1 The Ghost in the Basement Page 2

  Donovan leaned forward. “What kind of crime?”

  “Murder,” he said, and a cold chill skittered down Hannah’s spine.

  “What happens if I refuse to live there with Hannah?”

  “Then the house and all the contents will be sold at auction and the proceeds given to various charities. That’s a last resort, Donovan. Sonny Taylor wanted you and Hannah to live there together. He knew you wouldn’t turn your back on a young woman who will need you in the weeks and months to come.”

  Did these men think she was incapable of taking care of herself? With a mother like Monique, she’d had to fend for herself for most of her life. She put herself through college, supported her mother between husbands, and accepted responsibility for her ex-husband’s debts. If they thought she needed a man to take care of her, they were wrong. She didn’t need another man in her life, especially one who could take her house.

  She came here thinking all she had to do was live in the house to claim it. Didn’t Grandpa trust her? No, probably not. Why would he trust a granddaughter he hadn’t seen in eighteen years? She felt like a fool for believing Monique’s lies.

  Mr. Clapp handed an envelope to Hannah and another to Donovan. “I believe you’ll find the answers to some of your questions in these letters. Now then, are you prepared to sign the agreement, or would you like some time to think it over?”

  “We need time to read the letters and the will, Mr. Clapp.” Hannah stared at Donovan’s face. Did he put Grandpa up to this?

  Glancing at his watch, Mr. Clapp said, “I have to be in court in thirty minutes, but I have an opening at two this afternoon. Or we can wait a few days.”

  Donovan stood. “We’ll be here at two.” He grabbed Hannah’s elbow and pulled her out of the room before those thunderclouds in her eyes broke loose. And they would. If he knew anything about women, this one was on the verge of exploding.

  They made it almost to the car before she jerked her arm out of his grasp and turned on him, her voice filled with anger. “You knew. You knew what my grandfather was doing. You probably talked him into it.”

  “No, I didn’t. I knew he’d changed his will, but I had no idea he was doing this. The problem is—”

  “The problem is,” she repeated, “that if I don’t agree to live with you and your family for a year, you get the house and I get nothing.”

  “I didn’t write the will, Hannah.”

  She took a deep breath and another. “I suppose there’s one advantage to having you and your family in the house.”

  He cocked his head and forced a smile. “You get to see my handsome face every day?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I mean the house needs work and your father is a carpenter.”

  “Ouch.”

  Donovan unlocked the car and they sat inside to read their letters. The first part of Sonny’s letter to Donovan was a touching tribute to Pop’s friendship and appreciation for everything the Kane family had done for the couple over the years. The middle part was about the diaries and the house. When I was a boy, a man was killed in the house. I blocked the memories until I came across some of my mother’s diaries. By then, Virginia was sick and I didn’t want to upset her with a police investigation. Find the diaries, open the house, and send the wandering spirits on their way.

  Wandering spirits? He was a police detective, not a ghost buster.

  The last part of the letter was a request to look after Hannah. If she doesn’t want to stay with you, then let her go.

  Was Sonny playing matchmaker? Was that the real reason for throwing them together? He could have investigated the murder without living there, he didn’t know beans about ghosts, and he couldn’t afford to get involved with another woman. Still, a whole year without paying rent meant he could pare down Maggie’s outstanding medical bills. And if Hannah didn’t stay, he could claim ownership of the house.

  Hannah dropped her hand into her lap. The letter shook as her hand trembled. She was clearly upset, and he didn’t known her well enough to know if it was from grief, disappointment, or anger. Or all three.

  “I gave up everything to come here so my grandfather and his attorney could play games with my life. Why didn’t he just give you the house and be done with it?”

  “Because you were his granddaughter, and he loved you.”

  She stared through the windshield. “Apparently not as much as he loved you.”

  “I don’t believe that and neither do you. If he didn’t think you needed me, he wouldn’t have put that stipulation in the will.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  He started the engine. “Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?”

  She didn’t answer, and he drove her home in a silence so deep he heard his own heartbeat. They had a lot of talking to do, and he wanted to study the will and the other conditions Sonny had woven into it. If she didn’t want the old house, that was fine with him, because he did. Maybe those wandering spirits would chase her out.

  Donovan drove Hannah back to the house. While he walked through the house, she sat at the kitchen table reading Grandpa’s letter and the will. She should have insisted on reading the will before she closed the Tacoma chapter of her life. If she’d known about these stipulations, she wouldn’t have come. But now she was here, and if she didn’t agree to Grandpa’s conditions, the only real home she’d ever had would be gone. Grandpa asked her to keep the house and make it her home, and she wanted to do just that, but if Donovan didn’t agree to live here, it wouldn’t matter what she wanted.

  She read part of the letter again: The old house has secrets to tell. Donovan will help you find them. Don’t be afraid. Afraid of what? What kind of secrets? Was he talking about the murder? That happened years ago.

  She heard Donovan coming down the kitchen stairs. Seconds later, he pulled out a chair and flipped it around to straddle it. “What do you want to do, Hannah?”

  “I want to keep the house.”

