"I was scared to death then. I called the police. They talked to him and warned him to stay away from me, and they gave me advice on how to handle the situation. I hoped they'd thrown a scare into him. They hadn't. He only got worse. He called more frequently, he followed me to and from work, and tailed me when I ran errands. There was no escape from him. He promised me that I would be his, no matter how long it took.
"I was a nervous wreck. I was afraid to leave the house, pick up the phone-to do anything. Mr. Morgan was everywhere, like he had cloned himself a dozen times. I called the police again, and I got a restraining order. Instead of cooling him off, it drove him over the edge.
"When I was alone in the teacher's lounge one afternoon, he assaulted me. I've always been a fitness nut, trying out new sports, and when I was in college I'd started learning tae kwon do and had gotten as far as a blue belt. The training came in handy, and it probably helped, too, that Mr. Morgan isn't that much bigger than I am. He's about five-nine and pretty lean, and I'm five-seven. Anyway, we tangled in there, and I busted his lip. It might've gone further if a couple other teachers hadn't walked into the room. Mr. Morgan ran out, and I called the cops again.
"Now, you'd think that after I had kicked his butt, he'd leave me alone, right? Nope. First of all, the cops didn't find him at home. They couldn't find him anywhere. That night, I stayed at a friend's house, 'cause I was afraid to go to my place alone. She lived with her boyfriend, so there were three of us there, and she had a rottweiler, too. I thought I would be safe, if only for that night.
"Late, around one in the morning, Mr. Morgan broke into the house. He had a gun this time. He shot my friend's dog, then he pistol-whipped my friend's fiance. I heard all of this happening while I was in the guest bedroom, and let me tell you, never in my life have I been so scared. I pushed the dresser against the door and hid in the closet. Mr. Morgan tried to break down the door, and he kept chanting `Going to get my baby, Nia; she belongs to me. Nia's all mine, all mine, all mine.' He had gone crazy. I was convinced that he would break in and blow me away. I was praying just as much as he was chanting.
"The police got there before Mr. Morgan could get me. He gave himself up peacefully. He was sentenced to two years in prison for assault and other charges"
"Only two years?" David said. "That guy was going to kill you!"
She smiled bitterly. "He could get paroled sooner, for good behavior."
"That's crazy," he said. "Damn, I'm so sorry you had to go through something like that"
"I had to leave Houston," she said. "I used to love the city, but it held too many painful memories for me. Even though Mr. Morgan was in prison, I imagined that I saw his face everywhere I went. I had nightmares-and still do sometimes-about him escaping and coming to finish me off. Mama asked me to come back home. It didn't take much convincing on her part. I was ready to live in a place where I felt safe"
"And this Morgan guy is still in jail, right?"
"He's been locked up for a little over a year. But like I said, he could get out early. I'm praying that whenever he's released, he won't come after me. I hope he forgets about me"
"You think he could find you here?"
Her eyes were haunted. "Definitely. He's slick, smart. He could track me down. Some women who've been stalked have actually needed to change their names and move far away, to where no one knows them like they're in a witness protection program. But I never want to do that. I can't leave behind everything I know and love."
He reached across the table and took her hands in his. Her skin was cool, her palms moist, and he realized how much reliving her terror had shaken her.
"I picked up tae kwon do again, after I moved back home," she said. "I take classes at a dojo in Memphis. I've got a black belt now. I've bought a gun, too. And I know how to use it. If Mr. Morgan comes again, I'll be ready for him."
"You've got another weapon, too," he said.
"What's that?"
"Me. I'm not letting anything happen to you. You've got a bodyguard, girl."
She smiled, squeezed his hands. "You're so sweet. How did I ever meet such a nice guy at the park in little, boring Mason's Corner?"
The words came out of him before he could think about the meaning of what he was saying.
"Maybe it was destiny."
Andre pulled up in his car at ten minutes past nine o'clock.
