Read Online K.J. Emrick - Darcy Sweet 13 - Ghost Story by K.J. Emrick - Free Book Online

Five of them repented and placed the blame at Williams’ feet.  Said it was all his idea.  Those five got sent to the stocks for a week, starving out in the weather, locked in place, while people spit at them and threw garbage in their faces.”
    Without looking, his finger settled over Nathaniel Williams.  Right where his heart would be in the painting.
    “Williams here, he got himself hung for the crime.  With his dying breath, he cursed Roderick Chauncy.  Cursed the town.  Cursed everyone.  Said he would rise up from his grave and kill everyone.”
    “The story I read said he was killed for being a witch.”
    Benson shook his head.  “Nope.  Wasn’t no witch.  Wasn’t no Pilgrim either, but that don’t stop people from calling him that.  He was just a jealous, money hungry man angry at the whole wide world.”             
    Darcy looked at the painting of the man who would come to be known as the Pilgrim Ghost, hanging from a rope as punishment for his sins.  She studied his face.  It was the angry visage of a man who had been wronged, a man who hated everyone, and everything.  The rest of the picture was just as vivid, from the faces of the gawkers to the timbers of the Town Hall to the intricate designs carved into the beam the hangman’s noose was suspended from.  Even the grandfather clock standing in the corner was rendered in perfect detail.  The hands showed Darcy the time of the hanging.  Eleven fifty-nine.  Through the windows she saw the black sky of night.
    It was one minute before midnight.
    The exact time that the clock on the Town Hall was stuck at.
    The door to the study burst open and Darcy jumped up from her chair, unseating Twistypaws.  The poor cat streaked out of the room between Jon’s legs, like a streak of furry lightning.
    “Sorry,” Jon said to them.  “I didn’t mean to let the door bang like that.  Hi, Benson.  Do you mind if I borrow Darcy for a moment?”
    “Sure, sure.  Kind of the end of my tale, anyway.”
    He went to stand up, but Darcy had one more question.
    “Did Williams ever make good on his threat?”  Coming from anyone else that would have seemed a bizarre thing to ask.  Ghosts couldn’t curse people.  They couldn’t rise up from the grave and exact revenge.
    Except in Darcy’s world, they could.  And did. 
    Benson settled back into his seat, with a sad nod of his head.  “In 1796, year after Williams was hung, the Town Hall burnt down.  With Roderick Chauncy in it.  Five decades later, the main support beam in the new Town Hall cracked and came crashing down on the head of Whitmarsh Grace’s grandson.  Boy died where he stood.  Other things have happened here in Misty Hollow, if you haven’t noticed.  Some of it is just normal small town stuff.  But the rest of it?  No, sir.  Can’t be this much evil in one town less it has a source.”
    He didn’t say what that source was, but the implication of his words was clear.
    “Darcy, I need to talk to you,” Jon whispered.  “Now.”
    “Okay.  Benson, thank you,” she said.  The old man only nodded, staring down at the picture of the hanging Nathaniel Williams.  He was lost in thoughts too dark to share, perhaps, or worrying about the ones he had already shared.
    They left him there in his study, and Jon ushered them out of the house as quickly as he could.  Twistypaws watched them with quiet cat reserve, looking like she had already forgotten about the fright Darcy had given her.  Although the way her tail twitched Darcy wasn’t so sure.
    Out in the driveway, at the car, Jon huddled close to Darcy and held his voice pitched low.  “They identified the woman.”
    “Really?  Who was she?”  Darcy was still processing what Benson had told her inside.  She wanted to know who the victim was and how she could possibly fit into the nightmarish history that Misty Hollow had come from.
    “Her name was Bonnie Verhault.  She was a real estate