Demon House: The Haunting of Demler Mansion (Penny Wright Book 3) Page 2

  But then a hole opened beneath her sister, and Hannah was gone.

  Part One

  The Body

  Chapter One

  Penny Wright put a hand against the cold glass of the car window. Morning had passed, but the town of Crimson Falls still looked half asleep. A few pedestrians ambled slowly down Main Street. Even the snow was sluggish, drifting in clumps that turned to damp splatters on the sidewalk.

  “Looks like we’re right on time.” Anderson Green parked in front of a restaurant. A huge wooden sign in old-fashioned lettering proclaimed it “The Stagecoach Diner.” Evergreen garlands draped over the tops of the windows.

  “First stop is a meeting with the sheriff,” Anderson said. “Our point of contact.”

  “The sheriff?” She hadn’t expected this to be so official. “Aren’t police skeptical of…people like us?”

  “Some are. Some aren’t.” He glanced at her, lips curving wryly. “But desperation tends to make one more open minded.”

  Penny got out and joined Anderson on the curb. He was dressed in tailored chinos, a black Oxford shirt, and a slim-cut blazer. His curly hair and goatee were neatly trimmed, speckled with gray. Penny looked more like the locals, with her jeans and favorite plaid shirt. The sun was shining despite the snow, so she left her coat unzipped.

  A sleigh bell jingled when they opened the door. Inside the diner, patrons sat sipping hot drinks and reading newspapers. Wagon wheels, rusty tools, and coils of rope decorated the walls, all accented with Christmas ribbons in red and silver. A coffee grinder whirred, and a milk steamer emitted a high-pitched hum.

  Anderson headed straight for the tables. A young man in a tan uniform stood when he saw them, removing his cowboy hat.

  “Mr. Green?”

  Anderson nodded, extending his hand. “Sheriff Lofton, I presume.” The men shook, and the sheriff turned to Penny.

  “Are you one of them? The—” He paused briefly, glancing toward the counter. A woman in an apron was watching them, frowning.

  “Investigators?” Sheriff Lofton finished.

  Penny had never imagined herself as an investigator, even the paranormal kind. Yet here she was.

  “I’m new,” she said, “but yes. I’m part of Anderson’s team. Penny Wright.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Penny. Trey Lofton.” The sheriff leaned closer. “Tell you the truth, I’m new as well. Took over from my dad not long ago. The older guys didn’t want me to talk to ya’ll at all.” He didn’t look much older than Penny herself. She’d have thought mid-twenties was too young to be sheriff of a whole county, even a small one.

  “Would you rather we speak somewhere more private?” Anderson asked in his smooth, deep voice.

  “Oh, everybody’s heard the rumors. If we meet here in the open, they won’t bug me demanding to know what I’m hiding. Besides, the coffee at my office is like battery acid. Hey, Aunt Diane?” Lofton called out to the woman behind the counter. “A large French press, three cups, and a couple of your delicious snickerdoodles?”

  The woman gave a curt nod. “Anyone need decaf?”

  They shook their heads.

  Trey gestured for them to sit. “Your rooms are all ready at Shady Valley Resort. You’ll be the only guests, as requested.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “What else will you need to get started? I’m afraid I’m out of my element here.”

  Penny felt eyes on her. The other diners turned their heads when she caught them looking.

  “We’ll need to interview the witnesses,” Anderson said. “If you could help with setting that up—”

  Lofton’s brow tightened. “I’m afraid those kids went home to Denver weeks ago. Poor girl got airlifted from the county hospital to one closer to home. You have their contact info and their statements in the file I sent.”

  “I don’t just mean witnesses to the events last month,” Anderson said. “I’m planning to contact Kacey Eckert and Ross Trujio on my own. But I’m requesting interviews with anyone who might have information relevant to the haunting. Including the Demler family.”

  The woman from behind the counter brought over the coffee and cookies, her frown never leaving as she eyed them and then returned to the kitchen.

