Chapter 24

CHELSEA

I’m lying in bed, Christopher’s body curled around mine. I can feel his arousal pressing against me, a clear sign of what’s to come. His hand reaches over, squeezing my breast, while his other hand wraps around my throat.

“Do you belong to me?” he asks.

I nod, but his grip tightens, cutting off my breath.

“I didn’t hear you. Do you belong to me?”

“Yes, I belong to you,” I manage to whisper. His arousal is insistent against me, and I part my legs a little more for him. But then he stops, his gaze shifting to the bedroom window.

“Don’t stop!” I beg.

“Someone is here.”

“Who?” I ask, confused.

“People we don’t want,” he says cryptically, rising from the bed and leaving the room.

“Where are you going?”

LYNN

We’re all standing in front of the car, watching Jennifer. She’s standing there, hands outstretched.

Suddenly, there’s a noise, like a train, but it’s just the wind. A lot of wind.

Leaves are swirling around us, branches flying towards us. We just stand there, watching.

When the wind hits us, it’s cold. It’s like stepping outside in the middle of winter, the kind of cold that steals your breath. That’s how cold it is.

Zoey wraps her arms around herself. I reach for Dan’s hand, and he takes it.

“They don’t want us here,” Jennifer says.

“They?” I ask, confused.

Zoey pulls out her phone and starts recording. Jennifer covers her ears.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“There’s so many of them. They’re trying to talk to me all at once. Most of them are lost souls, murdered, tortured—most accused of something they never did. All of them are not at rest. They’re angry and confused.”

“Who’s angry and confused?” I ask.

“The patients”

I glance at Dan, my eyes full of questions. He snaps his fingers and whispers in my ear. “Asylum.”

“They’re all gone now. They were talking to me and then just stopped,” Jennifer says.

Then another gust of wind hits us, this one colder than the first.

Zoey runs back to the car, locks herself in, and continues recording with her phone.

Jennifer’s eyes widen, her hair moving as if underwater, but there’s no wind. Her mouth is moving, but no sound comes out. It’s like she’s in slow motion.

Dan and I watch as she seems to have a conversation with something unseen.

Her hair falls back into place as she starts breathing again.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“We need to leave now!”

She doesn’t open her eyes until we’re far enough away from the house.

“What was that? Who were you talking to?” I ask, turning in my seat to look at her.

“The one who’s in charge,” she says.

“Who’s in charge?”

“I don’t know. It’s all weird. I saw a teenager talking to me, but he was talking like an adult, deep and commanding.”

“What did he say?” I ask.

“Lynn, give her a minute,” Dan says.

“No, dammit! My best friend is in that house, and she’s not safe there.”

Jennifer rubs her temples. “He’s the one. He controls everything. The house and her.

“He has claimed her. She is now his property, and she’s not going anywhere. If anybody tries to remove her or do anything, there will be more fatalities at the big oak tree.”

“Holy shit!” Dan exclaims, slamming his hand on the steering wheel.

“I need to go home,” she says, her hands on her head.

We drop Jennifer off at the bookstore and watch her walk home. We open the store and walk in. Zoey takes a seat on the couch.

“I told you that place is haunted. Did she tell you I got raped there,” she says, looking at Dan.

Dan looks at me, his face full of questions.

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later,” I say. I walk behind the counter as Dan stands on the other side.

“Okay, so we know we need to look into Fesser Publishing and the asylum in Chelsea’s backyard,” Dan says, looking at his notes.

“You go to Fesser Publishing and dig something up about the sale. I’ll go to county records and find something on the asylum,” I say, then look at Zoey.

“You’re staying here,” I say, pointing at the bookstore.

“You’re not going to hear me complain. Will the store be open?” Zoey asks.

“Keep it closed. I’ll deal with my parents later.”

“Tell them it’s closed because of an open investigation of Crazy Willie’s murder,” Dan suggests.

“I love where your head is at,” I say, pointing at him. “Zoey, you going to be okay?”

She gives me two thumbs-up as Dan and I leave the bookstore. He puts his arm around me and gives me a kiss.

“Be safe,” he tells me.

I return his kiss, lingering a bit longer. “No, you be safe. Call me later.”

I watch him get in his car and drive away, watching until his car disappears from sight.

DAN

“May I speak with Robert Fesser?” I ask the receptionist at the front desk.

“I’m sorry, Robert doesn’t work here anymore,” she replies.

“Who’s the next in line?”

