Rancor: Sinister Attachments, Book 1 (14 page)

Once again, when Sandpiper Bluff came into view, a feeling of oppression came over her. She became nauseated and wanted to turn the car around; she did not want to be there. Even so, she parked and walked to the building. The sun that was shining brightly when she left her house was now hidden behind dark gray clouds. The wind blew harshly through the trees and no birds were singing, even the roses refused to release their perfume as if they were afraid to open their petals.

She looked at her empty mailbox and walked inside the gloomy lobby, even the previously shiny staircase banister was dull and in shadow. She looked toward Ethel's apartment, debating whether to speak with her now or later. Even though the old woman believed in the supernatural, she trusted her. She would talk with her tomorrow before she moved out. Yes, tomorrow she was moving out.

As Maggie walked up the stairs, she felt a pressure on her chest as if she was having angina or a myocardial infarction. But the heaviness passed as she reached the second floor. She looked toward Bruce's door as she walked to the apartment, hoping he would not poke his damned head out as he typically did. To her relief, no one confronted her as she unlocked her door and quickly stepped inside. She locked it and looked out the peephole, catching a glimpse of Susie walking up the stairs to the third floor with something in her hand that did not look like the ratty teddy bear she typically held.

Maggie turned away from the door and gasped. There, in the middle of the living room, was Susie's teddy bear. It was sitting up as if someone carefully placed him so he would not fall over.

Her nerves were tingling as if her nervous system had sent out a power surge of electricity to every nerve ending in her body. She stood there listening; hoping whoever had placed the bear for Maggie to find was no longer in the apartment. Other than the wind outside her windows, it was quiet.

Then she looked toward her bedroom to where she had the camcorder hidden. She let out a sigh of relief, knowing she had caught the perpetrator on camera. She walked into her bedroom and took the camera out from under the blankets. She pressed rewind and sat on the bed to view the recording.

Okay, Debbie, now I got you. She pressed play. She watched for someone to enter the door. Someone did . . . It was her. The camera had only recorded her entering the apartment moments earlier.

The windows, they had to have come in through the windows. With the camera in hand, she went into the living room, past the teddy bear, and tested the windows. They were locked as was every window in the apartment. How could that be? The door was locked, the windows were locked, and there was no other way inside the apartment. The camera did not catch anyone coming in through the door. Was it possible that someone came in the door, found the camera, erased the recording, and then reset it? Yes, that was possible but the camera would have recorded them leaving through the door, and there was no such recording.

Maggie got the phone from her purse and took a picture of the teddy bear. It would not show the face of the person who came inside her apartment, but it would show that someone had come inside and sat the teddy bear for her to see when she returned.

She put the phone back inside her purse and began to sob. Nothing was working out. Debbie and Bruce were messing with her and she could not prove it. How could she get proof? If it were not for the accusation of abusing Susie, she would just leave and forget about it. Of course, Susie would know she had not been harmed by Maggie and would stand up for her. Then she thought, Debbie and Bruce probably convinced her to lie and if questioned Susie would say that Maggie had abused her. What could she do? The audio recording of Jess was static and the video camera showed no one coming into the apartment except her. She took the skeleton key from her pocket. Yes, she would use it to go inside Debbie and Bruce's apartments. There had to be evidence there.

TWENTY-EIGHT

How would she know when Debbie and Bruce were not home? All Maggie ever saw were two cars in the parking lot, Ethel's and Mr. Zimmerman's. How were Debbie and Bruce getting around? Were they walking everywhere? Debbie had to be home because she just saw Susie walking upstairs. Maybe she should talk with Ethel and see if she knows what is going on.

Maggie left the teddy bear where it sat, locked the door, and walked down the steps to Ethel's apartment. She knocked. She could hear dishes placed in a sink and then footsteps approach the door. She looked away from the peephole, knowing Ethel must be looking through it. The door opened. 

“Hi, dear; come in.” Ethel swung the door wide open and closed it behind Maggie. “I've been expecting you. Please have a seat.” Ethel pointed to a small table draped with a paisley cloth in the middle of the room.

