CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Ethan Pierce?” Jenna repeated. The reporter had been a nuisance to her for years. She’d had no idea that he was connected to Pete Shannon—the man whose history might be at the heart of two suspicious deaths.
“That’s right,” Jake confirmed. “Kay found it in the family records. He’s Pete Shannon’s great-great-grandson. His mother kept her maiden name—didn’t take her husband’s when they married. Kay said it’s all documented in the family bible at the historical society.”
Jenna leaned back against the driver’s seat.
If Ethan was a Shannon, he would probably know the mansion’s history—the feud with the Calloways, the secret passages, everything.
Access to those passages might have been handed down to him from generations of ancestors.
He’d have motive—family pride, revenge for old wrongs.
“As far as I know, he’s never mentioned that connection,” Jake said. “But even if he kept it secret …”
“It doesn’t explain why he’d kill Donna Marsh,” Jenna finished.
“Maybe it does, if he’s trying to sabotage Boyd Calloway’s whole project. Any unexplained deaths in a house said to be haunted would be a huge strike against it. It would scare people off from living there.”
The theory made a sick sort of sense. Jenna thought of Ethan’s persistent questions, his fascination with her investigation methods, the way he’d shown up at the mansion just as Boyd’s body was discovered. She thought back to the last time she’d seen him, a short while ago in the mansion.
“Where is he now?” she asked, already reaching for her keys.
“That’s the thing,” Jake said, his voice dropping. “He seems to have vanished.”
Jenna’s grip on the phone tightened. “He told us he’d be staying at the Twilight Inn while he’s in Trentville,” she said. “Have you checked there?”
“First thing,” Jake replied. “I called Kent Wallace, the manager. He says Pierce never checked in yesterday—and he definitely didn’t stay there the night before. I also called the Trentville Inn. Nothing there either.”
“So, he lied about the Twilight Inn. We’ll need to check with the smaller motels, but if Ethan disappeared soon after Boyd’s body was found...”
“Could he still be here?” Jake asked, echoing her thought. “In the passages somewhere?”
The thought of Ethan moving silently through those narrow corridors, watching through the pinholes, was unsettling. If he was still in the mansion, using the passages to move unseen...
“I’ve got Baldry with me,” Jake continued. “We were just getting ready to start exploring the passageways when Kay called with this news.”
“Don’t,” Jenna said quickly. “Not until you have backup. If he’s in there— “
“Already on it,” Jake cut in. “Fairmont and Lewis are on their way with flashlights and the radios. Nolan Greer is also ready to help. I’ve already told them all about the need for secrecy. We’ll go in pairs. But there’s something else you should know.”
“What?”
“Ray Pruitt just emailed me,” Jake said. “Ground plans for the mansion showing all the passages.”
“That was me,” Jenna explained, pulling onto the main road. “I’d just interviewed him, and he’s no longer on our suspects list. He found passageways during renovation—Boyd made him and his crew sign NDAs to keep it quiet.”
“Clever,” Jake said. “These plans will help a lot. We’ll know exactly where we’re going.”
“Good,” Jenna said. “I’m on my way back to the mansion now. Should be there in fifteen minutes.”
“You might want to hurry,” Jake said. “We’ve got another problem. I’ve managed to get all the residents booked at the Trentville Inn—everyone except one. Ruth McElmurray says she’s not afraid of ghosts, and she‘s not letting herself be run out of her apartment.”
Jenna groaned. Ruth McElmurray was in her eighties, with the stubborn streak of someone half her age. She’d lived in Trentville her entire life. Getting her to leave would be like trying to move the mansion itself.
“I’ll talk to her,” Jenna said. “What’s her apartment number?”
“Twelve,” Jake replied. “First floor, east wing. I’d come with you, but—“
“You need to start searching those passages,” Jenna finished. “Be careful.”
“Always am. You too, Sheriff.”
The call ended, leaving Jenna alone with her thoughts as she drove.
Ethan Pierce. The pieces fit together too neatly to ignore—his connection to Pete Shannon, his disappearance after Boyd’s death, his questions about her methods. He’d been watching her, circling closer as the investigation deepened.
As Jenna drove, the mansion rose in the distance, its Gothic silhouette cutting a dark line against the pale autumn sky. Somewhere inside those walls, a killer might still be moving—watching, waiting, perhaps even now planning his next move.
And one stubborn old woman was refusing to leave his hunting ground.
*
Jenna pulled into the circular drive of Calloway House and brought the car to a stop. She could see residents moving out through the open front doors—suitcases in hand, faces set with determination or clouded with worry. The evacuation was underway.
“Sheriff Graves,” called an older man with a neatly trimmed white beard. He clutched a leather briefcase to his chest, his free hand resting on the handle of a rolling suitcase. “Any word on when we might be able to come back?”
“We’ll let everyone know as soon as we’ve completed our investigation,” Jenna replied. “Hopefully just a day or two.”
A woman in her sixties shook her head, silver hair falling across her worried face. “It’s just awful,” she said. “First Donna, now Mr. Calloway. And to think it might be...”
She trailed off. Two deaths in the same building—even in a place with Calloway House’s history—strained the limits of coincidence.
“We’re exploring all possibilities,” Jenna said, keeping her voice even. “That’s why we’re asking everyone to stay at the inn until we’re sure the building is safe.”
