The Haunting of Cragg Hill House

by Elyse Salpeter

  Though if that were the situation, why was Desmond also so adamant about re-opening the case? He’d been the most vocal person on the force about it. But the police had told Desmond to back off. That was the one part that didn’t make any sense. Or else it was an absolutely brilliant move. Bain leaned towards the latter.

  And now both Desmond and Kelsey were here. In the mountains, stranded with him.

  Bain glanced through the huge front windows of the Mountain House. The storm was fierce and they were not going anywhere anytime soon. You won’t be able to disappear this time, Detective. Bain took another sip and finished his drink. He smiled one of his rare smiles, knowing he’d have answers by the end of this trip, whether Desmond and Kelsey helped him…

  Or not.

  Oh, look at this. This just keeps getting better and better. Desmond had grabbed a drink from the bar and was making a beeline straight towards him. Bain sized Gisborne up as he deposited his impressive bulk in the wingchair opposite him. Armani black trousers, a BOSS slim fit dress shirt, tailored perfectly. The man exuded a sense of strength and charisma. He could see why Kelsey was with him. They were definitely in the same league.

  Yeah, you could be Misterio. I got your number Gisborne.

  “Excuse me, you’re Richard Bain, aren’t you?” His voice was deep and powerful. “I’m Detective Desmond Gisborne. We need to talk.”

  Excellent…

  Chapter 8

  Josh gripped the document tightly in his hands. He couldn’t believe what he read. He threw the sheet onto the table in disgust and punched the speed dial on his cellphone.

  Ari answered on the first ring. “To what do I owe this call? You’re suddenly talking to me again? Need some more money? Calling to apologize?”

  Josh ignored the questions. “Why did you change the paperwork on the lab?”

  Ari paused for a moment before answering. “What are you talking about?”

  “The greenhouse lab down by the pier. Why the hell did you change the lease to Kelsey’s name? When did you do that?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Just tell me.”

  “I did it two weeks ago. We’re done with the property and by putting it in her name it will be another write-off for her. I do this all the time. The girl has properties all over New York City. You know this. What the hell is the problem with that?”

  It was a huge problem. “You really should leave her out of things like this. We discussed the rest of the team not knowing anything about what we were doing with this project. Kelsey wasn’t to be involved in any of the stuff going on in the Middle East. It’s one thing to put your little sexcapade pads in her name, but another to give her a biotoxicology lab. I didn’t ever want anything traced back to her.”

  “She isn’t involved in any of this and why the hell would anything ever be traced back to her? The entire lab is cleaned out, spotless. Or should be if you did your job right. No one can trace anything to her.” Ari paused for a moment and then sucked in his breath in sudden understanding. His voice took on an icy edge. “What the hell did you do, Josh? Did you try to get your revenge on me like an immature infant, and it’s backfired? Did you sic someone on the lab thinking you’d screw with me a bit? Did you plant something there and now Kelsey’s implicated? I swear to God, if you get her in trouble, I’m going to hunt you down like a dog and string you up.”

  Josh hedged. “I didn’t do anything. I was just trying to get the last of the paperwork settled and saw this.”

  “You’re a lying son of a bitch. You screwed with me and now Kelsey’s the one that’s going to have to clean up your shit. Good luck trying to win her back now while she digs herself out of whatever hole you got her into. Tell me exactly what you did so I can help you shovel yourself out of it.”

  Josh hung up on Ari and slammed his fist on the table. He paced his apartment, fuming. His eyes settled on a photograph he had on his counter and went over to pick it up. It was a photograph of Kelsey and him a few years ago at Dennis and Richard’s engagement party. He’d jokingly asked her to be his date and she’d agreed, and in this shot they were mugging for the camera and pretending they were madly in love. God, she was so beautiful. She danced with him all night. When he closed his eyes, he could practically feel her in his arms again and pretend that she was his.