  “Then I’ll call Pop and we’ll give notice on the apartment. It’s a dump anyway.”

  She dropped her hands to the table. “I thought you’d own your own home by now.”

  “I did, but I lost it.” His eyes glazed over as he said the words. “Pop sold his house to keep me from going bankrupt. The city frowns on their police officers filing for bankruptcy, and I couldn’t afford to lose my job.”

  Now she understood why Grandpa wanted Donovan and his family to live here. He was trying to help a friend in financial trouble. If she wanted the house, she had no choice but to agree to the conditions in the will.

  “How did you lose your house?”

  “My wife had cancer and the insurance wouldn’t cover everything.”

  He leveled his gaze on her and she realized how hard it must have been for this macho cop to admit he needed a respite from his financial burden.

  “Hannah, I’ll buy the groceries if you’ll help out with the cooking. Since Mom got sick, we’ve been living on pizza and peanut butter.”

  “I don’t mind cooking if you’ll help clean up. You and your family can have the upstairs.”

  “You don’t want that big room for yourself?”

  “Are you kidding? With three guys leaving the seat up, I’d prefer to stay downstairs, where I don’t have to share a bathroom.”

  A lopsided smile softened his face. His blond hair had darkened since he was a kid, and there was a sadness in his blue eyes, but he was still the same handsome guy she remembered, the same boy she’d had a crush on when she was a little girl. When she’d dressed up in Grandma’s old clothes and played princess, the handsome prince had Donovan Kane’s face. But she was no longer a little girl, and as much as she admired the boy, she wasn’t entirely comfortable about sharing the house with the man. As if she had a choice. This was the only real home she’d ever had, and she desperately wanted to keep it.

  If she had to leave at some point, she’d do it, but not without giving this arrangement a try first. Grandpa h
ad obviously given this a great deal of thought, and the grandfather she remembered didn’t do things without a reason.

  Don’t be afraid.

  Afraid of what, Grandpa?

  Chapter Two

  Hannah was on her way to the grocery store the next afternoon when Grandpa’s old car coughed a couple of times, then backfired and died, right in the middle of a busy street. “Oh, not now.” She turned the key again and again. “Come on, come on. Start. You don’t have to die on me, too.”

  A man in a sports car leaned on his horn as he pulled around her, and Hannah’s heartbeat went into overdrive. Idiot! She pounded on the steering wheel in frustration. “You’re going straight to a junk yard, you worthless piece of—” A loud truck horn blasted right next to her, and she jumped.

  “Get the damn thing off the road, lady,” a man in a pickup yelled as he drove by, but he didn’t stop to help. None of them stopped to help.

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered as she opened the door and stepped out into the street. She tried to push the car to the side of the road, but Grandpa’s old Buick weighed a ton. It wouldn’t budge. Horns blew as people pulled around her, shaking their heads and staring. One man gave her the one-fingered salute as he drove by. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what he said. Probably just as well.

  Another man shouted something out his car window. “Blow it out your ear,” she yelled back. Did those jerks think she broke down just to inconvenience them? Why didn’t one of those big, strong men stop to help her push the car off the road instead of yelling insults?

  The sky thickened with dark clouds and the wind picked up. She hoped someone had used their cell phone to call for help. It looked like another storm was blowing in, and she’d forgotten to bring a jacket.

  Hannah glanced at the traffic backed up behind her. Cars, vans, pickups, motorcycles, and trucks as far as she could see, but not a tow truck in sight. Of course not. And where were the cops when you needed them?

  Again, Hannah tried to push the car. “Move, you worthless hunk of junk.”

  A dark green sedan pulled up behind her and she stared at the man behind the wheel. She was glad he’d stopped, but why was he scowling?

  Donovan put a blue flashing light on top of the car, grabbed Hannah by the elbow, and pulled her off the side of the road. “Stay out of the street. I’m fresh out of body bags and I’m too damn tired to fill out another report.”

  “Well, excuse me. I didn’t break down on purpose.”

  “Did I say you did?” he snapped.

  She glared at him. “Did you stop to help, or were you just cruising around looking for someone to yell at?”

  He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’ve been up all night and I get a little cranky when I don’t sleep.”

  “A little cranky?” she muttered.

  “Did you run out of gas?”

  “I don’t even know if the gas gauge works. It just belched and died, and it won’t start again.”

  He sat behind the wheel and cranked the starter. Typical male reaction. If the car didn’t work for her, it was operator trouble, but if it didn’t work for him, it was a problem with the car. He didn’t look under the hood, which probably meant he didn’t know any more about auto mechanics than she did.

  She glanced at his car. “You’ve got that bar thing on the front of your car. Can you push it off the road?”

  “Might dent your bumper.”

  “Oh, please. If someone hits it, it’ll have more than a dented bumper.”

  She sat behind the wheel and steered while he gently eased his car against the Buick’s bumper and pushed it to the side of the road. He talked on his radio for a few minutes before coming out to stand with her again. “I called a tow truck.”

  “I appreciate your help, but you don’t have to wait for the tow truck. I’m sure you have other things to do, other people to yell at, tickets to write, good citizens to harass.”

