Who are you? How do you know my name?
Doesnt matter.
He was taller than her, but no more than six feet or so in boots. Worn jeans were topped by a black T-shirt. He had good hands, she noted, and surprisingly long hair. Far too long for your average cop.
It does to me. Look, I appreciate you saving my life, but Im fine, now, and I really dont have time to play games.
He drew her closer until his mouth moved against her temple. You need to go back to New York. No questions, no detours, just get on the highway and drive.
He used the fingers of his other hand to capture her chin. Do it, Isabella. Now. While you can. Then he drew her closer still, set his mouth next to her ear and added a soft, If you want to live, you need to get as far away from this house as possible.
Darkwood Manor
Jenna Ryan
MILLS & BOON
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In Memory of Sheena
You were a strong, brave girl all through your life.
Now Heaven has a beautiful new angel.
Fly fast and free, sweet Little Pea.
Well always be with you.
Well always love you
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jenna started making up stories before she could read or write. Growing up, romance always had a strong appeal, but romantic suspense was the perfect fit. She tried out a number of different careers, including modeling, interior design and travel, but writing has always been her one true love. That and her longtime partner, Rod.
Inspired from book to book by her sister Kathy, she lives in a rural setting fifteen minutes from the city of Victoria, British Columbia. Its taken a lot of years, but shes finally slowed the frantic pace and adopted a West Coast mindset. Stay active, stay healthy, keep it simple. Enjoy the ride, enjoy the read. All of that works for her, but what she continues to enjoy most is writing stories she loves. She also loves reader feedback. Email her at jacquigoff@shaw.ca or visit Jenna Ryan on Facebook.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Isabella RossHer ex-boyfriend left her a haunted mansion in Maine.
Donovan BlackHe is a descendant of Darkwood Manors malevolent original owner.
Katie Lynn RossIsabellas cousin disappears from the manor soon after their arrival.
Darlene CalvertDonovans cousin is desperate to get out of town.
George CalvertDonovans aunt feels like a prisoner of her own fathers will.
Orry LucasThe acting Sheriff has aspirations and more than a few secrets.
Gordie TallahasseeThe local Realtor sees a gold mine in the shadowy manor.
Robert DrakeThe developer is hungry to purchase Darkwood Manor.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Prologue
The road that wound northward along the rocky Maine coast felt slick beneath the tires of David Morris Gimbels vintage Corvette.
He grinned as the car jumped forward. You couldnt do speeds like this in the city, and a vehicle needed to stretch its legs every now and then. Plus the text message hed received that afternoon had sounded urgent. He was considering the implications when his cell phone interrupted.
He glanced at the screen. Im twenty miles away, Haden. More problems?
Lights winking off and on, the man on the other end responded. Ive been hearing moans and thumps, too. Then, not five minutes ago, a wail that made every hair on my body stand up. Saw a shadow on the cliff, but it disappeared when the wail started.
David navigated a hard corner one-handed, squinted into the misty night. Shadows are made by people. So are noises and light switches. Wail couldve been a dog hunting for a mate.
Ive had three dogs in my time, Gimbel. None of em ever made a sound like that.
Nineteen miles. David scoped the road before him. Unless his mental GPS had been thrown off by the moonless September night, he was two wide turns away from Cemetery Point. He gunned it through number one and strove for patience.
Lock your doors, draw your shades and pour a couple fingers of whiskey. The next sound you hear will be me screeching to a halt in front of your cottage.
I can hear you screeching from here, the man retorted. Aw, hell, I shouldve called my nephew instead of a nonbeliever like you.
The tires slipped, but David didnt back off the gas. Since when do federal sharpshooters buy into the woo-woo scene? Pour the whiskey, Haden, and wait for my head
He broke off, swore sharply.
He heard Hadens gruff Gimbel? You there? right before his cell phone landed on the floor.
The silhouette of the guardrail was a blur, but he figured the nose of his car hit it at more than three times the posted limit. If ghosts existed, he was about to find out.
Closing his eyes, he prayed his death wouldnt be painful.
Chapter One
Was he out of his mind? Are you? Katie Lynn Ross crouched slightly to peer through the peeling wrought-iron gate in front of her. Thats not a picturesque New England house up thereits spook central. She scratched at the rusty bars. Someones playing a Halloween prank on you, Bella. And dont start with the ancestral thing. Contrary to Grandma Corrigans belief, the children of her bloodline are not mortal links to the spirit world and therefore drawn to areas where such specters appear. This is Davids idea of a final joke. Places like Darkwood Manor dont exist.
Unless were sharing a hallucinationunlikelyyes, they do. Going down on one knee, Isabella Ross snapped several pictures of the distant house. Apparently.
Youre visualizing a shriveled-up corpse, arent you? Some creepy-bird lovers mommy, stuffed and propped in the attic.
Cellar. Isabella stopped snapping. And what Im imagining is the kind of hatchet job David would have done if he hadnt driven his car over that cliff last month. The sadness that swept through her brought a sigh. I just wish he were alive so someone could talk him out of it.
Katie cast her a shrewd look. Someone you, or someone else?
Standing, Isabella shouldered her camera strap. David and I were done. It wasnt the worst breakup, but it wasnt pretty, either. She studied the vaguely Gothic structure at the end of the driveway. Not sure why he left this place to me, but he did, so there you are. Grandma Cs delighted on a visceral level while Grandpa C and Aunt Mara have dollar signs in their eyes.
Dont you love the dynamics of a family business?
Isabella smiled. Actually, I do.
Well, hell, so would I if I got to search out and develop prospective hotel sites. I crunch numbers, Bella. My jobs not as glamorous as yours.
