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

staring into the dark space below. She reached her hand inside and removed a shoebox.

The lid was dusty and weathered and so old that it no longer sat flush on the rectangular box. Her heart hammering with excitement, she lifted the lid, sending dust twirling through the air, and found rows of cards crammed inside.

Sarah frowned, then plucked one of the cards from the middle and flipped it over in her hand. It was a driver’s license. An old one. The girl in the picture had been born in 1977 according to the birth date listed, and she didn’t look older than twenty in the photo. Sarah set it aside and then reached for another one.

It was another driver’s license, this one more recent. She quickly scanned the cards and found that they were all some form of identification. There were hundreds of them all piled up in this little box.

Sarah cycled through them quickly but then stopped when one picture caught her eye. It was a newer license, handed out no more than a few years ago. The girl in the picture was a little younger than herself, but there was something familiar about her.

It was the woman’s hair. It was long, black, and straight, just like the girl who worked the night shift.

Sarah didn’t understand. Why would they bury the IDs of the people who worked at the house? Why keep it a secret? Why—

Movement caught Sarah’s attention outside, someone traipsing through the woods. Sarah pocketed the ID in her hand and then placed the box back in the shoebox, and then quickly scurried toward the window as someone fiddled with the lock on the door.

Sarah quickly flattened the tarp and held it down by the edges as she heard the door open inside.

Boots scuffed against the floor, and something heavy landed on one of the tables. Sarah held her breath, praying that they didn’t notice the tarp was loose.

Grumblings echoed inside, and time slowed to a crawl. Sarah’s muscles trembled from the concentrated effort to keep the tarp up. Finally, the door slammed shut, and the click of the lock and the rattle of the chain signaled that Sarah could let go.

She peered her head around from the back of the shed and saw Dennis marching back up toward the house. She turned toward the forest behind her, and squinted through the trees.

In the fading evening light Sarah saw something amongst the foliage. She checked the field one last time to find Dennis gone, and then stepped into the forest.

The thick brush and rocky terrain slowed her progress, but the deeper she penetrated the trees the more she realized that there was a clearing up ahead.

The space was man-made, evident from the clear rectangular shape and level surface. But scattered around the clearing were piles of rocks, each of them the same size, and all of them spaced out in a grid.

Something about the tidiness of the area made Sarah uneasy. She carefully walked between the spots, her eyes on a hole up ahead. She trembled on her approach, a part of her already knowing what this place was. But still, she was drawn to it, the rational part of her mind in need of the proof.

And as Sarah approached the edge and looked down into the hole, she thought of all of those ID cards in that shoebox. She thought of the woman who worked at night that kept telling Sarah that they needed help. And when she saw the outline of a body wrapped in a tarp at the bottom of the hole, Sarah covered her mouth to stifle the scream.

64

No longer caring about whether someone saw her, Sarah sprinted back to the house, running to her room as quickly and as quietly as she could muster. She grabbed her bag from beneath the bed and quickly slid the straps over her shoulders. She did one last scan of the room, making sure that she had everything she needed, and then checked her pocket for the picture.

But when she patted her pants, she also found the ID she’d taken with her. If there was a chance that she might be alive, then Sarah had to let someone know.

She thought of Pat and decided the friendly bartender would be the best person to let someone know. She could give him the ID and let him contact the authorities. And then she’d get as far away from this place as she possibly could.

Outside, the golden shimmer of evening had given way to the dark of night. A stiff wind blew down from the northeast. Sarah adjusted her beanie and flipped the collar of her jacket up then shoved her hands into her pockets.

Sarah hurried toward the entrance to Pat’s Tavern and yanked at the handle, but it didn’t budge. “Shit.” She pressed her face against a nearby window and saw that the chairs were still up and the lights were off.

“They don’t open for another hour.”

Sarah turned toward the voice and found the deputy sitting behind the wheel of a sedan, a steaming mug in his hand as he chewed something. She must have been staring at him for longer than she realized, because he set the mug down and wiped his mouth, eyeing her curiously.

“You were the girl I saw here the other night,” he said.

“Yeah.” Sarah’s voice was breathless. A nervous sweat had broken out under her shirt, and she remained by the door.

“I heard you were working up at the Bell house,” he said. “How are you liking it so far?”

Nerves tied her tongue. Despite the deputy’s friendly demeanor, she knew that cops had a code.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

All she had to do was give him the ID, tell him that something was off, and then leave. “No, I mean, I’m fine, but…” She stepped closer, removing the driver’s license from her pocket. “I think there might be another girl up in that house, and she’s in trouble.” She extended