  The sheriff poured coffee into his cup, then lowered his voice. “Look, Mr. Green, I’m in a difficult position here. I’m grateful to you for contacting me, and I’ve been happy to admit from minute one that I needed your help. If the media gets wind of that…video”—he whispered the word—“then more curiosity-seekers might show up, and more people will get injured.”

  So the sheriff hadn’t requested this intervention. Anderson, or somebody else in the Mercury Group, had known about the incident. Penny made a mental note to ask about this later, though she had doubts about whether she’d get a straight answer. Anderson enjoyed asking questions more than he liked answering them. And what was this video Lofton had mentioned?

  “If it were up to me, Demler Mansion would’ve been razed to the ground years ago.” Lofton paused, scratching at his forehead. The cowboy hat had left a faint indentation in the skin. “But the people of this town are innocent. They don’t deserve the stain that’s been put upon them because of…what happened before. Many of the Demlers have already changed their last names to avoid the association with Edmund. If the family chooses to talk to you, fine. But don’t ask me to tear open old wounds from over twenty years ago.”

  “I’m sure we can be sensitive to your concerns,” Penny said. “Everybody has things they’d rather keep private.” Sometimes that was especially true when the gossip had already started. She had personal experience in that department.

  Anderson sat back in his seat, his jaw tightening. Maybe she’d spoken out of turn. But in the car, Anderson had told her not to hesitate to speak up. I want to hear your perspective, he’d said.

  Trey Lofton smiled. “Exactly my point. Thank you, Penny.” He handed her one of the cookies. “You let me know if I can help in some other way.”

  “We’ll be in touch,” Anderson said, standing up.

  Outside The Stagecoach Diner, Penny held up the snickerdoodle. “Want half?”

  Anderson broke off a piece with the tips of his fingers. Sugar, butter and cinnamon melted on Penny’s tongue. Her parents were busy decorating right now for Christmas, putting on the finishing touches. Penny had gone with Matthew, her boyfriend, to pick out a tree for his house before she left.

  She’d given Matthew the information that Anderson had provided—the address for the cabins outside Crimson Falls, the rough details of the case. A young woman had been in a terrible accident at Demler Mansion, and the local authorities believed the supernatural might be involved. Aside from that vague outline, Penny hardly knew what she was walking into.

  But Penny’s life had taken some very unexpected turns in the last several months. She’d made sacrifices that she never could’ve imagined to be standing here right now: her job in Los Angeles, her best friend. She didn’t even know where “home” was anymore, technically.

  And I’m the one who made this mess, she thought. Nobody to blame but me.

  Though maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault. As far as she could tell, she was born like this. She’d seen ghosts her whole life. But in the last few months, the ghostly sightings had become impossible to ignore. Frightening, in a way they hadn’t been before.

  Anderson Green had turned up at just the right moment, offering help that she couldn’t refuse.

  Just that morning, before Anderson arrived to pick her up, Matthew had asked her again not to go. It makes sense that you want to get training for your ability, but you don’t really know this Anderson Green guy, Matthew had said. And are you sure the ghost of a serial killer is the best place to start?

  Perhaps he had a point, there. But she had nowhere else to turn.

  For the next week or so, Penny would investigate—and hopefully resolve—the haunting at Demler Mansion with Anderson’s team. In excha
nge, he had promised to train her to control her ability. The arrangement would benefit them both, and it would last only so long as necessary. Then she’d have to pick up the pieces of her career—if she even still had one. At least she knew that Matthew would be waiting for her, even if he didn’t quite approve.

  “You were awfully quick to tell the sheriff what he wanted to hear,” Anderson said, forcing her mind back to the present.

  “You make it sound cynical. I just understand how he feels, that’s all. There’s history here that he doesn’t want to dig up.”

  “It’s fine to understand. But you can’t let yourself be influenced.”

  Her mouth felt dry. The cookie had left a sandy residue. “I apologize if I spoke when I shouldn’t.” She tried to measure her tone, though it still betrayed her annoyance. She hadn’t thought of Anderson as her “boss,” but he was acting like one.