  He had screwed up and knew it. What he’d done was hand Kelsey to Bain on a silver platter. Now instead of going after Ari like he was supposed to, the guy was going to make trouble for Kelsey. And now with Desmond back, and him being the cop on the case, that lawyer would connect the dots. Even though Bain would be wrong as shit, he’d never leave her alone now. Dammit, this had been planned to perfection. If Ari had just let things be, none of this would have happened. This was the last thing he wanted. Kelsey was going to be so mad at him.

  I’ve got to come up with a story. Something plausible that will get the lawyer off her case.

  Josh’s cell phone vibrated and he could see Ari’s number flash up. He ignored it. He had nothing to say to him. What? He was sorry? He wasn’t. He was furious at Ari for screwing up his one shot with Kelsey by bringing Desmond home. Taking him off the assignment in the Middle East was just the icing on the cake. Josh had to be on that job one way or the other. This issue with Bain was just supposed to be a little payback. Ari had alibies a mile long and nothing would have stuck to him. Josh had done it just to annoy him. The lawyer would have had to back off and then he and Ari would have figured something out. They would have made their truce, and he could have continued what they started. Josh was sure Ari would still let him work the Middle East angle. He just had to calm down and be able to talk rationally to him about it.

  Josh closed his eyes and put his fists to both his temples, pushing hard. It was a technique the therapists taught him to stop the memories from coming, but this time it didn’t work. He couldn’t rid his mind of the images of his squad ripped to pieces when he’d finally emerged from the basement of that destroyed storage house. Legs and arms everywhere. McFee’s head rolling in the dirt. So much blood. The pain in his own skull from the blast had been nearly unbearable, and it had been so hard to think with that glaring sun blazing down on him, and the screams everywhere. He hadn’t stopped throwing up for a week. There’d been no place to bathe, and he’d had the blood of those soldiers on his skin for days. Josh sat down at the dining room table and just let the memories come flooding back…

  The basement of the storage house was cool. Such a nice reprieve from the sweltering temperatures outside. “I’m so going to gloat to the rest of them when I’m done with this.” Josh had won at poker the night before and money wasn’t even the prize, but chores. He was the lucky one to work alongside the civilians to restock the pantry and take a break from the blistering heat outside. He couldn’t be happier that the other members of the unit he was contracting for were stuck above ground, fixing that shit latrine.

  He’d been singing a tune and putting the last cans of vegetables on the shelves when the blast hit. He and the two workers with him were slammed to the ground while the world around them imploded and toppled over on them. Josh had been knocked unconscious.

  Pain roared within his skull and consciousness came back slowly. Josh coughed and spit out blood. He tried to raise his head, but the throbbing and nausea stopped him. His arms were trapped under the large metal shelf that had fallen on him. A blast. We were bombed. With effort, he pulled one arm out and reached under his head to toss aside a bloody, dented can of peas.

  Sunlight filtered through the collapsed basement ceiling, which now rested only a foot above him. He could hear muffled screams and shouts from above. Oh, my God, the rest of the unit. I have to get out of here. A moan sounded and he turned his head painfully to the right.

  Mohad lay closest to him and his brother Faquir had crawled over and now sobbed onto his chest. A piece of metal piping had lodged in the center of Mohad’s chest and his sightless eyes stared upwards. Josh wanted to comf
ort Faquir, but he couldn’t move. Faquir’s grief was nearly too much to bear. Mohad was the last member of his family who had not been slaughtered by terrorists over the past year.

  There was a rustling above and dirt and debris fell on them. “Anyone down there?” Someone called out to them in Pashto. A floorboard moved and he saw a dark face peer through a small opening far above him.

  “Yes,” Josh croaked. Stars and pain clouded his vision.

  “Just hold on, we’ll get you out.”

  It took three hours to dig them out. When he’d emerged from the basement, a bloody, broken mess, chaos met him. His entire unit had been killed. Targeted specifically by the enemy.

