Page 22 of The Haunting of Lockton
“What got you into it?”
A memory flashed of Julian, his face pale and his body unmoving. Not breathing. Me screaming for him to wake up. The worst day of my freaking life had been the start of something for my brother. The accident had changed him.
“Um.” I cleared my throat, chasing away the memory. “It’s always been Julian’s thing.” The waiter set my coffee in front of me, and I shook a sugar packet before dumping it in the cup, then added a splash of half-and-half. “But it’s grown on me too.”
“I wouldn’t call it mything,” my brother said. “I just find it interesting. Unraveling mysteries. Uncovering secrets, sometimes that are centuries old. Possibly speaking to someone from the other side.”
“In other words, he’s a morbid nerd.”
Paxton laughed. Which… yeah, caught me off guard. His laugh was a bit higher in pitch than his speaking voice, with an airy little rasp at the end that was kind of adorable.
Okay, alotadorable. And suddenly, I wanted to know more about him and his adorable self. Much, much more.
“How long have you lived in Ivy Grove?”
“All my life,” Paxton answered. “Never lived anywhere else.”
“Do you want to? Live somewhere else, that is.”
He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. This is my home. I can’t imagine leaving it.” The waiter brought our food, and Paxton cut his sandwich in half before taking a bite off the end. “Where are you guys from?”
“Everywhere,” I responded. “We pretty much live out of our suitcase these days. But we were born in Arkansas, just outside of Eureka Springs.”
“Eureka Springs,” Paxton said, as though mulling around the name. “Why is that familiar?”
“It’s home to America’s most haunted hotel.” Julian lit up. “Our very first episode was filmed at the Crescent Hotel.”
“The Crescent! That’s right. I’ve heard of it.” Paxton seemed just as fascinated by it as my brother. “It didn’t begin as a hotel though, right?”
“Right.” Julian nodded before taking a bite of his food. “It started as a grand resort and then was turned into a college for young women. It became a hospital in the late 1930s. A man named Norman Baker bought it and boasted about bullshit miracle cures, promising cancer patients that they could walk away cancer-free if they drank from the ‘healing waters’ of the Ozarks. He went to prison for fraud. The Crescent caught fire in the ’60s and wasn’t fully restored until 1997 when it was purchased by a couple who turned it into a hotel and spa.”
“It’s open for business now, isn’t it?” Paxton asked.
“Yep,” I answered. “The Crescent is to Eureka Springs what Redwood is to Ivy Grove. The place is constantly booked for months on end. When we investigated, we captured voices on the EVP recorder and what sounds like wheels squeaking down the hallway. We also caught what we believe to be an apparition of Norman Baker in the Recreation Room in the basement.”
“So, you guys are serious about this.” Paxton glanced between the two of us. “It’s not just an act?”
Julian nodded. “I love what we do. I’d do it even if we didn’t make a penny off it.”
Fortunately, wedidmake money doing it. It’s what allowed us to keep doing our show and make ends meet. After struggling for most of our life, going hungry when we were little because our mom bought drugs instead of groceries, and then later being shuffled between foster homes, some not any better than life with our mom, it was nice to have financial stability.
For the rest of lunch, we chatted about Redwood and the hauntings surrounding it. Julian and I also shared a bit about what we learned from the library about Lockton. Which… wasn’t a whole lot. Hopefully, Paxton would be able to fill in more of those gaps.
“Do you want to come up to our room for a few?” I asked once we’d finished eating. “I thought it’d be cool to record a short video before we head to Lockton.”
“Oh.” Paxton’s pale cheeks darkened a shade. “Sure.”
And now he was back to being awkward.
So cute.
We left the dining room and ascended the grand staircase, going slow so Paxton could take it all in. He told us random facts about the mansion as we walked. It came so naturally to him. He didn’t seem as shy when discussing the history of the place.
“Here we are,” I said as we reached our room. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, waiting for them to enter first before following behind them.
“Ah, Ezekiel Warren’s room,” Paxton said, sweeping his gaze around.
“Ezekiel Warren?” Julian opened a black case and pulled out a phone stand. “Related to Arthur?”