Junior had been sitting on the rickety front steps of the trailer. He had been fidgeting, restlessly counting the stars in the clear night sky. He never liked to show up late for a job. Andre was supposed to pick him up at a quarter to nine, and as the minutes ticked away, Junior grew more agitated. The bald-headed, rich man in the Lexus was offering them good money for a few hours' work, and they were going to blow it by showing up late. What if the guy hired someone else? They'd miss out on all that money.
At times like this, Junior felt an aching need for his own pickup truck. With his own ride, he'd never arrive late to work, anywhere.
When Andre arrived in his battered white Chevy, Junior raced to the car.
"Man, we're late!" Junior hustled inside. "We was s'posed to be up there at nine. It's ten minutes after!"
"Chill out, cuz," Andre said. A toothpick dangled from his lips. From the pungent smell inside the car, Junior could tell that Andre had been smoking, and not cigarettes, either. Andre had that lazy look in his eyes that let Junior know his cousin was as high as a kite.
"You been smokin'," Junior said. "We got to be ready to work, Andre"
Swiveling the steering wheel with one hand, Andre made a dismissive motion. "You worry too much, cuz. It's cool."
"That man's gonna be mad that we late," Junior said. Andre cruised, slowly, and Junior gritted his teeth. With the passing of each minute, he could feel dollar bills slipping out of his fingers.
"What I wanna know is," Andre said, "what this cat gonna have us diggin' up? I told you they say the Mason crib is haunted."
"I don't know," Junior said. He had avoided thinking about the scary tales of the Mason place, preferring to focus on the money he was going to earn.
"I been asking around 'bout that cat," Andre said. "I heard he was from France; that's why he got that funny accent"
"Oh," Junior said. He didn't know exactly where France was, only that it was far away and that he'd never go there. Not unless they had some good-paying jobs he could do that would be worth the trip.
"It just don't make any damn sense. A nigga from France living in that big-assed, haunted crib, and now he want us to do some digging-at night. I got a bad feeling about it, cuz"
"We gotta go, Andre. That's a lot of money-"
"I know, you wanna make some money. I need the money too, that's the only reason I'm going with you. My girl's been on my case 'bout working a job"
They drove up the steep country road that led to the Mason house. Junior hadn't been up here in ... well, he couldn't remember the last time. No one lived up this way, so there was no reason for him to ever swing through this part of town.
The mansion came into view. It sat far back from the road, up on a peak. Soft lights gleamed through the windows.
A tall, wrought-iron gate restricted access to the long dirt lane that led to the house. Andre parked in front of the entrance.
They got out of the car. Towering trees, cloaked in darkness, flanked the fence. A cool breeze whistled through the branches.
Other than the wind, the night was silent, as though they stood on a hill at the top of the world.
Andre approached the gate. "Damn, this place is creepy as hell."
Junior ignored Andre. He peered through the fence bars, looking for the black Frenchman. "We too late. I bet he left us and got someone else. We ain't gonna make any money."
"Stop tripping." Andre banged the gate with his fist. It creaked open on rusty hinges. "Come on"
Junior followed Andre inside. Across the lawn, a moving shadow appeared.
"Gentlemen!" It was the Frenchman. He shined
a flashlight in their direction. "Only the two of you have come?"
"Yeah," Andre said. "We didn't bring nobody else."
"We apologize for being late, mister," Junior said.
"That is acceptable," the man said. "My name is Mamu- walde."
"Mamma-what?" Andre said.
"Simply call me Mamu," he said, as if annoyed.
Mamu, Junior thought. Figured he'd have a crazy name like that.
The fella had changed into a new suit, too, Junior noticed. This one was navy blue, just as sharp as the other one. The guy probably had a closetful of nice clothes.
Mamu gave them a once-over. "I earnestly hope that you are prepared to work, gentlemen, and to work hard. We have a great deal of labor ahead of us tonight."
"Diggin' for what?" Andre said.
Mamu only smiled. "We are behind schedule. Follow me, please."
