by Roger Hayden
Table of Contents
The Haunting of Bechdel Mansion: Book II
Prequel-The Haunting of Bechdel Mansion: Book 0
Outsiders
Memories
Trespass
Encounters
Investigation
Secrets & Lies
Showdown
Against the Wall
Desperate Measures
Sacrificial Lamb
The Haunting of Bechdel Mansion: Book II
Copyright 2016 All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means without prior written permission, except for brief excerpts in reviews or analysis.
Prequel-The Haunting of Bechdel Mansion: Book 0
FREE on Amazon- Click Here https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LVUF5JC
A paranormal phenomenon, a mysterious curse, and an unsolved murder forty years in the making.
A young couple moves into their dream home only to find a dark presence lurking from within. For Curtis and Mary, the small town of Redwood, Indiana seems too good to be true. Everything is perfect, including the Victorian mansion they purchased at a great price. But they soon experience terrifying supernatural encounters tied to the deadly secrets of an unsolved mass murder. Can they solve the mystery in time? Or will they face the same doomed fate as the tenants who came before them?
FREE on Amazon- Click Here https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LVUF5JC
Outsiders
*** The free prequel is available in the TOC and front matter of this book***
Redwood, Indiana. June 25, 1985
The ten-year anniversary of the Bechdel massacre brought Elizabeth Stone to the rusty gates of a vacant mansion, keen on discovering the secrets inside. The Bechdel mansion, ghostlike in its grand and dilapidated appearance, had ceased being an attraction to curious onlookers who were swiftly ejected from the premises following vigilant measures implemented by the town mayor. The mansion grounds were strictly off limits to the public, and the message was clear enough: outsiders not welcome.
The estate had long been stuck in probate limbo, for every time someone purchased the land, they would soon flee the mansion, hastily and without explanation. There were many who believed the mansion was haunted, cursed even, and fascination with it only grew with the passage of time. The murder of the Bechdel family and their dinner party guests unleashed something unspeakable on that quiet autumn evening, and the unsolved nature of the crime only fueled speculation of a grand conspiracy, either of silence or collusion.
There were rumors of the supernatural, an ominous force that still resided within the mansion’s faded walls.
On the night of the murders, investigators found bodies riddled with bullets, piled in a bloody heap. Next to the bodies were bullet casings scattered on the floor throughout the ballroom. The front door had been busted open, and tables and furniture were tossed and turned, and perhaps most tragically, a young girl was lying dead outside the mansion in a courtyard, shot point-blank.
After a lengthy investigation, authorities were unable to find the killers due to a “lack of evidence,” though the public remained increasingly skeptical of this claim. Many believed the clues were there, buried somewhere inside or outside the mansion.
On the evening of June 25, 1985, Elizabeth Stone found herself at the mansion’s front gate, determined to get to the bottom of the most heinous crime in Redwood's history.
She stood in the darkness of the long-abandoned site where fallen trees, looming weeds, and an abundance of overgrowth consumed the front yard, concealing the Bechdel mansion from view. No Trespassing signs were posted on all sides of the gates, and there were still tattered strips of police tape hanging from parts of the iron bars, a reminder of the terrible crime committed only ten years prior.
Accompanied by her brother, Ben, and their two friends Adam and Scott, Elizabeth had arrived at the premises with a purpose. The friends possessed a unique gift—a telepathic ability between them that they had gradually harnessed over the years when they met in college. The hoped, some day, to establish a practice as professional investigators. But not just any investigators—their gifts lay in the world of the paranormal.
They could see things, stark visions of the past or future. Eager to discover the truth behind the murders, the group had traveled far to see the Bechdel mansion in person with hopes of unlocking its darkest secrets.
That evening, they all wore black and carried backpacks full of supplies on their shoulders. From where they stood, they could barely see the Bechdel house beyond the overgrowth and neglect surrounding the premises. Their hike from town had taken them five miles through forest, and they were careful not to draw attention to themselves.
They were aware of the visitor ban on the property, but it had been so long since the murders, they didn’t see why anyone would notice or even care. Pockets of white light flashed in the distance. A storm was approaching. And the time of night was closer to the hours of the massacre, and by design, ten years to the day.
With his hair tucked under a skullcap, Ben leaned against the gate railing and gripped it with his gloved hands. Elizabeth stood next to him, her hair tied in a bun, scanning the area ahead with a pair of night-vision binoculars. Adam, short and pudgy, with his shaggy hair tucked under a dark baseball cap, stood across the road, keeping watch for approaching vehicles. Scott, tall and skinny, with his shaggy hair tucked into a backwards hat, approached the gate and looked up, examining the arrow-like points at the top of the gate twelve feet above him. With a pair of bolt cutters in hand, he walked along the gate and approached the main entrance, chained shut with multiple padlocks.
“Someone's coming!” Adam said nervously.
The group froze as Ben whipped around. Farther down the road, nothing could be seen. “Where? I don't see a thing,” he said quietly but intensely.
