The Curse of a Single Red Rose (Haunted Hearts Series Book 7) (4 page)

“The ghost disappeared. I never saw her again, but they did.” He paused when he recalled the memory of Dylan’s anguished face as he told his story. “There were other things that happened out there. Things they don’t like to talk about. Now that the rightful owner has been found, they don’t want to work for him just because his name is Wakefield.” Collin laughed. “Some of what they told me is a little bit hard to believe. Still, I don’t blame them for leaving and never going back.”

“But you’re Irish, and you believe in ghosts.”

“Aye, that I do. I’ve seen one with my own eyes, I have.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Seems to me you’re telling a tall Irish tale.”

He smiled and studied every line and contour of her face while he explained a piece of his heritage. “The Irish are tellers of tall tales. That is true. My grandfather was one of the finest storytellers in all of Ireland. Most Irishmen love a good ghost story. I do believe the Irish invented ghosts, but this ghost story is no tall tale. I’m telling the God’s honest truth.” He raised his right hand palm side toward her.

“Can you feel the presence of ghosts?”

What an odd question? Why would she ask that?

“I’ve never had the gift.” No, that wasn’t exactly true. He’d never wanted the gift, but his grandmother had assured him that he had it as well. For most of his life, he’d ignored the signs of it in himself.

He wasn’t going to tell Elsa that though. That explanation would open up another line of questions he didn’t want to answer. His grandmother’s gift was why his parents had left Ireland when he was just a lad. They had never returned, not even when his grandfather passed away.
God rest his soul.
He mentally crossed himself.

“Then, you don’t feel the presence at the hotel?”

Until that moment, he’d had control of the conversation, and he hadn’t thought there was anything she could throw at him that he couldn’t handle. “Presence? Are you saying there’s a spirit there?”

“I haven’t seen it.” A strong, declarative statement. A little too insistent, perhaps?

“Then how do you know it’s there?”

What did Elsa know about ghosts and hauntings? She was making it up as she went along, just messing with him because she had some preconceived notion about the Irish and their superstitions.

“You haven’t heard about the curse, then?” Her whispered question fell softly from her lips.

A chill snaked up his spine. “What curse?” He pretended ignorance, but he’d heard of it.

“When rescue workers searched the hotel after Hurricane Betsy in 1965, they found a woman dead at the bottom of the stairs. She had a rose stem in her mouth.”

That wasn’t exactly how the story went. When he’d heard the legend, the rose was most definitely not in her mouth. The dead woman had it clutched in her hand, just as they all did.

“The legend says that whenever someone in the hotel receives a single red rose on a stormy day, they die before the night is over.”

Ah, Elsa was a teller of tales as well. He appreciated the intensity with which she told her story, the dishing out of bits of information one piece at a time. She was good.

“That’s why you wanted the job, isn’t it?”

She blinked. “I thought I’d go for it. I didn’t really expect to get it. Such large projects usually go to men with more experience on the job than I have. I was a little surprised.”

“Why?”

“It’s just a theory I have…”

He stared at her, willing her to tell him what she thought.

“I was doing research for another project I was bidding on, and I ran across some old property records. The man who managed the hotel on the day of the hurricane was named Les Wakefield.”

“So you’re doing some amateur investigating? Do you think you’re going to find her killer? Our Les can’t be the same man. He’s too young.”

She snapped at him. “I can see that with my own eyes, Collin.”

Noted. She didn’t like the obvious thrown back at her.

He held her steady stare, refusing to blink.

“There is something odd about men named Wakefield.” Her even tone resonated with significance.

He recalled his last conversation with Det. Moreau. The cop had said the same thing. He considered telling her why he’d accepted the job at the hotel, but then decided against it. Maybe if she didn’t know the whole story, she would stay out of his way while Collin followed up on Moreau’s suspicions. Once again, guilt hit him hard.

Tell her, Collin. Warn her. She should know.

“This Les isn’t even related to that Les.” As soon as the words departed his lips, he knew he’d messed up.

She squinted at him. “How do you know that?”

Oh, she was sharp. She didn’t miss anything, not a single slip up.

“What do you know, Collin?” Her eyebrows drew together over her nose. “Are you searching the hotel for something? Is that why you disappear all the time?”

So, she had noticed.

