Grayson Manor Haunting

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “Unfortunately, she had very good aim,” Helen added. “The single shot killed Roxy immediately.”

  “And my mother?” Addison asked. “Where was she?”

  “All curled up in the corner of the room, crying.”

  “So you see,” Helen said, “it was an accident. Your mother probably didn’t mean to shoot her. She got scared. Her father was her whole world. She was only trying to protect him. She didn’t know Roxy had only been trying to defend herself.”

  “But why not tell the police? What would they possibly do to a child?”

  “That’s just it,” Marjorie said. “We didn’t know what they’d do. And we weren’t about to risk it. Our primary concern was to protect your mother. We couldn’t imagine all the questions the police would have asked her, or how many times they would have grilled her, making her relive the events over and over again. I couldn’t put her through that.”

  “So what did you do?” Addison asked.

  Marjorie spoke up. “I had her stay with Helen while I dealt with the police. When all the fuss died down and we’d destroyed the evidence, I left Grayson Manor knowing I would never return. The four of us made a deal to never mention what happened again.”

  “Did my mother ever tell you what actually happened?”

  “She didn’t,” Marjorie said. “In fact, I did everything I could to help her forget it, but I know she never did.”

  Luke leaned forward. “We know Addison’s grandfather was buried in the woods. What we don’t know is—what did you do with Roxanne Rafferty?”

  CHAPTER 49

  Luke, Addison, and Marjorie stood next to the wine racks at the back of the hidden room. Addison’s father had received an invitation to join Helen for dinner, an offer he couldn’t refuse.

  “So where’s Roxanne?” Addison asked.

  Marjorie bent her head to one side. Addison didn’t follow. Marjorie bent her head again, this time a little more.

  “You’re telling me, she’s in there?” Addison pointed. “In the wall?! No wonder she can’t move on.”

  Marjorie shrugged. “I had no way of knowing she’d be stuck here, in this life. I mean, it crossed my mind, but you need to understand—time was essential. We had to make a decision. I’m not proud of what I’ve done.”

  “Why not bury her in the woods next to my grandfather?”

  “Hugh and Celeste dealt with him, and Helen and I dealt with her. We decided not to tell each other what we’d done in case one of the bodies was discovered. The less people involved the better.”

  Addison sized up the brick wall. “What exactly did you do?”

  “This room used to be two feet wider. So we just…”

  Luke felt up and down the bricks. “Stuck her inside and sealed it up. Do you see the way this is cracking? I bet I can pull some of these bricks out with my fingers.”

  “We need to get her out,” Addison insisted.

  “We can’t. Not now that Norman’s body has been found. The police will be back, this time with even more zest than before. We have no choice. Roxy may be uneasy, but she’ll just have to wait.”

  “We can’t wait.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because Roxanne’s spirit isn’t the only one that’s uneasy.”

  Marjorie squinted. “What do you mean?”

  Addison told her what she had experienced the night before.

  “Norman knows Roxy’s spirit is still here,” Marjorie said. “She killed him, and now that he has been freed, he’s come back for her.” She was quiet for a time. “I’ll need your help to get rid of him for good, but Roxy’s body stays until I see fit to let her go.”

  “No!”

  A startled Marjorie took a step back. Luke smiled.

  “This isn’t up to you,” Addison said. “This is my house now. I’m setting her free.”

  “You don’t know what you’re doing, Addison. Roxy doesn’t know who killed her. You might think she’s not a vengeful spirit, but trust me. She is.”

  Addison faced Marjorie. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to write a letter, and you’re going to leave it with me. Then I want you to disappear. Go somewhere for a while and don’t come back until all of this has blown over.” She turned to Luke. “I want you to pick up my father. Take him into town. Do something with him—anything. Just make sure he’s clear of the house until you hear from me.”

  ***

  Marjorie and Addison sat in the center of the floor in her mother’s old room, their hands joined together, eyes closed.

  “Are you ready?” Marjorie asked.

  “Ready.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t break hold. We will do our part. What happens after that is up to them.”

  “Have you done this before?”

  “No. But when my mother was alive, she did it with her mother, and they taught me how.”

  Addison flinched. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the queasy, curdled-milk feeling inside of her. This was it. She could feel Roxanne nearby, her spirit wandering to and fro, as if pacing the room.

  Marjorie began. “Norman Grayson, we invite you in.”

  Several seconds passed. Nothing happened. Addison half opened one eye and leaned forward. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

  Marjorie shook her head, silencing Addison. “Norman Grayson, I command you to appear.”

  The bedroom light went out. Darkness spread across the room, and from it, the spirit of Addison’s grandfather rose up through the planks of wood, his body twisting and turning to break free. His head swiveled around, taking in his surroundings. A devilish grin ripped across his face. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long time, and it was finally here.

  He didn’t seem to notice Addison and Marjorie at first. When he did, his face shot forward in an instant, hovering only a few inches in front of Addison. His mouth opened, but he didn’t speak. He cackled, his head looming in front of her like he wanted to crawl inside of her mind. She had the urge to let go of her grandmother’s hands and swish her hands in front of her, fending him off. Then she remembered her grandmother’s words: Whatever you do, don’t break hold.

