Rosecliff Manor Haunting (7 page)

A call to the local police was made. Rifle still poised and ready, Rose placed the call on speaker, explained the “emergency” and offered her home address. The male voice on the other line rattled off some additional questions and then asked Rose to remain on the line. To Addison’s amazement, she didn’t. She snapped her flip-phone closed and pushed it back inside her pocket.

“I hate these things, you know?” Rose said. “These cell phones.”

Addison’s reaction was to remain quiet, smile and nod, and prepare herself for what came next. With the police in transit, there was no need to make things worse than they already were. She’d made a mess of it all, and no quick fix or well-crafted remark would save her this time.

Vivian remained in the room beside Addison, her eyes squinted, like she was thinking, formulating a plan. “Tell her I’m glad she redid my room. She sews in there now.”

Addison considered the request then shook her head, knowing what a dangerous thing it would be to mess with a woman who not only held a loaded gun in her hand, but who wouldn’t believe her anyway. There was no point in saying anything.  

“What are you doing?” Rose asked. “Why are you bobbing your head around?”

“Sorry. No reason.”

“There must be a reason.” Rose’s eyes darted around the room. “You’re not alone, are you? Who’s with you? Your boyfriend Luke?”  

“It’s just me. I came alone. He doesn’t even know I came here.”

Rose ignored her, hollered, “Whatever you’re planning, Luke. Don’t bother. Take one step into this room, and I’ll shoot.”

“I told you, he’s not here. I can call him if you’d like, prove to you he’s not with me.”

“The only thing calling him would prove is that he isn’t in this room. Just how stupid do you think I am?” 

“I don’t. I just thought it would put you at ease.”

“At ease? You must be joking. You broke into my house tonight. And if someone as scrawny as you can do it, imagine who else can. I don’t think I’ll ever be at
ease
again.”

“Can I … ask you something?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Addison took a deep breath in. “You like to sew, right?”

“
That’s
what you wanted to ask me? You were shown around earlier. You’re well aware I have a sewing room.”

“It used to be Vivian’s room.”

That did it. Rose’s eyes almost doubled in size. “Don’t play with me, child. Whatever you’re trying to do here, it won’t work. And it’s not funny.”

Vivian pressed a finger to her lips. “Tell her the new wallpaper’s nice, but I like the old paper better. The one with bright pink and orange flowers on it.”

Addison inhaled a lungful of air. This was crazy, too much, far too much. She couldn’t. Or … could she? Beneath Rose’s jaded, acrimonious layers was a woman who’d hardened after losing her precious daughters, a woman who may have been giving and kind until her life took an unexpected turn.

Maybe what the moment needed was a dose of the erratic. 

“I can sometimes communicate with those who are no longer living.”

Rose’s jaw fell open. “Don’t. Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

“The new wallpaper is nice,” Addison said. “But Vivian liked the old paper better.”

“Stop this,” Rose warned.

“Pink and orange flowers. They were—”

“Enough!”

Sirens sounded below.

“Cops are here,” Rose said. “Why not tell them your cockamamie story? Get yourself thrown in a place with a bunch of other kooks. Works for me.”  

Addison turned to Vivian. “I don’t know what else to do, Vivian. I tried. And I’m sorry. I’ll keep trying.”

Rose gripped Addison by the arm, tossing her toward the attic door. “I’ve had enough. Shut your trap and get downstairs.”

“Mrs. Clark, I’m Officer North, and this is Officer Shumaker,” Officer North said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“We’ve done a full sweep of your place. We didn’t find anyone else. So either she was alone as she stated or whoever was with her is gone. You can put the rifle down now, ma’am. You’re safe.”

Rose placed the rifle on the coffee table next to her. “I won’t feel safe until you’ve hauled her away. There’s something wrong with this one. She’s not right … in the head. Talk to her for a few minutes. You’ll see what I mean. She’s loony. Tried to get me to believe she speaks to the dead, if you can believe it.”

Officer North flashed Addison a look implying he thought he might have a little more than an average break-in on his hands. “You mind explaining why you broke in to this woman’s house tonight?”

“I … umm … I was here earlier today, taking a tour of the house, and I …”

And I, nothing.

