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

years. And I know most of it is hearsay, but you can’t deny the number of Bells that have succumbed to early graves. When I saw those… scales crawling up Iris Bell’s leg, I was sure I’d found the truth behind the myths. But I ran every test available to me at the time, and I can tell you without a trace of doubt in my head that there was nothing medically wrong with that woman. Blood work, heart rate, all her vitals were normal, and yet there were those things just staring me in the face, taunting me.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “The board said I was trying to make trouble over a bad case of the shingles. But you and I both know better, don’t we, Deputy?”

“How did she do it?” Dell asked. “How did she cure herself?”

Wagner smiled as he stared at Dell. “You’d have to ask Iris Bell.”

The moment Dell was out of the woods and off the dirt road, he hit the lights and the siren. He knew both were redundant, but he needed something to help focus the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Both hands on the wheel, Dell tightened his grip until his knuckles flashed white and he thought he was going to break the steering wheel in half. The engine roared, the speedometer ticking up past seventy, eighty, and then ninety miles an hour.

“Dell, you there?”

Dell picked up the receiver. “I’m here, Faye.”

“Listen, the sheriff just called me and told me that the judge approved the warrant, and that the troopers are on their way to Bell, probably thirty minutes out.”

“Perfect,” Dell said, relieved at the good news.

“I also got some more information about those Bell family members.”

“Go ahead.”

“Turns out their medical records all listed the same type of death as hypothermia or frostbite. There were even a few special notes about how odd the afflictions were, but they all occurred during the winter.”

Dell kept his thumb off the receiver. “Son of a bitch.”

“I also got some information back on that Brent Alvarez. He’s mid-thirties, black hair, brown eyes, around six feet tall. He has a 1968 Pontiac GTO Judge registered with New York State. Still haven’t been able to track him down though.”

Dell hugged the curves of the highway, his headlights illuminating a clear path ahead. When he came around a left-leaning bend, he saw the two beams of light shooting up from the ditch on the right side of the road, penetrating the darkness.

Dell slowed, pulling his cruiser off to the side of the road, eyes widening in horror as he gazed upon the wreckage of the smashed GTO in the ditch. He flung the door open before he even put the cruiser in park. “Shit. He’s here, Faye.”

“What?”

Dell quickly fiddled with his seatbelt. “Send backup to a wreck heading southbound on the highway one mile past Redford. Suspect is a one Brent Alvarez.”

“Copy that,” Faye replied.

The blue and red lights from the cruiser highlighted the twisted and crumpled metal chassis of the muscle car. The roof and side doors had been caved inward, most likely from a roll down the berm. The windows had shattered, turning the clear glass into frosty panes of white.

Dell removed his flashlight and then his weapon, unsure of what he would be walking into. The driver’s side door was open, so he flashed his light into the cabin but found it empty.

He was just about to turn away when his light caught a jacket in the passenger seat. The light green was familiar, and he grabbed it. It was a Carhartt jacket. Sarah’s jacket.

“Sarah!” Dell shouted then stepped toward the tree line, raising his gun and flashlight. The beam of light passed over a group of trees, illuminating the broken paths that led into the forest.

Dell dropped the beam to the ground, heading toward the trunk of the flipped GTO. He searched the ground, hoping to find footprints. A flash of red caught his attention as he passed over the grass. He jerked the light back over the area and knelt.

Blood droplets lingered on the dead blades of grass like dew. Slowly, Dell followed the droplets along the ground, using the flashlight to help guide him through the forest. He switched between flashing the light on the ground and up ahead. He grew more worried as the bloodstains grew larger, becoming red streaks smearing across the ground.

Dell hastened his pace, weaving between the trees, sweat collecting beneath his uniform. And just when he thought he’d taken a wrong turn, a gunshot echoed through the forest. Dell scurried for cover, the bullet zipping past his head and splintering the tree trunk.

He flicked off his light and ducked behind the fattest tree trunk that he could find. Both hands clasped on the pistol, and when the barrage of gunfire ended, Dell slowly craned his head around the trunk.

A high-pitched whine deafened him to the breeze drifting through what leaves remained on the trees above. He squinted, spotting no movement ahead, and then tucked himself back behind the tree. “If you’re heading west, you’ll find nothing but forest all the way to Quebec.” He inched closer back toward the tree’s edge. “And it’s only going to get colder, so unless you’re carrying shelter with you, you’ll freeze to death.” Still no movement in the darkness from the gunshot’s origins, not even a sound. “Put the gun down, come out with your hands in the air.”

The ringing in Dell’s ears slowly faded, and he spun around to the other side of the tree, trying to get a different perspective, but still saw nothing ahead but darkness.

“I think you’re forgetting about the ace I have up my sleeve,” a voice said, his voice sounding more distant than the previous gunshots. “She’s unconscious right now, so I think putting a bullet through her skull wouldn’t be very sporting of me. But all those big words sound a lot like a threat to me, so I’d be remiss if