Maggie mimicked Ethel and sat in one of the small chairs. She smiled, the atmosphere inside Ethel's apartment was light, even though the sky outside was darkening. The air smelled of pungent incense or marijuana. “What incense are you using? It smells like . . . pot.”

Ethel lit a single candle on the table and laughed. “It's not pot; it is sage. I was burning it because it cleanses spaces and people.”

“Oh, sorry.” Maggie watched as Ethel got up and closed the curtains, darkening the room. Colored beads hung over a doorway, and a lamp in the corner had a colorful cloth draped over the shade, casting a cheerful reddish glow into the room. “I'm getting the feeling you knew I was coming.”

Ethel leaned toward Maggie. “I thought it was likely, and I'm glad you did. Do you mind if I read you?”

“No, not at all; I wanted to talk to you; I have a couple questions.”

“Hold out your hand, I'd like to begin by reading, or rather, feeling your palm.”

Maggie put her hand, palm up, on the table in front of Ethel.

“I'm a seer, so you may notice me closing my eyes and making strange movements while I go into a trance.” She adjusted the green scarf tied like a headband and looked at Maggie. “In other words, don't be alarmed. Since I don't use a crystal ball anymore, I have to improvise.”

“There's a crystal ball in the basement.”

Ethel reached for Maggie's hand and held it firmly in hers. “What? Don't tell me you've been inside that room?”

Maggie shrugged. “When I was doing laundry the door was open and Bruce showed me around.”

Ethel's grip tightened. “That door is locked. It has been locked since a demon entered that room back in 1969.” Ethel shook her head. “Things may be worse than I expected. Don't ever go back in that room again.”

“Okay,” Maggie said, surprised by Ethel's reaction.

Ethel relaxed her shoulders and closed her eyes, still holding Maggie's hand. She slowed her breathing and was silent for several minutes, and then said, “Maggie, you have the white light of protection around you. It is a gift that has been passed down from your ancestors. You have a good soul, but good souls are like honey to flies; attracting nasty creatures that thrive on sucking the life from them and using it to strengthen themselves.”

Maggie watched as Ethel's smile disappeared, replaced by tight, over-lipsticked lips.

“You have a dark entity attached to you. It has been there for decades, even before you were born. It was put there by people with dirty souls . . . Souls who no longer have human bodies. Souls condemned to roam the earth, never to be reincarnated or to live again. They are dead forever, having sold their souls to the devil in exchange for a greedy favor.”

Maggie cleared her throat. “I don't know what you mean.”

Ethel's frowning eyes stayed closed. “It's becoming clearer. The demon that has been in this building has grown since you moved in. The demon is fueling two lost souls.” Ethel groaned as if in pain. “Souls that you encountered decades ago . . . souls that keep reaffirming their commitment to Satan, who gives them pleasures . . . pleasures stronger than any earthly pleasure ever could be . . . their perfect Hell on Earth.”

Maggie watched tears form around Ethel's tightly closed eyes. “Are you okay, Ethel?”

“It's you the entity wants . . . It needs your soul to fuel it. It took it before, but you were able to break away. Unknown to you, it summoned you here, to the place where it all began. It is trying to steal your soul and feed upon it.”

Maggie felt compelled to ask her question. “Debbie and Bruce are telling lies about me, are they part of it?”

Ethel looked like she was shaking something off her head as she gripped Maggie's hand, preventing her from leaving the table. “Who are Debbie and Bruce?”

“You know, the people who live on the second floor with the little girl, Susie.”

Ethel sobbed. Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripped off her chin and onto her gypsy skirt. “Maggie, there is no one on the second floor, only you.”

Maggie could not speak. Of course there were people on the second floor. “But . . . there are people. I've talked to them and even babysat Susie.”

Ethel's head dropped forward. “I see it clearly, Maggie. You once worked here as a nurse on the second floor when this place was used as a psychiatric hospital. The Debbie and Bruce you talk about must be the two souls condemned to Hell, and you are the victim. 

