Stolen Dreams
Authors: Terri Reid
Stolen Dreams
A MARY O’REILLY PARANORMAL MYSTERY
(Book Fourteen)
by
Terri Reid
“Perhaps you don’t
understand the connection mothers have with their children,” she replied.
“It’s a bond that
doesn’t lessen with age or distance.” She placed her hands on her belly. “And
it’s a bond that something as inconsequential as death will never overcome.”
Stolen Dreams – A Mary
O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery
I
feel the same way about friendship!
Terri Reid
This
book is dedicated to my dear friend, Barbara Carlisle.
She
has exemplified grace, courage, selflessness, friendship and love in ways that
I will never forget.
Thank
you for being my friend, my mentor and my sister. I will remember you always!
STOLEN DREAMS – A MARY O’REILLY
PARANORMAL MYSTERY
by
Terri
Reid
Copyright
© 2015 by Terri Reid
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under
copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored
in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by
any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise)
without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above
publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and
trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which
have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is
not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This
ebook
is licensed for your
personal enjoyment only. This
ebook
may not be resold
or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased
for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for
respecting the author’s work.
The author
would like to thank all those who have contributed to the creation of this
book: Richard Reid, Sarah Powers, Virginia Onines, Denise Carpenter, Juliette
Wilson, Maureen
Marella
, Jennifer Bates and Hillary
Gadd
.
She would also like to thank all of
the wonderful readers who walk with her through Mary and Bradley’s adventures
and encourage her along the way. I hope we continue on this wonderful journey
for a long time.
Contents
The huge, old mansion used to be on the outskirts of town,
but throughout the years, the town crept up to it and finally surrounded
it.
A tall, wrought iron, black fence
encased with ivy was the first barrier between the thriving town and the ancient
mansion with its dark windows, slightly overgrown foliage, and ominous, oversized,
black shutters lying against the gray slate façade.
The second barrier to most of the people in
the community was the rumors that the old house was haunted.
The sleek, black, Mercedes sedan slid to the curb in front
of the house and two men got out of the car and walked to the ornamental,
wrought iron gate. Sol Atkinson’s gait was smooth and easy, like his
smile.
His blonde hair was perfectly
coiffed and his suntan was mechanically applied on a regular basis.
His face was lean, with his cheekbones set
high and his chin square, giving you the impression of a skull with a thin
veneer of humanity stretched over it.
He reached into the pocket of his loosely fitted, expensive,
business suit and pulled out the key to the gate’s padlock.
Smoothly fitting it into the lock, he turned
it, and the lock easily slid open.
“Hurry,
Marty,” he urged his companion. “There’s nothing less scary than a couple of
suits.”
Marty Cannon nervously looked up and down the street, his
wispy thin moustache dancing above his lip and
standing
out boldly against his pale, flaccid skin.
He ran a nervous hand along his brow, smoothing the thinning strands of
his comb-over with the sweat beading up on his forehead.
An entire head shorter than Sol, he took a
quick breath and tried to summon a smile.
“Unless the suits are from the government,” he
joked lamely, wheezing with mirth at his own joke.
Sol shook his head and pushed open the gate. “Given the
circumstances, that was not funny, Marty.”
Once they entered the front yard of the mansion, Sol turned
and closed the gate behind them with a solid clang.
Then he replaced the lock and clicked it
firmly in place.
As Sol strode up
towards the front porch, Marty hung back.
His foot on the first step, Sol turned back to his partner. “You still
scared of this place, Marty?” he asked with a sneer.
Embarrassed, Marty shrugged. “It’s just creepy, that’s all,”
he replied. “I never liked this place. It gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
Disgusted, Sol jogged up the remaining steps and unlocked
the front door. “Well, you of all people should know there aren’t any ghosts
haunting the property,” he complained. “
Which isn’t doing any
of us a lot of good.
”
Marty slowly followed him, his gaze scanning the area
cautiously. “We should just sell this place,” he remarked. “Just get our
investment out of it.
I never liked this
town anyway.”
Sol waited until Marty had entered the house and stood in
the front lobby next to him before he replied. “Are you freaking kidding me,
Marty?” he exploded. “Let go of the house?
You do realize that we don’t have any money to get out of this place,
and if we sell it, we will end up owing the banks.”
“But Sol, it
ain’t
haunted like
you thought,” Marty argued cautiously. It wasn’t a good idea to get Sol too
angry. “We’ve tried everything, séances, Ouija boards, mediums—everything.
This place is just an old, empty house.
A creepy, old house.”
Sol shook his head, disregarding Marty’s words, and started
up the tall staircase to the second floor. “It just has to seem like a haunted
house,” he said. “We’ll keep the crowds coming if it seems like a haunted
house.
People pay good money to spend
the night in a haunted mansion.”
Marty followed him, shaking his head. “After that last
paranormal research group came through and found nothing, we
ain’t
been getting the crowds like we used to,” he pointed
out. “People look on the internet for everything.
All they have to do is research the house and
they’ll see we’ve been investigated by three different groups.
They
ain’t
gonna
pay top dollar to stay in the state’s most haunted
house if it
ain’t
got
no
ghosts.”
Sol stopped at the top of the stairs and waited for Marty.
“Then all we need is a ghost,” he said.
“We’ve tried that,” Marty sighed. “We tried getting a ghost
to come here and, I’ve got to say, that was creepier than anything else we’ve
done.
‘Sides, those paranormal research
folks told us that we shouldn’t be inviting spirits into this house because we
don’t know what kind of entity we’d get.
What if we get a demon, Sol?”
“So? A spirit’s a spirit in my opinion,” he retorted. “As
long as it makes noise and scares the guests, I don’t give a damn where it came
from.
I just want something to bring us
some publicity and some cash.”
Marty shook his head and put his hand on his partner’s
shoulder. “Sol, we’ve been at this for three years,” he replied. “The balloon
payment is coming up in three months.
We
ain’t
got the capital. We
gotta
let go of this place before we lose everything.”
Shoving Marty’s arm off his shoulder, Sol paced angrily down
the hallway. “Don’t you get it, Marty?” he growled, his teeth clenched. “I’m
going to lose everything if this place doesn’t pan out. I sunk everything I
owned into this place.
I don’t have any
reserves.
I don’t have anything to turn
to.
This place has to work out.”
Marty leaned one hand on the balustrade at the top of the
staircase and sadly shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sol. I’d do anything to help
you,” he said sadly. “But this place just
ain’t
got a
ghost.”
Sol sighed deeply and turned back to his friend, nodding his
head slowly. “Thank you, Marty,” he replied, slowly coming back down the hall
to where Marty was standing. “I thought you might say that.”
Shaking his head with confusion, Marty replied, “What did I
say?”
“That you’d do anything to help,” Sol replied, his eyes
meeting his companion’s.
A
icy tremor of fear swept through
Marty’s body as he saw the cold, calculating look in Sol’s eyes. He lifted his
hands defensively. “No, Sol, no,” he cried even as he felt the power of Sol’s
body knock him backwards and down the stairs.
A few moments later, Sol stood at the top of the staircase,
looking down at the broken, lifeless body of his business partner sprawled
unnaturally on the black and white, ceramic tiled, lobby floor. He leaned
against the same balustrade that only moments before had been held by Marty and
nodded. “And now we have a ghost.”