The Ninth Floor

by Liz Schulte

His footsteps sounded like they were gaining on me, but I was too scared to look. I took a right at the nurses’ station and then a left. The other doors were in sight. I pushed my legs harder and faster. Then a gunshot rang out and something knocked me forward. My shoulder burned, and I hit the floor hard, the wind knocked out of me. The doors were so close. I knew I couldn’t stop. I had to keep going. I got to my knees. A foot on my spine shoved me back to the ground.

  “I promise you. This is going to hurt,” he said.

  “Go ahead and kill me. Your plan has failed, asshole.” I laughed just because I knew it would piss him off. “No one will believe I tied myself up and then shot myself in the back. You’re going to get caught because you’re a fucking psycho.”

  “I guess I’ll see you in hell then.”

  Another gunshot rang out, and I waited for everything to fade to black, but it didn’t. There was a thump behind me.

  There was a flurry of voices and feet and commands. Deputy Perry knelt beside me, stopping me from getting up. “You’re okay now,” he said.

  I nodded. “My friend is in supply closet in the other hall.”

  “We’ll get her.”

  A stretcher was wheeled up beside me. I was rolled onto a hard board and lifted.

  Deputy Perry took my hand. “I’m glad you made it, Ryan.”

  I took a deep breath, though it hurt. “Is Jack dead?”

  “He’s gone. You’re safe.”

  They wheeled me down the hall in the opposite direction of the doors. “The other doors are locked,” I told them.

  “It’s okay,” the doctor said. “We’re taking the service elevator.”

  I pressed my lips together. Service elevator. That made sense. It must’ve been how Jack got us all up here without anyone seeing. I closed my eyes and thought about all the lives he’d taken. I looked around at the abandoned floor that seemed to soak up the violence. Was the ninth floor haunted? Did it drive people to madness? Was Jack merely a pawn in the game to reclaim me?

  “I want to be taken to a different hospital.”

  Epilogue

  The next morning I was sore from head to toe. My shoulder and hand ached; my heart was broken. My parents were the first to stop by and see me around the same time Deputy Perry came by for a statement. I told them everything, and Mom and Dad swore I was their child. I didn’t know whether or not I should believe them, but in the end I just didn’t care. They weren’t perfect, they weren’t even always likable, but they were my family, and I loved them all the same.

  My parents popped over to the next room to visit Blair when Ashley showed up with flowers. “Leave it to you to make a spectacle of yourself.” He chuckled.

  I shook my head. “Too soon for jokes.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay. You have another visitor. You want me to bring her in?”

  I nodded, expecting his wife, but Vivian came instead. She had two black eyes and a few bandages, but all things considered, she looked great. She threw her arms around me.

  “Thank you for saving me.”

  I hugged her back with my good arm. Ashley and Vivian helped me out of bed and wheeled me to Blair’s room.

  “You look like hell,” Blair said, though he didn’t look much better.

  I took his hand. “I’m glad you’re okay, little brother.”

  “Likewise.” He squeezed my hand. “Bee left you everything, you know. Totally cut the rest of us out.” His eye held a good-natured twinkle, but everything felt like an exposed nerve today.

  I looked down at my lap, my throat tight with tears I didn’t want to shed.

  “But there’s a stipulation, isn’t that right, Ash?”

  “Yeah. You have to stay in Goodson Hollow for five years. It’s in the will.”

  “The newspaper is yours if you want it, Ryan,” my dad said.

  “Ryan isn’t going to stay for money or the newspaper,” my mom said. I looked over at her and she met my eyes. “But she’ll stay for us. We want you to stay—all of us.” She sniffled. “I would like a chance to get to know my daughter.”

  My eyes filled with tears, but I nodded. “I’d like that too.”

  I stayed for about fifteen more minutes before a nurse found us and told everyone I needed my rest and took me back to my room. I immediately fell asleep and woke up much later to the sound of familiar voices.

  “How are you feeling?” my dad asked.