“I know where our Les came from and how long his family has lived in South Carolina. There’s no way he’s related to a man who lived here in the 1960’s. His family has been in South Carolina for generations.”

“I thought you’d never met him before tonight. When did you talk to him?”

“He has told me nothing about himself.”

Her impatience at his hedging was coloring her jaw a very bright shade of pink. It seemed the woman blushed easily.

“Then who have you been talking to?”

He couldn’t bring the cop into it. If Elsa was tight with Wakefield, Moreau didn’t want the man to get a whiff he was still investigating him.

Inspiration hit him. “Dylan told me.” Well, he had in a way. Dylan had been there when he’d met with Moreau. The two of them had filled him in on as much of the story as they had wanted him to know.

“Oh.” Elsa’s eyes revealed that she didn’t quite believe him.

Like he’d previously thought, she was sharp.

No matter how much he enjoyed her company, he couldn’t get any closer to her without telling her the truth. Before long, he would have to have a long discussion with Nick Moreau about letting Elsa in on his suspicions about Les Wakefield.

Their meal arrived, and they ate in silence. Collin paid the check, and the two of them stood to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her tone suggested she wasn’t sure that she would.

So she was dismissing him. Their evening was over. Despite his determination to keep his distance from her, disappointment settled over him. “I’ll be there.”

She smiled, lifted her bag from the back of her chair, and left without glancing backward. When she was out of sight, he called Nick Moreau.

Chapter Four

Elsa wiggled the elastic out of her hair and allowed her blonde waves to fall loose before bunching them back up again and redoing the band around a tighter ponytail. She concentrated on the plans she’d set out on the architect’s table in front of her. When blinking didn’t make the blue lines stop bending and shifting, she sighed, rolled up the blueprints, and slid them back into the tube.

She rubbed her aching neck and glanced at her phone. Nearly nine o’clock. Collin and his crew had left around seven. She’d had two blessed hours of peace and quiet to consider the problem he’d presented to her earlier that evening.

She’d hardly been able to concentrate on what he was saying because she had expected him to greet her when he came in that morning. Instead, he’d passed right by her office without saying
good morning
and had stayed out of sight for most of the day. She couldn’t deny that her feelings were hurt, and she’d had too much pride to go find him. Sure, they hadn’t really been on a date the previous night, but she didn’t think their evening had gone so badly that he’d avoid her in the morning.

When he’d finally approached her late in the day, he was in an ugly mood, pissed off and ready to argue. She closed her eyes to better recall the confrontation, not that she hadn’t gone over it in her mind a thousand times already.

Without warning, he shook the blueprints from the tube and rolled them out on top of the progress billing she’d been preparing. The empty tube clattered to the floor, and she absent-mindedly righted it by leaning it against the side of the desk. A rebuke for his rude behavior formed on the tip of her tongue, but the storm cloud blustering in his eyes stalled her.

“I know why the plumber installed all the water lines on the third floor in the wrong place.” He ran his finger along the blue line that indicated the wall on the west side of the hotel, the one that butted up against the building next door. “You see that?” He stabbed the paper with his finger. “That’s why the plumber miscalculated where to lay the water lines.”

She turned to blink at him. “I don’t understand.”

He jabbed the corner where the west wing and the north wing connected. “According to my measurements, there’s another nine feet of wall on the west side of the third floor. I thought I was wrong when I stepped off the rooms on the second floor and they didn’t match the measurements for the rooms on the third floor. Those rooms are supposed to be identical, aren’t they? So I double-checked my estimates with a tape measure, and my estimates were right. There’s something off about the plans for the third floor. When I laid the plan for the second floor over the third floor, the dimensions seemed to match up until I realized the inches-to-feet ratio for the third floor plan is different. Explain that to me, please.”

Her heart thumped in her chest at what he was suggesting. The condescending, accusatory tone in his voice made her grit her teeth before she snapped at him.

She pushed down her aggravation and studied the plans closer. “Are you sure?”

“I know how to use a measure, Elsa.”

Her perusal of the plans distracted her, and she muttered to no one in particular as if he wasn’t in the room with her. “Well, that explains that.”

“There is dead space on that side of the building. A lot of dead space. Why isn’t it shown on the plans? I’m going to tear into the wall in that room and see what’s behind it.” Determination hardened his gruff tone.

