Ghost of a Promise (7 page)

He couldn
’
t do that. Even when he should, he never had it in him to lie.
“
We
’
ll look out for Ava, Mrs. Trumble.
”

“
Marjorie, please. What about when your team leaves? Who will look out for her then?
”

He swallowed his response before it could escape. For a second, he almost said he would. Two days in Kerrick, Maine, and he was thinking promises he couldn
’
t hope to keep. Thinking about a woman he
’
d just met and didn
’
t really know. Feeling like he was
…
well, hell. Feeling like he was home.

There was something very, very wrong here. Not just with the Trumble mansion, but the whole town. From the moment they hit the city limits, he
’
d felt affected. Unnatural. It only amplified the closer he was to the mansion. Or Ava.

By the end of this investigation,
he
might be the one needing looking after.

Chapter Seven

The comforter slowly drifted down Jackson’s body. His eyes flew open, surveying the dark bedroom. It had taken him entirely too long to fall asleep, unable to shut off his brain. They were set to start their first day of investigation of the house tomorrow and he needed rest.

Nothing seemed amiss in the room, other than it was cold, so he pulled the comforter back over his body and closed his eyes.

The comforter yanked out of his fist, flew off his bed, and landed in a heap by the door.

He shot up and looked around, figuring he needed to rethink his sleep attire if this continued. Normally he went to bed shirtless in flannel pants. His heart started to pound when he fully wakened, the fog of sleep clearing. The room wasn’
t just cold, but freezing. His breath was visible in little puffs before his face. His gaze darted to the window. Closed.

A quick survey illustrated no other changes in the room. He swallowed hard and rose from bed to collect the comforter by the door. Unless he
’
d grown wild in slumber, a blanket didn
’
t just launch across the room on its own. He fisted the comforter and tossed it on the bed.

It was so quiet in the room. No bustling of cars or sirens from the road. Not even a howl of wind. Even with the lack of sound, the house held a constant hum, not heard by the ear, but felt in the air. A static. A pulse. It was so strong now that his hands shook and his body trembled.

Deciding to see what happened, he spoke into the quiet.
“
Is anyone there?
”

Though nothing occurred, the cold didn
’
t recede. Cold spots were a sure sign of paranormal activity, the theory being spirits drew from the room
’
s energy. He couldn
’
t see anyone or anything, but he sensed someone watching him.

“
You have my attention.
”
Goosebumps rose over his flesh.
“
Want me to freeze to death, do you?
”

After standing for several moments, he shrugged in nonchalance he didn
’
t feel and grabbed a T-shirt from his bag on the chair. He donned it and climbed back in bed. Reaching for the comforter, he tugged it to his chin and lay down. On the nightstand was his digital recorder, something each of the crew kept in their sleeping quarters during investigations, just in case. He switched it on and turned on his side to face the window.

Whatever was present in his room didn
’
t give off an ominous vibe. Though the blankets were removed from the bed moments ago, it seemed more like a ploy to gain his attention. He
’
d check the recorder in the morning to see if he got any EVPs. He must
’
ve laid there for twenty minutes before his eyes drooped closed and the relief of sleep loomed.

Until a scraping sound echoed near the window. Opening his eyes again, he glanced in that direction. He
’
d left the drapes open to allow moonlight and the orange glow from the streetlights to filter in. They were still open.

One tall dresser perched in the corner and a desk was arranged under the window. Neither seemed to cause the scraping noise. Maybe the hardwood floors bounced the sound? He rolled to his back, but the chair hadn
’
t moved, and nothing in his bathroom appeared amiss.

Sighing, he sat up.
“
Either let me sleep or you tell me what it is you
’
re after.
”

On cue, the top drawer of the desk slid open.

The air in his lungs vacuumed out. He swiped a shaking hand down his face.

“
Bloody hell,
” he whispered and shoved the blankets off to rise.

He hit the wall switch and blinked into the light. The room returned to its usual comforting warmth in seconds. Before touching anything, he opened his door and padded down the hall to Sammy’
s room. Without bothering to knock, he walked in. This room had twin beds. Sammy
’
s was on the right, Kerry
’
s the left. He pushed on the mound of blankets covering Sammy.

Her dark head poked out.
“
Jackson?
”

“
You need to see this.
”
He strode back to his room.

Rubbing her eyes, she strolled in behind him.
“
What
’
s up?
”

He told her what happened, and her eyes bulged. She hurried out of the room and knocking sounded twice. Kerry emerged, so he again relayed what happened.

Sammy came back holding the thermal camera. She swept the room.
“
Look at this.
”

Earl came in with his camera perched on his shoulder, already rolling film.

They looked at the thermal. There was a blue handprint on the open desk drawer. Blue indicated a cold temperature flux. Sammy panned the device over to the bed, where the red heat signature from his body was still visible.

“
Incredible,
”
Kerry said.

Sammy set the camera down and walked over to the desk. By then the rest of the team filled the room, all but Tom, who needed an air-raid siren to wake.

“
The drawer is empty,
”
Sammy said.
“
We
’
ll have to ask Ava in the morning if there
’
s any significance to the desk.
”

“
Lee said there was something important about the desk,
”
Kerry supplied.
“
He didn
’
t know what, though.
”

He rubbed the back of his neck.
“
We
’
ll deal with it in the morning.
”

…

Ava flipped the omelet she was cooking for Amir while she listened to Sammy relay the incident that happened in Jackson’
s room last night. She set the omelet on a plate, garnished it with a few blackberries, and handed it to Amir.

