Addison Lockhart 02-Rosecliff Manor Haunting

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “Such as?”

  “Last year, he was diagnosed with coronary heart disease. Nasty business.”

  “Nasty … how?”

  “The vessels in his body became narrow and hard, making it difficult for blood to get through to the heart. His doctor suggested surgery. Clifford refused at first, until he had a heart attack and his body made the decision for him.”

  “So, after the heart attack, he agreed to the surgery?”

  Helen nodded. “Didn’t make things better though. Only made them worse.”

  “In what way?”

  “There were some complications. When the surgeon opened him up, he realized there was significant damage to Clifford’s heart tissue. He survived the operation, but his body shut down. He never made it back out of the hospital alive.” Helen tipped her head to the side. “Something tells me you already know that part of the story though, don’t you?”

  “I knew he wasn’t alive. I didn’t know the specifics of how it happened.”

  “What else do you know?”

  “He had two daughters. They both died when they were young, right?”

  There it was, at last. The root. The real reason Addison was sitting in her front parlor querying away. It didn’t have to do with Clifford. Not really. It was information on the girls she was after. “Clifford had twin girls. And you’re right, they died when they were children.”

  “How old were they?”

  “Around twelve or so, if I remember right.” Helen paused. “It was horrible, you know, the way they died. A nightmare no parent should ever have to live through.”

  “What happened?”

  It was so long ago, Helen only recalled vague details. “Seems like it was a holiday. Easter Sunday, I think. The family had gathered together to celebrate at the manor. Aunts, uncles, cousins—all there. After dinner, some of the guests left. Others remained. The children were told to go play in their room so the adults could—”

  “When you say children, are you referring to the twins, or were other children there too?”

  “I can only tell you what was told to me. Nothing more. Now stop interrupting.”

  Addison’s mouth clamped shut. Helen continued.

  “The adults were watching television. No. Wait a minute. That’s not right. They were having cocktails, listening to music. Yes, yes. It’s coming back to me now. When the record finished playing, I believe it was Clifford who got up to change it. He heard a noise outside, a loud thud, followed by another several seconds later. Some of the others heard it too. Rose opened the door, and—”

  “Who’s Rose?”

  Helen frowned at Addison’s second infraction.

  Addison’s hand flew to her mouth. “Sorry. Won’t happen again. I promise.”

  “Rose is Clifford’s wife. She opened the door and thought she saw something. She turned on the porch light and walked outside to get a closer look. There, on the cement in their driveway, were the bruised, broken remains of her daughters.”

  “They were dead?”

  Helen nodded.

  “How?” Addison asked. “I thought you said the children were in their bedroom playing?”

  “At some point during the night, they slipped out of their room and crept up to the attic. No one knows why, or how they got inside in the first place. Rose said she always kept the door locked.”

  “How did they go from playing in the attic to being found dead in front of the house?”

  “They fell. When police arrived, they found the window to the attic had been slid open. On the roof was one of Grace’s dolls. Since there was no proof of foul play, and no other logical explanation, they speculated both girls attempted to retrieve the doll.”

  “And they fell in the process.”

  Helen shrugged. “It’s one of those mysteries of life, right along with the deaths of Marilyn Monroe and Natalie Wood. We’ll never know for sure.”

  With no forewarning, Addison bolted from the chair. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”

  Helen lifted her cane, preventing Addison from moving forward by prodding her in the thigh with the flat end like she was branding her with it. “Now wait just one minute, dear. Hold on. You’re not leaving here until you tell me why you’re so interested in the Clarks’ story.”

  “I … ahh … was just curious. I came across something in an old dresser drawer in my house. A newspaper clipping. It mentioned the girls, but didn’t say much about how they died. I wondered if you knew the details. That’s why I came over.”

  Helen left the cane where it was, suspicious of Addison’s true motives. The gesture seemed to unnerve Addison. She wrapped a hand around the cane in an attempt to remove it, but the moment she touched it, something else happened. Her body went limp and she collapsed on the floor.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Addison,” Helen said. “Addison. Can you hear me? Say something. Speak to me. Hello?”

  Addison could hear her. She could also feel the palm of Helen’s withered hand slapping against the side of her face repeatedly. Her eyes flashed opened. Helen was poised over her, a glass of water in one hand. Milton stood a couple feet away, phone in hand, ready to dial 9-1-1 if need be.

  “Were you planning on pouring water on me?” Addison asked.

  “If I had to, yes, I was,” Helen replied.

  Addison sat up. “How long was I out?”

  “Not more than a minute. What on earth is going on? Have you ever blacked out before?”

  “I … I have to go.”

  “I think not. You aren’t in any position to walk home right now after what just happened. No way. I’ll not have it.”

  Addison boosted herself off the floor, picked her cell phone out of her pocket, and sent Luke a text message. “You know what, Helen? You’re right.”

  “What are you doing? Who are you calling?”

  “I’m not calling anyone. You don’t have to worry. I’ve asked Luke to come get me.”