  They’d found pieces of the suicide bomber lying within the remains of the latrine, next to the head of one of his best friends. He’d grasped Hackett’s skull, gripped it like a basketball, and just rocked and sobbed. It took four policemen to tear him away and drag him vomiting and screaming to the local hospital. There, they had subdued him with drugs so they could treat him for broken ribs, a severe concussion, mental anguish and lacerations to various parts of his body.

  Josh had spent two weeks in a Combat Support Hospital until they deemed him well enough to return to the States. Since he was just a hired contractor, he wasn’t required to finish a tour of duty, which he would have had to do had he been part of the actual military. He’d tried to stay, but with no unit to go back to, he returned home. Then came the hardest moments of his life. He couldn’t get the horrific images of the dead members of his unit out of his pounding, messed up head. Nighttime was the worst, and he ended up crashing at Julia’s apartment for the first few weeks just for the company. She’d sit with him, rub his head and just hold him, because nighttime was when the guilt roared in. Because he had cheated at poker to win that evening. He’d marked the cards with subtle dents and bends while playing, so he’d be assured of winning the prime job that late afternoon, to be out of the sun and working in the coolness of the basement. He’d thought he’d been so slick, and now the guilt ate at him day and night.

  Jacobs, Williams, and Hackett. All of them gone. He couldn’t comprehend that they’d been joking just hours before, talking about going home and seeing their families, and then in one moment the terrorist had snuffed out their lives. Josh had woken up the first few weeks from overwhelming nightmares and Julia simply held his hand and rubbed his sweating forehead until he’d fallen back to sleep.

  Once home, he vowed to do anything he could to get back at the terrorists. When Ari came to him with the new assignment to destroy terrorism at its source, there was no way he was going to refuse. It was exactly what he wanted to do.

  But the memory and guilt of that day still sat heavily with him. He’d been the one to go to each of the families to tell them what had happened. He’d been the one to donate a year’s worth of his salary into college funds for each of the dead soldier’s children. Hackett’s wife had been pregnant with their first child. He’d paid off her car loan and bought her a crib and the entire layette set to ease his guilt. A million dollars of the money that Ari had paid Josh for the Middle East job was now going to now be split between each of the families of the fallen soldiers. He had been banking on that last five million to help build a school and orphanage in the town that had been destroyed. But no matter what Josh did, none of it could erase the memories of that day. The smell of death. The burning, acrid smoke of buildings on fire. The lives lost.

  The only thing that had assuaged any of it, at any given moment, had been Kelsey. When Josh was with her, it was as if his mind automatically went on autopilot. She exuded some sort of pheromone that made all thoughts of anything else just disappear, and he’d rejoiced in the absolute freedom of it. He was pretty sure Julia knew it, too, because sometimes when he was having a particularly bad night, Kelsey would suddenly pop over and he’d fall asleep with his head in her lap. He figured Julia had called her each time. Being with Kelsey stopped the pain of his memories for the moment.

  Of course, now Josh knew why she did this to him. It was because of whom she was spiritually connected to. Knowing this, however, did not take away the freedom of being able to simply let his mind and body focus on her and nothing else. She was like crack and heroin and any other drug he’d ever tried, legal or illegal. She was his oxycodone when she was nearby.

  And now she was back with Desmond and it frustrated him beyond belief. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Ever since they were in high school, he’d harbored thoughts that one day they’d end up together. And now that future was all shot to hell.

  He ran his hands into his hair and pulled at the roots, hard enough to hurt. The pain focused him. He knew he was too damned impulsive. Josh paced his apartment, trying to figure out a solution to what he’d done. Walking to his bedroom, then across the living room and then into the kitchen, he paced. Back and forth, back and forth. He paused as an idea formed. Wait a second. This could work… He clicked his fingers. Oh my God, this is genius. He dashed to his desk in his second bedroom’s office and rifled through a notebook. He quickly found what he was looking for. He dialed Richard Bain’s office, hoping he’d pick up, but got his secretary instead. When he asked for the lawyer, she told him he’d gone away for a few days to get away from all the publicity of the trial and no, she couldn’t say where he went. He’d thanked her and asked her for her name. After he hung up, he took to the Internet and checked her out on Google and Instagram. Turned out she was a sexy young thing just recently out of college and was definitely a party girl. She was with a different guy, in a different bar, with a different drink, in a different state of intoxication, in nearly every photo. Not to mention the thousand selfies in various puckered poses and states of undress. The whole world knew she had a butterfly tattoo on her hip and favored pink lace bras and thongs.