  “Oh, don’t be sorry. I expected that you’d have a rapport with Sheriff Lofton. I was counting on it.”

  Penny brushed crumbs from her hands. “And you’ve got me all figured out?” She didn’t like the fact that he presumed to know so much about her. He’d probably claim it was his job to know. Which, to be fair, was probably true.

  “I didn’t say that.” Anderson stepped off the curb toward his SUV. “As for Lofton, he’s still something of a mystery to me. He was eager enough to accept the Mercury Group’s help. He can’t explain what happened at Demler Mansion last month, and he wants to prevent anyone else getting hurt. But he’s hiding something.”

  “You could tell that from talking to the guy for five minutes?”

  “It was just an impression. Perhaps I’m wrong. But it’s worth looking further into Lofton’s background.”

  They got into the car. Penny searched for the words to defend the sheriff, though she didn’t know the guy either. Maybe it was because Trey Lofton reminded her of people she knew back in Ashton, her hometown—another small Colorado enclave, though a more prosperous one than Crimson Falls. For over two decades, this town had been defined by the crimes of Edmund Demler. No wonder Lofton was sensitive about it.

  Penny sat back in the leather seat, gazing through the windshield at The Stagecoach Diner. Sheriff Lofton was speaking with Diane, the woman who’d served them coffee. Neither looked pleased by the discussion.

  “There’s no reason to believe Lofton’s secret—if it exists—has anything to do with the incident at Demler Mansion,” she argued.

  Anderson looked at her calmly, his hand resting on the gear shift. “Penny, have you ever cleared a haunting without following the truth, wherever it might lead?”

  She considered his question. Penny had never thought of herself as an expert on the paranormal. But she’d faced dangerous ghosts before, and she’d helped several souls move on. She understood the stakes involved—for both the dead and the living.

  “No,” she replied. “I’ve never seen a ghost let go of this life without facing the past.” No matter how disturbing or painful.

  “As a medium, it’s your job to guide the dead through that process. We are not ‘ghost hunters,’ even if the media enjoy that moniker. When we treat the dead as prey or as enemies, we do so at our extreme peril. We must understand the ghost’s reasons for staying in the physical world. Even if the entity is someone as unsympathetic as Edmund Demler.”

  “I understand. Believe me.”

  “That’s why I wanted to work with you.” Anderson put the car into drive and turned down Main Street. “Are you having second thoughts about our arrangement?”

  Penny’s teeth ground together. Part of her wished she could just forget about Anderson Green and the Mercury Group. But ghosts would still haunt her, making a normal life impossible. Until she learned how to control it, she couldn’t escape her ability any more than she could escape herself.

  “I’ll do what we agreed.”

  “Glad to hear it. But it’s crucial that you remember this, Penny: you cannot help the dead while being an advocate for the living.” He spoke with an air of finality, as if no argument were possible.

  “I think we should be able to do both.”

  He arched an eyebrow, glancing sideways at her. “You can think whatever you like. But when the time comes that I give you a direct order, I’ll expect you to follow it.”

  Chapter Two

  Zandra Mendes heard loud footsteps approaching her cabin. Her new partner was on his way over, and she didn’t need to be psychic to realize he wasn’t happy.

  Briefly, she thought about pulling her door closed. She’d left it cracked open when she carried her suitcase inside. Could I pretend to be in the bathroom? she thought, hating that she’d even consider something so passive-aggressive.

  But it was too late, anyway. Her door widened, and Ben Kwan appeared. Snowflakes blew in past him.

  “What does Anderson think he’s doing?”

  Zandra removed a folded shirt from her suitcase and carefully set it inside a drawer. “So you finally got his text.”

  “I just got on to the wi-fi. It’s so like him to spring this on us at the last moment. Un-freaking-believable.”

  She had known since last night that Anderson was on his way with a fresh recruit in tow. He’d told her to pack a couple of extra tech vests and book two additional rooms at the Shady Valley Resort. The place looked more like a summer camp than a hotel. A tidy row of miniature log cabins with a lodge at the far end. Zandra couldn’t help thinking of tie-dye and rainbow-colored friendship bracelets.