There wasn’t anything to say.

Not this time.

A sting of regret poured through her. Regret for not telling Luke. Not trusting he’d understand. Handcuffs were applied, and her Miranda rights were read to her. She was then escorted out the front door. Arms folded, and eyes stern, Rose followed close behind.

Vivian stood just outside the front door, a single tear trailing down her rosy cheek. Addison passed within a few inches of her, turned, and tried to offer a slight smile as a means of comfort. When she did, she noticed something. It wasn’t Vivian standing there. It was Grace. Seeing Grace up close, she could finally tell them apart. Vivian had a small birthmark on the side of her neck. Grace didn’t.   

Fists clenched into balls at her side, Grace yelled, “You have to do something! You can’t leave! Everyone leaves!”

Grace’s turning point had come too late.

“I’m sorry,” Addison whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

The tears streamed now—wild and angry. Furious.

And then Grace screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

Something unusual happened. Officer North paused for a moment, his eyes darting around almost like he’d heard a sound he couldn’t quite explain.

Grace leaned her back against the house’s exterior and sagged to the floor. Vivian reappeared and sat next to her sister, whispering something in her ear.

Voice unsteady, Grace said, “Tell Mama I’m sorry I spilled soda all over my blue dress before the party. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

No. Not again. Not this time. The new paint. The wallpaper. It hadn’t worked before. There was no reason to believe it would be any different this time.

“Tell her!” Grace demanded.

Addison shook her head.

“Look,” Rose pointed. “There she goes. She’s doing it again!”

“What is it?” Officer North asked. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Addison replied. “I thought I felt a bug crawling on me. I must have been mistaken.”  

Officer Shumaker opened the door to the patrol car. Addison arced her head back, taking one last look at Vivian and Grace. The anguish of it all hit her, gushing like a seismic wave. She’d let them down.

“Rose,” Addison yelled.

Rose bent down and smiled, pleased to see Addison in the back of the police car at last. “What is it now?”

“Grace is sorry she spilled soda all over her blue dress.”

“What … did … you … say?”

“She didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

The sound of metal bars clanking together in front of her felt like the last nail being driven into a steel, six-by-eight coffin. Addison had never felt so trapped, so helpless, so desperate to taste the kind of freedom she’d always taken for granted.

Of course, she had no one to blame but herself.

The details from the night Vivian and Grace died were clearer now, but there were still so many holes to plug. How to plug them was just as much of a mystery as figuring out how Grace fell from the attic window after what now appeared to be Vivian’s accidental death. To get to the truth, she’d need to know the identity of everyone in the room at the time of the twins’ deaths. And to find one person willing to provide her with answers.

Down the other end of the rectangular hallway, a familiar female voice found its way into Addison’s cell. Lia McReedy, a medical examiner she’d met months before at Grayson Manor. What was she doing here?  

Addison wrapped her hands around the bars of the cell and shouted, “Lia?”

Addison heard Lia say, “Who’s in holding?”

A male voice answered, “Ahh, I don’t know. We busted some chick for breaking and entering. Let’s see … says here her name is Addison Lockhart. Know her?”

Several seconds later, a perplexed Lia stood in front of Addison’s cell. A few inches shorter than Addison, Lia had chocolate brown hair cut into a bob, and wore colored contacts to accentuate her already stunning blue eyes. Every time Addison saw her, she was always dressed the same way—in black leggings and oversized boat neck T-shirts that showed off her ample bosom while flattering her midsection enough to disguise a small bump Addison assumed wasn’t a pregnancy.

“How’s your grandmother?” Lia asked. “Are you still telling people you don’t know where she is?”

“I haven’t heard from her in a while. It’s true.”

“Even though she covered up what happened at Grayson Manor decades ago, I doubt anyone cares about it anymore. She doesn’t need to stay away. The case was closed months ago.”

Addison felt the same. Unfortunately, her grandmother didn’t agree.  

“I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Why?” Lia asked.

“I thought you were the ME in Rhinebeck.”

“I’m the ME for Dutchess County. It includes Pleasant Valley
and
Rhinebeck.”

“What happened in Pleasant Valley to bring you here?”