  I took a sip of water and smoothed my covers. “Better.”

  “I was just talking to your roommate. I know you have a private room, but he insisted.”

  I smiled, expecting to see Blair, but my heart stopped when my eyes met Aiden’s. My hand flew up to my mouth and I burst into tears. “I thought you were dead,” I said between sobs.

  Aiden smiled wanly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Ryan.”

  I waved off his apology, unable to talk.

  “It’s a miracle Aiden survived. He was stabbed fifteen times, but he was the reason the police found you.”

  I climbed out of bed, taking a moment to adjust my robe so the hospital gown wasn’t indecent, and wheeled my IV over so I could see Aiden. He looked a little gray and weak, but having him there made everything a little bit better. “Where were you stabbed?”

  “Where wasn’t I?” He pulled down the covers to show me his chest and stomach wrapped in gauze. “Whatever you do, don’t make me laugh.”

  I climbed into the bed beside him, careful not to touch anywhere that was bandaged, and rested my head on his shoulder. He kissed my forehead.

  Dad cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone for a little while.” He walked out of the room, smiling.

  Aiden took a couple labored breaths. “I hear you were shot.”

  “Just in the shoulder.” Aiden grimaced as he scooted over to make more room for me. “I guess I don’t need a bodyguard anymore.”

  “Just as well. I was thinking about a career change.”

  I smiled. “Would that career change, by chance, keep you here?”

  He kissed me softly on the lips. “I go where you go.”

  THE END

  Praise for Liz Schulte’s Mysteries

  Dark Corners (The Ella Reynolds Series Book 1)

  “It kept me guessing and at the edge of my seat.”

  “I hated having to put this book down that after the first time I didn’t put it down again until I finished reading it.”

  “This book is one I did not want to stop reading as it always felt like I would miss something that was going to happen soon.”

  “If you’re into creepy, hair-raising, unexplainable events in a home haunted by unseen forces, you’ll enjoy this page turner.”

  “This book was awesome!!! Very detailed, suspenseful, and scary!! I like to read a good thriller that isn’t gratuitous with violence, language, and gore. This one is very entertaining and literally had me guessing through the entire book. I couldn’t put it down!!”

  Dark Passing (The Ella Reynolds Series Book 2)

  “I loved the suspense and the pace of her books. Great author. I am looking forward to reading more of her books in the future.”

  “I love how the author can keep me guessing till the end of the book on what is the actual truth.”

  “Instantly hooked into the story. Never disappointing or boring. Surprises throughout the book. Mystery, thriller, love, sacrifice, betrayal, AMAZING! That about sums it up.”

  “A real page turner that will keep you up at night. Highly recommended for everyone who loves the thrill of the paranormal.”

  DARK CORNERS

  Ella Reynolds Series Book 1

  A sticky, sweet smell veiled the house, making it hard to breathe. I should have known immediately. After all, how many times had I described it in my books? Yet it didn’t even occur to me as possible. Never could I have imagined my fiction so brutally brought to life. And so close to home.

  The odor stuck in my throat. I gagged. Fear caressed my skin with its clammy
hands. In the pit of my stomach I knew something was wrong, dead wrong. The intense certainty propelled my feet forward despite my legs unwillingness to move. They felt sluggish and uncooperative as I entered the only place left to look, the kitchen. The odor grew stronger, burning the inside of my nose. Swallowing several times to force the lump in my throat down, my mouth went dry. I concentrated on not throwing up, instead of what I might find. I stretched my hands out defensively. Time slowed. Every one of my senses assaulted by blood and death, I froze in place. The cold, blank, dead eyes of my husband met mine. Rocking back and forth, the room spinning, I couldn’t process the whole of what I was seeing. All I could do was stare back into Danny’s eyes—eyes frozen open in horror and pain. The floor smacked against my body as my knees gave way.

  Everything went black.

