Chapter 16
Jennie
Newton Creek, Wisconsin
Present Day
Rain pelted the ground and with it came uninvited flooding. The saturated earth, the already muddy creek, and the fallen leaves that had collected into moldy, wet piles were all drowning. Though it was nine o’clock in the morning, the sky remained dark as if it were already dusk.
As the autumn storm raged on, thunder rumbling in the distance, Jennie sat watching it all from the top step at the entrance of Traeger Hall. Thankfully, her body was shielded from the rain by the veranda’s overhang.
He wasn’t going to show. She didn’t blame him.
It didn’t surprise her that Zane might have second thoughts.
Heck, she had second thoughts. The fact she had even called Zane to meet her here was giving her a fit of nerves, but somehow it didn’t seem right to open Traeger Hall alone.
Then again, none of the options felt right, whether to keep it sealed, open it, or even bulldoze it.
And she was alone in making her decision. She’d called her attorney, who stated that it was up to her. Even if her dad’s codicil checked out as legal, that had to do with selling the property only. What she did with the Hall while she owned it was up to her.
There was the added pressure of Hannah, Zane’s sister, and the threatening note she’d received.
That worried Jennie more than anything. If she opened up the century-old tomb of Traeger Hall, what other Pandora’s box elements would be released?
Would whoever wrote the note to Hannah exact some form of retribution?
Jennie shifted on the step, drawing her shoes further under the shelter of the roof as the rain increased in intensity.
The weather seemed to oppose her decision.
Jennie scanned the sky. Gray, unyielding, judgmental.
Opening Traeger Hall was not a small thing, and Zane had suggested they meet privately.
His concern was if anyone got wind that they were going to remove the bricks and enter the Hall, the entire township of Newton Creek would show up to watch.
So it was to be just them present: the owner of the Traeger property and the man who seemed to have lost the most because of Traeger Hall.
At that very moment, Zane charged toward her through the sheets of rain, a green raincoat hoisted over his head.
Jennie stood to greet him, being careful to stay well under the veranda’s roof that spanned the length of the mansion.
Zane pounded up the stone steps, leaving behind muddy footprints. “It’s a torrent!” he exclaimed. A wet behemoth of a sheepdog chased after him. The dog shook itself, spattering rainwater across Jennie’s jeans.
“Midas!” Zane scolded.
Jennie laughed, wiping off her pantlegs. She was glad for the distraction and pleased to see the shaggy dog.
Midas lumbered toward her, sniffing and licking her outstretched hand. Then he padded away to explore the veranda further.
Zane shook the water from his jacket and hung it over the paw of a marble lion that ornamented the front entrance. Midas shook with a fury once again, sending more water and mud spraying in all directions.
“Sorry about my dog,” he apologized.
“It’s okay. I love dogs,” Jennie said, not knowing what else to say.
Zane didn’t look happy to be here. Traeger Hall came with a lot of baggage for him.
Jennie hesitated, then decided it was only right to ask, “How is Hannah?”
“Hannah?” Zane gave a crooked smile. “Oh, she’s sixteen and fine.
She didn’t take the note too seriously, I mean once the panic wore off.
I wish she did. But my mom is acting like a raging mama bear, and she aims to ransack Newton Creek until she finds who left the note. My dad? He’s, well, he’s a dad.”
Jennie didn’t know what that meant. It was as if Zane assumed all dads were the same. She was pretty sure that Zane’s dad wasn’t like hers had been.
“And you?” he asked.
His question took Jennie by surprise. She was already uneasy being alone with Zane, mostly because she didn’t communicate well with people in general. But men—especially good-looking ones—were downright intimidating.
Fly under the radar. It’s safer there. That was her unspoken motto for years. She’d never dated and never wanted to.
She finally replied, “I’m . . . making it.”
He offered no assurances that all would be fine, and Jennie appreciated that. After everything that had happened in the last couple of days, they’d been given ample proof to the contrary. There were no guarantees that things would work out.
“I’m making it too,” Zane said.
Jennie took a step away from him. She was taken off guard by the sudden urge to give the guy a reassuring embrace.
He wasn’t just trying to be kind to her during his own turmoil, he was also being honest. There was too much vulnerability in his admission to be anything but.
That thought floored her. It felt foreign to have a man stand before her and admit to any sort of weakness.
“So how do you want to do this?” Zane’s question stunned Jennie, and she stared at him. He raised his brows, waiting. When she didn’t reply, he cocked his head to the side with a questioning expression.
Jennie had to get herself together. But courage was hard to find, and the very thought of taking charge?
This was no small thing! They were literally breaking into a house that had been shut up since 1890!
And this was her mom’s dream. Carol Phillips had read old newspapers, scoured the internet for anything she could find about Traeger Hall.
She had been her own type of Indiana Jones, and Jennie was just the sidekick who’d gotten sucked into the adventure.
But now Mom was gone, and Jennie was left holding the proverbial Ark of the Covenant. Was it smart to open it?
“I don’t want my face to melt off.” Were those the only words she could think of to say to Zane Harris?
Zane stared at her, then let out a short laugh. “Is that an Indiana Jones reference?”
Jennie nodded, avoiding Zane’s eyes and making a pretense of studying the closed-up entrance.
Bricks of various colors had been used to shut out the world.
Now they were old with crumbling mortar, and dirt piled in the corners between what should have been the door and the floorboards of the veranda.
“My mom liked the Indiana Jones movies.”