Lia avoided the question. “You’re the last person I’d expect to see behind a cell. I heard you broke into someone’s place?”

Addison nodded. “Yeah, it’s a long story.”

Lia glanced at her watch. “I’ve got time. Maybe I can help you. I have a hard time believing you’re a criminal. Besides, you helped me out of a bad situation once.”

She was right. Addison had almost forgotten rescuing Lia from a jaded ex-boyfriend months earlier.

“It sounds a lot worse than it is. I had a good reason for doing what I did.”

“Which is?”

“Earlier today, my boyfriend Luke and I were given a tour of Rosecliff Manor.”

Lia’s eyes shifted from Addison to the floor, and she began gnawing on the inside of her bottom lip. “Why were you on a tour of Rosecliff? I know the owner. Shrewd woman. She’s not the type to open her house to strangers.”

“You’re right. She had no interest in showing us the house. Then her son Derek showed up, and everything changed.”

“How does this end with you being locked up?”

“I returned to the house tonight and let myself in without Rose’s permission.”

“Why?”

“During the tour, I wanted to see the attic,” Addison said. “I was told it was locked, that the key had been lost a long time ago. I found it.”

“What do you mean you found it?”

“When I was taking the tour, I found it in the library.”

“And you didn’t hand it over?”

Addison shook her head.

“Why not?” Lia asked.

“I knew if I did, Rose still wouldn’t let me see the attic.”

“What’s this obsession you have with the attic? I mean, everyone around here knows the story, but what does it have to do with you?”

“I was looking for evidence.”

“What kind of evidence?”

Prepped and curious, Lia was right where Addison wanted her to be. The bomb was ready to drop. “I don’t believe the deaths of Vivian and Grace were accidents. Not entirely. And you want to know what else I think? You don’t believe they were accidents either.”

In no time, Lia shifted from curious to defensive. “I have no idea what you’re talking about or why you’d even say something like that. All I can say is, your assumption is wrong. I don’t even know much about that case.”

“You do know Thomas Gregory though, don’t you?” Addison asked.

She paused before responding. “He’s the guy who wrote the book about the town’s history.”

“He’s also the guy who said he suspected the cops could have done a better job, among other things.”

“So?”

“So … do you know him, or don’t you?”

“I … like I just said, I know he wrote the book.” 

“Oh, I think you know him a lot better than that, Lia.”

Lia took a step back. “Why are you saying this?”

“I saw your picture at his house. It was in a little frame he’d leaned against the windowsill. I almost didn’t recognize you at first, but that’s because the first time I met you at Grayson Manor, your hair was blond. Now it’s brown, just like in the picture I saw.”

Lia looked at Addison like she was trying to decide if she wanted to continue the charade. “Okay, maybe I know Tom a bit more than I let on.”

“I don’t just think you know him … I think you gave him the idea to write about the girls in the first place. I mean, he’s passionate about his convictions, but something else is driving him, or
someone
else. You.”

Lia stepped forward again until the only thing separating her face and Addison’s was the metal bars between them. “Keep your friggin’ voice down!”

“Why? Who cares if anyone hears?”

“I care.”

“I’m not trying to get you in trouble, Lia. I wouldn’t. We’re on the same page here. I want answers as much as you do. And what would really help me right now is if you told me what you know that everyone else doesn’t.”

“I don’t get it. Why are you involved? Why does it matter to you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

The rubber soles of a guards shoes squeaked their way toward Addison’s cell. The guard fumbled around his pocket for a key, inserted it into the hole, jerked his head to the side, and grunted, “You’re out of here, Lockhart.”

“I can leave? Already?” Addison asked. “How?”

“Dunno. I was just sent back here to get you.” 

“Looks like you made bail,” Lia said. “I have to go.”

The guard turned, heading the same direction he came from. Halfway back, he turned, “You comin’ or what?”

Before Addison could go after her, Lia had already disappeared into another room. Addison followed the guard back to the office, nervous to face Luke when she rounded the corner. Would he be angry? Would he understand? Her nervousness led to uncontrollable chatter, and she found herself saying to the guard, “I guess my boyfriend came to get me.”  

The guard turned, “I don’t know nothin’ about your boyfriend. All I know is, he’s not the reason you’re free.”