In 1969, there was a little girl named Susan Knight, who was admitted to the hospital. She was a raging mess when they brought her in here; acting as though she was possessed by a demon. Anyway, she was accidentally killed while a patient on the second floor. You were blamed for the death because of the deal the two people made with the devil. I believe their names were Deborah Franklin and Dr. Bruce Hancock. There were rumors about them being the guilty ones, not you. But something happened, somehow you died . . . And they died, too. You were brought back to live again, but the two condemned souls still want revenge for not being allowed to live the rest of their human lives in the bliss promised to them. They want you to suffer.”

Maggie could not believe what she was hearing. “But they're there; I'll prove it to you.”

Ethel opened her red eyes and looked at Maggie. “You must leave this place now before it's too late,” she let go of Maggie's hand. “I fear it is already too late.”

Maggie's hand tingled as she rubbed it with her other hand. Ethel was speaking craziness. “Come upstairs with me and I'll prove it to you. There are other renters on the floor.”

Ethel shook her head as she reached for a wood tip cigar.

“Please, Ethel.” Maggie had to prove to herself, even more than Ethel, that she had not been talking to ghosts all this time.

Ethel stood and took a delicately embroidered handkerchief from a coin purse sitting on an end table beside a dusty wing chair and dabbed at her eyes. “If I go with you, and you find no one on the second floor, will you leave that instant?”

“If I find there are no people on the second floor I'll probably check myself into a mental hospital,” Maggie half-heartedly smiled.

“You didn't answer my question.”

“Yes, I'll leave. No doubt about it.”

TWENTY-NINE

“Are you ready to check the apartments on the second floor?” Ethel asked, giving her wet eyes one last dab.

“I am, let's go,” Maggie said, walking toward the door. 

They walked out of Ethel's first-floor apartment and past Mr. Zimmerman's office toward the staircase.

Maggie stopped on the first step and looked back at Ethel, who was still holding the thin cigar in her hand. “So, you're saying that only you and Mr. Zimmerman live here?”

Ethel took a short drag on the thin brown cigar and then blew the white smoke toward the floor. “That's right. No one has lived on the second floor since it was renovated into apartments several years ago. I'm surprised Mr. Zimmerman let you rent an apartment there. He must be desperate for rent money; the place does need a lot of repairs.”

Maggie put her hand on the handrail gummed with dirt from years of use. She looked at the rail and removed her hand. Every time she looked at the stairway, it seemed older than when she first arrived. “Is it possible people are squatting in those apartments?”

Ethel shook her head. “I would have seen them. There have been no signs of anyone else in the building for years.” Ethel let ashes fall to the floor. “Think about the names, Maggie. You said they called themselves Debbie, Bruce, and Susie. Those are the names from the past; even your name. The four of you are tied together, and the link needs to be broken.”

Maggie turned and began walking up the staircase. When she got to the top, Ethel stood beside her.

“I'll check Debbie's apartment first.” Maggie walked up to apartment 21B and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so she knocked again; still no answer.

Ethel looked at Maggie with raised eyebrows and a look of,
I told you so
.

“I'll try Bruce's.” Maggie walked to his door and knocked. Just as no one answered at Debbie's, no one answered at Bruce's. She reached into her pocket, took out her key ring, and held up the skeleton key for Ethel to see. “It should open their doors.”

Ethel choked and coughed. “Where'd you get that?”

“Mr. Zimmerman gave it to me. Does your apartment use one?”

“No, my apartment does not use one. I knew the developer stopped renovating when the workers refused to come back because they were afraid. I heard that their tools were being moved, they would see apparitions, and one worker even was pushed down the stairway by unseen hands. I guess the locks were one thing they never got to, but Mr. Zimmerman should have replaced them. Especially since there were renters up here for a couple years, but they quickly left, just like the workers.” Ethel looked toward the French doors as rain began to pelt the glass. “When I worked as a receptionist here, decades ago, I would see the nurses with those passkeys.”

“Mr. Zimmerman is a cheapskate because my bed is an old hospital bed.”

Ethel's hand quivered as she put the cigar in her mouth, letting it hang from the corner of her wrinkled lips. “When you see no one is here, I'm helping you pack and you're moving into my apartment until you find someplace else.”