Haunted By You (Phantom Bayou #1)

Chapter 1

One

Erielle Benoit stood in front of the majestic Victorian house at the end of Main Street in the town of Phantom Bayou, Louisiana.

The grass was overgrown, the paint was peeling, and some shutters were loose and at awkward angles.

One appeared to have cracked a window on the second floor, though someone had taped it up.

Her heart ached a bit. Her grandfather hadn’t lived here for a while, but he would have been heartbroken to see the mess it had become.

And now he had passed, and left this place to her.

She didn’t know why. She didn’t deserve the generous gift, the remnant from her childhood. But she was grateful for it, since she had nowhere else to go.

“I’m not going to fall through the floor in there, am I? Get trapped and no one will know I’m in there?” she asked her grandfather’s attorney, Daisy Rimple.

“It’s structurally sound,” Daisy replied, but she didn’t sound a hundred percent convinced.

“Did you have it inspected?”

“I mean, not officially, but I did ask one of the local men to go and check it out, make sure it’s safe.”

Why was Erielle not reassured? “And it has running water? Indoor plumbing?”

She didn’t know why she was being precious about this. She had no other options. Dylan had stripped it all from her. Why hadn’t she been more aware? She knew better than to trust people, so why had she forgotten with him?

“Indoor plumbing, and electricity, all turned on for you,” Daisy assured her. “Not sure how reliable, however..”

Erielle groaned inwardly. No hope that the furnishings would be safe enough to sleep on.

She should drive over to the next nearest town, Maillard, for an air mattress.

Too much to hope one of the small shops here in Phantom Bayou would have something like that, and for a decent price.

She was counting her pennies these days.

“Do you want to see the rest of the town?” Daisy asked.

Erielle drew in a deep breath, and her lungs filled with the swampy thick air.

She’d driven through the town, what was left of it, on her way here.

Most of the shops that lined Main Street were empty—though to be honest, when she was a kid, not many more had been occupied.

“What exactly does inheriting a town entail?”

“Well. You own the property, so you’re the landlord, and I’ll help you with the responsibility that brings. You’ll earn rent, but you’ll also have to keep up with repairs, keep insurance on the buildings, all that.”

Erielle grimaced. “Sounds expensive.”

Daisy inclined her head in a gesture of agreement. “Your grandfather’s bank account took a hit when he was in the senior home. So yes, it might be a struggle, at least until you can get more businesses to move in. I can help you with that, too.”

Erielle couldn’t think that far ahead, not yet.. At least she had a roof over her head. She squinted to look at the roof. At least, she hoped she did.

“Well. Shall we?” She motioned for Daisy to lead the way up the cracked sidewalk to the front door of the Victorian.

Daisy hung back. “Ah. I have the key for you.” She held it out to Erielle, who stared at it a moment.

It was still on her grandfather’s keyring, the leather fob cracked and peeling. The twinge of love and remorse stole her breath for an instant. Once she could gather herself, she took the key, rubbing the leather with her thumb, then looked at Daisy. “You’re not coming in with me?”

“No, ah.” Daisy motioned vaguely over her shoulder. “I have some business to take care of in Maillard. Just…call if you need anything.”

Erielle watched the other woman stride back to her BMW, her steps sure in her high heels despite the cracked pavement..

Erielle let go of the sigh she’d been holding back. She knew what Daisy’s hasty retreat was about. She knew the rumor—that her grandfather was happy to spread—that Phantom Bayou, and this house in particular, were haunted.

The legend was, before this town was even built, a band of pirates used this bayou as a hideout, and they battled British soldiers during the War of 1812.

The soldiers had then dropped the pirates’ bodies into the swamp, and their ghosts came back to haunt the town.

She would have suspected her grandfather embellished the story, making it bloody and fascinating for her benefit, but she’d heard it elsewhere, too, though through no legitimate sources, that she could find.

His house, in particular, was supposed to be haunted because the ghosts had driven the original mistress, the wife of the town’s mayor, mad, and she’d killed herself and her children.

