Haunting at Remington House. Laura V. Keegan

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СКАЧАТЬ had been Elise’s bedroom. For a moment Tom thought he saw the pale outline of a woman. Then the swirling mist completely shrouded the window. A shiver ran down his spine.

      Tom handed his luggage to the cab driver and wrapped his wool scarf tightly around his neck against the cold. How fragile the mind, how easily deceived. But that’s all it was—a cruel trick of a tired mind. Elise was dead.

      “Let’s go,” Tom said, slamming the taxi’s door. Finally, it’s over. The car pulled into the street, taillights flickering red as the driver slowed for a curve. Tom was on his way to Remington House, his new home.

      ***

      From the third story window, Elise watched Tom walk down the sidewalk carrying his suitcases. She tried to will him back into the house, back to her. To no avail. She cursed as he climbed into the waiting taxi, stared in disbelief as the cab pulled away from the curb. “How dare you leave me in this dreadful house—this house that has become my prison. I don’t think so!” she snarled, her opalescent fists flailing against the cold glass. Fury pierced her soul like a hot knife. Tom would pay for his betrayal. She smiled cruelly as the thick mist rolled in, completely obliterating her view.

      Chapter 2

      Tom hadn’t been away from Jamestown since his wife’s death. He’d forgotten the simple pleasure of traveling. Aboard the Eastern Express, a trip that would take about eight hours, he found himself content to watch the passing autumnal landscape of vivid reds, bright oranges and dazzling yellows. Quaint New England towns slipped by, one after another. Tom smiled, was caught by surprise at his reflection in the window. It’d been a long time since he’d felt this calm. I’m doing the right thing. To the depths of my soul I feel it. I think, at last, I am free.

      The porter knocked on his compartment door. “Lunch is being served in the dining car, Mr. Gardner.”

      Tom straightened his tie, ran his fingers through the thick waves of his hair. Whistling happily under his breath, he made his way down the aisle. As he entered the dining car, he froze. “Elise!” Her name escaped Tom’s lips. She was there, waiting, her back to him, in the first dining booth.

      The steward stepped forward to greet him, his smile quickly changing to one of concern. Tom tried to compose himself, sensed everyone staring at him. He struggled for self-control. This couldn’t be happening again. A drop of perspiration rolled down his forehead to the tip of his nose, hung then dropped onto his upper lip, the taste of salt bitter as he nervously licked his parched lips.

      Tom took a quick breath and focused on the face of the woman now turning toward him. Of course it wasn’t Elise. He had to get a grip. Turning to the steward he said, “I’ll have something in my compartment. I’m more tired than I realized.” Tom turned and strode down the aisle as steadily as his shaking knees would allow.

      Irritated, the steward muttered under his breath, “Yeah, you poor rich guys—you don’t know what tired is.” To Tom’s retreating back, he said loudly, “I’ll send someone with a tray.”

      After a quiet lunch, Tom lay down on the sleeping berth, his feet dangling uncomfortably over the end of the too-thin, too-short mattress. He slept until the train arrived at the Ravenswood depot. A cab waited on the street in front of the station, the driver, a man perhaps in his late thirties, tall, sturdy of build, wavy blonde hair sticking out from under a hunters cap, impatiently drummed his large fingers on the roof of the car. “Hey! You Tom Gardner?”

      Tom nodded. The man came forward, hands out, to take the suitcases from him.

      “Train’s running late tonight. Should’ve been here at six!” The driver hesitated, waited for an acknowledgment from Tom. Getting none he asked, “Have a good trip?”

      “I did.”

      The driver hoisted the heavy leather suitcases into the trunk, then opened the rear door, motioning Tom to get in. “Remington House, right?”

      “Yes. On upper Beach Highway Road,” Tom said, sitting back in the threadbare, gray-cloth seat. He cracked his window a few inches so the side window would defog. He wanted to see where he was going.

      “Get cold, let me know. I’ll crank the heat up for you.”

      “I’m fine. Thanks.”

      Chapter 3

      The drive proved much longer than Tom expected. After passing through the quaint town of Ravenswood, its streets filled with costumed children gathering candy on this All Hallows’ Eve, the taxi driver and his fare drove for miles in mutual silence, passing only an occasional house set well back from the road. Lights sparkled in windows creating the only visible light in the shadowy trees. On the outskirts of town the road turned into a two-lane highway. Tom rolled the window down. At once he heard the rhythmic sounds of the ocean pounding onto the shore. The glorious smell of salty ocean permeated and stung his nostrils. He inhaled deeply filling his lungs with the wonderfully intoxicating sea air. After driving for about half an hour on the desolate, winding beach highway, the cab turned off onto a dirt road.

      Rounding a curve in the long driveway, Tom had his first view of Remington House. He was finally home. Nestled in a grove of barren, leafless trees, Remington House waited for him. The moon peered from behind an expanse of clouds illuminating the stately three-story, clapboard house. From this angle, he could see three stone chimneys protruding from the broad-hipped roof. A wide verandah ran the full length of the house front, continuing around to the east. The moon slipped behind the thick clouds, shadowing the house in darkness.

      “You ever been here?” the driver asked.

      “No, I bought it sight unseen. My attorney did the legwork for me.”

      “Nice place. Too bad you’re seeing it in the dark for the first time. It’s incredible in the daylight.”

      The driver stopped in the gravel drive below the porch. While he unloaded the suitcases, Tom climbed the stairs and crossed the verandah. He stopped in front of the heavy double-entry doors, fumbling in his pocket for the key. Several lights had been left on inside, their glow casting eerie patterns across the porch. Lace curtains covered the leaded glass windows, obscuring his view into the house.

      “Mr. Gardner, are you going to open the door? You have the key, right?”

      “Yeah, sorry.” Tom’s hand was shaking as he unlocked the door and stepped into the oak- paneled entryway. Directly in front of him was a wooden staircase leading up into the pitch black, second floor. A cold draft blew down the staircase and across his face. A nudge from behind reminded him the driver was still loaded down with suitcases and was trying to get past him into the house.

      Tom stepped into the entryway, letting the man go around him. To the left, a doorway opened into a study, dimly lit from the porch lights. “Put the suitcases in there. I’ll take care of them later,” Tom said. “What do I owe you?”

      “Twenty four.”

      Tom handed the driver the fare, along with a generous tip. “That should do it then. Thanks. Goodnight.”

      The driver stared curiously at Tom. “You okay?” he asked, sticking his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans.

      “Fine,” Tom said, turning to open the front doors so the driver would leave.

      “You СКАЧАТЬ