“
I
’
ve never gone through that desk, and certainly not seen it open by itself.
”

Terrance set down his fork.
“
You know, old furniture like that sometimes has hidden crevices built in. Before safes and banks, it was like a security measure.
”

She dropped a dab of butter into the skillet and got to work on Sammy
’
s Denver omelet.
“
What, like
Scooby Doo
? Pull a book and the shelf moves to reveal a secret room?”

Terrance grinned.
“
Hidden rooms weren
’
t unusual either, especially if the family was wealthy. Paranoia over war and whatnot.
”

She nodded and gave Sammy her plate.
“
Okay. I
’
ll take your word for it. I just think something would
’
ve been found long before now.
”

“
Not if someone wasn
’
t looking for it. When Jackson wakes up, I
’
ll go to work on the desk.
”

Sammy swallowed and waved her fork.
“
Is there any significance to the desk?
”

Finished for now, she crossed her arms and leaned against the counter.
“
Rumor has it the desk belonged to Sarah Kerrick. Apparently she missed her old desk in her bedroom in England, so her father built it for her. It was the only item from the Kerrick house Peter Trumble saved.
”
She wrung her hands.
“
We
’
re talking two centuries of rumor here.
”

Jackson walked in wearing jeans slung low on his hips and a wool sweater.
“
Smells good in here.
”

Because he looked too good, she turned back to the stove.
“
What do you like in your omelet?
”

He perused the items on the counter.
“
Ah, mushrooms, tomato, and cheese. Please, luv.
”

He needed to stop calling her
“
luv.
”
She knew it was a British term of endearment, but he didn
’
t seem to use it on anyone else, and it felt personal. One thing she couldn
’
t do was get personal with Jackson Granger.

“
Anything else happen last night?
”
Sammy pushed her plate away.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat next to her at the island.
“
Afraid not. Didn
’
t get much sleep, though.
”

Ava handed him a plate and turned off the skillet.
“
What
’
s on the agenda today?
”

Terrance rose to set his dishes in the sink.
“
I
’
m going to inspect the desk.
”

“
I
’
ll go over Jackson
’
s digital recorder for EVPs,
”
Amir said.
“
Then I need to go through footage.
”

“
The rest of us can start investigating,
”
Jackson said with an air of authority.

She began loading the dishwasher.
“
Do you guys need me? I have some work to catch up on.
”

Sammy brought her a few of the dishes.
“
I don
’
t think so. Will you be in the library?
”

“
Yes. I also have a lunch date with a friend at noon.
”
She was looking forward to meeting with Casey. She needed to unload on someone and get out of the house for awhile.

With the rest of the crew off to gather equipment, that left her alone with Jackson. She focused entirely too hard on her task to avoid conversation. Either he
’
d say something irritating and they
’
d fight, or she
’
d have to look at him with even more irritating fantasies.

What was the matter with her? He was just a guy.

“
Great breakfast, luv.
”

“
Could you not call me that, please?
”

Amusement had a corner of his mouth quirking. Oh, she
’
d bet her right arm he knew how to use that mouth.

“
Luv? Just a term, Ava.
”

She briefly closed her eyes. The way he said her name, like he had more than one fantasy, made heat pool in dormant areas.
“
Well, it bothers me.
”

“
Interesting.
”

She closed the dishwasher door with a bit too much force.
“
Why is that interesting?
”

He crossed his arms over his impressively wide chest and leaned against the counter, settling in.
“
Most women don
’
t mind.
”

“
I
’
m not most women.
”
She immediately regretted the slip, knowing she
’
d just left herself wide open. Give this guy an inch, he
’
d take a mile. Or twelve.

Amusement lit his eyes as he studied her from head to toe, igniting every nerve in her body. In a blink, his gaze went from delight to approval.
“
No, you most certainly are not most women.
”

Her face heated, and she hoped he didn
’
t notice. Unlikely.

Enough. She pivoted and strode out of the room, his laughter following.

She settled at her desk in the library, sucking in a deep breath to center herself, and got to work on the bookkeeping for several shops in town. Once done with the October reports for her mother
’
s craft store, the hardware store, and Joe
’
s restaurant, she moved on to business plans and ideas she had for a few merchants requesting her assistance.

Satisfied, she leaned back and stretched her arms over her head. A knock sounded at the door to her back.

Terrance entered and closed the door behind him.
“
Hey,
”
he whispered.
“
Would you mind helping upstairs for a sec?
”

“
Why are you whispering?
”
She mimicked his tone.

“
They
’
re doing EVP work in the parlor next door.
”

She shut down her PC and rose.
“
Lead on.
”

Terrance grabbed his walkie from his belt and spoke into it.
“
Terrance and Ava leaving the library and heading upstairs.
”
Before she could ask what that was about, he looked at her.
“
In case they hear footsteps or voices, they know it
’
s from us.
”

“
Gotcha.
”

Once upstairs in the bedroom Jackson was using, Terrance closed the door and blew out a breath.
“
I
’
ve been examining the desk all morning. I can
’
t date the piece for you, but the carvings indicate it
’
s pretty old. Now, check this out.
”

Terrance climbed under the desk and pointed to a spot beneath the desktop. Ava squatted down and looked. In the far corner, the initials
J.K.
had been carved with what looked like a sodering pen.

“
John Kerrick,
”
she whispered.
“
Sarah
’
s father.
”