Andre mumbled something under his breath, but he followed. Junior followed his cousin.
They walked toward the mansion, but as they got closer, Mamu cut a path along the side. Junior realized that they weren't going inside the house. They were going somewhere else on the property.
But the house held his attention as they walked past it. He looked at the soft light that flickered in the windows, but blinds prevented him from seeing through the glass and figuring out what was going on inside.
He thought he saw a dark face peering at him through a dimly lit window on the second floor. But when he blinked, the face was gone if it was ever there to begin with.
A chill rattled down his spine. He wasn't going to pay any more attention to the house. He kept his attention on the ground.
They walked along the side of the mansion, then across the huge backyard, and finally entered the woods that bordered the lawn. Mamu led the way with the flashlight, but it was so dark out there that when Junior turned away from the light, he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face.
He quickly turned back to the spray of light cast by Mamu's flashlight. The darkness gave him the creeps. Shoot, this whole place creeped him out.
No wonder folks said the place was haunted.
They had trudged through the woods for several minutes when they reached a clearing near a huge tree. At the edge of the meadow, a gigantic, kudzu-covered hill rose high into the sky. It looked like the side of a mountain.
"I didn't know they had all this back here," Andre said to Junior.
"Me, neither."
Mamu turned on another light. It was one of those big circular lights that stood on a stand.
Equipment was spread out on the grass. Junior saw shovels, sledgehammers, a gas lamp, a hammer drill, a yellow canister that had the word "gunpowder" written on the side, several empty buckets, a heap of blankets piled on what looked like a stretcher, and more stuff he couldn't name.
"This is our work site," Mamu said. He tossed a shovel to each of them, and gave each of them a pair of gloves, too.
Mamu walked to the vine-covered hill. He pointed.
"We will begin digging here," he said.
"We gonna be digging into this mountain?" Andre said.
"It is not a mountain," Mamu said. His lips curved into a mysterious smile. "It is a cave."
Chapter 5
' round half-past midnight, David parked in front of Nia's l lhouse.
"Want to take a walk?" Nia said. "I'm not ready to go in yet"
"Sure. But you know, people in Atlanta don't walk around the neighborhood at this hour"
"Let go of that big city paranoia, sweetie," she said. She pinched his cheek. "It's safe here."
They climbed out of the truck. David glanced at the front windows of her house. A curtain dropped, as if someone was spying on them and didn't want to be seen.
"Your mother, huh?" he said. "She's up late."
"Oh, yeah. Mama won't go to bed until I come in. That's how she is."
"Are you and your mother close?"
"We are," Nia said. "Maybe too close. I love Mama, but she can be overprotective. She's always been like that with me, her only girl, and what happened in Houston only makes her worry more"
They took each other's hand-it felt like a natural gesture they had been doing for years-and strolled along the sidewalk.
The neighborhood was quiet and peaceful. Lights shone in the windows of many homes, but almost as many other houses were dark. Cicadas, crickets, and other night creatures sang their timeless songs. A balmy breeze riffled the trees.
"Have you mentioned anything to your mother about me?" he said.
"Are you kidding?" Nia said. "She'd tie me to a chair to keep me from leaving unless I told her who you were"
"What did she say?"
"You don't want to know."
"Why?"
"Let's just say that Mama knew your father's reputation for being a player, back in the day. In her opinion, `the fruit doesn't fall far from the tree.' I'm putting it more nicely than she did."
"Great. So your mother doesn't trust me"
"Don't worry, I'll take care of it. You just be your normal, sweet self."
Ahead, there was a small playground with swings, a slide, monkey bars, and a couple of wooden benches. Nia sat on the bench and pulled him down beside her. A street lamp cast golden light over them.
They turned to face one another. David could feel the desire building between them. He stroked the back of her neck. She put her soft hand against his cheek.
They kissed, lightly at first, then, more deeply.
"Do you realize," she said, "that we've spent almost the entire day together?"