  “You need to sit down, rest for a few minutes.”

  In the interest of soothing Helen’s strained nerves, she complied. She lifted herself back onto the chair and leaned her head to the side, taking a quick glance down the hallway to see if they were alone. “Where did Milton go?”

  “I have no idea. Why?”

  “How much do you trust him?”

  Addison had blurted the question without much forethought as to how her words would be received. Seeing Helen’s hand press to her chest accompanied by her stunned expression, she realized she’d been coarse, too coarse, and it was too late to backpedal now.

  “What do you mean, how much do I trust him?”

  “I only meant, how well do you know him?”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Helen said. “Milton has been my friend and companion for decades. You know this. I trust him with my life. Why would you even ask me such a thing?”

  Luke’s truck hummed to a stop outside. Addison stood. “I’m sorry, Helen. I don’t even know Milton. I’m sure he’s very good to you. Forget I asked, okay?”

  Addison opened and closed the front door without glancing back, hoping Helen wouldn’t follow her out. A vexatious knot burgeoned inside her.

  When her hand grazed Helen’s cane, she’d caught a glimpse into Helen’s future.

  A future she wished she hadn’t seen.

  CHAPTER 9

  Addison sat next to Luke atop a white and grey, diamond-patterned wool rug, listening to the wood inside the fireplace crack and whistle. It soothed her somehow, watching the shadowy glow of the flames dance along the adjacent wall. And for a brief moment the worries of her mind faded away, becoming still again.

  Luke clutched her hand, caressing her palm with his finger. “What did Helen tell you?”

  Addison filled him in on her visit, and what she’d learned about the twins’ death. When she finished, he said, “Now we know how they died, but we still don’t know where they lived. Did you ask her?”

  They actually didn’t
know how they died. What they knew was how everyone else assumed they died. “I didn’t need to ask Helen where the Clarks lived. I figured it out myself.”

  “How?”

  “We know Cliff was the name of the twins’ father. And Helen said their mother’s name is Rose. The first part of the sign I saw posted in front of the gate in my dream was Rose, only it’s not Rosecrest or Rosecrans, it’s Rosecliff.”

  “Their two names together.” He bumped shoulders with Addison, grinned. “It’s kinda romantic when you think about it. We could put a sign in front of this place one day, change it from Grayson Manor to something else, although AddisonLuke Manor doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

  It was the second time in the last week that he’d mentioned their future. Both times he’d looked her in the eye, gauging her reaction. She’d always been skittish when relationships progressed to this level in the past. It triggered the demons, the failed liaisons, the heartache. A past where kicking things up a notch had always resulted in her getting singed and scarred. Broken. Left to pick up the pieces and start again.

  When Luke entered her life, it was like a special kind of oxygen had been pumped into the air. He was different. Honest and pure. Part of her thought she didn’t deserve him.

  “Hey,” Luke said. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “About posting a sign with our names on it?”

  “I asked if you found anything on Rosecliff when you searched it.”

  “I did. There’s a Rosecliff Manor about twenty miles from here in Pleasant Valley. I thought we could drive over tomorrow. Once I see it, I should be able to tell right away if I’m at the right place.”

  “And if you are, what then?”

  “I hope to make contact with the girls again, see if I can get them to talk to me about what happened the night they died. Thing is, I’m not sure they know they’re dead. Vivian might, but I get the impression Grace is confused.”

  “Any idea how you’ll make contact?” Luke asked.

  Addison shook her head. “I don’t even know if I can get them to appear to me again, but it’s worth a try. If they died at the manor, their spirits must still be tied to it.”

  “What do you think about Helen saying their deaths were considered an accident?”

  “How can it be? If Vivian and Grace fell from the window as innocently as everyone believes they did, they should have left this world the moment they died. All these years later, and they’re still here. Something’s not right.”

  “They’re kids. Maybe they don’t know how to get where they’re going.”

  “A small part of me wants to believe they stayed because they didn’t want to leave without their parents. I don’t think that’s how it works though. And even if it was, even if some higher power granted them the choice of whether to stay or go, when I had the vision at the cemetery, Cliff crossed over right after he died. The girls remained here. For whatever reason, they couldn’t go with him.”

  Luke leaned back on his elbows, pressing his hands onto the fibers of carpet. “You said Cliff didn’t hear the twins, and he didn’t see them, even though they were there in the hospital room with him. It still seems strange to me that they’re all dead, the girls could see him, but he couldn’t see them.”

  “I agree. What’s even more interesting is how confused Grace was about what was happening. I saw her face when she called out to him. She expected him to answer. Vivian didn’t. She made no attempt to keep him here. Her only concern was Grace. She seemed to know they had to stay, and he had to go.”

  Luke mulled it over in his mind. “Okay, let’s say their deaths weren’t an accident. What other options are there? What could have happened?”

