Tymber Dalton (29 page)

Julie handed a pad of gridded paper and pencil to Matt. “Can you draw me a rough blueprint of the house?” She indicated the tape measure, still on the floor. “Doesn’t have to be exact, but use that to give me rough dimensions.”

He agreed and set off on his mission.

Julie continued unpacking the items she brought, including what Sami guessed to be tens of thousands of dollars in video cameras and other equipment. She handed Sami a digital voice recorder and showed her how to use it by recording the time, date, and location. “Please take this up to the attic and leave it in the middle of the floor.”

It was after five. Before they got too involved, Sami needed to call Steve. She left the digital voice recorder activated, in the attic, and found her cell in the living room.

* * * *

Steve answered his room phone when it rang.

“How are you feeling?” Sami asked.

He couldn’t read her mood, but she sounded concerned.

“My fever is gone. They said I might go home tomorrow.”

“That’s great.” She sounded genuinely enthusiastic. “I’ll be there in the morning to get you.”

“I’m looking forward to some home cooking. This stuff isn’t bad, but it’s not good, either.”

“We’ll get you home and everything will be fine.”

Will it?
“Sami, I want to talk about what happened, because I think I owe you—”

“Steve, we can talk once you’re home, okay?” She said it kindly. Maybe she was willing to stay. “I’ll bring you home and we’ll have plenty of time to talk, all right?”

Would they? Somehow, he didn’t think they would. “Okay. What are you doing?”

“Housecleaning.” Her slight hesitation made him suspect otherwise, or maybe it was his exhaustion. “The basement. I’m thinking about tossing some of the crap down there…”

* * * *

When they were together again, Julie asked Sami for the sage. “You still have it, right?”

Sami retrieved the box of items from the cabinet.

“Good. I need to see the room you found.”

They led her to it, and she asked them to open the office window. Julie repeated the sage-and-blessing ritual in the secret room. Her voice sounded muffled inside the wall. “I’ll tell you the truth, besides the fact the dust isn’t disturbed, I don’t think your husband knew this was here because I don’t get the feeling of fresh energy, mostly really old stuff.” She fell silent. For a moment they worried something had happened. Then, “Oh no! My grandfather found it!”

Julie staggered out of the closet, and Matt took the abalone shell and smoldering sage stick before she dropped them.

Sami began to wonder if this was such a good idea. “How could you tell just from looking?”

Julie’s hand shook. The old pocket watch was covered with dust, but they made out the engraving on the cover.

Tom Prescott.

“I found it on the floor by the empty bottles.” Her voice trembled. She collapsed in the office chair.

Matt set the items on the desk and took the watch from her, going back into the closet with a flashlight. Julie stared out the office window. She didn’t see Matt reemerge and nod to Sami.

There was a spot on the floor, in the dust, where the watch had been. He hadn’t stepped far enough into the closet to see it before.

Julie placed her hands on the desk and closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Sami tried to reassure her. “It’s okay, we understand. I’m sure it’s quite a shock.”

“My great-grandmother didn’t keep any of his things. Family legend is she had them all burned, only kept a few pictures of the two of them with Lisa. She kept all her pictures of Lisa, even if he was in them. There are some wedding photos another relative has, but beyond that—” She choked back a sob. “Nothing to show he ever lived. He wasn’t always an evil man. He did a lot of good and people liked him. It wasn’t until after he moved here he changed.” She turned from them and wiped her eyes.

Matt decided he didn’t want to hold the watch anymore and held it out to Julie. She recoiled at first, then felt around in her pocket for a handkerchief and wrapped the watch in it. She swallowed hard. “I need to take care of it.”

She seemed to see the desk for the first time. “This is George Simpson’s desk?”

Sami nodded. “That’s what the real estate agent said.”

“It needs to go. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Goddess, I’m
so
stupid!” She swallowed hard again. “Furniture in the house from George Simpson or my great-grandfather needs to be removed.”

“Let’s do it.” Matt cleared the desktop and started removing the drawers. Much heavier than it looked, it explained why it probably never left the house. It took all three of them, struggling, to maneuver it through the doorway. They dragged it outside and unceremoniously dropped it on the grass once they cleared the porch stairs.

They heard a clunk inside, like glass rattling against wood. All three looked at each other.

Sami said it first. “Did you hear that?”

Matt and Julie nodded.

They examined the desk. The empty drawers lay strewn on the ground next to it. Matt and Sami hefted the desk up a few inches and let it drop again.

Clunk.

They knocked on the veneer facing, trying to find the hidden compartment, while daylight faded and evening shadows blanketed the yard. Sami, weary of the chore, walked to the barn.

“Where’s she going?” Julie asked.

She didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Sami returned a moment later with an old axe and approached the desk. Matt pulled Julie out of the way as Sami swung the axe hard, grunting with the effort. The rusty axe shattered the front panel but didn’t expose any hidden compartments. Sami braced her foot against the desk for leverage, pulled the axe out, and tried again.

“If you swung a tennis racket like that, you might beat me more often,” Matt quipped.

Sami glared at him before returning her focus to the desk.

Julie nudged him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to tease a pissed-off, axe-wielding woman.”

“Good point.”

They watched while Sami, swing by swing, systematically destroyed the desk. It took nearly twenty hits to find and break the compartment open. It was on the far right side, near the bottom.

Sami stared at the half-empty whiskey bottle that rolled out, miraculously unscathed, when she pulled the axe out and remains of the splintered veneer panel came with it.