She jumped to her feet. “So what if there is? Why is that a big deal? A lot of buildings have dead space. You should know that. If you are wrong, then you’ll be tearing into that wall for nothing. You can’t do that. At least, not without the owner’s permission.”

“I am not wrong.” His brogue thickened when he was angry, and at the moment, his accent was so thick she could barely understand him.

She didn’t get why he was so hot about it.

“You are not knocking a hole in that wall.” She placed one hand on her desk, the other on her hip, and leaned toward him. It was a deliberate pose to remind him who was in charge. She had to make him acknowledge that she was the boss, or she would lose his respect.

Anger flickered in his eyes. “Me and my crew are done for the day.”

She glanced at the time on her phone. “Sure. It’s almost seven. Unless you want to pay your crew extra overtime, you ought to call it a day.” She was putting him on notice that the extra overtime would be out of his pocket.

He huffed a noise of disgust and stomped out of her office.

Elsa sighed with weariness. Les Wakefield needed to know about the discrepancy in the dimensions. The error had to be corrected in the plans before the project could proceed. Her head ached at the thought of initiating communication with the man after she’d rejected him the previous night. No, talking to Les could wait until morning. She’d been on the job long enough that day, so she closed her computer, shoved it into its carry bag, and reached for her keys to lock up the building for the night.

The hotel had been quiet since Collin and his had left for the day, unnaturally so. She wished she wasn’t alone. Even Collin’s angry presence would have been preferable to the vulnerable feeling she suddenly experienced.

The sensation of being watched caused chill bumps to erupt on her forearms. She twisted toward the open office door, expecting to see someone standing there. The doorway and the reception area beyond it were empty of human life. A strong breeze rushed into the room and filled the space with a heavy floral odor. Where had the draft come from? The street door was closed. When a
thud
and
boom
rattled the windows, she grabbed her cell phone. Her finger hovered over the
nine
prepared to dial the emergency number.

A cry for help resonated deep in her soul. The wail wasn’t audible. The impression of someone in distress was more like a ripple running through her psyche. She’d joked with Collin about sensing a presence in the hotel, and then she’d denied it when he’d asked her if she’d felt it. Sometimes a joke had a nugget of truth buried deep inside a poor attempt at humor.

Maybe she should have told him the truth.

She had sensed something odd about the atmosphere in the hotel on more than one occasion. At first, she’d thought it was her imagination. It was like electrical frisson dancing on her skin. Like being hot and cold all at the same time. Like someone standing so close to her she could feel the sizzle of energy permeate her skin.

She hated the feeling. Nausea rose in her throat, and she gulped to keep it down. Panic rushed her. No one should be in the hotel except her. Did she dare confront the intruder? Maybe she should call the police, but if she did, how would she explain the disturbance was something she’d felt in her soul instead of something she’d experienced with one of her five senses?

No, she was being ridiculous. She shouldn’t let stories of ghosts and curses get to her. Still, she needed to make sure no one was trespassing.

She clutched her cell phone to her chest and pulled her heavy flashlight from the bottom drawer of her desk. Her hands were full. She either had to give up the flashlight or the phone to carry the stun gun. After a moment’s hesitation, she left the weapon in her bag and walked slowly out into the lobby.

“Hello?” She called into the shadows that darkened the corners.

Fumbling along the wall, she found the light switch near the bottom of the curving staircase, but nothing happened when she flipped it on. She closed her eyes and counted to five. Of course, she’d known the lights wouldn’t come on.
Isn’t that the way it always happens in a horror movie?

“Get a grip, Elsa. This isn’t a movie.” Her voice echoed around the empty lobby. A
rustle
came from behind her. She spun around just as the recessed lighting in the reception area went out.

More cries for help resonated in her soul and pulled her toward the source. She flicked the flashlight on and ascended the stairs one slow step at a time, hyper alert to any change in the atmosphere. Elsa swept the beam across the second floor landing, and once she’d satisfied herself there was no one lurking in the shadows there, she kept a steady pace as she climbed to the third floor. Before she headed through the French doors and onto the outside walkway, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to steady her jumpy nerves.

Strange thoughts bombarded her mind, but she didn’t know where they came from. She’d argued with Collin about the error on the blueprints, and all the while, she’d known that he was right. How incompetent she must seem for not discovering the discrepancy before the work began.