  Just when she thought he couldn’t come any closer, his head twisted around, his eyes falling upon Marjorie like a pair of daggers. Marjorie opened her eyes. Met his gaze. And then she gave him a look that reeked of sweet revenge. She glanced down, enticing him to follow her gaze, to see her hands entwined with Addison’s, bound as one.

  The smug grin left his face.

  Light entered the room, just as it had the first night Roxanne had appeared at the end of Addison’s bed. No longer did Roxanne look like a spirit; she looked human, like Addison could reach out and touch her, feel her flesh. Norman’s hands shot out in front of him, his hands gripping Roxanne’s neck. Her light started to fade. Roxanne looked at him, then at Addison. She reached her hand out toward her.

  “Take it,” Marjorie said.

  “But I thought you said—”

  “We cannot help those in darkness. Only those on the side of the light. She is full of light. I can see that now. She needs you, Addison.”

  Addison didn’t think—she reacted, locking hands with Roxanne. Roxanne flattened her free hand in front of her, spreading her fingers apart. A white orb formed inside her palm. She made a fist and then thrust her hand into Norman’s chest. She uncurled her fingers and released the orb inside him. He writhed, trying to shake her off, but it was too late. Light coursed through his body, growing brighter until it burst, spreading tiny fragments of white crystals throughout the air.

  The room returned to normal. Addison’s grandfather was gone, but Roxanne remained. Marjorie released Addison’s hand and stood. “She came to you. Only you can help her get to where she needs to be.”

  “I don’t even know what I’m doing. Do I have to do it alone?”

  “You don’t need me anymore—not for this. Trust yourself. Believe in yourself.” She walked to
the door and turned. “I’m very proud of you, Addison. You’ve grown into a strong, beautiful woman, just like your mother. Let your strength be your guide.”

  The door closed. Addison rose, facing Roxanne. “I’m not really sure how to do this, or what to say, but here it goes. Your death was an accident. Since then, you’ve been trapped here. You didn’t get the respect or the recognition you deserved. I’m sorry for what was done to you. And if you let me, I will make sure you are honored and put you in a place where others can honor you too. You’re free, Roxanne. Free to leave this life and this house. It’s time for you to move on. Don’t be afraid.”

  Addison stepped back as if expecting some kind of magical light to appear. It didn’t. But something else did. A door, shiny and white, where the window in the room used to be. It opened. Addison saw nothing but pure white light on the other side.

  Roxanne saw something different. She hoisted a hand into the air and began waving. Tears rolled down both sides of her cheeks. She ran to the door, stopping for a brief moment to turn back and look at Addison. “Thank you,” she said.

  A moment later, both the door and Roxanne were gone.

  CHAPTER 50

  Lia McReedy sat on Addison’s sofa, one leg bent under the other, arms crossed, eyes glued to a piece of paper in front of her dated October 1952. She chewed the inside of her mouth as she read a letter that started: It is out of the guilt in my heart that I write this letter. When she finished, she folded the letter, set it on her leg and looked over. “Where did you find this?”

  “I was looking through an old chest in a storage room and it was on the inside of my grandmother’s wedding album,” Addison replied.

  “Why show it to me first and not the police?”

  “I guess I felt more comfortable calling you. I hope that’s okay.”

  “You understand what this means, right?”

  Addison nodded. “Roxanne Rafferty shot my grandfather in self-defense. My mother, who was a child at the time, shot Roxanne, and my grandmother covered it up. She buried Norman in the woods and Roxanne in the basement.”

  Lia tapped the side of her cheek with a finger. “It’s so odd to me that she didn’t just bury the bodies together. And your mother never mentioned it to anyone—not even when she was an adult?”

  “Not to me or my father.”

  Addison’s father, who had been sitting quietly in an armchair, spoke up. “It’s true. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “Why do you think your grandmother wrote it down?”

  Addison shrugged. “She probably wished she could tell someone, but there wasn’t anyone she could trust.”

  “So…where’s your grandmother now?”

  Addison exchanged glances with her father. “I don’t know. We haven’t seen her in years.”

  ***

  A few hours later, Grayson Manor was once again bombarded with various representatives of the police department. Luke stated that after he’d read the letter Addison shared with him, he’d done a little digging in the hidden storage room. He said it hadn’t taken much to take apart some of the brick wall and that a single glow from his flashlight attested to the truth of Marjorie’s letter—there were the remains of a body, wrapped in plastic, behind the wall. What followed was a media frenzy that went viral—one that would forever label Grayson Manor as a “haunted house.” Addison didn’t care. The opinions of others mattered little to her now.

  CHAPTER 51

  (Three months later)

  Addison, Luke, Hugh and Celeste Brandon, and Helen stood together in front of Roxanne Rafferty’s headstone. In unison, they bowed their heads and paid their last respects by offering a moment of silence in her honor. And although Marjorie was not in attendance, Addison felt her presence, certain she was somewhere nearby, watching and perhaps offering some kind of respect of her own.

