Always Dead (Welcome To Dead House Book 2)

by M. L. Bullock

  “I’m giving it my best. Are you telling me it’s not moving an inch?” Kevin shouted down to me.

  “Not an inch. I can’t explain it!” I called back loudly.

  Kevin joined me at the bottom of the stairs and we both looked at the chandelier, but there was nothing else to see. Whatever had triggered the activity had stopped. Just for laughs and giggles, I opened the front door and slammed it. Nothing. Apparently, Kevin was thinking along the same lines because he headed into the kitchen and slammed the back door. Nothing happened. We couldn’t make the chandelier swing to save our lives.

  “I guess the best thing to do is to get a professional in here to look at it. Just to be on the safe side,” he suggested as he helped himself to a cup of coffee. I smiled and didn’t say anything when he began ransacking the cabinets for coffee mugs. I finally put him out of his misery and opened the cabinet right next to the coffee maker. Some detective, I laughed to myself.

  “Do you happen to know any?” I asked as I handed him the sugar bowl and took a seat at the kitchen table.

  “Yeah, actually I do. One of the guys I work with, his son is a master electrician. His name is Mike. Young guy but pretty reliable. Want me to give you his number?” he asked as he poured way too much sugar into his coffee.

  “Yes, please do. Not that I’m not glad you’re here drinking up my coffee and using way too much sugar. But surely there was a reason why you came by so early?” Before a girl had a chance to dress up a little, I thought. My hands nervously went to my wild blonde hair.

  He flashed that lazy grin of his, and I suspected he wanted to say something flirtatious but refrained. I was beginning to like the friendlier side of Deputy Kevin Patrick. Who would have believed it?

  “What is going on with the chandelier is a bit of a puzzle. After you told me about the ghost of Alice, I remembered an old news story. A shocking murder from back in the day, and I do mean way back in the day.” He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and slid it toward me. “This is a copy of an old newspaper article. It was easy enough to find. I stopped by the library this morning.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “How early does the library open? It’s not even 9 AM yet.”

  “One of the perks of the badge,” he said proudly as he sipped his coffee. I snickered but unfolded the paper and began reading the article.

  “Mrs. Alice Loper. It says she died here with her daughter. Possible murder?” It was a horrific piece describing a horrible murder scene. “Did Mr. Loper confess? What could possibly have been the reason for such a heinous act?”

  Kevin drank his coffee and set the mug to the side. “That’s the weird thing. I understand they kept records a bit differently back in those days, but there is absolutely nothing in the public record to explain any of it. I found one interview sheet, and there was a note. Mr. Loper told the sheriff he didn’t hurt his wife, but she’d been unstable for a while. Except for that night, he had no memory of what happened. Supposedly Mr. Loper said as soon as he left the property that day, he couldn’t recall anything. It was like he had some sort of amnesia.”

  I slid my hand on the table in shock. “Are you serious? Could it be Mr. Loper got away with murdering his family? That’s unbelievable. I get the feeling Alice Loper wants us to know the truth. She desperately wants us to know something. I also get the feeling I’m never going to be able to reach Aaron if I don’t help Alice first. Some ghosts are louder than others, stronger, and she is very strong.”

  Kevin tilted his head as he studied me. What was he thinking? I had no idea and I didn’t ask, but my heart broke for Alice Loper and her kids. “Just the two girls? That’s all she had? Did they both die?”

  “Yes, two girls. One of the Loper girls got away. She was injured, and she recovered. Her name was Annabel. Unfortunately, she was very young, and there’s no record of what she may have seen or witnessed, if anything.”

  I twisted my lips as I thought about what he said. “Wait. Annabel lived? What was the other child’s name?”

  “Annabel and Betsy. Betsy, the youngest, died. They were found on the second floor. Right where...”

  I finished his sentence for him. “The chandelier hangs. Ugh. So they were all found together in that room? I think it used to be a nursery.” I wasn’t asking a question really, just talking out loud. We sat in silence for a moment. I had to give Deputy Patrick props for not calling me crazy. At least he was willing to accept what was happening here at the notorious Dead House, and obviously he thought I could help him somehow. I decided to change the subject to something more familiar. I could ponder the chandelier activity by myself later. Maybe I could get Joey to help me do some investigating.

