Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Sinister Summer
A Wicks Hollow Book
Colleen Gleason
Avid Press
Contents
An Important Note from the Author
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
More Wicks Hollow
Updates!
About the Author
Also by Colleen Gleason
An Important Note from the Author
Sinister Summer was previously published under the title The Cards of Life and Death. The book has been significantly revised and rewritten to make it part of the Wicks Hollow series.
The Wicks Hollow series does not have to be read in order, as each book features a different ghost, mystery, and romantic couple. There is a chronological order to the books, but reading them out of order would give only very minor spoilers.
If you’ve read The Cards of Life and Death, I hope you find this updated, revised, and (I think) improved edition set in Wicks Hollow even more enjoyable.
Thank you for giving it a read!
— Colleen Gleason
February 2018
Prologue
Wicks Hollow, Michigan
He crept silently into the house, aided by the light of the full moon. It streamed though the windows like a beacon, casting everything with a film of blue-gray.
There wasn’t a sound but the distant lapping of water against the lakeshore and the barest rustle of breeze through the trees.
Such a remote area.
So convenient.
He smiled to himself as he passed through the kitchen. Only hours before, the old lady had pressed tea and cookies and a delicious chicken salad sandwich upon him at that very table.
She’d been delighted to see him—and he’d actually enjoyed their visit quite a bit. Genevieve Fickler was an interesting and amusing old woman, if not a little batty. She actually believed she could tell the future by looking at a deck of Tarot cards. Absurd, but entertaining nonetheless.
He’d humored her, of course. He knew how to charm a lady. Old ones, young ones—any of them. Especially when he needed something from them.
It was too bad things had to go this way, but a man had to do what a man had to do. Especially when things got…difficult. His jaw tightened with determination and his fingers curled into their palms. Soon, his troubles would all be over.
A complacent smile on his face, he continued silently down the hall. When he caught sight of a shadow slinking from beneath a table, he crouched to greet the cat in case it had the tendency to yowl at night-time visitors.
He’d made friends with it and its companion earlier, and tonight he’d come prepared with tuna sandwiches in order to distract them.
He could afford for nothing to go wrong, for this was his one and only chance to set things in motion.
No sooner had he pulled the sandwich from its plastic wrap than the second feline appeared, also interested in the delicious smell.
He left them there, delicately eating their treat, and slipped into the old woman’s bedroom.
Her soft snores told him she was dead to the world (he grinned silently at this appropriate metaphor). Not only was she deeply asleep, but her face was upright, and her arms safely beneath the blankets.
It was almost as if she were trying to make it easy for him.
He hesitated only for a moment, then moved quickly and with efficiency—snatching up an extra pillow next to her on the bed and jamming it over her face.
Genevieve jolted beneath the onslaught, but he was kneeling over the blankets, pinning her in place as he pressed the goosedown pillow onto her nose and mouth…holding it, holding it…pressing harder, harder, harder.
Come on, come on, he thought silently, as the round old biddy struggled and jolted beneath him like a fish out of water.
Then suddenly, at last, she was still.
Breathing heavily, he held the pillow over her face a few more minutes just to be sure.
Then he slid off the bed, checked her pulse (none), replaced the pillow, and stood back to look down at her.
“Thanks in advance, Genevieve.”
His smile was cold and pleased as he strode from the room.
He paused only to scoop up the remains of the tuna sandwich bribes and dab the floor where they’d been with a damp paper towel. Then he walked out of the house without a second glance.
Though his hands were shaking a trifle, he was still smiling as he strode down the dark, shadowy drive.
Mission accomplished.
Chapter One
Chicago
Diana Iverson juggled a large coffee, her laptop case, and her smartphone—all the while scrolling through a parade of emails—as she breezed through the doorway of the large glass and chrome appointed suite that housed McNillan, Busher, Percy, and Stone. Her employer was one of the premier corporate law firms in Chicago, and she one of their rising stars in environmental law.
It was nearly six o’clock on Friday, and she was finishing an eighty-hour week—but Diana was exhilarated. She’d just settled one of the biggest litigation cases in her career, and been handed another—the one that could help her make partner. Not only partner, but the youngest female partner in the history of the firm, and only the third woman ever whose name would appear on the letterhead.
“I can’t believe you’re still here, Mickey,” Diana said as she barreled around the corner in the depths of the nearly-empty suite to find her legal assistant typing busily at her desk. “It’s after six-thirty on a Friday.”
Mickey, who wore a conservative navy shift and not-conservative garnet-colored, golden-tipped spiky hair, looked up. She had a shrewd, knowing look on her face. “So what happened with Gallatine today?”