  Chapter One

  “Happy people” disdain filled me as I glanced around the bar. Small groups of college students and regulars chattered away unaware of my existence. I settled into my usual back corner booth while Joe, the bartender, brought over a drink without me having to order it.

  I made obligatory small talk with Joe before he returned to his post behind the bar. As he resumed polishing glasses with a dirty bar towel, I inspected the all too familiar little dive. Pictures were haphazardly spread over walls covered in smoky grime from the years when the bar was less desolate. The few rickety tables and chairs marred with juvenile graffiti in the center of the room had seen better days. However, the laughing, smiling patrons occupied them without noticing their feeble condition. An electronic dart board in the opposite corner blinked and buzzed tiredly, giving a strobe effect to the dim room.

  There was a time I enjoyed this. I fidgeted with the coaster that was supposed to be under my drink and wondered why I bothered coming here at all, but the thought made it no further than a sigh on my lips. It was hard to believe that not so long ago I would have fit in with the people around me, cheerily visiting and drinking away the stress of their day. Though it seemed like little more than a fairy tale, I remembered when we used to come here with a group very similar to the ones I now scorned, a group of friends I called my own. Not anymore. Now there was only one. Me.

  “No dwelling, Ella,” the practical, motivational voice I chose to ignore most days rang through my thoughts. “Lingering there isn’t going to help anyone. Deal with it.”

  But I was dealing with it—the only way I knew how. Coping had become a full time job and it left little energy for anything else.

  The vodka warmed as it trickled into my belly. I didn’t want to cope right now. My head rested against the wall and I let my mind carry me away. It took me back to when things were good, when the world was black and white and not so many shades of gray. It never occurred to me then, that things could, or rather, would, be different. I always assumed life would just work out. Bad things didn’t happen to people like me; they happened to other people… people who deserved it.

  Was I one of those people others saw as “asking for it”? Maybe, but I didn’t care. I no longer tried to be friendly or socially acceptable. I no longer forced a smile when I wanted to scowl. Most of the time I didn’t even respond to direct questions since I couldn’t be certain what was real. It was safest to treat everything as a figment of my imagination until proven otherwise.

  But now some poor bastard was making his way towards my table with a stupid lopsided grin on his face, oblivious to the emotional black hole that was my life. I watched him approach with a detached interest similar to that of a zoo animal watching the hordes of people waving to it from the other side of the glass.

  “Hello,” he said, as if we had known each other for years. He sat across from me folding his hands on the table.

  I blinked slowly, staring straight ahead as if he didn’t exist. The best defense was to ignore everything around you so when you had to lash out you took them by surprise. No indication that I had heard him or could even see him showed on my face as I took another long drink, savoring the moment.

  This stranger remained unfazed by my reaction—or lack of one. He continued on as if I had given him a warm, enthusiastic greeting. “I’ve seen you here before. You’re not with anyone, are you? Can’t help, but wonder why.”

  Good Lord, he wasn’t here to mock me or find out the juicy gossip—he was hitting on me. I sighed and fought a short battle in my mind about how to proceed. Should I make an attempt at civility? Or should I ignore him until he left? I tried the latter, drawing in another large gulp of straight vodka while staring at the pictures and signs on the wall. However, this fellow had more determination than I’d been able muster up in years. He didn’t speak any further just watched me with a curious gaze that sent chills down my spine. The hairs stood on the back of my neck; my posture stiffened.

  “Look,” I said, glancing his way, carefully avoiding his eyes, “I’m not here to meet people. As flattering as it is, I want to be alone.”

  “That’s too bad. I want to meet you.”

  Just who did this man think he was? Was I not clear?

  “Do I look like I want to have a conversation?” I made eye contact for the first time, clenching my jaw. I didn’t need this right now.

  “Not at all,” he said with a grin that others might have found charming. “But I have a way of changing people’s minds. I’m a doctor. New to the area—”

  I cut him off before he could recite his whole resume. “I bet this normally works on all the girls,” I said with a roll of my eyes, “but I’m not one of them. I don’t need your company or your conversation. Do us both a favor and leave.”