  “You know how Anderson works,” she said. “We’re supposed to be nimble. He doesn’t like us overthinking or overanalyzing. Which is what you’re doing now.”

  Ben leaned his solid form against the dresser. He was already geared up—black cargo pants, black wool sweater, tech vest zipped and ready to go. The small eye of his body cam winked at her from the center of his chest. Usually, Zandra kept her focus on mind rather than body. It was the nature of her talent. But Ben’s physical presence was so…present. He took up half of the small room. It was distracting.

  “We could’ve handled this on our own,” he said. “Instead, we’ll have him looking over our shoulders, criticizing every little thing.”

  Most Mercury Group cases were handled by a single, two-agent team. But perhaps this wasn’t the typical haunting. She didn’t have much information yet. In fact, she’d been wondering why Anderson had kept the police files to himself so far.

  Zandra had known Anderson for almost twenty years, and she trusted him more than anyone else in her life. He’d started out as a paranormal researcher and academic. At times, his instincts were so accurate they bordered on the uncanny, though he only had a touch of para-sensitivity himself. But he also had over a decade’s experience managing Mercury Group agents. He believed in their mission above all else—helping lost, suffering souls move on from the physical world, and protecting the living from wayward ghosts.

  He also cared little for making his teams comfortable, which didn’t bother Zandra. Their work was important, but only a fool would expect it to be easy.

  Ben narrowed his eyes at her, then cursed. “Are you reading me right now? Seriously?”

  “Calm down. I wasn’t even thinking about you, honestly.”

  She hadn’t asked to get saddled with Ben as a teammate. Zandra’s longtime partner had recently retired, and she’d spent the last two months without a new one. Instead, Anderson had been giving her special assignments and research projects. Maybe, if she’d had any family or friends outside Mercury to speak of, she’d have taken time off. But she and Anderson had a similar type of personal life—pretty much none at all.

  Ben, by contrast, had a huge family and more personal life than was good for him. That was how he’d gotten himself into trouble. From the little she’d heard, anyway. Which may or may not be true. If Ben would only enlighten her.

  She shrugged one shoulder. “You know, you could just tell me why you got reassigned. Because the rumors? They don’
t sound like you.”

  “Hard pass.” Ben crossed his arms, biceps bulging.

  Okay, then. “Look,” she said, “if Anderson thinks we need the extra personnel, then he’s got his reasons, and he’s not going to explain them. Even to me.”

  “His reasons are obvious.”

  Now, she was reading him. She couldn’t help it—Ben’s emotions had risen to the surface. But he wasn’t angry so much as hurt. Why? She couldn’t say without delving deeper into his aura, which wouldn’t be polite. Not on their very first day.

  Ben rubbed a hand over his chin. “I admitted that I screwed up. Hasn’t Anderson punished me enough?”

  “Are you saying that partnering with me is a punishment?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Z.”

  At that, she had to laugh. Zandra felt like she was the one Anderson had unfairly singled out. He expected her to deal with trainees and overly muscled problem cases without complaint. Because, of course, she would.

  “Who is this new recruit, anyway?” he asked. “Do you know?”

  “Anderson gave me her name. Penny Wright.”

  “And?”

  “There’s some info about her online. A small following, some media attention, which isn’t ideal. She’s from Ashton—closest terminal to here.” A place where the worlds of the living and dead converged. Which could either heighten Ms. Wright’s abilities, or make her dangerously unpredictable. At this point, it was impossible to know.

  “You think she’s worth the effort?”

  “Anderson thinks she is.” Zandra resumed unpacking, organizing her belongings in their proper places around the room. They’d allowed a week or so for this assignment, but it was always hard to predict how long a haunting would take to clear. There were so many variables—whether living witnesses were helpful or obfuscating, how active the ghosts might be, whether the mediums could form a quick emotional connection with the dead.