Charlotte
Letting my shoulders droop, I frowned as George disappeared out the back door. Why wouldn’t he let me drive him? Sniper let out a sigh and put his hands on his hips.
“It’s me, isn’t it?” I asked bluntly.
“He’s worried about ya,” he said simply, scraping the bloodied onion into the trash and dumping the cutting board in the dish sink. Sniper never lied. You asked a question, he gave an honest answer. He didn’t just preach, but lived the motto life is too short to lie and sugar coat things.
I nodded, glancing back to the back door. This was my fault, and it wasn’t just eating away at me, but George, too. My failure was taking both of us down.
The two girls I saw in the window were Mary and Diana. It took some work, but I’d gotten all the information I could from them, and we were about to leave for the police station to make a report when I heard a light tapping on the wall from a back bedroom. I hadn’t thought to inspect the house for more spirits because usually they came to me. At the sound, I stopped and listened, then flicked my suspicious gaze between Agnus and the girls.
“What is it?” Sniper asked as he took in my expression. The questioning looks from Sniper and George confirmed they didn’t hear the tapping, which meant only one thing.
I pinned my gaze heavily on Agnus. “Were there more girls?”
Her pale blue eyes widened briefly as she turned an obstinate cheek to me. If I could have wrapped my hands around her throat and strangled her at that moment, I would have. Mary and Diana’s stories were enough to make me want to throttle Agnus, but for her to blatantly ignore me when I asked a question, yet still expect me to help her sent me over the edge. I was so angry, pain shot up my spine, tensing my shoulders. Turning, I faced Mary and Diana. They hadn’t come out of the bedroom because they were too scared the bad man would get them, even when I insisted I hadn’t seen any sign of him.
“Do either of you know if there were other girls here? Mary,” I fixed my attention on her, “You speak first, please.” I’d had to specify this with them because I was the mediator, or they just kept talking over one another.
Mary, her head down, peeked up at me from under her long dark lashes. Her voice timid, she explained, “I heard one other girl, but never saw her. She was loud and moaned a lot. I only heard her for two days before she got quiet. The last night I heard her she was crying really loud, and the bad man stomped into her room. He shouted at her. She was screaming, then she just stopped. I didn’t hear her again after that.”
George and Sniper didn’t budge as I moved toward the bedroom where I heard the tapping. My stomach was knotted in anger, this odd feeling of rage and protectiveness coming over me for these young girls. No child should endure these atrocities. No adult for that matter, but here we were. I was neck deep in one of the ugliest and most vile things a child could suffer. It tore at me to hear what the girls went through, but knowing they’d been trapped in the place of their torment since their deaths was nearly too much.
The bedroom door creaked as I pushed it open, revealing a young girl, tapping rhythmically against the far wall, mumbling unintelligibly. The girl was pretty, just like the others, but after watching her for a moment it wasn’t hard to tell she was different. She didn’t seem to register my presence, even when I spoke. I jumped and shouted, but she just kept repeating something I couldn’t decipher, and tapping her fingers against the wall. Occasionally she would walk away from the wall and pace across the room and make clicking sounds with her tongue as she tapped her fingers together.
I’d practically beaten my hands black and blue banging against the door and walls to get her attention, but the few times I did, it was only for a second before she’d slip back into her own world. George finally stopped me after twenty minutes, resting a hand on my shoulder where I was crouched, my hands clenched as I watched her. “Let’s take this one step at a time, Charlotte,” he said quietly. “Maybe we can help the other two girls and Agnus first. Then we can focus here.”
I was frustrated and on edge. This whole thing was so horrific and had me wound tight. Standing, I made my way to the stairs where Agnus stood, her chin up, eyes cast away from me.
“Look at me,” I demanded fiercely.
Without moving her head even a fraction, she flicked her gaze to me. “I want to know everything about this girl.” I pointed at the bedroom where the girl resided.
“I didn’t select her for him, clearly,” Agnus added haughtily. “Obviously, something was wrong with her.”
Mary and Diana had told me about how Agnus had promised them she’d braid their hair and make them cookies if they came with her. The girls had taken her hand and come with her willingly, unaware they were being led to their torture and demise.
“Her name?” I asked through clenched teeth. As my anger seized me, I stomped my foot, the heel of my shoe slamming loudly against the wood floor. Agnus jerked at the sound. “Where is she from?” I gritted out.
