Chapter Eleven
After a few more hours of sleep and a shower, I feel much better. In fact, I feel good . Like Callum, I feel as if a weight’s been lifted. Maybe finally confronting him about what happened between us was a good thing. Maybe burying everything doesn’t really work for me. Gee, do you think?
I head down to breakfast and spot a single table tucked into a bay window. I make my way over to it.
‘Finally, she’s awake.’
I swing around at the sound of Callum’s voice. He’s already seated at a table in the opposite corner of the room, his laptop open and a mug of coffee in front of him.
‘How long have you been up?’ I ask, dropping into the chair.
‘About an hour. I thought I might have to come and drag you from your bed. I was kind of looking forward to it.’ His eyes sparkle, and my face flushes.
Callum waves the server over. ‘Can I get another coffee please, and one for my sleepy friend here? Latte?’
‘Strong, please.’ I take a croissant from the basket on the table, pull at its fluffy centre, and shove a piece into my mouth. ‘So, what’s the plan today?’
‘Well… I’ve been going over the information Rosing sent through last night.’
‘He finally sent it?’ I grab his laptop and spin it to face me. ‘About time. Is it the family history of the house? How far back does it go?’
He spins his laptop back to him. ‘1832.’
‘What about before that?’
He shakes his head. ‘I’m guessing the older family records were destroyed in the fire.’ Callum pauses. ‘One of the fires. But Margaret Western died in 1908, so what we’ve got should cover her, at least.’
‘Still, I feel like we’re only being fed half the picture, don’t you?’
He grunts. ‘Yeah I do. But sometimes the whole picture isn’t available, and you’ve got to work with what you’ve got.’
‘Any clues on the other spirit that’s been seen on the grounds?’
‘Nothing in this email, but judging from the way she’s described and when the sightings started, I’m guessing she died sometime in the late 1870s or ’80s.
There’ll be death records, obits and newspaper articles from that time, if she was news.
I’ll dig into that.’ He rubs his chin as he thinks.
‘This isn’t the way I like to work. I don’t usually research on the run like this.
But this job fell into my lap, so I jumped on it without any pre-planning.
We’re just going to have to pull together any other info we need as we go. ’
A woman appears beside us with our coffee order. She puts them on the table with a smile.
‘Thanks, Janis,’ Callum says, returning her smile.
Her cheeks lift higher. ‘Don’t forget,’ she says, ‘the Mill Pond Cafe. Pecan pie with cream, not ice cream.’
‘Cream, not ice cream, got it.’
‘And make sure you tell them I sent you. They’ll give you a little discount.’
‘Will do,’ Callum says. ‘I’ll report back later with my verdict.’
She chuckles. Or rather, she titters. ‘Well, you two have a nice day. Morning, honey,’ she says to me as she turns and walks away.
I stir my coffee very slowly. ‘First Ola Hutchings and now Janis?’
‘What do you mean?’ He looks at me innocently, but his slight smirk betrays him.
‘The flirting. I didn’t know you were into older women.’
‘You keep saying I flirt. I don’t flirt.’ He grins crooked and mischievous, lifts his coffee and blows across the cup.
I shake my head and laugh. ‘Yeah okay, Romeo, back to the case. Did Mr Rosing mention anything about his boss being here the other day, or say when we’ll actually be able to talk to the man?’
‘He didn’t, but I sent him an email about it. He says Western was here to sign some papers last-minute, and was only in town for a matter of hours, which is why he didn’t mention it to us. He says Western should be available in a couple of days.’
‘It seems ridiculous that he’s so hard to talk to, given that he hired you. Let’s see if Rosing will meet us at the house today. He can give us an official tour of the grounds.’
Callum fiddles with his laptop. ‘Um. Not today. I want to take a closer look at this new information first, and check out that book you got yesterday, see if there’s anything useful in there.
I also want to look over the town maps and house plans in more detail.
I mean, I didn’t get to do any research last night because someone kept me up half the night watching movies. ’
‘I believe that was mutual movie watching.’
He chuckles, his eyes alight with humour again. ‘Besides, Jason’s arriving at lunchtime, so I should make sure I’m around to meet him.’
‘Hey, I get it. I’m nervous to go back to the house too. Let’s leave it for another day.’
His arms fold over his chest. ‘I didn’t say I was nervous. I said I want to do more research.’
‘Sorry, I guess I was… projecting.’
‘What are you going to do today?’
