The Guest House Hauntings Boxset by Hazel Holmes (novel books to read txt) 📕

“So this person you saw murdered, was she a friend?” Pat asked.

Sarah sat down on the edge of the bed, picking away what remained of her nail polish. “No. But I knew the guy that killed her. He was my ex.” She looked back up at Pat. “And he was a cop.”

Pat exhaled and then ran his hand through his pepper-and-salt hair. “Shit.”

Sarah chuckled. “Yeah.” She crossed her arms, retreating inward. “He ran a little gang of crooked cops on the city’s north side. I didn’t find out until it was too late.” She leaned back against the wall. “We were heading out for drinks one night when he said he needed to make a stop. I didn’t think anything of it when he told me to wait in the car. But when he took a long time, I got out to go find him, and that’s when…” She finally looked to Pat. “He killed her. And it wasn’t just him, but it was a group of people… his gang.”

“A gang of crooked cops,” Pat replied, muttering the words to himself. “No wonder you ran.”

The memories replayed in Sarah’s head and became clearer the more she thought about them. “He found me the next day and tried to explain it wasn’t what it looked like. When I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore, he didn’t think that was a viable option. Told me that if I wanted to live I should keep him warm in bed at night until he was tired of me.” She squeezed herself a little tighter, the large jacket engulfing most of her body. “So I grabbed what I could carry and took off.”

Pat nodded and then walked over, joining her on the bed. “Listen, Sarah. Whatever guilt you’re feeling for running, I’m sure it’s misplaced. You were just trying to survive.” He put his hand on her knee. “I’ve seen a lot of bad people during my years as a barkeep.” He leaned close. “You’re not bad.”

“I’ve always considered bad to be more of a spectrum than black and white.” Sarah rubbed her forehead. “And I’ve been in enough foster homes to know that much.”

“You were an orphan?” Pat asked.

“My parents died when I was three.” Sarah reached for the photo of her parents in her jean pocket but didn’t unfold it. “I don’t have any real memories of them. They’re more… feelings, I guess.” She shook her head, shaking off the nostalgia.

Pat was quiet for a while and then slapped his palms on his thighs and stood. “I think the only option you have on the table right now is to get Dell to help you.”

“He can’t—”

“I’ve known Dell since he was little, and that boy has more gumption than you give him credit for,” Pat said, pointing at Sarah accusingly. “And the best way for you to help him is to tell him what we know.”

“We?” Sarah asked.

Pat stood and smiled. “You don’t expect me to sit out after hearing all of that, do you? This is the most excitement this town has seen since we were told Redford was getting a McDonald’s. And that’s not even in our town.”

“Let me go into the tavern and give Dell a call, let him know you’re here.” Pat walked toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”

“Pat,” Sarah said, causing him to stop. “Listen, I, um.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you. For helping me.”

Pat smiled, the same friendly grin he gave her when they first met. “Just sit tight.”

The door swung shut, and Sarah was alone.

Sarah stood and paced the room. She nervously chewed on her lower lip, the skin chapped and rough against her tongue.

So far, everything the redheaded girl had said was true. Sarah hadn’t been able to leave, and any attempt at escape from the town’s vicinity was met with more pain and icy frost that crawled up her leg. And she had a good idea of what would happen to her if it spread to the rest of her body.

With the room growing hotter, Sarah needed air. She stepped out into the night, her boots crunching the hard frozen grass beneath, and puffed icy clouds with labored breaths. She looked toward the north and saw the Bell mansion, and the anxiety worsened. Her muscles seized up, and she collapsed to her hands and knees.

Sarah thrust her palms out to catch herself, her bare skin slamming into the frozen ground, pain shooting up her arms and into her shoulders. She tried to ball her hands up, raking her fingers across the ground, and then pounded her right fist into the dead chunk of earth.

“This isn’t happening,” Sarah said, shutting her eyes and struggling to regain control of her breathing. “Wake up. Wake up.” She clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth until her head started to hurt. She pounded the ground again. “Wake up!”

“You’re awake.”

Sarah opened her eyes and looked up to find the redheaded woman floating in front of her. Startled, Sarah scurried backward and away from the floating apparition. But as the shock from the scare subsided, Sarah realized that she was no longer outside.

Sarah leapt to her feet, and the redhead floated toward her. “How did—” She spun around, examining the bedroom she was inside, then her excitement slowed, and she frowned. The floor, the ceiling, the windows. She was in a room at the Bell mansion. Finishing her spin, she landed on the ghost again. “How is this possible?”

“You’re connected to this place.” The redhead floated, circling Sarah. “You’ve been marked by the evil inside. It calls to you.”

Sarah reached for the door handle then grunted in frustration when she found it locked. She spun around and faced the redhead again. “Why did you bring me here?”

“You’re free to leave whenever you want.” The redhead shrugged with casual indifference and then floated over to hover above the nearby bed.

Sarah tossed her hands in the air.