“I don’t know,” Agnus said defiantly, her chest heaving as she grew flustered. “I didn’t find her for him. He just,” she bristled as if angered at the thought, “showed up with her one day. He said the girl’s father had given her to him. They didn’t want her. She was different.” My eyes stung with disbelief. She’d been given away—to this? Her own father had cast her away like she was nothing just because she was different. My vision blurred as an overwhelming urge to cry came over me, but I held strong. I would not let Agnus see that part of me.
“She was loud,” Agnus continued. “She never stopped making noise. I tried to drug her to quiet her down, but it only worked for short periods of time before she’d start up again. That’s why he…” she stopped speaking and looked away from me.
“Killed her?” I bit out.
She refused to look at me or respond, and I knew I had the answer. My face heated as the anger and anguish I felt settled in my chest. “Agnus, so help me God, if you do not help me help these girls, I will make sure you never cross over, and you can stay in this hell hole for all eternity.” She whipped her head around to look at me, eyes wide with obvious terror. Good. I wanted her scared. I truly had no control over when a spirit was taken to the other side; it was really up to them. For Agnus to even be in limbo she had to believe something was left unfinished. But given her hand in the torment and death of these girls, I had no problem selling her the lie that I could keep her there if I wanted to.
“Charlotte, love.” Sniper’s use of my full name pulled me from the memory as he rested a gentle hand on my arm, concern creasing his brow. “Your eyes look like they’re about to leak. You ok, lass?”
George. I needed to focus on George. My husband. Not the Hell House.
Blinking a few times and taking a cleansing breath to clear my head, I met his gaze. “I’m worried about him, too.” The whole thing had both of us stressed. Stress isn’t good for anyone, but George in particular. He was an addict—a recovered one, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t slip. He’d done so well since rehab, attending meetings every week to keep himself on track. It shredded me to know my issues might push him back to old habits or, at the very least, cause him struggle. My gaze fell to the floor, my guilt making me unable to look at Sniper anymore as I muttered, “This stress isn’t good for him.”
“George is good now, Char,” Sniper tried to assure me. “He’s focused. You guys need to stop worrying about each other so much.”
“That’s what married people are supposed to do,” I said dryly. “You know…that whole love, honor, and protect bit in the vows.”
“No,” he disagreed, his mouth curving up on one side, an indication he was about to say something inappropriate. “Married people are supposed to shag like crazy, then argue over how much money the woman spends at Target. That’s it.” He cut his hand sideways with finality.
I chuckled as I shook my head. “If you think that’s all there is to it, you should probably hold off on getting hitched anytime soon.”
“Pfft,” he muttered with something between a laugh and a groan. “The day I get married is the day the Pope bends over and presses his holy lips to me arse.”
“Mmm hmm,” I mused. “Right on that unicorn tattoo, huh?”
“You bet your sweet arse,” he chuckled.
Rolling my eyes at the stereotypical male aversion to marriage, I turned to assess the mess George left after cutting his thumb, but my sight landed on Anna, heartbreak in her eyes as she stood frozen just inside the kitchen. You’d think a person that saw dead people couldn’t be stunned silent, but there I was, wide-eyed and staring at her, not sure what to do or say.
Sniper was still chuckling when he finally looked up and realized Anna was watching us. The kitchen went silent as he absorbed the moment. His facial expressions were so transparent to his thoughts it was almost as if a thought bubble was drifting just above his head.
She’s upset.
Why is she upset?
Did I do something?
Obviously, I did something.
But what?
What did I do?
Should I ask her what’s wrong?
He was such a guy. The fact the woman he’d been dating for years just overheard him basically say hell would freeze over before he ever got hitched somehow totally flew over his head.
He cut his blue eyes to me pleadingly, begging me to clue him in. I wanted to smack him upside his head to knock some sense in him. Geez. Was he really this dense? At least he was in tune enough to recognize she was upset about something. Some men would’ve been too aloof to even see that.
I averted my gaze, pretending I didn’t catch his cry for help. Our conversation hadn’t been a serious heart-to-heart; just joking around between two friends, but it was clear from Anna’s reaction it hadn’t sounded like a joke. I wanted to throw him a lifeline, but what could I do? He’d said it. Anna had heard it. He hadn’t meant for Anna to hear it, and now he would have to explain his feelings to her.
I grimaced inside, hating it for both of them. That would be fun.
I bit my lip and cast him an apologetic look. He was on his own on this one.
Anna cleared her throat, blinked a few times, and pressed on a smile. “I’m still waiting on that burger for table five.”
“Okay, love,” Sniper replied, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “I’ll have it for you in two.”
Anna pressed her lips together and gave a curt nod in response, then spun around, grabbing my potpie for table ten and darted out of the kitchen.