Not a speck of dust on the bottle. The date on the label read 1907. Identical to the ones in the secret closet.

She looked at Matt, then hefted the axe over her head. With a scream of fury, Sami brought the blunt side of the axe head down, smashing the bottle and splashing whiskey everywhere, repeating until her screams turned to sobs.

She threw the axe to the ground and stomped toward the house.

Matt surveyed the desk’s ruins. “How do we explain it to Steve?”

“Tell him termites?” Julie suggested.

“Well, she did tell him we had an exterminator coming today.”

Sami stormed through the front door, slamming it hard enough to rattle the windows.

Julie let out a breath. “I think when she gets her hands on him, the least of Steve’s problems will be what happened to his desk. Go after her. I’ll clean up the glass.”

* * * *

Matt found Sami in the master bedroom. She angrily stripped off her clothes. They smelled of whiskey from where it splashed her as she pummeled the bottle.

He stepped outside the bedroom door when he realized she was undressing. “Sam, you okay?”

“Do I look like I’m—Jesus, Matt, you’ve seen me naked before. What are you doing out there?”

“I don’t exactly have the right to walk in on you,” he said softly.

He heard her sigh, a drawer open, close, and she said, “All clear.”

She’d put on a yellow, oversized T-shirt that fell past her hips. She’d never looked more beautiful.

“What now?” he quietly asked.

“Well, I’m back to the booze or boogeyman question, aren’t I? Maybe there’s nothing wrong with Steve after all, except that he’s a damn lying drunk. Maybe it’s my imagination running away with me and he’s just a fucking asshole.” She rummaged around for a pair of jeans in a sock drawer. Realizing her mistake, she slammed the drawer shut hard enough to rock the dresser. She yanked another drawer open, and the knob came off in her hand, sending her reeling off-balance.

Reflexively, Matt stepped forward and caught her. Their eyes met. They stood frozen for a moment until she grabbed his head with both hands and kissed him, forcefully, her fingers entwined in his hair.

His first instinct was to pull away. Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, his hands skimming down her back to cup her soft, rounded curves, holding her more tightly against him, if that was possible. She moaned as he grew hard against her.

It had been so many years, and she felt so good. He realized how much he ached for her.

God, he’d missed her!

Nothing else existed, just that moment. Her hands picked at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. He stepped back to help her. When he looked up, he saw an angry man, brandishing a buck knife, standing at the end of the bed.

The sight sent him stumbling back against the dresser. “No!” he gasped, pulling Sami behind him to protect her, but the man was gone.

Sami wheeled around, panicked. “What, what is it?”

He pointed at the place where he saw the man. The ghostly specter had disappeared. “There was—”
Oh, screw it and admit it.
“George Simpson, right there!”

Sami looked. “I don’t see anything.” Their mood was as gone as George’s ghost.

* * * *

Matt helped Sami open the drawer and get a pair of jeans. Julie waited for them in the kitchen. They told her what Matt saw and she grabbed the FLIR camera and bounded up the stairs, two at a time.

They followed her, and Matt pointed to exactly where he saw the figure.

Julie scanned the room with the thermal camera but didn’t find anything. “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t here or won’t be back,” she explained.

They returned to the subject of furniture. “Old stuff from the Simpsons or Prescotts needs to go,” Julie said.

“I’m not sure what else was here,” Sami admitted. “A couple of dressers, maybe a bed frame, not much else. The rest of the stuff is downstairs in the basement.” They brought the still-smoldering sage stick with them to the basement.

Julie went through the items. “None of this looks old enough. That desk though, since it belonged to George, it’s a magnet for negativity as long as it is in the house. Especially with Steve using it, and George using Steve to break through.”

Julie brought down her electronics, including another voice recorder, and set them up in the basement. Once ready, they turned their focus to the bookcase. Matt used the flashlight to carefully examine every inch for a hidden latch. A built-in unit, but it wasn’t one solid piece. It looked like several bookcases had been spliced together to make a larger one. They pulled and tugged on the shelves, but found no way to get in.

“Do you have a hammer, Sam?” Matt asked.

She brought it to him. He gently rapped on the wall behind the shelves. It sounded dull, solid, not hollow. It was difficult to tell if anything lay behind the wall or not.

Julie studied the shelves. “I keep picturing an episode of Scooby-Doo where Daphne leans against a bookcase and disappears behind it.”

“If only it were that easy.” Sami started systematically pushing, instead of pulling, each shelf.

Matt crawled on his hands and knees, looking under the bookcase between the floor and bottom shelf.

“Aha!” They heard a click. The section of shelving next to him easily and silently swung open.

As the women gathered around, Matt shined the flashlight inside.

Steve’s eyes flew open. They’d found it! He didn’t know how he knew, but the basement room was open.

He couldn’t let them in there!
They’ll take everything!

He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head. The fever must be back, because this didn’t make any sense. What room? Who found it?

He thought about calling the nurse and decided against it. This would pass. These episodes always did. Washing over him in waves, experience told him they would soon be little more than a bad memory by morning.

Rage exploded behind his eyes.
How
dare
they? How dare they invade my personal space and take what is mine! I’ve worked too damn hard to let someone else steal it!

Steve grabbed the handrail and tried to sit up, the pain in his abdomen bringing him back to full consciousness.
This is stupid.

He hit the button on the morphine pump and waited. As he drifted to sleep, a final dark thought wormed its way through.