  The buzz surrounding the double murder had finally started to die down—not completely—but enough to allow Addison the space she needed to breathe again. Luke continued to work on the house, and sometimes, she even joined him.

  When the moment of silence was over, Addison lifted her head. A conversation started about the quote Addison had requested to be etched beneath Roxanne’s name on her headstone: Life every man holds dear; but the dear man holds honor far more precious dear than life - Shakespeare. Addison, however, wasn’t reading along with the group. She was staring off into the distance, watching two little girls in matching yellow dresses chase each other around a headstone. It seemed so odd that they’d been left unattended. Where is their mother? Addison looked around. She saw no one. The girls stopped as if realizing they were being watched. They joined hands and stared directly at her. One waved. Then they took a step back and disappeared. Addison squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. They were gone.

  “Are you all right?” Luke asked.

  She entwined her hands in his and they walked back to the car. “I’m...fine, I think. I thought I just saw—”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything,” he replied. “You know that.”

  “Have you ever been to the beach?”

  ***

  And now for an exclusive peek at the first chapter of Rosecliff Manor Haunting, book two in the Addison Lockhart series.

  CHAPTER 1

  Addison Lockhart’s eyes blinked open, and she glanced around, surprised to find herself standing next to a tall, wrought-iron gate lining the perimeter in front of a three-story manor. She didn’t know where she was, how long she’d been there, or how she came to be there in the first place. It was like she’d been transported through time, sucked through one end of a static passageway and spit out the other.

  Ten minutes earlier, it was nighttime, and she was at home, although she couldn’t recall what she’d been doing before she’d been plucked away. Now it was daytime, and the sun’s delicate rays enveloped her, pulsing shots of heat through every pore of her freckled skin.

  Addison looked around. Besides the manor, there were a few other houses in view, but the neighborhood was quiet. Almost too quiet. No birds chirping. No dogs barking. No wind. No noticeable sounds of any kind.

  The noise wasn’t all that was lacking either. When she glanced down she gasped, finding herself dressed in a practically see-through nightgown. Her feet were bare, her exposed arms and legs a milkier shade of white than she remembered them being.

  None of it made sense.

  A car turned down the road, and her eyes darted around, desperate to find a hiding spot to shield her half-naked body. She wrapped her fingers around the rails of the gate in front of her and pushed forward. But the gate wouldn’t budge, and the car was fast approaching. Having no other place to go, she crossed her arms in front of her breasts, squeezed her legs together, and hoped for the best.

  The car passed by like it was gliding on air, silent, and without stopping. The man in the driver’s seat couldn’t have been more than four feet away, and yet, he never looked over. Not even a single fleeting glance. Addison stared in disbelief as he coasted by. His chocolate brown hair was long and feathered, and the car he was driving, an orange Ford coupe with black stripes, looked out of place considering it was 2015.

  The car didn’t belong.

  And he didn’t belong.

  Or maybe it was the other way around.

  Maybe she was the one who was out of place.

  Addison watched the car disappear over the other side of the hill and then turned, shifting her focus back to the manor, a smoky gray building with eight symmetrical windows lining the first two levels. The home’s exterior looked like it had been carved from a single slab of stone, except for the thick, wooden door in the center. She stared at the door for a moment, and two things happened: a wave of sound penetrated the stale air like a needle pricking a balloon, and the front door of the manor creaked opened. Two girls spilled out, both wearing yellow, short-sleeved dresses with Peter Pan collars.
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  The door closed behind the twin girls as they descended a series of steps in front of the house, both hopping off the last one onto the meticulously mowed grass in the front yard. One of the girls squatted, picking a thin tree branch off the ground. She slapped the wood against her flat hand, innocently taunting her twin before waving the stick in the air. The twin, who held a furry, white kitten in her arms, pressed it against her chest like the cat’s life depended on it.

  The girl with the stick used it as a wand, pointing and taunting in the other girl’s direction. “You better run, Grace, or the cat gets it!”

  “You wouldn’t, Viv!” the other girl shrieked.

  And the chase was on, both girls circling the trunk of a majestic oak several times before an out-of-breath Grace sagged to the ground, relenting. She looked at Viv. “You better not hurt Shadow. I mean it!”

  Viv rolled her eyes and plopped down beside her, tossing the stick across the yard. “Don’t blow your top, Grace. I’d never hurt her, and you know it.”

  Grace squinted, screwing up her face at Viv like she wasn’t sure whether she believed her. “Oh…kay. Why’d ya chase me with a stick then?”

  “Good grief, I was just teasin’.” Viv tipped her head toward the cat. “Thought you wanted to play hopscotch.”

  “I do.”

  “Why don’t you put the fur ball down then?”

  Grace surveyed the area. “Out here? I can’t. What if she gets out of the yard and gets hit by a car? Or what if she runs away and we can’t find her? Or what if—”

  Viv held a flattened hand out in front of her. “All right, all right. I get it. Put her back in the house then.”