“You won’t believe this: they settled.” Diana couldn’t hold back a grin as she did a little pirouette without spilling a drop of coffee. “The Gallatine case is over!”
“I knew you’d get them to settle.”
She looked at Mickey, who now had a smug look on her face. “How did you know I’d get them to settle? No one thought they’d settle—even McNillan. The two sides were oceans apart, and had their heels dug in up to the ankle.”
Her assistant settled back in the chair and crossed her arms over her middle. “Because you did that thing you do—right before you left.”
Diana felt her body go to ice, then a rush of warmth rise in her face. Her heart thudded hard. “What do you mean ‘that thing’ I do?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean.” Diana tried to keep her voice calm, but inside, her nerves were jangling more than when she had to face Judge Bentley at the state appeals court.
Mickey sighed, still looking at her. “I don’t know what it is, but you know—you go in your office, turn off the lights, and sit in your chair for a while. Usually when things look bad—like we’re going to lose, or there’s no end in sight. Then you come out and you know what to do—and it always works.”
Diana knew her fair skin was probably displaying red blotches in her cheeks, but there was nothing she could do about that. “I’m just sitting there thinking.”
“Right. Just thinking.” Mickey lifted her brows. “Sometimes you come out with an entire brief written in less than an hour. And, it’s perfect—”
“Well, sometimes things just come to me,” Diana said and, desperate to change the subject, went on with a rush, “But the reason I’m late isn’t because of Gallatine.”
“I had a feeling,” Mickey said, looking at her smugly again. “You walk away with a solid victory like that, and they’re not going to let you rest on your laurels. I’m guessing…the AutoXTech case.”
Her legal assistant obviously saw and heard and knew a lot.
“Yes. McNillan gave it to me. Lead litigator.” Diana was both trepidatious and energized by the trust the founding partner had placed in her.
AutoXTech, a tier-two auto supplier based in Michigan, was one of the firm’s most important clients—their billing topped six million dollars a year.
This was going to be a big case with lots of publicity. There’d already been articles in the press, and The Sierra Club and Greenpeace were watching closely.
“Awesome. I think.” Mickey gave a half smile.
They both knew it was going to be mountains of work to prepare for the case in which AutoXTech was being sued by real estate developer LavertPiper over a piece of property the auto supplier had sold them. AXT had counter-sued in order to litigate on their side.
“Mansoni—AutoXTech’s CEO—told me today that his company is absolutely not going to back down or settle, because if they do, it’ll just open the door to more litigation in the future. In fact, they intend to make an example out of LavertPiper.”
“And it’s not like LP didn’t do their due diligence before buying a piece of land that held an old factory—everyone knows, thirty years ago, environmental laws weren’t what they are now. It’s a prime piece of land, right on Lake Michigan.”
“That’s right…oh, crap. I’ve got to call my Aunt Jean again. She called me on Monday—here’s the message—and I tried her back Wednesday, but she didn’t answer. She must have been in bed already.” Diana had been thumbing through an old stack of phone messages she’d tossed into her inbox. “Or maybe she was out on a hot date. I guess there’s this college professor who lives nearby—sounds like they might have something going on. She won’t come right out and admit it—she can be cagey like that.” She looked at the old message, quelling a pang of guilt. “I’ll try her again when I get home tonight.”
It had been too long since she’d seen Aunt Jean. They talked every couple of weeks or so, but it had been over a year since they’d actually been in the same city—and that was only because Aunt Jean had come down to Chicago to see Hamilton.
“She’s the aunt that lives in Michigan? In that cute little town everyone from Chicago goes to for vacation?”
“Right, Wicks Hollow,” Diana said. “Trendy town, not far from Lake Michigan. I haven’t been there in…well, more than a decade.”
The guilt came back, along with a brisk wave of memories—of the big clapboard house, the bright, sunny kitchen, the walks in the woods, the smell of the lake on a summer day. The reminiscences assaulted her, and made her feel sad and yet hopeful at the same time. Those had been wonderful summers. And it had been too many years since she’d visited.
Maybe this summer. McNillan had told her to take some time off…
Yes. I’ll make sure I get there this summer.
“I should have tried her back again yesterday, but I’ve been—”
“So busy. Tell me about it,” Mickey said. “So what are you going to do tonight, now that you have this new assignment under your belt?”
“Well, I’m supposed to take some time off before I start on AXT, but I—”
“But you what? Diana, when’s the last time you actually had fun? Relaxed? Slept past seven?”
“Try six,” Diana muttered.