  Yeah, right. Not likely.

  “Thanks for this. I’ll review it and see if I can talk to her later. Maybe I’ll read it out loud and see if she responds. By the way, how is Sheriff Jarvis feeling these days? Any improvement in his condition? I know chemo can be hard on a person.”

  Kevin’s worried expression clued me in on the real situation, but like any true friend, he held out hope for the sheriff. “The man is a fighter, in every sense of the word. I better go. My shift starts in thirty minutes. I just wanted to bring that to you.” Kevin glanced at his watch and rose from the table, and I followed him.

  “Thanks for bringing this by. I’ll dive into more research, and please send me the number for the electrician. You said his name was Mike, right?” With a quick glance down the hall toward my room, I led Kevin to the door. I could feel an unearthly chill in the air, the kind of chill that often accompanied Joey’s ghostly self. Kevin didn’t stick around for more than a few minutes.

  I chit-chatted with him on his way to the vehicle, and he hovered outside his car for a few seconds like an uncertain teenager. I was no mind reader, but I definitely got a might-want-to-kiss-me vibe. I wasn’t going to make this easy. I waved goodbye and headed back inside.

  Always leave them on a high note. I couldn’t help but smile to myself.

  I quickly tidied up my hair, grabbed another cup of coffee, and headed to my office. I was feeling inspired this morning. I could see in my mind’s eye how the first scene should begin.

  The beginning of a book was always my favorite part of the process. I powered up the computer, opened a fresh document, and typed in a title I was sure I would change at some point. Diving right into the scene, I let the characters take me where they wanted to go.

  This character, the main ghost in my story, was making a tragic mistake. He was trusting the wrong man. “It’s not polite to read over someone’s shoulder, Joey.” He didn’t have a witty answer.

  I turned to speak to him. “What’s wrong, Joey? I can see it all over your face.”

  Joey smiled, but it wasn’t his normal luminous beam. “Are you two getting serious? What’s up with that, Tamara?” He changed the subject again.

  “We’re just being friendly. I’m helping him with something. Now make yourself scarce for a few minutes. I need to get some words on the page.”

  “Fine, but that’s really not flowing, is it? How about doing something about my stalker? She’s everywhere, Tamara! Crying and bleeding...it’s disgusting!”

  He vanished before my eyes. “Joey?”

  “I’m here, just conserving energy for tonight’s movie marathon. It’s the Director’s Cut for Howlers. Don’t tell me you forgot?”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten,” I lied. “But have you noticed anything weird going on with the chandelier? Are you playing with it?”

  Joey didn’t answer me right away. Had he left? “Joey?”

  “I’m here, just thinking. That’s her old room, I think. I stay away from that area nowadays. She’s always moaning and crying, and the Reaper is getting closer to the house. He wants her, I think.”

  “I think our ghost is Alice Loper, a lady who lived here a long time ago. She died upstairs, along with one of her children. She never got justice. For a long time, people said she killed her c
hild, but it’s very possible her husband murdered her and he got away with it. I don’t understand the connection to the chandelier. Just be careful, will you?”

  “Stop giving me the creeps, Tamara Garvey. Ugh, I’m outta here for a while. Later.”

  Then he was gone. I didn’t even get a chance to talk to him about Aaron or anything. How quickly my excitement for writing became frustration. I was a big ball of tangled irritation now. I closed the computer and decided to go outside for a walk. It was a fine morning with lots of warm sunshine. I slung my hands in my jeans’ pockets and continued to walk the path that led to the road.

  The road where Aaron had been found so long ago. There were too many damn ghosts on this property.

  The truth was, I wasn’t sure how this story would go. I was writing by the seat of my pants, and by doing so, I wasn’t giving the ghosts what they needed. They needed their authentic voices to be heard. This was all supposition. I had to dig deeper. If I was going to help Kevin with Aaron, I needed Alice to step out of the way first. For that, she must cross over. How could I assist Alice, and could I do it on my own?