Adam stared ahead some more, squinting his eyes. “I-I don't know. I thought I saw someone.”
“No more false alarms,” Ben said. He then turned back to his sister, Elizabeth, and asked her how the place looked.
“It's clear,” she said. “As far as I can tell.”
“All right. Let's get in there,” Ben said, clasping his hands together. He signaled to Scott to use his bolt cutters, but Scott was barely able to see where to cut. “I could use some light here.”
Elizabeth looked at Ben, concerned. “Keep flashlight usage to a minimum. We could be spotted.”
Ben nodded and pulled his flashlight from his bag. “I'll be careful.”
He then approached Scott and knelt down, cupping the light with his hands, just enough for Scott to see several rusty padlocks over the thick chains around the gate. He cut the first lock, squeezing with all his might. It snapped off the chain, with links much thicker than the padlocks. He then went to the next one and did the same, and soon they were in.
The cracked concrete walkway took them through an underpass of spreading tree branches that seemed to reach out for them. Ahead, beyond the bushes and ankle-high weeds, they could see the shape of a fountain, wrapped in vines, with weeds sprouting at its base. They entered a courtyard with grass growing between cracks in its foundation.
“We're close,” Ben said as they continued forward under a dark sky.
The looming, shadowed shape of a massive structure lay ahead. Ben turned on his flashlight, exposing the gritty surface of a two-story mansion, windows boarded up with old plywood. He approached the steps and turned off his flashlight as everyone gathered around.
“All right, folks. We brough
t crowbars for a reason.”
He paused and glanced at the seemingly impenetrable fortress before them, its roof arch forming a tremendous summit, high like a steeple. The night air was quiet beyond the distant chirping of crickets.
“Look, I think there's a side door here,” Adam called out from a canopied entryway leading to a vast three-door garage to the side. “It's all boarded up, but I'm pretty sure it's a side door.”
He slipped off his backpack and pulled out a crowbar. The others approached the garage as Adam jammed the crowbar behind the plywood and heaved, gritting his teeth. The wood began to crack, pulling away from the side framing.
Adam and Scott stepped forward with their crowbars to assist. Working together, they tore the plywood from the entrance, revealing a door with exotic engravings and layers of chipped paint. They were getting close.
“All right, stand back,” Scott said, his arm extended, as if pushing them back. He stuck his crowbar into the tiny gap near the deadbolt and then kicked at the door with full force, splintering it open with a resounding crack. He stumbled forward and grabbed the frame, brandishing his flashlight and shining it into the garage while catching his breath.
“Good work,” Ben said from behind him.
Scott nodded. “It's a mess in here,” he said, squinting ahead. The massive garage was full of boxes and cobwebs hanging from the walls. Inside, the air was dry and stale. The group walked in, scanning the room with their flashlights.
“What's in all the boxes?” Adam asked, looking around.
“Who the hell knows,” Scott answered.
Excited, Adam continued. “We should open them and see what's inside.”
“Not now,” Ben said from the front of the line. “We need to find the ballroom where the murders took place. It's almost time.”
“Fine,” Adam said, brushing his shaggy hair to the side. His ball cap had fallen off some time ago.
They reached the end of the carport, where they found another door leading inside. Ben turned the brass knob, but the door was locked. Elizabeth brushed the cobwebs off her clothing as Adam scratched his head in a panic. “They're in my hair!” he said.
“Calm down,” Elizabeth said, lightly brushing her hand across his hair. “You're okay.”
Ben stuck his crowbar into the side of the door and kicked it open. Once inside, he shined his flashlight around the room, only to see an old, empty kitchen before them. Some empty pots lay scattered across the dusty countertops. The lack of airflow and the smell of warped wood and mildew made it feel as though they had entered a tomb.
The group continued past the kitchen to a dark, narrow hall with stained walls and debris strewn along the cracked tile floor. Chandeliers hung from the high, vaulted ceilings, covered in cobwebs. They entered a large room that resembled an open bay or reception area. Elizabeth looked around at its encompassing walls and identified it as the ballroom.
“We're here,” she said. “This is where it happened.”
There were a few tables and chairs stacked in the far right corner of the room. She approached the pile and pulled at a small, dusty table, dragging it across the room. “This should do nicely. Let's go ahead and get started.”
They littered the dusty ballroom with glow sticks from their backpacks, illuminating the center of the room, where they pulled together chairs, setting them around the table. There were several more rooms to explore, but none as important as the one in which they stood. Adam pulled out a tape recorder from his pack, as Scott unzipped the bag containing their bulky camcorder. Such definitive proof of the supernatural was sure to make a name for themselves.
Heavy winds grew outside, beating against the house as thunder rumbled in the distance. A storm was approaching, and its foreboding presence only heightened their sense of urgency and anticipation of things to come.
Adam prepared the tape recorder as Scott mounted their RCA VHS camcorder onto its tripod. He switched on the mounted camera light, testing it as a bright beam flowed across the dusty table and chairs. Distant thunder crackled outside. The chandeliers suddenly began to sway with a subtle creaking.