Sniper glanced at me again, his brows furrowed in confusion, “I fucked up, didn’t I?”
“I think so,” I sighed. “I don’t think the woman you’ve been dating for years was happy to hear about your aversion to marriage.”
“We’ve never even talked about it. I didn’t think she wanted to, either.”
Patting his shoulder in sympathy, I said, “Well my friend, I do believe you’ll be having a talk about it very soon.”
Rubbing a hand over his head, he let out a long breath. “I wanna kick me own arse for talking ‘bout it anyways. Ike always said I was the king of putting me foot in my mouth.”
Even after all this time, the mention of Ike always left me teetering on the edge of laughing or crying. The thought of Ike Mcdermott made me smile, but at the same time, the loss of him punched me in the gut. God, I missed him. That never seemed to ebb. Rather, it had settled into my bones, like the ache Grams always griped about before a storm. Except this ache was embedded in me—constantly there. I could feel it with every breath I took, but with time I’d learned to live with it.
“I’d have to agree with him,” I finally managed, pushing my thoughts away. There was a time and place for me to think about Ike, and right now wasn’t it. “You good to clean this up, or do you need me to do it?”
“I got it,” he mumbled, still frustrated with himself. As I exited the kitchen to go check on my tables, I pulled my cell from my pocket to text George.
Please let me know what the doc says.
It probably wouldn’t need more than a few stitches, but it wasn’t the cut I was really worried about. I was worried about him. I needed to not overwhelm him with my own anxiety and find a way to help him relax. But how? He was so in tune with me sometimes, it felt as if he knew my thoughts before I even had them.
“Charlotte!” Mr. Mercer practically crooned from the hostess stand.
I couldn’t fight my grin at the sight of him. The old man had a contagious cheerful aura. “Hey there, good looking. You here stag, or did you bring your better half?”
“Afraid it’s just me today,” he replied, his smile falling. “The misses isn’t feeling well.”
“Oh no. Is she okay?”
He waved a hand. “I think it’s a cold. I tried to take care of her, but she’s stubborn and insisted I come down and have lunch with you.”
Looping my arm through his, I led him to one of my booths. Just as he was about to take his seat, a pain zipped through my head making me hiss.
Mr. Mercer gently gripped my shoulders, steadying me as I pressed my hand to my head. “Are you alright, Charlotte, dear?”
The pain was frustrating, only coming in short flashes, but when it hit, the intensity was enough to stop me in my tracks, demanding to be acknowledged.
“Yes,” I assured him before clearing my throat. “Sorry about that. Just a flash headache, but it’s gone now.” I patted his chest. “Please, have a seat.”
“You sure?” he asked. “I can’t have both my girls feeling bad.”
I smiled as he finally sat. “I’m fine, really, and I’m sad to hear Mrs. Mercer isn’t feeling well, but I always love a visit from you.” Then to distract him, I quickly added, “You just relax, and I’ll grab you a sweet tea.”
“You’re a doll,” he gushed, his eyes smiling under his bushy gray brows.
“I’ll be right back.”
On my way back to the kitchen I passed Anna vigorously wiping down a table, like it had wronged her and she was punishing it.
Maybe because Sniper had just mentioned him, or maybe because I was feeling terrible about George and Anna, somewhere in the back of my mind I heard Ike’s voice. She’s not upset, his tone sarcastic, not at all.
I smiled. He was always good at making the heavy moments a little lighter with his humor. Maybe that’s why I heard his voice when everything seemed like it was going wrong.
The heaviness returned as Anna knocked over a salt shaker, and it skidded off the table, shattering on the floor.
“Ugghhhh,” Anna groaned as she tossed her towel down and furiously began tearing the chairs away from the table to assess the mess. Yep, she wasn’t happy. A few guests at nearby tables eyed her, and I moved between them and her, doing my best to assist.
Don’t break eye contact with her, Ike’s voice said. That’s how they sense fear.
Again, I pushed my thoughts of Ike away, so I could focus on Anna. “Hey,” I tried cautiously. “You oka—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she interrupted as she grabbed her towel and began gathering the broken glass and salt into a pile.
“I’ll go get a broom,” I offered.
“I got it, Charlotte,” she insisted as she stood and pushed past me.
“Okay,” I said mostly to myself, frowning as she whizzed away. She’d never been snippy with me before, so this was unfamiliar territory. Was she mad at me? Or just Sniper? Damn him, and his stupid foot-in-mouth tendencies. Now I was in the doghouse, too. I decided not to push her. I would try again when she was calmer. Sometimes people just need some time to cool down.