Chapter 41

DAN

~Shake, smack, shake-shake, smack.~

“Come on, Detective, wake up.”

Blinking my eyes open, I squint at the figure standing over me. My vision is a blurry mess, and I can’t quite make out who it is.

“There you go. You’re getting it,” the man encourages.

Rubbing my eyes, I try to clear my vision. As the world comes into focus, I recognize the man standing in front of me. “Frank Jr.?”

“Easy there, son. You knocked yourself out,” he informs me.

Reaching up, I touch the tender spot on my head and wince at the wetness. I’m bleeding.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, confused.

“Your father called me last night. He filled me in on everything that’s been going on. He also told me about your plan for this morning.

“I wanted to lend a hand, but it seems I missed all the action,” he says, glancing at Detrick’s unconscious form on the ground. “Can you stand?”

I nod and reach out my hand. He takes it and helps me to my feet. The wind picks up again, causing the trees to sway ominously.

“We need to go,” Frank urges.

I glance down the trail. ~I hope Lynn managed to get Chelsea out in time.~

“Come on,” he says, supporting me as we limp out of the woods.

We emerge from the woods to find his old Ford parked on the side of the road. I scan the area for Lynn, but she’s nowhere in sight. ~She’s not here~.

“I need to get back to my place,” I tell Frank.

“I don’t think so, buddy. You need to get that shoulder checked out at the hospital.”

~He’s right. I don’t know what Detrick might have done to those buckshots that hit me.~

Deciding not to argue, I let him drive me to the emergency room.

LYNN

I help Chelsea out of the car and into Dan’s place. I settle her on his couch and cover her with a blanket. She starts to stir, moaning softly as she comes around.

Zoey rushes to the bathroom to fetch a wet washcloth. I take it from her and gently wipe Chelsea’s forehead.

~She’s coming around.~

She opens her eyes and looks at me. “Why does my head hurt so much?” she asks.

“Sorry, babe,” I say, avoiding an explanation. She starts to sit up and look around.

“Where am I?”

“We’re at Dan’s place,” I explain.

“Dan’s place?”

“Never mind,” I say, brushing her hair away from her eyes. I start to tell her the story about the house, its history, the ghosts, and her great-aunt.

When I get to the part about Christopher Miller being Dorothy’s fiancé and Clayton being a ghost who can morph into anyone he wants, she clutches her stomach.

“What’s wrong, honey?” I ask, concerned.

“My stomach hurts really bad, and I feel like I’m going to throw up,” she says, tears streaming down her face. She doubles over, clutching her stomach. “It really hurts,” she gasps, clearly in pain.

“I think we need to get her to a hospital,” Zoey suggests, worried.

I leave a note for Dan, just in case he comes home.

Zoey and I help Chelsea back into the car. We settle her in the front seat so I can keep an eye on her as I drive to the hospital.

I hold her hand as I drive. The pain is so intense that she passes out, her head lolling to the side, her body limp.

I drive a little faster to the hospital, not as fast as I drove down Chelsea’s driveway.

We pull up to the emergency room doors. Zoey jumps out and grabs a wheelchair. I open the passenger door and lift Chelsea’s limp body. Zoey helps me settle her in the wheelchair as we rush her into the emergency room.

One nurse wheels Chelsea away while another starts asking questions. “What kind of medication is she on? Has she been drinking?”

~I really don’t know. And I’m definitely not going to tell them I used chloroform on her.~

I walk into the waiting room to find Zoey already seated. I take a seat next to her and another man. I nod at him as I sit down.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Zoey asks.

“I hope so.”

“I hope your friend will be okay,” the man sitting next to me says.

“I think she will. She’s a very strong person,” I assure him.

“Can I ask what happened to her? If you don’t mind me asking.”

I don’t want to spill everything—I’ve just met the man—so I give him a vague answer.

“I had to get my best friend out of a bad relationship. She was being mentally abused,” I tell him.

He nods and looks down.

“Can I ask why you’re here?”

“A friend I met a couple of days ago needed my help today,” he says, looking at me. “Hi, my name’s Frank Stallworth.” He extends his hand.

I shake his hand and pause, still holding his hand. “Frank Jr.?”

He nods.

“Who did you bring in?” My voice trembles.

“Detective Dan Adams.”

I gasp, my heart pounding in my chest. “What happened?”

“He got shot in the shoulder.”

I cover my mouth with my hand.

