Read Online Ghost On Duty (Destiny Bay Cozy Mysteries Book 2) by J. D. Winters - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. D. Winters
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was a sitting room with beautiful portraits on the wall—one of a lovely woman in a Seventeenth century gown, but with a modern hairstyle and look on her face. Odd.
I went on up to the third floor to see what might be hiding up there. The rooms were sparse and looked like no one had been in them for years—until I reached the last bedroom. Inside was a gallery of pictures of that same beautiful woman, only in the photographs, she was wearing clothes from mid-century and on, not quite to modern day. She was beautiful—obviously the target of Ned’s affections. In most of the pictures, she was dressed in white—flowing white, lacy white, romantic white. And she looked familiar, but not familiar enough for me to identify.
Was she the love of his life? Had she died? The room had that look, as though it was a memorial. Everything I saw had been lovingly preserved, some of it evidently by a professional archivist. I stayed there for a long time, looking at each picture in turn. Fascinating. I couldn’t pull myself away.
Who was she? And why was she being treated like Princess Di?
Finally I began to feel stifled by the pictures and suddenly, I wanted to get away. I left the room, walked across the landing, and opened a window on the far side, needing some fresh air. The window overlooked the forest and I leaned out, enjoying the pine trees and the sound of the surf in the background.
And then I saw him. There was a man below, dark hair wild around his head, dressed like a vagrant—with a bright red scarf tied around his neck. The same red I’d seen the day before.
I gasped, and that was when he saw me. Without hesitation, he raised a rifle to his shoulder and shot at me.
I fell back, mostly from the shock. You just don’t expect a man to take aim and try to kill you when you haven’t even been introduced. I could hear the bullet hit the turret siding, but I don’t think it came anywhere near me. Still, it could have. And I was scared to death.
The first thing I thought of was my cell phone. I needed help. I reached into my pocket, but my fingers came up empty. Where was it? I was wild, hysterical, and then I remembered I’d left it in the car.
The car. I had to get to the car and get out of here. But how could I avoid the man with the gun?
And then I heard the noise coming from a lower floor in the house. He was inside. My heart nearly pounded out of my chest. I was going to have to hide. But how? Where?
Carefully, I crept down to the second floor. From the stairs, I could look down to the first floor. Could I make a run for it?
No. He was coming up. I whirled, gasping for air and desperately looking for a hiding place. As quickly and silently as I could, I slipped into one of the bedrooms and threw myself behind the door. Then I tried to listen, tried so hard to keep from breathing like a winded rhinoceros, tried to make myself invisible.
I could hear him coming up. He took the steps slowly, deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world. I closed my eyes and prayed like I hadn’t prayed in years.
He was on the landing. He paused. I could picture him looking at the doors to the rooms, trying to decide which one to try first. I thought I was going to pass out from fear. This was the worst thing I’d ever experienced.
And then I heard him right outside the doorway. He looked in. I held my breath. He lingered. That passing out thing was about to happen. There was no hope.
And then he turned and started up the next set of stairs, heading for the third floor. I prayed again, this time in deep, genuine gratitude. I listened, barely breathing, until he hit the landing. Then I waited three counts, and slipped out onto the second floor landing, hit the stairs and ran for it.
I’d never run so hard in my life, hoping I didn’t get confused, hoping I found my way to the front door. If I could make it out onto the front porch, I could make it to the car, hopefully
I went on up to the third floor to see what might be hiding up there. The rooms were sparse and looked like no one had been in them for years—until I reached the last bedroom. Inside was a gallery of pictures of that same beautiful woman, only in the photographs, she was wearing clothes from mid-century and on, not quite to modern day. She was beautiful—obviously the target of Ned’s affections. In most of the pictures, she was dressed in white—flowing white, lacy white, romantic white. And she looked familiar, but not familiar enough for me to identify.
Was she the love of his life? Had she died? The room had that look, as though it was a memorial. Everything I saw had been lovingly preserved, some of it evidently by a professional archivist. I stayed there for a long time, looking at each picture in turn. Fascinating. I couldn’t pull myself away.
Who was she? And why was she being treated like Princess Di?
Finally I began to feel stifled by the pictures and suddenly, I wanted to get away. I left the room, walked across the landing, and opened a window on the far side, needing some fresh air. The window overlooked the forest and I leaned out, enjoying the pine trees and the sound of the surf in the background.
And then I saw him. There was a man below, dark hair wild around his head, dressed like a vagrant—with a bright red scarf tied around his neck. The same red I’d seen the day before.
I gasped, and that was when he saw me. Without hesitation, he raised a rifle to his shoulder and shot at me.
I fell back, mostly from the shock. You just don’t expect a man to take aim and try to kill you when you haven’t even been introduced. I could hear the bullet hit the turret siding, but I don’t think it came anywhere near me. Still, it could have. And I was scared to death.
The first thing I thought of was my cell phone. I needed help. I reached into my pocket, but my fingers came up empty. Where was it? I was wild, hysterical, and then I remembered I’d left it in the car.
The car. I had to get to the car and get out of here. But how could I avoid the man with the gun?
And then I heard the noise coming from a lower floor in the house. He was inside. My heart nearly pounded out of my chest. I was going to have to hide. But how? Where?
Carefully, I crept down to the second floor. From the stairs, I could look down to the first floor. Could I make a run for it?
No. He was coming up. I whirled, gasping for air and desperately looking for a hiding place. As quickly and silently as I could, I slipped into one of the bedrooms and threw myself behind the door. Then I tried to listen, tried so hard to keep from breathing like a winded rhinoceros, tried to make myself invisible.
I could hear him coming up. He took the steps slowly, deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world. I closed my eyes and prayed like I hadn’t prayed in years.
He was on the landing. He paused. I could picture him looking at the doors to the rooms, trying to decide which one to try first. I thought I was going to pass out from fear. This was the worst thing I’d ever experienced.
And then I heard him right outside the doorway. He looked in. I held my breath. He lingered. That passing out thing was about to happen. There was no hope.
And then he turned and started up the next set of stairs, heading for the third floor. I prayed again, this time in deep, genuine gratitude. I listened, barely breathing, until he hit the landing. Then I waited three counts, and slipped out onto the second floor landing, hit the stairs and ran for it.
I’d never run so hard in my life, hoping I didn’t get confused, hoping I found my way to the front door. If I could make it out onto the front porch, I could make it to the car, hopefully
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