  Donovan choked back a laugh. Most women would have been scared to be alone in this part of town. There were three bars and an adult bookstore in this block. Two men stood in the doorway of the bookstore, leering at Hannah like cats watching a fat robin. Leaving her here alone was out of the question, but he was beginning to wonder who he was protecting, her or the men watching her. The mood she was in, if any of those guys approached her, she’d rip their heads off. And he was going to live with her? He must have been out of his mind to sign that agreement. Or desperate, said the little voice in his mind.

  The wind picked up and she hugged her arms. He pulled the windbreaker from his car and draped it around her shoulders. No wonder Sonny wanted someone to live with her. Hannah was a smart kid, but somewhere along the line she must have lost brain cells. What was she thinking, standing in the middle of a busy street during rush hour?

  The tow truck finally arrived and Donovan drove Hannah home. “Why didn’t you bring your car?”

  “Mr. Clapp said I’d have my grandfather’s. I didn’t know it was in worse shape than my old car.”

  “Where were you going?”

  “To buy groceries. I’m sick of frozen entrees and canned soup, and there’s nothing else in the house.”

  “Grocery shopping? In that part of town?”

  “I got lost, okay. I took a wrong turn somewhere and then the car died.”

  “Did you get lost in Tacoma, too?” The words were out before he realized he’d spoken the thought aloud.

  “If you’ll recall,” she said through clenched teeth, “I was only twelve when I was here last, and that was nearly twenty years ago. River Valley doesn’t look the same.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it does.” He drove past the house and three blocks in the other direction to a grocery store that opened five or six years ago. She wouldn’t have known it was here.

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  Hannah spent most of the next day in her father’s bedroom, sorting through his possessions, reading his awards and commendations, and packing it all away. Too bad she couldn’t pack away her memories. Everything she touched reminded her of him, and the image she remembered most clearly was of him in his police uniform, in his coffin.

  In the top drawer of his dresser, she found a yellowed newspaper account of the shooting. Charlie Taylor and his partner, Kevin Kane, had been called out to a domestic dispute at a house they’d been to twice before. This time the wife lay in the front yard, crying in pain from a gunshot wound. Charlie called for backup while Kevin tried to talk the husband into releasing his two kids and giving himself up. At the risk of his own life, Charlie tried to help the woman. The husband fired several shots, killing his wife and the brave police officer who dared to try to help her.

  There were other newspaper clippings about the case and several about the trial. Because Gus Clayton had a mental illness and three psychiatrists declared him to be insane at the time of the shooting, his attorney got him off on a charge of temporary insanity. In spite of the outcry from the community, the judge didn’t send the man to prison. Gus Clayton was sent to the maximum security wing of the state mental hospital in Columbus. Her father was murdered by a man who was too sick to know what he was doing. Why would anyone in their right mind sell a gun to a man like that?

  One clipping was from eight years ago, on the tenth anniversary of the shootings. The guy was still locked up, but he was taking his medications and the doctors at the hospital said his condition was improving.

  The most recent clipping was from three years ago. Gus Clayton had been released on a weekend pass, got in a fight in a bar, and was stabbed to death. Too bad someone didn’t kill him before he shot his wife and killed Hannah’s father.

  Looking through Dad’s things and reading how he died left Hannah with a heaviness in her heart. He was the best father in the world, and she still missed him. All those years, Monique jumped from one husband or lover to another, when she had the only man who mattered to Hannah right here in River Valley, Ohio.

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  Billy
came home from school with his shirt ripped and his nose bleeding. The other kids picked on him because he was a cop’s son, and Billy wasn’t tough enough to fight the four bullies who ambushed him. Donovan was livid. Kids in the fourth grade shouldn’t have to fight to use the bathroom at school.

  As he inspected what would be one doozy of a shiner by morning, he asked, “How would you like to go back to your old school?”

  “But they said I can’t go there because I don’t live in that part of town anymore.”

  “Remember Sonny Taylor’s house, the big one with the round room on the corner?”

  “Yeah.”

  Stripping off Billy’s torn, bloody shirt, Donovan said, “We’re going to live there with Sonny’s granddaughter. Her name is Hannah.”

  “Cool. Can we move today?”

  Yes, he wanted to say, but there were things to be done first, like make the upstairs of that house livable and get a new furnace installed. And someone had to take care of the situation at Billy’s school. Four boys were training to be gang bangers like their big brothers, terrorizing other students, and it had to stop. The sooner he got his family moved, the better, but he couldn’t let this attack on Billy pass. If he had the money, he’d put his son in a private school, somewhere safe.

  The phone rang and Pop called, “Donovan, it’s Hannah.”

  Dropping the ruined shirt into the trash can, Donovan said, “Go put on a clean shirt while I take this call.”

  He grabbed the phone. “Yes, Hannah. What is it?”

  “The furnace man was here today. He wants to put in two heat pumps, one for the main floor and another one for upstairs. What do you think?”

  “There’s a guy from another company coming tomorrow. We’ll compare them and choose one. Hannah, I hate to push, but how soon do you think we could move in? I need to get Billy into another school.”