"And the day has passed way too quickly," he said, and kissed her again. Moaning softly, she ran her fingers through his short hair. She shifted her body to mesh into his.
He placed his hand on her thigh, stroked her smooth skin. She felt so good against him that he never wanted to move. The scent of her perfume enveloped him like a sweet fog.
What a fine, fine woman. Feminine and sexy, yet independent and strong. A perfect blend of every quality he had ever dreamed of finding in a woman. If Nia were a drink, he would've drunk himself into a stupor.
He didn't know how long they kissed-time stood motionless as their lips and tongues flowed together but at some point, when his eyes were open for an instant, he glimpsed the Mason place in the distance, between the tree branches. Light glowed faintly at the windows.
His stomach heaved, as though he had swallowed something sour. Reluctantly, he broke off their kiss.
"What's wrong?" she said. "You look like you've bitten into a rotten apple."
"That house" He pointed behind her. "Something about it really bothers me"
Frowning, she looked over her shoulder. "The Mason place?"
"I get a bad feeling every time I look at it. A feeling that something isn't quite right there"
Her voice lowered. "It's supposed to be haunted, did you know that?"
"I've heard. Someone just moved in there, too"
"What? Who?"
"I don't know who, but when Chief Jackson stopped by, he said someone had moved into the place. He didn't say much else about it. What do you know about the house?"
"Only the basics. I know that the man who founded the town, Ed Mason, ran his plantation from there. He was known for being cruel to his slaves. Around the time of the Civil War, his slaves revolted and killed him-they hung him from a tree. But many of the slaves who took part in the insurrection were then killed themselves by the authorities. A lot of bloodshed happened up there"
"What about these tales of the house being haunted?"
She smiled, but it was a nervous smile. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"
"Definitely, now that you've got me curious."
"Okay," she said. She drew a breath. "My brothers and I went up there, once. I was nine, I think ... they would've been eleven and thirteen. Like I told you earlier, the three of us were always into stuff we had no business doing. We got the bright idea in our heads that we'd see if the M
ason place was really haunted.
"We rode our bikes up there one summer afternoon. Eric, the eldest, led the way, I was in the middle, and Robert brought up the rear. We left our bikes at the gate, then climbed the fence. There were so many tall, old trees up there, throwing deep shadows everywhere. And it was so still, too, like the quiet before a storm.
"We walked down the path, to the mansion. We were bunched so closely together I'm surprised we didn't stumble over one another's shoes.
"We'd decided that we were just going to look in a window. But we had to get close to do it. We had to go onto the veranda. We climbed the steps and walked across the veranda, trying to keep from tripping on all the vines that covered everything. We went up to one of the front windows. It was covered with dirt, so Eric cleaned a spot with his shirt. Then we looked inside."
"What did you see?" David said. Although she was telling the story, his own heart hammered.
"We saw a gray-haired white man, dressed in a black suit. He sat in a rocking chair in the living room. I could see every detail about him-it was Edward Mason. For real. I recognized him from pictures. His face was bluish, and his eyes bulged. He looked like someone who had been cut from the noose after he'd been hanging for a while. He turned and looked right at us.
"I think all of our hearts froze. We were paralyzed. The man rose up out of that chair-floated out of the chair, really-and started to come toward us. He levitated through the air, walking, but his feet weren't touching the floor.
"We snapped out of our daze and ran away from the house, screaming. I was as fast as my brothers, and I don't ever remember running so fast. But as we were bolting across the yard, there were people watching us from the shadows under the trees. Black people dressed in work clothes, like slaves on a plantation. I couldn't see them clearly-they flickered, sort of, like images cast by a film projector. But they were there. All of us saw them.
"My brothers and I hurdled that fence like it was only two feet high instead of six. Got on our bikes and zoomed away from there. I've never been back since, and never will if I can help it."
Finished speaking, she hugged herself. He put his arm around her, drew her closer.
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