Page 237 of Love Bites

“Adelynn Renee!” I shouted and placed the picture on the dresser before stalking back out into the hall. “You’re in such big tr—”

The sight of the other three doors standing wide open choked off the rest of my threat.

Didn’t I hear a door shut?

I walked toward the window at the end of the hall, opposite the bathroom, glancing in the other two bedrooms as I passed. Addy still eluded me.

The window faced west, peering over the backyard. I stared out through the dirt-laden screen. Below me, Addy and Kelly ran circles around Natalie, who crutched her way toward the garage, where Layne kneeled, digging in the dirt. As I watched, Addy did a cartwheel, towel-wrapped hand and all, returning to her feet with a big grin for Kelly.

Behind me, a door clicked shut.

I whirled around, my arms tingling with goose bumps, my heart and lungs huddled together in my throat.

The door to Wolfgang’s room had closed again.

“Hello?” I whispered, cleared my throat, then tried more loudly. “Is anyone there?”

Silence answered.

I tiptoed over to the door, my breath held as I grabbed the doorknob.

It wouldn’t turn. Locked, again.

I stared down at the light spilling out from under the door, trying to come up with a rational, logical explanation for random door slamming in such an old house.

The floor creaked on the other side of the wood panel.

* * *

Sunday,July 15th

Eighteen hours later, standing in a new, never-lived-in-before house in a growing suburb about seven miles outside of the Deadwood city limits, I was still chastising my overactive imagination.

Doc waved his hand in front of my face. “Hello? Anyone in there?”

I blinked away a tired blur, my eyes burning from a sleepless night full of tossing and turning, of witches and clowns. “Sorry. Did you ask me something?”

“Yes, twice.” Doc leaned against the kitchen island that had a built-in gas range and granite counter top. “Late night?”

“Long night,” I corrected, squeezing the bridge of my nose. The new-carpet smell filling my sinuses was not helping to soothe the dull pounding in my head, a lovely side effect of counting ghosts until the wee hours of the morning.

I hadn’t shared my experience yesterday inside the Hessler house with Natalie or Aunt Zoe—partly because I didn’t know what to make of the whole thing, but mostly because of how red-faced I’d been later when I remembered my panic-stimulated, run-for-my-life reaction to the simple sound of a house settling in for the night. For a girl who didn’t believe in ghouls and banshees, my imagination had sure jumped on the haunted-house party-wagon without even pausing to lift its skirt.

“Did you have another hot date?” Doc asked.

I held his gaze for several seconds, searching for mockery, cynicism, even hoping for jealousy, but found only brown eyes staring back at me. I contemplated telling Doc my door-shutting story, sharing my creepy secret. No, that was too nutty-sounding. “No date. Just the usual insomnia fun.”

“That explains the dark rings.”

I nodded.

“Red eyes.”

I continued nodding.

“Wild hair.”

“Hey, cut me some slack.” I patted my hair. I knew I should have tucked it up again today.

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