenshaw smiled. “Now, let’s not let our imaginations run wild here. They may be reckless youth, taking a road trip or something as frivolous. You know how teenagers can be. Illogical.”

  Shanna shifted in her chair uncomfortably. They were in a conference room at the school, a large impressive building with plenty of windows to brighten the plain white walls. It was an older building that needed perhaps a bit more upkeep than it was getting, but it was a nice school overall. There were two smaller buildings perpendicular to this one with additional classrooms, and even some dorm rooms for those students who lived far enough away to justify residence. Mr. Crenshaw and Miss Lane themselves lived at the school with the head cook and the school nurse. They’d met them earlier, and everyone had been very polite and seemed to enjoy the school. They hadn’t seen any of the students, but Shanna was sure that her undercover work would allow her to see plenty of them in the coming days.

  Hunter mirrored Mr. Crenshaw’s smile. “I’m sure we will get to the bottom of this quickly. You’re probably right that it will turn out to be nothing, but just in case, we would like to move on this quickly.”

  Mr. Crenshaw nodded and turned to Shanna, who sat with Natalia and Quinn beside Hunter. “Your agents here look like they will blend in well. I’m sure anything you can turn up will be of use.”

  “Before we leave, could you tell us about this mansion that the school property runs alongside?”

  Miss Lane frowned. “You misunderstand. The mansion is on the property. It sits on the northeast corner.”

  “It’s part of the school?” Hunter asked.

  “It hasn’t been used in years,” Mr. Crenshaw said, shaking his head. “It was never used as part of the school. The building has been in my family for generations, but once the school was built, it was mostly abandoned.”

  Miss Lane nodded. “Mr. Crenshaw inherited this school and the property from his family. A Crenshaw has been running the school since its inception in the early twentieth century.”

  “And how long has the mansion been abandoned?” Hunter wondered.

  Mr. Crenshaw waved a hand. “Fifty years, give or take. At least that’s what I hear. Wasn’t around back then, of course.” He laughed.

  “Of course,” Hunter echoed. “And how long has it been rumored to be haunted?”

  “Haunted?” Mr. Crenshaw snorted. “Just stories, I assure you.” He turned to Miss Lane. “Just what exactly have you been telling these people?”

  “The truth,” Miss Lane insisted. She looked clearly worried for the students. Perhaps Mr. Crenshaw didn’t believe that anything had befallen his students, but Miss Lane certainly was accepting of other possibilities, and seemed to be presuming the worst. “People have gone into that house and not come out.”

  “Nonsense,” Mr. Crenshaw shook his head. “I expected better of you, Miss Lane, than to let these local legends go to your head.”

  “Now, now,” Hunter said, sitting up. “We want to investigate all possibilities. Surely the students know about the stories of hauntings.”

  “Yes,” Miss Lane nodded. “I’ve heard them bragging to one another about going inside on dares.”

  Mr. Crenshaw hesitated, but confirmed this. “It’s true. I know that they have trespassed in the past. I haven’t heard of anything recently, but that doesn’t mean that it hasn’t happened.”

  “We will look into the mansion while we’re here,” Hunter said. “With your permission, of course.”

  The headmaster frowned. “But, why? What do you hope to accomplish there?”

  “If your students are injured in that old house, we will retrieve them, of course. And if any other students are breaking in, we would like to witness who it is and see if they know anything about the previous students who have disappeared.”

  Mr. Crenshaw sighed, then nodded. “You have my permission, of course. But I don’t think you will find anything.”

  “That remains to be seen. Now, the students have been disappearing one at a time?”

  “Yes,” Miss Lane said. “Sometimes weeks apart, sometimes days.”

  “I see,” Hunter looked over at the other hunters. “I think we have enough information to get started here.”

  Miss Lane and Mr. Crenshaw stood with them. “We can expect your agents to start in the morning as students?” the headmaster asked.

  “Yes. You will have schedules ready for them?”

  “We will,” he confirmed, then hesitated before shaking Hunter’s hand. “I appreciate you taking the time to look into this matter. I’m sorry that you’re going to so much trouble for some students acting out, as I’m sure is the case.”

  “Better to be safe than sorry,” Hunter said. “Good day.”

  Shanna looked back at the school as Miss Lane escorted them from the building. It was white and very plain with large windows, mostly dark currently, and warped with age. She wasn’t looking forward to spending her days inside, going to class and pretending to be something that she was not, but Valor must have chosen her for this task for a good reason.

  “I teach geography,” Miss Lane said as she walked with them down the sidewalk to where their rental car was parked. “I’ll make sure each of your agents are in one of my classes.”

  “That would be appreciated,” Hunter acknowledged with a smile.

  Miss Lane stopped at the end of the sidewalk and hesitated. “I’m sorry to ask this of you, but the man I spoke to who directed me to you said that you investigated supernatural affairs.”

  Hunter paused and cocked his head. “Among other things, we do.”

  She looked back at the school. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to Mr. Crenshaw. He gets upset when the supernatural is brought up.” She shrugged sheepishly. “I think he’s a very religious man and thinks that it’s all hogwash. But I…I know better. I’ve seen things that can’t be explained so easily, so I knew you would be the right people for this job. Six teenagers who don’t normally spend much time together don’t disappear weeks apart to later congregate and cause mischief. Something strange is happening to them and I want it stopped.”

  “We will see what we can do,” Hunter offered noncommittally.

  Natalia stepped forward. “I would like to spend the nights at the mansion, to monitor the activity there. That won’t be a problem, I presume?”

  Miss Lane looked taken aback. “Spend the night in the haunted mansion? I…I’m sure that it won’t be a problem, but…I don’t recommend it. There is no electricity to begin with.”

  “We will be bringing generators with us as we explore the activity there.”

  Licking her lips, Miss Lane nodded. “Yes, well, I suppose you can certainly do what you need to do.”

  “What have you heard about the hauntings?” Shanna asked, frowning. “You seem pretty upset.”

  The assistant headmistress let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I just grew up on those stories. You’ll find many such stories in New Orleans. Many are vague, without substance, and those, you can be sure, are the fakes that the locals use to take in the tourists. Full
of blood and gore and...hot air. But the detailed accounts of ghosts and the like, ones that send your hair standing up, that somewhat ring true, those are the ones you need to pay attention to. There are many odd things here you need to watch out for.”

  “And the mansion in particular?”

  Miss Lane looked back over her shoulder, then leaned in conspiringly. “You can hear wailing coming from those walls some nights, and you’ll find when you’re walking by it, it’s like someone’s watching you from the windows, from behind the boards. Sends a chill right down your back. But it’s the things that people say they’ve heard and seen inside that have got people going in these parts. Crying in the walls. Fists pounding around corners, then nobody’s there.” She paused, if it to frame her next words carefully. “Then there’s the girl. She has pigtails. You never see her face, cause she’s always looking at the walls. But she appears out of nowhere and steals your breath. Leaves people gasping like fish out of water. Nearly killed my brother, she did.”

  “A girl with pigtails,” Quinn repeated.

  Miss Lane nodded. “Yep. And you’ll notice blood in her hair and running down her hands, like she just clawed someone’s eyes out. Some say she clawed out her own eyes, and that’s why no one ever sees her face. Cause she ain’t got one.”