  I didn’t know, but I had a strange kind of peace about me. My inner voice reminded me to be patient and quiet. All I had to do was wait because the answer would come soon enough. That’s all.

  Watch and wait.

  11

  Chloe

  I did not see my face in my locker mirror. I could hear my classmates behind me, feet shuffling, pushing, nudging me out of the way. The bell was about to ring. I’d be late for class if I didn’t get a move on. But what could I do except stare at the ghost of Alice Loper?

  Clutching my book bag, I half-heartedly heaved it up on my shoulder. I surveyed the horrific scene that unfurled before me. What a terrible, bloody sight.

  I ignored the whispers of the students that swarmed around me. “She’s such a weirdo.” They had no idea just how weird I was, but after the Halloween party, this should not have been a mystery to them. No doubt Chloe Carol was a strange bird, but I wasn’t the only strange bird on this campus. Not by a long shot.

  I moaned as I tried to turn away, but I couldn’t blink or move or even speak. Forces demanded I witness the death of Alice Loper right here in my locker mirror. That wasn’t something one saw every day.

  I blinked a few times, but the images did not dissipate. I could plainly see Alice Loper, a small woman with a plain face. Her voluminous black hair had collapsed from her usually neat bun. The strands were caked with blood, and she had fallen against a windowless wall, holding the body of a small child. It was as if the child had been laid on her lap. Her hands weren’t holding her. Tears streamed down Alice’s face.

  Was that a kid? Damn it! Why did it have to be a kid?

  The child was not moving, and if I had to guess, the child had been dead for quite some time. The little girl appeared stiff and immovable, like an old-fashioned porcelain doll. She was a lovely, macabre little thing with her dark curls.

  I sensed there were others on the other side of the mirror, just beyond. More dead that I could not see, but they could all see me and they all wanted to talk to me.

  I could not stop staring. Suddenly a man stepped into view. He was much closer to me than poor Alice, and he was blatantly grimacing at me. He had light brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a furry brown mustache. What is your name? I demanded, but no answer came. He growled to express his disapproval of my witnessing the scene.

  Too bad. I see you, you bastard! Killers don’t like being watched, but I see you.

  He was so close to the mirror, I was suddenly afraid he would reach through and grab me. With a bit of a scream, I instinctively slammed the locker door on him. Everyone around me paused as if they’d heard his growl too. Maybe it had been my scream or the repercussion from the slamming locker that shocked them all.

  I didn’t know what I’d say if I were questioned. There’s a dead man in my locker, a horrible man who threatened me even though he’s been dead for a hundred years.

  I did not offer an explanation to the students around me. Thankfully, there were no teachers present, so I didn’t feel compelled to explain my strange behavior. I didn’t have the book I needed for my next class, but there was no way I was going back into that locker right now. It was my lunch break, but I had no appetite. I hadn’t even eaten the blueberry muffin Tamara handed me on my way out of the house. I gave it to a kid on the bus, Ross something or other. I guess I could choke down a soda if the machine wasn’t empty again. The vending machines in this school sucked. What teenager drinks diet soda? Maybe by the time lunch was over, I would have the courage to reopen my locker.

  Maybe Lynn would help me. She had the same lunch break as me, and she was easy to spot with her shiny blue hair. The color had faded some, but her eye makeup was ridiculously dark. Lynn’s personal style was always evolving. Unfortunately, so was her taste in friends. Two of the goth girls were camped out around the table with her, and they were whispering together when I walked up.

  “Hey,” I said to all three of them. “Got a minute?” That last comment was directed to Lynn.

  To my surprise, Lynn shrugged her shoulders as if she weren’t sure how much time she could allot to me, her occasional best friend.

  "Excuse me, Spooky, but Lynn is in the middle of a reading. You'll have to come back. Now go be dark and brooding somewhere else." Allison or whatever her name had turned her back to me and held her palm out to Lynn. My friend glanced up at me without so much as a shrug. She immediately began staring at Allison’s open palm as if she could truly discern clues about Allison’s future there.