“He’s okay. It was buckshot. Most of it hit his vest, the rest hit his left shoulder.”

I start crying.

“He’s going to be okay.”

I wipe my tears with the back of my hand just as I see a nurse holding the door open.

Dan walks out with one crutch and his left arm in a sling. I jump up and hug him tightly. He holds me with his right hand and kisses me.

“How did you know I was here?” Dan asks.

“I didn’t. I brought Chelsea in because she was having stomach pains and kept fainting.”

“You’ve met Frank Jr.?” Dan extends his hand to Frank who’s just joined us. Frank shakes Dan’s hand. “I appreciate you coming to get me.”

“You’re like family to me. I would’ve done it without a second thought,” Frank replies.

“If it weren’t for this guy,” Dan says, giving Frank a friendly pat on the shoulder, “I’d still be lying unconscious or worse, dead, in the woods.”

“I’m really grateful to you and your family,” I tell him.

“He’s all the family we have,” Dan says.

We all head back to the waiting room and sit together. Dan starts to tell us more about Frank’s parents. Zoey pulls out the letter from Dorothy from her back pocket and hands it to Dan.

“I brought it so Chelsea could read it later,” Zoey explains.

Dan passes the letter to Frank, and I watch his reaction as he reads it. He puts the letter down, then looks up at the ceiling, pointing upwards. “You were right, sis. You were right.”

I’m sitting next to Dan on his right, holding his hand, not wanting to let go, when a nurse calls for Chelsea’s family. We all stand up at once.

“Just the immediate family,” she says.

“We are her immediate family,” I tell her as she holds the door open for all of us.

We enter Chelsea’s room, and there she is, sitting up in bed with a big smile on her face. I rush to her and give her a hug, followed by Zoey.

“So, how are you feeling?” I ask.

“Who are those two?” she asks, pointing at Dan and Frank. I walk up to Dan.

“Don’t you remember Detective Dan Adams? He came to your house asking about Brian?”

Chelsea shakes her head. “Not really. My head’s still kind of foggy. I remember Brian cheating on me, then the horrible crash.

“I also remember visiting him here at the hospital with his mom. After that, nothing.”

I pull up a chair and start to tell her everything that Dan and I discovered about the house. Zoey hands her the letter and she starts to read it.

She puts the letter down. “You’re telling me Christopher, I mean Clayton, is a ghost that my great-great-aunt murdered in the early 1900s?”

Everyone in the room nods.

“It felt so real. I could feel him, touch him. He was real to me.”

“Well, he wasn’t,” Zoey blurts out.

We all smile and shake our heads as the doctor walks in.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Better,” she replies.

“Good. I have your test results here for your abdominal pain,” he says, flipping through papers. “Well, there’s no easy way to say this. Congratulations, you’re pregnant.”

Chelsea’s eyes go wide; she isn’t smiling. “No, no. I can’t be pregnant with a ghost. That’s impossible,” she says frantically.

The doctor looks at her, probably wondering why she said that.

“How far along is she?” I ask the doctor.

“Eight weeks,” he replies.

“You see, honey, it’s not Clayton’s. It’s Brian’s baby. You were already pregnant before you moved into the house.”

“Then why didn’t I have any morning sickness before the house?” Chelsea asks.

“Every mother is different. Some get it early on, others don’t get it at all,” the doctor says, looking at us.

“If you have any more questions, just ask one of my nurses. They’ll be able to help you.” Then he leaves.

“Now that I think about it, Chris, dammit, I mean Clayton, was being protective of me. He talked about having a family one day and how I would be his queen.

“Several times, he put his hands on my stomach and smiled at me. He always said I would make a perfect mother.”

“Because he knew you were pregnant. He was grooming you for when that day came. You see, the longer you stayed there, the more control he had over you. That’s why we had to get you out,” I tell her.

“How come Dorothy lived there for sixty years and was able to help you out with the files and letters?” Chelsea says, holding up the letter.

“She knew who Clayton was when she moved into the house in 1965. She played his game but never slept with him. That could be one of the reasons,” I tell her.

“That was his plan all along. As soon as he had me that first night I met him. I was done as soon as I had sex with him,” Chelsea says, covering her eyes with her hands.

I hug her and tell her it’s over. Today is a new beginning, a new start.

We stay in the room for another hour until the nursing staff ask us to leave. We say our goodbyes. I tell her I’ll be back in the morning, give her a kiss, and leave.