  This would be easy.

  Josh donned his sexiest black Gucci suit that cut his bulging physique in all the right places, dabbed on his trademark cologne and spiked his hair. He stared at the scar across his temple, knowing girls thought it made him look brave and they’d melt at his story of how he’d gotten it. “Saving children in a bomb attack in the Middle East.” He never told them it was really from falling unconscious and landing on the edge of a can of peas after cheating at poker.

  A quick stop at the florist and candy shop on the way over to Bain’s office, and within twenty minutes of sweet-talking the secretary and plying her with chocolate and compliments, he got her to go out to dinner with him that night. A few bottles of expensive wine later that evening and they ended up back in her apartment and into her bed. It wasn’t long after that she told him where Bain had gone for the weekend. As soon as she fell asleep, he ducked out without even leaving a note behind. He doubted she’d even remember telling him.

  Cragg Mountain House. Nightly stay? Fifteen hundred dollars and up.

  Josh checked the GPS and weather. It was a normal four hour drive into the mountains, but the lightly falling snow in New York City was a blizzard up there. He’d been in worse. The experience from his expedition in Greenland was finally going to come in handy. If he left now, he could be there by Friday night in time for dinner. Piece of cake.

  He picked up the phone, glanced at the computer for the number, and dialed. “Yes, I’d like a room for the night. I know there’s a blizzard. I’m nearly halfway there. Do you have any openings? Excellent, thank you. How will I pay? With my American Express Black Centurion Card. Here is the credit card number.” He’d relayed his information to the proper-sounding elderly reservation agent who seemed skeptical he would even make it, and then hung up to start packing his hiking gear.

  Chapter 9

  Kelsey sipped her soda and turned when she heard a commotion at the front reception area. The family with the two young kids came storming in from the blizzard outside. The wind was fierce, and while the father tried to close the heavy front door, the little boy ran right past his mother’s outstretched arms and clomped his w
et boots in a mad dash straight to the fireplace. He tracked in a trail of snow and muck across the polished floors and dirtied up the expensive rugs. He bumped right into Bain’s chair as he passed him. The man flinched and his drink spilled all over him.

  “Billy, stop!” The boy’s frazzled mother ran over to Bain and tried to apologize and help wipe down his shirt, while the little girl stamped her feet and complained that she was hungry, even though she had gobs of chocolate still stuck to her mouth from the S’mores. She was so loud and whiney that everyone in the lounge stopped to stare at her.

  Kelsey laughed inwardly, secretly relieved. Okay, maybe the kids weren’t so perfect. At least they’re not aliens. Somehow, that made her feel better.

  The bartender rushed over to Bain with a towel and a new drink. The little boy and girl were quickly ushered by their mother, by the crooks of their arms, out of the bar area and towards their room. The father quickly followed, hurling a host of appalled dressing-downs about their behavior being hurled in their general direction.

  Cragg Mountain House was a well-oiled machine. By the time the mom’s last harsh admonishments could be heard echoing down the staircase, the staff had already wiped down the floors and brushed out the rugs until they were as pristine as they had been just moments before.

  Kelsey felt someone by her side and turned. “Miss Porter, would you like to try one of these? They’re my very favorite.” Tooh held out a platter of baby lambchops, grilled rare, with their ends perfectly frenched. The smell of rosemary and garlic assaulted her senses deliciously.

  “Thanks, Tooh.” She picked up one, not saying a word about the glistening fat that stuck to Tooh’s own lips from some chops she was sure he’d already filched from the kitchen. She did say something about the thick, bandaged wound dressing on his thumb. “What happened to you? I saw you this morning and you were just fine.”