It is when you get to descend unannounced on one of our hotels for the express purpose of exposing an embezzler.
Yeah, that is kind of cool. Her cousin tapped out and lit a cigarette. But are you telling me you had no inkling that David was going to leave you hisha, hacountry house?
Nope. All I know is I got this place, and some distant blood relative got the rest.
Lucky relative. Katie rattled the bars. At a guess, Id say your ex was worth at leastuh, okay. She released her grip as the gate stuttered inward. I suppose this means welcome.
Or run if were smart?
Katie drew a triangle with her cigarette. Sherlock, Watson, Baskerville Hall, aka Darkwood Manor.
The gate gave an ominous creak. Not exactly a warm welcome, but Isabella was used to that. The people she met in her line of work werent always eager to part with the structures her family wished to acquire.
Leaves swirled by a strong breeze blew around her booted ankles, and for the first time since the reading of her ex-boyfriends will, a shiver danced along her spine. It wasnt so much a sense of foreboding, she realized, as a feeling of uncertainty.
David Gimbel had possessed many odd qualities, with quirky riding high on the list. Why hed left her this recently purchased property in Maine might not make particular sense, but the intrigue factor far outweighed any doubts she might have. And Isabella was nothing if not easily intrigued. Her cousinnot so much.
During the walk from gate to front door, Katie bombarded her with questions. What had David planned to do with the multiwinged monstrosity before them? When had he purchased it? And again, why had he left it to Isabella rather than one of his much-despised stepsiblings?
Face it, Bella, if a person wanted to get back at an evil step, what better way to do it than by leaving him or her a white elephant that I swear no one except maybe Edgar Allan Poe would call home?
So Baskerville Halls become the House of Usher, huh? She made a crushing motion with her foot as she spoke.
With a last deep drag, Katie ditched her cigarette. If this place had turrets and a tower, Id call it Draculas castle. I can see the possibilities, thoughif only from your and Grandpa Cs perspective. A hoard of contractors, electricians, plumbers, painters and cleaners later, you might make a lifestyle hotel out of this. Or to use Aunt Maras preferred terma boutique hotel. Although why any sane person would go for Early American Gothic on vacation is
Yes, I get it. Isabella surveyed the grimy windows of the second and third floors. You wont be booking a room here.
A reluctant smile crossed Katies lips. Book a room on two, and youll wind up on one. Unless youre a ghost and you can float over floorboards that are bound to be rotted through.
Isabella gave her head an amused shake. Your glass isnt half-empty, its bone dry.
Only until I get back from Bangor. Once I light into those hotel ledgers, my glassll be overflowing. Maybe Ill quit smoking for good, give you and Aunt Mara a mid-October Christmas present.
We nag you because we love you, Katie. Isabella gave the support beam at the base of the porch a tentative poke. Not sure about this. However, when her finger didnt penetrate, she set her foot on the first tread. It groaned but held.
A gust of wind sent a scatter of leaves across the sagging stoop, and caused a tattered screen to flap like bat wings. The shadows shifted accordingly.
Scraping her midlength hair into a stubby tail, Katie offered a flat, So my vision wont be obscured.
Did I ask? Isabella regarded the cockeyed double doors. We might need a battering ram to get inside. Backing up, she snapped another picture. For the photo wall.
Thatll be some fun wall. Katie glanced skyward. Why is it getting dark at three in the afternoon?
Because theres a storm brewing?
Now theres a promising answer.
Isabella inserted her key and twisted the ancient lever. To her surprise, the door moved. Only ten inches, but there was room for them to squeeze inside.
The lawyer said it was wired, she remarked over her shoulder.
By Thomas Edison?
Isabella flicked the first switch she spied while Katie ventured in deeper. When a bare bulb crackled overhead, she smiled at her cousin. Original fixtures to match the original plaster falling from the ruins of a coffered ceiling.
And a six-inch layer of dust on every visible surface. Katie yelped as her ankle turned on a piece of broken board. The word visible not being applicable to the floor. This isnt a project, its a death trap.
It has good bones, though. Isabella zeroed in on the staircase. That banisters spectacular. Carved mahogany. She took two shots. The newel posts some kind of leaf and vine depiction. And dont say poison oak.
I was thinking hawthorn. Bella. Katie caught her arm. You cant seriously plan to stay here.
If this was the habitable section Davids lawyer had mentioned, even Isabella wasnt that adventurous.
When her cell phone rang, she answered with a preoccupied Isabella Ross. Hi, Aunt MaraYes, were here. Uh, well, its
Amityville, Katie declared. And Im being generous.
A protracted creak overhead had both women raising their eyes.
Not suremaybe, Isabella allowed in response to her aunts question about ghosts. She squinted into a cobwebbed corner. Either that or a really big rat.
Like theres a difference? Several yards away, Katie blew on a carved molding, then stood back, triumphant. Behold your resident gargoyle, Bella, trapped in a sea of hemlock.
Grinning, Isabella returned to her call. It gets better the deeper you go inside, Mara, which suggests a secondary entrance. A parlor drew her forwarduntil she caught a movement on the floor. Ill get back to you when Ive seen the rest. Slapping her phone closed, she dropped it in her pocket. With a wary eye on the rubble to her left she hopped onto a length of rolled carpet. Why is there always a snake? she muttered, shivering. Katie, can you hear me?
A branch scraping the window was her only response.
Oh, good, so its you and me, snake, and Im betting youre poisonous. She backed along the dusty roll until it ran out. Katie?
Her cousin didnt reply.
Spying the movement again, Isabella gauged the distance between her and the stairwell. Grandpa Corrigan said she should face her fears. No problem, she could do that. Shed face the spot where shed seen the snake from the far side of the entry hall.