“Amanda Fesser,” she replies.

~She’s good at this, only offering the bare minimum.~ “Can I meet her?”

“Do you have an appointment?”

I unclip my badge from my belt and flash it at her. “Yes, I have an appointment.”

“Just a moment, please. May I know your name?”

“Detective Dan Adams.”

I watch her as she murmurs into the phone, her words too soft for me to catch. She covers the mouthpiece with her hand, blocking my view of her lips.

“She’ll be with you shortly,” she informs me.

“Thank you,” I respond, stepping away to examine the posters of published books lining the walls.

“Detective!”

I glance over my shoulder to see another woman beckoning me. As I approach, she extends her hand.

“Detective, I’m Amanda Fesser,” she introduces herself, holding the door open for me. We step inside, and she gestures to a chair in front of her desk. “What brings you to Robert?” she inquires.

“I’m curious about how he acquired Stallworth Publishing?”

“I’m his daughter, and it’s not every day you hear Stallworth Publishing. That name hasn’t been used since he bought it.”

“Can you tell me more about it?” I ask.

“Well, I was nine when my father bought the company. He never really elaborated on the details, but he did mention how he got it for a steal.

“The company was left to the Stallworth children after their parents passed away, but they wanted nothing to do with it,” she explains, sipping her coffee. “May I ask why you’re interested in my father?”

“It’s not about him. Let me clarify. I’m investigating a car accident on State Road 22 where a young man crashed into a tree. He’s currently in a coma.

“That tree is the same one that claimed the lives of Frank and Maggie Stallworth back in 1975. Did you represent Dorothy Strange?”

“Yes, she was one of our best horror writers,” she confirms. “Why? Is Dorothy somehow connected to the accident?”

“I can’t disclose that right now, as the investigation is still ongoing,” I reply, scanning my notes. “When your father bought the company, was Dorothy already with Stallworth?”

Amanda turns to her computer and starts typing. She pulls up a spreadsheet listing all the clients from Stallworth to Fesser. She prints it out and hands it to me.

“Yes, she was with us from 1971 until her death in 2022.”

“Could you tell me who sold your father the publishing company?” I ask.

“I don’t know off the top of my head. My father would know. Wait! He still keeps an office here. He likes to drop by occasionally to check on me,” she says, giggling. She snaps her fingers. “Follow me.”

I trail behind her to another office. She unlocks the door and flips on the light.

“He always proudly displayed the contract on the wall behind his desk. He bought the company for $50,000, far below the asking price. There it is,” she points to a framed document on the wall.

I approach the frame, which reads Sold to Robert Fesser for $50,000 by Frank Jr. and Sara Stallworth. I jot down the names and tuck my notes away.

“Thank you. If I have more questions, can I call or drop by?” I ask.

“You can call me anytime,” Amanda offers, scribbling her number on her card. “This is my personal number.”

“Thank you again,” I say, handing her my card. “There’s a picture of your father, Robert, on the wall. May I take a photo of it?”

“Of course.”

I pull out my phone, snap a picture of Robert, and put it away. “Thank you again. I’ll see myself out.”

Amanda settles into her chair and waves as I leave. I pass the receptionist on my way out. “Thank you,” I say, tipping my hat before exiting.

LYNN

I arrive at the courthouse and check in with security. I ascend the stairs to the deeds room. The woman I met the other day is there. She removes her glasses and lets them dangle around her neck.

“Nice to see you again,” she greets me. “What are we searching for today?”

Then it hits me that all the records were lost in the fire back in 1970.

“I’m here to find information about a hospital or asylum that was built in the early 1900s. It’s about two hundred yards from Payton Estate.”

She nods. “I remember hearing about an asylum when I was a child. They said it was haunted due to all the murders that took place there.”

“I know the records were destroyed in the fire. Is there anything you can recall about it?” I ask.

“If I remember correctly, it was called the Walken Hospital. It earned the asylum name later when the court system started using it to house the mentally ill before their hearings,” she recalls.

“How long was it operational before it was closed?”

“I believe it was the early 1950s. That’s when the state stopped funding the hospital and shut it down.”

“Would anyone have any information about the hospital?”

“Other than the library? They’re the only ones I can think of,” she suggests.

“Thank you so much. You’ve been a great help,” I say, heading out.

I send a text to Dan.

Lynn

Nothing about the asylum at the courthouse. Fire destroyed everything back in 1970. I did find out it was called the Walken Hospital before it turned into an asylum.