Gruesome. As a child, Erielle had been perversely delighted by the idea of ghosts. Now, out here, in the yard, she was skeptical. Once she walked through the door and spent the night there, alone, well, who knew?

She might scuttle off, just like Daisy. Only, where would she go?

She unlocked the front door and let it swing inward, letting the memories swamp her.

So many summers she’d spent here, with her grandparents, going fishing with her grandfather, baking and gardening with her grandmother. She’d had summer friends, too, but no doubt they’d moved away. It seemed most people in town had.

She didn’t have the energy to go find out today.

She would see what else she needed to get settled, and then go to the box store in Maillard.

Her bank account was slim, so she hoped her list wasn’t too long.

Maybe she could get a job at that box store, because she was going to need some income.

Well, she needed to see what her grandfather’s finances were.

She needed to meet with Daisy again. She was the only heir—again, completely undeserved—but what did she inherit besides a town?

Her grandparents had been well-off, at least she’d always thought that was the case, because they’d always indulged her, had even paid for her college. But her grandfather had been in the memory home for four years, and she had no idea how much that had cost.

The house was just as she remembered—though sparser now, the rooms stripped of much of their furniture.

What remained was covered with sheets, just as one would expect in a haunted house.

While everything looked dreary through the dim light of the dusty windows, the interior didn’t appear as rundown as the outside. That was a relief, at least.

Okay, she needed to make an inventory of what she needed to buy, and hope it wasn’t too much.

Why hadn’t she saved more when she had been raking in the money?

Why had she signed her name to those documents that gave Dylan so much power over the restaurants she’d built from the ground up?

If they’d been married, sure, giving him those rights, that trust, would have made sense, but he hadn’t wanted to get married, not yet.

And honestly, as devastated as she was, she was glad for that.

Two hours later, she returned to Phantom Bayou with her purchases.

She had towels, bedding and some groceries.

Absolutely ridiculous that she used to be a chef, and now she was buying pre-cooked meals because it was cheaper than buying the ingredients.

Adding insult to injury, she had to split the haul into two transactions to put one on each credit card.

She pushed aside the idea that the accrued interest was going to put her over her limit, and that she’d probably have a late fee tacked on, too, since she hadn’t sent them her change of address. One issue at a time.

She used to be so responsible. The idea of having not one, but three, maxed-out credit cards and a pittance in the bank stressed her out.

At least she had a roof over her head, but she was going to have to get a job before the groceries ran out. She hadn’t seen a lot of options in town, and she didn’t want to have to drive into Maillard for work, because then she’d need gas money.

On the far edge of town sat the bar, a ramshackle thing that looked as if someone had propped a few sheets of corrugated tin together and called it a building—then, as an afterthought, nailed a bar sign to the front.

But cars and motorcycles gathered out front, so they had business.

Maybe they had a kitchen, too, and she could just eat at work.

She would look into that tomorrow. Right now she was starving, so she took her packaged meal to the kitchen. No microwave, of course, but she’d purposely bought dinners she could heat up in the oven.

Naturally, the oven wouldn’t heat. Exhausted, resigned, she just sat at the table, opened the package, and ate her meal cold. She was not going to cry about it.

Much.

Erielle probably could have spent a few more days settling into the house, but honestly, without her grandparents here, it was just too sad and empty, memories lurking around every corner.

Plus, she needed money. She needed to work up the nerve to go ask for a job at the bar.

Of course the place didn’t open until noon, and since she hadn’t particularly slept well on the air mattress in a humid house that creaked even on a still night, she was up earlier than normal.

She’d go back to Maillard at some point to get a fan, both for the white noise and to cool the room.

She’d had a bowl of cereal for breakfast, though she wasn’t sure the refrigerator had kept the milk cold enough.

The thing was probably older than she was.

But nothing she could do about it now, so she headed out to explore the town.

She walked straight out of the gate and onto Main Street, past a few houses before she reached “downtown.” Most of the shops she’d visited with her grandparents were gone, the storefronts empty.

She wasn’t sure if they’d been something else in the interim, but when she looked through the dusty windows, she didn’t think anyone had made an effort.