A chuckle rose from the back of the group—a silver-haired woman with a walker. “Tell that to Ruth,” she said. “Last I checked, she was still planning to stay put. Says if the ghosts want her, they’re welcome to try.”
The others joined in her laughter, the tension breaking for a moment. Jenna smiled despite herself. “I’m actually here to talk to her now,” she said. “See if I can’t change her mind.”
“Good luck with that,” the white-bearded man said. “Nobody’s ever changed Ruth McElmurray’s mind about anything. Not in sixty years of trying.”
As the group moved on toward the waiting van, Jenna made her way into the mansion. The grand foyer was quieter now, the usual afternoon bustle replaced by the muffled sounds of packing and farewells. She followed the east corridor, checking apartment numbers until she reached twelve.
The door was solid oak, with a small brass knocker shaped like a lion’s head. Jenna rapped it twice, the sound echoing in the hallway.
“Come in!” called a voice from inside—firm, with no hint of frailty. “It’s not locked!”
Jenna turned the handle and stepped into Ruth McElmurray’s apartment, which looked much like Donna Marsh’s.
Bookshelves lined every available surface, volumes stacked two-deep in places.
The furniture was a mix of antiques and modern pieces; all arranged with careful attention to both comfort and aesthetics.
Ruth sat in a wingback chair by the window, a book open in her lap. She was about Jenna’s height, strong and straight-backed, her white hair twisted into a bun high on her head. She looked up as Jenna entered, sharp blue eyes assessing her with unmistakable intelligence.
“Sheriff Graves,” she said, marking her place with a silk bookmark before closing the volume. “I wondered when you’d get around to me.”
Jenna smiled, moving further into the room. “Mrs. McElmurray. It’s good to see you again.”
“We met at the library fundraiser,” Ruth said, gesturing to a chair across from her. “You gave a very nice speech about the importance of community.”
“That’s right,” Jenna said, taking the offered seat. “Though I’m afraid this isn’t a social call.”
Ruth’s mouth quirked. “I didn’t think the sheriff would make house calls just to chat.” She folded her hands in her lap, waiting.
Jenna leaned forward. “Mrs. McElmurray—Ruth—I’m here because we’re concerned about your safety. With everything that’s happened— “
“Donna’s fall and Boyd’s heart attack,” Ruth finished. “Yes, I heard. Very unfortunate.” Her expression didn’t change. “But I don’t see what either has to do with me leaving my home.”
Jenna chose her words carefully. “We’re still investigating both incidents. Until we’re certain what happened— “
“You think someone killed them,” Ruth said bluntly. “That’s why you’re moving everyone out. You’re afraid there’s a killer on the loose.”
Jenna hesitated, weighing honesty against discretion. “We’re exploring all possibilities,” she said finally. “Including the chance that someone might have had a hand in both deaths. And until we know for sure, we’d feel better if all the residents were somewhere safe.”
Ruth studied her for a long moment. “I’ve lived in this town for eighty-three years, Sheriff. I’ve survived floods, tornadoes, and the winter of ’78 when the power was out for two weeks.” She shook her head. “I’m not leaving because of what might be.”
“The Trentville Inn is very comfortable,” Jenna offered. “We’ve arranged rooms for everyone. It would just be for a night or two, until—”
“No,” Ruth said firmly. “This is my home. I’ve paid good money for it, and I’ve no intention of being scared out of it by rumors or possibilities.” She reached for her book again. “If that’s all, Sheriff, I have reading to do.”
Jenna opened her mouth to continue, but a knock at the door interrupted her. Before either woman could respond, the door opened to reveal Jake, his expression tight with urgency.
“Sheriff,” he said, eyes darting to Ruth. “Could I speak with you for a moment? It’s important.”
Jenna rose, offering Ruth an apologetic smile. “Excuse me for just a moment.”
She stepped into the hallway, pulling the door partially closed behind her. “What is it?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “Did you find something in the passages?”
Jake’s excitement was barely contained. “Baldry and I just finished exploring the entire network,” he said. “Ray’s plans were a huge help.”
“Any sign someone’s been using them recently?” Jenna asked.
“The dust in most of the passages was pretty thick,” Jake said.
“It looked disturbed in places, like someone had been moving through them. There’s definitely an entrance into Donna Marsh’s apartment—that’s obviously how he got in.
And there’s another one opening into the bedroom of Ruth’s apartment—complete with its own camera obscura. ”
“Her apartment too?”
“Along with five others. But here’s the thing that doesn’t make sense—we searched every inch of those passages, and there’s no way in or out of the building. They’re completely self-contained. So how is our killer getting in and out? If not through the passages...”
“Either there are more passages that Ray didn’t know about—ones with an exit to the outside—or our killer has another way in.”
“Have you had any luck with Ruth?” Jake asked, glancing at the partially closed door.
Jenna shook her head. “She’s not budging. Says she’s survived worse and has no intention of being scared out of her home.”
“We could make it an official order,” Jake suggested. “For her own protection.”
“And have her fight us every step of the way?” Jenna countered. “You know how that would go—lawyers, court orders, the works. By the time we got her out, our killer could be long gone.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Jake asked. “We can’t just leave her here as bait.”
“Maybe we don’t have to,” she said slowly. “Maybe there’s another way.” She thought for another moment, then added, “I’ve got an idea. But you’re not going to like it.”