“Best ever,” Zane said.
“Yeah, I just . . .” Jennie hesitated, but something in Zane’s eyes coaxed her to go on. “I just wonder if we’re not opening up a curse. Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”
“I highly doubt our faces will melt, although I can’t say for sure we’re not inviting a curse.
” Zane shifted his attention to the doorway.
It was about seven feet high and eight feet wide, the frame blocked entirely by the brick.
The large double doors that once hung there had long since been removed.
“But curses don’t hold any power unless we give it to them.
I guess I need to remember that.” He seemed to be talking as much to himself as to Jennie.
Zane ran his hand along the bricks in the doorway.
“Allison swore there was a way inside the mansion, and she was going to find it.” He crouched and picked at some mortar that was crumbling in the bottom corner.
“Did she find a way?” Jennie asked.
He gave her a sideways look. “Not that I know of. But folks say they heard the bell the night she went missing. The bell can’t ring unless someone is inside the tower to ring it.”
Jennie wrapped her arms around herself, feeling not the first ghostly premonition hovering around the place. “Do you believe in ghosts?” she ventured.
Zane grimaced. “No. Do you?”
“I . . . no.” And she didn’t. But sometimes ghosts seemed like a good explanation for the unexplainable.
He planted his hands at his waist and stared at the bricks. “I don’t know what we’re going to find inside, Jennie. The place could be falling apart. But I want you to know I’m not out to gain anything from this. You own the place, so I’ll be fine just walking away if you don’t want me here.”
Didn’t she want him here? She hadn’t considered that. It also hadn’t entered her mind that Zane would break down the wall and then leave her to explore the abandoned mansion by herself.
Her hand flew to grip Zane’s wrist. His skin was hot beneath her palm, and she blushed as she made contact, shocking herself that she’d grabbed him.
But somehow she couldn’t let go. He seemed to understand.
For a long moment, the air between them grew heavy.
Shared grief, pain, and questions hung between her and Zane, a binding force she hadn’t expected.
Jennie tried to release Zane’s wrist but found herself tightening her grip instead.
“Please. Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
Zane twisted his wrist so that his hand could clasp hers. As their palms met, he offered her a small nod of reassurance. “I won’t leave,” he promised.
Jennie badly needed to hear those words. From someone. From anyone.
I won’t leave.
Now the trick was believing them.
The first impact of the sledgehammer brought the crumbling of clay and mortar to the veranda’s stone floor. While the rain continued to pour upon the earth, Zane and Jennie were shielded by the roof that had been maintained by Zane’s family.
She had been the one to bring the sledgehammer. Jennie had bought it at the hardware store in Newton Creek and was glad the guy at the checkout hadn’t asked why she needed it. Apparently, it wasn’t uncommon to buy a sledgehammer, though it had never been on Jennie’s list of items to shop for.
Zane swung the hammer again, and its force cracked more bricks. He set the tool down and glanced at Jennie. “Let’s hope this doorway isn’t holding up the entire building.”
She smiled at the thought. “That’s not a concern. Still . . . maybe we should make a gap big enough for us to squeeze through and stop there for now.”
“You mean not the whole doorway?” Zane said.
“Well, if we tear out all the brick in the doorway, people will for sure notice, and then how will we keep them out? And if the threat against Hannah was real . . .”
“You’re right.” Zane raked a hand through his hair and made the black mass stick up every which way.
He assessed the doorway again. “If I take out just this portion here”—he pointed to it—“then we should be able to slip inside. We can fill it with a makeshift enclosure for now, and I’ll come back later tonight with some supplies to make it look sealed again.
Until we can get a security system in place, that is. I should have thought of that.”
Jennie eyed him.
“What?” Zane said.
“You’re coming back tonight?”
“I said I wasn’t going anywhere, remember?” His smile was quizzical, as though he didn’t understand why she’d doubt him.
If only he knew.
Her dad had made a zillion promises. She couldn’t remember one that he’d kept. Not that keeping a promise would have bought him any forgiveness for his other sins against her.
Jennie shoved away the bad thoughts. “Let’s keep going.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Zane wielded the sledgehammer with precision, and this time a layer of brick fell inward.
They both stilled as a puff of musty, century-old air escaped the house. The looks exchanged between them sent a shiver through Jennie and for an entirely different reason than before. This time it had nothing to do with Zane and everything to do with Traeger Hall.
“This is actually pretty crazy,” Zane admitted.
Jennie nodded, and together they both stood on tiptoes to peer through a hole that was no bigger than half a foot square.
“It’s dark,” Jennie whispered, sensing a reverence in the moment. She pulled a flashlight from her back pocket and held it up to the hole. The beam pierced the blackness inside Traeger Hall and revealed what appeared to be wood paneling on a wall opposite them.
“I wish Mom were here,” she breathed.
“And Allison,” Zane added.
They shared a look of understanding, and Jennie found comfort in the camaraderie.
“Stand back,” Zane instructed. He took a couple more swings of the sledgehammer, and within seconds the hole in the bricked doorway grew larger.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, staring into the mansion.
Jennie aimed her flashlight at the walls, the floor, a staircase, and then a gust of chilling air whipped through the newly exposed opening.
The smell of time, of must, and of mold assaulted their senses.
Jennie pressed her nose into her elbow, her hand still holding up the flashlight.
A flutter of gray swept past the opening. Jennie saw it and knew it for what it was, and she released a scream that tore at her throat.
They had opened a tomb, and its ghosts were set free.