‘I’ll head to the Witch Study Center, get some info on what the Westerns’ involvement was in the witch trials back in the 1600s.’ He keeps staring. ‘What?’ I wipe at my mouth in case I have croissant crumbs on my face.
‘You’re not planning on going to the house without me, are you?’
I scoff. ‘Callum.’
‘Holly.’
‘Of course I won’t.’
It’s a crisp October morning, but the sun shines bright in the watery blue of the sky, and I bask in its warmth on my skin.
I breathe in the fresh air, enjoying the tang of sea spray that hits the back of my throat, and the earthy scent of the fallen leaves.
I could be forgiven for blowing off my plans and taking a stroll along the harbour foreshore, checking out the boutiques, or exploring one of the windswept beaches.
But that isn’t me, even if sometimes I wish it was.
On my way to the Witch Study Center, I decide to take a drive and explore the area a bit. But instead, I find myself turning into the lane where the Western house sits. It’s as if the house has drawn me there.
I park behind a white van and walk up to the gates.
Everything looks so different in the light of day.
Far less ominous. I can now see the grounds are immaculately kept – green and lush, neatly mowed and raked clear of the fall litter, with brightly coloured flowers laid out in well-tended beds.
Steeling myself, I close my eyes, seeking out the sickening sensation from the other night.
In the corners of my mind, I can sense a faint buzzing.
A tiny pulse. This is what I was expecting, not the weighty silence we were met with on our poorly thought-out adventure.
Sometimes when people die, they leave behind a residual trace.
Like a vibrating trail of spectral energy.
Callum calls it a disturbance in the force.
I call it a death echo. The rumble of a life still reverberating in this world.
It’s what Callum’s EMF meters are supposed to pick up.
I’ve learnt to tell the difference between these kinds of vibrations and the presence of a fully formed spirit.
A spirit’s energy fills my entire body. It throbs inside me, knocking at my ribs.
An echo is gentler, as if death left behind a lingering breath.
This buzzing feels like an echo, but I don’t trust the house.
Something has a hold of it, and I think it can cloak itself from me. I don’t like that.
When I open my eyes I practically jump out of my skin. Mr Rosing is standing on the other side of the gate, staring at me.
‘I’m sorry I startled you,’ he says.
He doesn’t look sorry. He looks suspicious.
I wave off his apology. ‘I was just passing and wanted to see if I could get a feel for the place. I hope that’s okay.’
‘Of course. I have some time now if you’d like to look around the grounds?’
I quickly consider his invitation, remembering my promise to Callum. It takes me about a second to decide. ‘That would be great,’ I say. Technically, I’m not going to the house. At least not into it.
‘Is Mr Jefferies not here?’ Mr Rosing asks. He opens one side of the heavy gates, glancing back towards my car.
‘He’s busy with research today. We decided to spend a couple of days investigating around town before we arranged to come here with you.’
‘I did wonder why you hadn’t called.’ He smiles, and my skin crawls. ‘I’ve discovered some damage to the front of the house, one of the windows and the porch railing,’ he says. ‘Did you notice anything when you were out here the night before last?’
Sneaky. I compose a suitably confused face. ‘We didn’t come here that night because you advised us not to.’ I pull the gate key from my backpack. ‘Which reminds me, I have this. Should I hang onto it or—’
‘I’ll take it. I can arrange for you to collect it if you ever need to be here unattended.’
He casts an eye over me as he slides the key into the pocket of his beige overcoat, then he smiles again. Oof. I really don’t like that smile.
‘It’s a shame you won’t see the house at its best today,’ he says. ‘Some young vandals, I expect, went a bit too far. Unfortunately, it’s not unusual at this time of year, with Halloween looming.’ He pauses and studies me again, his eyes shrewd.
This time I arrange my face into a look that I hope mirrors his frustration. ‘Will you call the police?’
‘No point. Whoever it was will be long gone.’
‘Maybe it’s time to install new security cameras?’ I say, silently thankful that they weren’t active the other night.
‘Mr Western has decided not to put another security system in. He’s concerned someone could hack into it and leak the recordings online.’
‘Is that why he won’t allow Callum to record out here?’ He nods. ‘But you’re okay with him doing a show about the house.’
He regards me with open impatience. ‘If you both do your job, hopefully there won’t be anything to interest people anymore.’ He glances back towards the house. ‘I’m going to circle the building and check nothing else needs my attention.’