Adam looked up, spooked. “It's getting weird in here, guys. Maybe we should just hurry this up.”
“Agreed,” Elizabeth said.
The group gathered around the table under the beam of the camera light and faint illumination from the glow sticks strewn about the floor. A blast of lightning startled them as the impending storm intensified. Static buzzed from the sound recorder as the red camcorder light blinked.
“All right, group,” Ben said, seated now like the others. “We've traveled a long way to be here. Let's get started.”
Elizabeth held her hands out and tilted her head. “I can feel the negative energy in this room. It's growing by the minute.”
“I can definitely feel a presence too,” Scott said.
“Lots of rage,” Adam added with his eyes closed.
Another booming crash of thunder erupted outside, sending tremors through the house. The creaking sway of the chandeliers intensified as faint, indistinguishable sounds echoed from all over the house, from above, and from both halls leading from the vast foyer. With the windows boarded up, the inside of the house was a strange, pitch black, beyond any artificial light provided by the group. One look into the surrounding darkness was a reminder of how alone they were in that house, but as the group settled in, they felt not only the presence of each other, but also that of forces beyond their control.
“Everyone just stay calm,” Ben said from the head of the table.
The group closed their eyes, breathed in, and exhaled in unison. Even in the stale air of the sealed house, they felt a rush of cold air pass through. Their hands lay flat on the table as their heads tilted upward and the chill in the air slowly increased.
With a steady, calm voice, Ben continued. “We are here on the night of June twenty-fifth, 1985, as agents of the paranormal. Our psychic connection is pure and just, and with it we intend to do good by uncovering what occurred in this house ten years ago to the date.” Another boom of thunder sounded outside, and droplets of water began to rain down on the house.
Ben continued his oration, his voice rising over the increasing threat of the storm. “I am reaching out to the Bechdel family as a vessel from our world to theirs.”
Elizabeth jumped in her seat and opened her eyes, startled. “I felt someone touch me.” She looked around to see that everyone's hands were still on the table.
“Just stay calm. We'll reach them in due time,” Ben said, eyes still closed.
“I am calm,” she said.
“I saw something,” Scott said with excitement, pointing ahead. “An apparition by the staircase!”
They turned their heads to look, but saw nothing in the darkness.
Ben resumed his otherworldly communication. “We are here to help you find peace, to discover the truth behind your deaths. Tell us the identity of your killers. Speak and be at rest!”
“There!” Elizabeth said, pointing to the other side of the room.
Everyone turned again to see the faint white glow in the corner. Stunned to silence, the group stared ahead as the white orb drew closer, forming the shape of a little girl in a nightgown. Rendered speechless at its approach, the group froze in the light of the camera. Her tiny bare feet floated above the floor, and her cherubic face was slightly sunken in, with bulging black eyes and her face framed with long, curly locks down to her shoulder.
“Oh my God…” Scott said, jumping out of his chair. He moved to the camera and immediately swung it around to capture images of the girl.
“Sit down, Scott,” Elizabeth said in a panic, but the girl had vanished.
Ben, Elizabeth, and Adam sat at the table, glaring at Scott in disbelief.
“You didn't…” Ben said. “Please tell me that you didn't just lose her.”
“I'm sorry!” Scott said.
Ben swung his head around, scanning the room. “Julie? Julie, are you
there?” He paused as rain continued to descend on the house in a relentless downpour. “Julie? Can you talk to us? We're only here to help.”
Suddenly, the camera light exploded, sending sparks into the air. Scott stumbled back with a scream and covered his face. The glow sticks on the floor flickered out, one by one, slowly turning the room dark. Their heads rose to see the chandelier directly above them light up, with the bulbs bright yellow.
“Focus, everyone,” Ben said, urging calm. “We came here for a reason, remember?”
“How long has this place been without power?” Adam asked, mouth agape.
“Ten years, I imagine,” Scott answered.
“Don't be frightened,” Elizabeth said, watching the chandelier in wonder with everyone else. “They're reaching out to us. Everything is going as planned.” The words had barely left her mouth when the flashing bulbs of the chandelier faded out, plunging the room back into darkness.
“Escape…” a faint, unseen voice whispered, freezing them to their seats. “Run…”
Memories
Redwood, Indiana, October 2016
Curtis flew down the road in their Ford Expedition, with Mary in the passenger seat and a concerned Theo in the back. Pastor Phil’s memorial service hadn’t gone exactly as planned. Mary had had her most significant psychic episode yet, being inundated with fragments of the past. The experience had exhausted her, leaving her barely conscious, with several stunned attendees watching her leave the First Church of Redwood in haste with Curtis and Theo at her side.
The key, it seemed, was Mayor Taylor. Long suspicious of his involvement in the Bechdel murders, Mary had bumped into the mayor as they were nearing Phil’s open casket. The shake of his hand had sent her into an unexpected semiconscious state in which she saw things, clues that pointed to a conspiracy larger than she could have ever imagined.