  Addison had been pondering this exact question, trying to recreate the fatal event in her mind. A few things were clear, but so many other things weren’t. The kids had been sent away after dinner. They went to the attic. Assuming the attic window was closed at the time, someone opened it. Grace’s doll was then tossed onto the roof. After both girls allegedly tried to retrieve it, they fell to their deaths. “There are several gaps I need to fill before I can put it all together. Who opened the window? And why was the doll thrown onto the roof in the first place? Was it a joke, an accident, or was it deliberate and calculated? Was anyone else in the room at the time, and if so, did that person know Grace would go after the doll and in turn, Vivian would go after Grace?”

  “Guess we won’t know until we dig deeper.”

  “I’m also curious to know how far away the doll was from the window. Was it close, a foot or two, almost within their grasp, making it more plausible for them to think they could reach it? Or was it deliberately heaved several feet away? If they were around eleven or twelve years old at the time, they were old enough to understand the danger of stepping onto the window ledge to get to the roof. Especially for a doll. Why would they risk it?”

  “Vivian could have thrown the doll on the roof and then dared Grace to get it,” Luke said. “You said she’s been trying to protect her. Have you considered why? Sure, she’s her sister, but what if there’s more to it? She could be protecting her because she feels guilty about what happened. Think about it.”

  But they were both dead, which meant his theory was wrong.

  It had to be.

  “I can’t imagine Vivian had anything to do with what happened. She was just a child.”

  Speculation aside, there was one shred of truth to his accusation. If Vivian didn’t throw the doll, she might be the only person who knew who did.

  CHAPTER 10

  The exterior of Rosecliff Manor hadn’t altered much over the years. It was like it had been preserved in time, impervious to change. The grass looked the same. The gate looked the same. But the tall, sturdy oak tree towering over the front yard looked different.

  Addison pushed the truck door closed and made a beeline for the tree, her eyes focused on the iron fence surrounding it on all four sides. The fence was picket style, with scrolled posts that looked like upside-down hearts.

  “The girls were chasing each other around this tree in my dream,” Addison said to Luke. “This fence wasn’t here though.”

  She reached the fence, leaned forward, and wrapped her hands around the rails, staring down at a rectangular headstone bearing the words:

  IN LOVING MEMORY OF

  VIVIAN ASHLEY CLARK AND GRACE ANN CLARK

  PASSED AWAY 1ST OF AUGUST 1975

  AGED 11 YEARS

  REST IN HEAVENLY PEACE

  Now Addison understood. The girls weren’t buried in the Rhinebeck Cemetery because they were here, at Rosecliff Manor. Why wasn’t their father buried here too?

  The manor door gust open. A woman in her upper seventies with thin gray hair pinned back into a stiff bun speed-walked toward them. Draped over her white short-sleeved blouse was a black apron with tiny red cherries scattered all over it. A dollop of what appeared to be flour dusted the left side of her cheek. In one hand, she clenched a wooden spoon. The spoon meant business.

  At first glance, Addison thought the woman appeared small and frail, with skin so lean and fragile the bones were practically protruding out. What she lacked in size, she made up for with a booming voice that echoed through the air. “You two. Get away from there!”

  Addison released her hand from the fence’s railing, took a couple steps back. “We were just—”

  The woman moved her spoonless hand to her hips. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

  Looking to start fresh, Addison stuck out her hand. “You’re Rose Clark, aren’t you?”

  The woman half-closed one eye, retracting away from Addison’s hand like it was a snake poised to strike. “How do you know my name?”

  Good question. One Addison wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet.

  “I’m Addison. This is Luke.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “You own Rosecliff Manor, don’t you?”

  “What about it?”

 
“I own a manor myself, in Rhinebeck. I was hoping I could talk to you for a few—”

  “About what?”

  Unsure of how to ease Rose’s apprehension, Addison turned to Luke for help.

  “I’ve admired your manor for several years now,” he said.

  Rose reeled her head around, looking at the manor like she didn’t share his fascination. When she turned back, she said, “Why? There are plenty of houses around like this one.”

  “Not like yours.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m a historical restoration architect,” he said. “Every once in a while, I come across a house that stands out the way Rosecliff Manor does. When we drove past, I couldn’t help myself. I apologize if we disturbed you. Truth is, we were hoping to get a closer look at the place.”

  “I … don’t know. I don’t know you. Either of you.”

  Luke dug inside his pocket, pulled out a business card, and offered it to her. “If now’s not a good time, I understand. What about another day this week?”

  Addison sighed.

  Another day this week?

  She hoped he hadn’t blown their chance to get inside.

  “This week?” Rose said. “I’m not sure. I’d have to think about it.”

  Translation: opportunity over.

  A car rounded the corner. Addison squinted in disbelief. It was the vintage Ford she’d seen in her dream. A man sat in the driver’s seat. He had a familiar face, but something about him was different than the man who’d been in the driver’s seat before. This man was older. He raised a hand, drove in between the manor gates, and pulled to a stop in front of the house.

  Rose’s expression softened. The man exited the vehicle and walked over, planting a tender kiss on her forehead.

  “You didn’t tell me you were having anyone over today, Mom,” the man said.