Mickey rolled her eyes. “Had sex—I mean good, long, gourmet sex? Spent the whole weekend with Jonathan, rolling around in those 600-count Egyptian sheets you splurged on—”
Diana was laughing by now, shaking her head. “Jonathan’s been in Vegas for a conference since Wednesday, and he won’t be back till Sunday night. I was thinking of settling down at home on the sofa. With my feet up and a bottle of cabernet and—”
“And your laptop. And your email.” Mickey shook her head. “Live a little, girlfriend. This is a big deal—the biggest. You won a huge case, and you’re taking on another that’s going to be front-page news. And Mr. McNillan’s right—you need to take some time off. At least the night. Or—maybe even the whole weekend.” She made a mocking shocked face as Diana laughed.
“I don’t know…I really should start looking over Mansoni’s notes—”
“Why don’t you grab a flight to Vegas and meet up with Jonathan?” Mickey said—which surprised Diana, since she wasn’t exactly a big fan of Diana’s fiancé. “Take a breather this weekend. Play a little blackjack or something fun. Go see Thunder from Down Under—that’s the male dance show, though they don’t strip all the way down. Unfortunately,” she added in an undertone.
“Jonathan doesn’t gamble,” Diana replied, still laughing. She could only imagine what her serious fiancé would be doing: sitting in his hotel room, working on the speech he was giving to a group of cardiologists at their annual convention. “But…I suppose I could bring my files with me—wait, what’s this?”
Her heart gave an odd thud when she saw the top message from today’s calls, left in a separate stack by her administrative assistant. “Joe Longbow. From Wicks Hollow. Chief of police…”
Her hands felt clammy and her head light. Why would the chief of police from Wicks Hollow be calling her? She automatically thumbed through the rest of the stack of messages as she tried to assimilate the information into her already overloaded brain…and then she saw a second message from Captain Longbow from later today.
Oh no.
No.
The phone rang, its low, tasteful bleep breaking into her thoughts. Mickey looked down at the phone, then at Diana. “Caller ID says it’s from Michigan. It’s probably him again.”
Diana took the phone, a sudden surge of trepidation replacing the nostalgia.
But even as she had the thought, a sharp pain streaked across her temple and settled in a dull, harsh thud behind her left eye. Great. A migraine now too…
“Diana Iverson,” she said into the phone.
“Ms. Iverson,” said a man in a very slow, comfortable drawl. “This is Captain Joseph Longbow from the Police Department in Wicks Hollow in Michigan. Are you related to Genevieve Fickler?”
“Genevieve? Yes, she’s my aunt. My aunt Jean,” Diana replied, her mouth going dry.
But she already knew what he was going to say.
Three weeks later
Wicks Hollow
It had been more than ten years, but Aunt Jean’s cozy, weather-beaten home looked exactly the same as Diana remembered it—and exactly the same as it had looked when she visited as a young girl in the summers.
A white clapboard farmhouse with peaks and sharp pitched gables, it sprawled like a comfortable chair in a small, grassy clearing surrounded by forest.
Shutters, curlicue trim, and doors painted in dark gray gave it a stately, calm look. A covered, wrap-around porch stained the same sedate charcoal hugged two side
s—and as if to combat the monochrome of the house, a colorful array of perennials burst and bloomed in slender gardens embracing the house: azaleas, early roses, honeysuckle, snowballs, spirea, and hydrangea. She’d missed the lilacs, but the bushes flanking the garage looked healthy and bore the remnants of their early blooms.
Pines, birch, and maples ringed the clearing, sprawling into a full-fledged woods, and on the west side was a small incline that led down to Wicks Lake. Diana could see a hint of blue sparkle through the trees, and best of all, she could smell it through her open windows.
She parked her car on the patch of gravel in front of the detached garage, and Diana turned off the ignition. She blinked rapidly as her eyes clouded with tears.
“Oh, Aunt Jean.”
When she climbed out of the car and closed the door, its slam the only sound other than the quiet lap of waves in the distance. The air smelled clean and fresh, and of freshwater lake tinged with pine and roses.
It was all so familiar and comforting—except this time, there would be no Aunt Jean rushing out onto the porch to greet her. No shrieks of delight, or soft, cushy hugs.
And now, oddly, strangely, the house belonged to Diana.
She left her luggage in the car for now and only brought her briefcase as she climbed up the steps to unlock the door. Once inside, she leaned against the door and closed her eyes, breathing in the aromas of age and summer, dust, lavender, and the faint scent of cat litter.
She’d had so many happy summers here as a young girl, staying with her eccentric, intelligent, and interesting great-aunt.
Sinister Summer Page 1