But she
had
found the error. The knowledge that she’d been aware of the problem all along rankled in her soul. Why hadn’t she said or done something? Why hadn’t she admitted it when confronted with the facts? It was as if the truth had been trapped inside her head and her mind hadn’t allowed her to do anything with the information. The idea that something or someone had controlled her thoughts as well as her actions jolted her psyche. She suddenly felt used, and she detested the feeling.

As if a force outside herself guided her steps, she reached the guest room in the corner where the two wings met. Dragging in a deep breath, she stuck her phone under her chin, searched her pockets for the master key, inserted it into the lock, pushed the door open, and paused inside the doorway.

The atmosphere in the room pulsed with the sizzle of electrical energy. Shaking off her rising fear, she took one tentative step forward, ready to bolt and run if she needed to escape. The temperature in the room dropped as soon as she crossed the threshold.

The cries for help had grown stronger until they were practically screeching in her ear. She pressed her fingers against the pain that throbbed in her forehead.

Leaving the door wide open, she crossed the floor and stood about two feet from the back wall, the one supposedly shared with the dead space. She reached out and placed her hand on the flocked wallpaper.
This ugly wall covering has to be replaced.
The wall vibrated beneath her fingertips, so she yanked her hand away and moved a couple of steps back.

A soft voice whispered in her ear.
Celia.

She swung around to face whoever was standing behind her. The room was empty. A sudden rush of wind surrounded her until she had a difficult time remaining upright. Shrill cries for help throbbed in her ears. Sweat beads formed on her forehead, yet she felt cold right down to the bone.

Elsa pressed her back against the flocked wallpaper, and the wall massaged her shoulders. Startled by the sensation of a million fingers running up and down her back, she jumped forward. The flashlight blinked off just as a bright white ball of light formed and expanded in the middle of the room. She frantically toggled the button, but the light remained dead. No matter. The orb brightened to such intensity that the glow lit up every nook and cranny of the room. Her cell phone and the flashlight clattered onto the floor.

Celia.

The name sent shockwaves through her. Elsa shielded her eyes from the glare.

Her voice wavered as she finally responded. “I’m not Celia. I’m Elsa.”

Celia wants to go home.

In that moment, she felt she’d known Celia forever. Every dream. Every heartache. Every hope. Every disappointment. Her final fear. All of Celia’s emotions landed on Elsa, threatening to crush her heart. Her instincts told her that experiencing too much of someone else’s essence at once was psychologically dangerous, yet she couldn’t move, couldn’t turn away from the orb’s hypnotizing presence.

“What do you want me to do?” Her words seemed to float to the ground as if she could see them drifting in the air.

Stop him.

When a sudden
bang
sounded near the open door, the scene glitched and jerked. The light began to dissolve and then disappeared just as mysteriously as it had appeared. Its arrival seemed like so long ago. Like a lifetime. Like she’d lived someone else’s life.

“Wait. Who are you? Who do you want me to stop?” She berated herself for being so dense. She should know the answers to her questions. The truth was inside her. All she had to do was let it out.

It wasn’t until the flashlight flickered on again that a scream poured out of Elsa’s mouth, swelling up from the depths of her soul in crashing waves.

****

When Collin inserted his master key into the front lock of the hotel, the door swung part way open without him turning the key. He nudged the door the rest of the way, stepped inside, and glanced around. It wasn’t like Elsa to leave the place unlocked after she’d left for the night. He’d seen her car parked in the next block, so she had to still be in the hotel.

Just as he entered the lobby, the light in Elsa’s office behind the reception desk made a sizzling noise and went dark, leaving the lobby illuminated by dim moonlight filtering through the front windows. “Elsa?”

The atmosphere felt heavy as if a threat hid in the darkness just outside the light. He shook his head to remove the sudden fuzziness that distorted his vision. Searching in the semi-dark, he found the panel for the lighting in the lobby and reception area. He toggled every switch, but nothing happened. Glancing out the front window of the hotel, he noted lights shining in the buildings across the street, so the power hadn’t gone out. With a disgusted sigh, he headed toward the supply room off the kitchen to reset the breakers in the brand new electrical box an electrician had just installed. Hopefully, the new box would be sufficient to carry the load that the hotel would generate when it was open for guests.