  “No, excuse you, Allison. I was talking to Lynn, not you. As I said, do you have a minute?" I shifted my heavy book bag back up on my shoulder. Why was this thing always trying to slide off? Probably because I always overloaded it with way too many books and notebooks and pens and all my crystals. Might as well stuff my friendship with Lynn in there too because apparently, that was good and broken.

  She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Be back in a sec, Ally." She climbed out of the lunch table bench and walked with me to the vending machine.

  "What's that about, Lynn? Are we not friends anymore? Are you embarrassed by me? That’s pretty crappy considering what we’ve been through recently.” I didn’t want to openly bring her father up, but how could she be so blasé with me?

  "Stop being dramatic. I'm just trying to hone my skills. You aren’t the only one who sees things from time to time. Surely you don't begrudge me giving it a shot?" She bounced a few quarters in the machine and banged on the diet soda button.

  "Giving what a shot? Are you suggesting that I'm keeping you from whatever this is? When did you start claiming to be a palm reader? When did that start, Lynn? I would never stop you from trying anything, but I’ve been worried about you and your dad.”

  She turned her back to the cafeteria. “Hey! Keep your voice down!” Lynn looked back and smiled at Allison and then scowled at me. “I don’t want the whole world to know what a loser my dad is, and if you’re my friend, you’ll keep your mouth shut about it.” Lynn set her thin lips and popped her soda can open.

  “You need to tell someone the truth about him before he does something terrible. Believe me, I’ve seen terrible, Lynn. There’s a dark presence in your house, and I’m afraid it’s going to hurt you. It follows you and Trey and your father.” I didn’t mean to raise my voice or share any of this, but the tension was rising between us.

  She sipped her soda and backed away from me. “That’s bullshit. And here I thought you were my friend, Chloe Carol. Apparently, I was wrong. Friends don’t gossip about each other.”

  “I haven’t been gossiping about anyone. I’m genuinely concerned for you, and something just happened I thought I could talk to you about. But you know what, you go hang out with your new pal Allison, and I'll just figure out my problems by myself. I'm pretty used to that by now."

  Lynn’s expression was the proof I needed to underst
and I had crossed some sort of line with her. I was hurt by her behavior, but that did not give me permission to hurt other people. Especially my best friend. She stormed away from me and back to the lunchroom. Again, the people around me watched it all. Allison spotted the exchange and quickly led Lynn out to the concourse.

  I guess that was that then.

  I got my own can of soda and sat outside until my next class. I dug in my bag, opened a notebook, and grabbed a bag of pencils. I began to sketch the scene in the locker mirror. I wasn’t great at sketching, but I wanted to get the image down as best I could. I’d show Tamara later. At least she’d be interested.

  The bell rang, reminding me class was beginning, but I decided to stay put. It wasn’t like anyone would miss me, not really. I wondered where Trey was. He had lunch after me, but I didn’t see him. From my viewpoint in the outside dining area, I didn’t see either of his cars. Not his old one or the new, classic obsession. On a whim, I sent him a text, but all I got back was, Later.

  Wow. How was I supposed to interpret that nonsense?

  Later? Hardly.

  Forget it, I sent back.

  I wouldn’t be available later. Not to anyone. I hung out in the sunshine until the buses started rolling in. I wasted no time getting on board and hurried to the back to continue working on my sketch. As always, the drive home took forever, but at least nobody bothered me. The two sisters, also teenagers, my biggest tormentors, had thankfully moved across town and didn’t attend Crystal Springs High School anymore. According to some whispers right after their transfer, they’d gotten in trouble with the law. They got caught shoplifting at a local department store.

  As my bus pulled up to my stop, I shoved all my stuff back in my bag, and I dragged the heavier book bag with me. I felt as if I was carrying the weight of the world. What was I going to do about Lynn? I felt I had to tell someone. She really could be in danger. How else could I explain her change in personality?