  “As I said I’ve seen you here before. And tonight’s the night I find out why a pretty girl like you is sitting in the corner looking surly.”

  Telling this man to leave was as effective as talking to the glass of vodka in front of me.

  My eyes closed in response to his probing. Bitterness inched its claws into me. A flood of angry emotions washed across my mind. I tried to let them ebb before I spoke again. I just wanted to be left alone more than anything else… well, more than almost anything else.

  “Was this a bet? Can I help you win it? Whatever it takes to make you leave, just let me know.” He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t dignify my rant with a response. “Seriously, buddy. I’m tired I don’t have the energy to deal with you.”

  He inspected me for a few moments longer. “Ok…” his voice trailed off, but he didn’t move away.

  I waited, but still he made no attempt to leave. “You’re leaving?”

  “No. I was wondering why you’re so tired. Thinking out loud really.”

  I looked in his eyes. They were so caring and empathic I could throw up. Rather than chucking ice cubes at him I decided to actually talk to him, perhaps a little less dramatic, but hopefully still effective. After all, being bitchy only encouraged further conversation and meaningful looks. Perhaps a small dose of my life would be the coup de grace of this conversation. “What’s your name?”

  “Ahhh, a moment of civility, I’m honored,” he teased giving me a half bow. “My name is Grant.”

  “Grant? That figures,” I said under my breath, then pushed on before he could comment. “Well, Grant, I’m tired because I have problems at home … in a manner of speaking. Problems that keep me awake most nights and this time, right now,” my finger tapped against the tabletop, “that I have here alone is the only silver lining in what would otherwise be an unbearable day. So let me ask you this, why are you ruining it?”

  “Husband? Boyfriend?”

  I rolled my eyes again, as deliberately as possible. “If I say yes will I be less interesting?”

  “Roommate?”

  “How much longer do you expect me to answer your questions?”

  Grant continued to ignore my open hostility. “You have yet to answer any questions. Love a mysterious girl. What kind of problems at home?”

  “Don’t you think that’s a bit personal when you don’t even know my name?�
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  “Now that could be remedied very easily.”

  I stalled by taking another languid drink. “Frances, my name is Frances.”

  “Frances?” His head tilted to the side. “You don’t look like a Frances.”

  I shrugged.

  “Well, it is nice to meet you. Now, that wasn’t too hard was it?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Hey Ella, you ready for another?” Joe interrupted, ruining my perfectly executed farce.

  I nodded.

  “Your name is Ella, pretty—suits you much better.”

  I gave him a tight smile, annoyed that my lie failed so quickly. I couldn’t escape who I was even for a few moments in a bar.

  “Well, now since I know your name and we’re friends, will you tell me all about your problems?” He tried the charming smile again, but I remained unmoved.

  Telling the truth, however, was a provocative thought. Someone listening, maybe even understanding, who wouldn’t want that? But the reality of the situation didn’t escape me. He would run back to his friends with a new story about the raving lunatic of Montgomery. “I didn’t tell you I live alone,” I said absently, “and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth.”

  “Try me.”

  “Ask around. I’m sure any of these folks would be happy to tell you about the woman who killed her husband. In a town this size, it’s a big story,” I said with a flippant tone I didn’t feel.

  “I’d rather hear it from you.”

  What was wrong with this man? My words would have sent most people here running for the hills with a story about their brush with death. “What kind of doctor are you?” I asked, giving up. He didn’t have to leave if I didn’t have to talk about myself.

  “I do a little bit of everything.”

  “A general practitioner?”

  He nodded, looking slightly amused which bothered me. It felt like he was laughing at me. Once again the desire for him to leave took over. “Why are you here? You aren’t exactly ugly; other girls in this bar would probably love to talk to you… like that one over there.” I pointed vaguely towards a group of girls. “Why do you have to pick on me? I’m literally the only one here who isn’t going to talk to you.”