The Haunting of Thornview Hall

  The Haunting of Thornview Hall

  The Braddock & Gray Case Files

  H.P. Bayne

  Copyright © 2020 by H.P. Bayne

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by H.P. Bayne

  1

  Sullivan “Sully” Gray sat in the marble-tiled courtroom hallway, heart pounding out a mad rhythm.

  Two years had passed since Lowell Braddock’s arrest on several counts of murder—including his own brother and nephew.

  Sully still felt the loss of Flynn Braddock, the man who’d taken him in at age seven and given him a shot at a real family. He always would.

  If not for Flynn’s brother, Lowell, Sully believed life would have been close to perfect.

  Instead, he was here, sitting in a courthouse hallway, waiting to be called to testify at Lowell’s murder trial.

  If the idea of facing his foster father’s murderer wasn’t enough, there was the other discomfiting thought: Lowell had tried to kill him too. Tried more than once, and failed.

  Given the failure was the direct result of Sully’s unusual gift, he had one more thing to panic about.

  How the hell did you tell a roomful of strangers your foster uncle’s arrest was the result of your ability to see and communicate with the dead?

  “You okay?”

  Sully glanced to his right. The one positive about today was Dez’s presence. Dez wasn’t just his brother in everything but blood; he was his best friend, his co-worker and his wingman. He was the reason Sully was still alive.

  Sully ran a hand over his head, ensuring the knot he’d tied his hair into at the nape of his neck was still flyaway-free. If he could control nothing else, he’d make damn sure he looked presentable. He’d even put on a suit and tie and carefully trimmed his facial hair for the occasion.

  “Sull?”

  Unsure how to answer without lying, Sully opted for a question. “Have you been in there yet?”

  Dez turned up one corner of his mouth. “We came here together, remember?”

  “I thought you might have checked it out while I was in the bathroom.”

  Dez shook his head of short, ginger hair. “Nope. No way in hell. I’m here for you, and I’ll be here for Mom when she testifies, but I’m not planning on being anywhere around this hellhole otherwise. Mom wants to attend, but Aunt Lyndsey said she’d come with her. I wish I could be here for her, but I don’t think I can handle six weeks of staring at that asshole without killing him. As it is, I’m not sure I’ll be able to take it when it comes time for his lawyer to cross-examine you.”

  The prosecutor in charge of the case, Jada Cameron, had done all she could to prep Sully. Given his past included an involuntary stint in a psychiatric hospital, a two-year absence in which he’d convinced the world he was dead, and being far too close to several homicides, he knew he was in for a rough haul the moment Leonard Jacob started in on him.

  “We’re not letting Mom down by not sticking around?” Sully asked.

  Dez smirked. “Hey, she ordered me to not be around—knows me too well. And she understands you hanging around here after testifying isn’t a good idea. Anyway, she’s tough, and Aunt Lynds is a bear when she has to be. They’ll be fine. Right now, it’s you I’m worried about.”

  Sully flashed a weak smile. “I’ll be okay, D. Just have to get through today.”

  “And maybe tomorrow,” Dez reminded him.

  “Right. Jacob.”

  “I’ve seen him in action before this trial. He’s got a rep for picking away at witnesses, trying to get them to break. He did it to me when I testified yesterday. You’re a hell of a lot more zen than most people—definitely more than me—so he might try to work you over a little longer.”

  “Something to look forward to,” Sully grumbled.

  Dez smiled apologetically.

  The courtroom door opened, and Jada’s young co-counsel peered into the hall. “Sullivan? We’re ready for you.”

  Sully heaved a breath and stood. Dez’s hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed. One last bit of encouragement, a port Sully was going to have to leave as he ventured into a stormy sea.

  Drawing strength from the moment, he straightened his shoulders and followed the lawyer into the courtroom.

  Jada managed to ask the questions that presented a full story while steering Sully’s testimony around the fact he saw ghosts.

  Unfortunately, as she’d forewarned was possible, Lowell’s lawyer had done his research.

  He didn’t start with questions about Sully’s testimony-in-chief. He went directly in for the kill.

  “You claim an unusual gift, isn’t that right, Mr. Gray?”

  Until this point, Sully had avoided looking at Lowel, sparing himself what he could since defence had conceded identity wasn’t an issue.

  But now, Sully’s gaze darted to the man seated in the prisoner’s box. Lowell’s face was drawn and somber, his tan faded from two years spent in custody. But as he met Sully’s eye, one corner of his lips twitched up into a smirk.

  Sully returned his attention to Jacob. “What do you mean?”

  “Why don’t you tell us?” He paced away from Sully to face the courtroom.

  Sully had two choices: make Jacob say it or bite the bullet and come out with it himself. The fact was, years of keeping his gift largely quiet—revealed only to those closest to him and to the people he helped—was about to come to nothing.

  He surveyed the courtroom, sought out Dez and their mom.

  Big mistake. Their faces were the picture of dread, a perfect mirror of everything Sully was feeling. Though pale, Mara Braddock shot an encouraging smile his way, but it was too late. The damage was done.

  Sully was about to be exposed to the world. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  He dropped his eyes to his lap, to the fingertips pulling at the material of his trousers. He took a breath, let it out. And said the words.

  “I can see the dead.”

  A murmur rose up from somewhere in the room. He didn’t look up to see.

  Jacob wasn’t finished with him. He spun around. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gray. Could you please repeat that? I couldn’t quite hear what you said.”

  Sully lifted his head and stared back at him. The whispering around the room suggested if Jacob hadn’t heard, he was the only one.

  “I can see the dead,” Sully said, louder now. Owning the words.

  “Interesting.” Jacob paced the floor, hands clasped behind his back. “And how long has this been going on?”

  “As long as I can remember.”

  “And did the dead play a role in your impromptu investigation of your foster uncle?”

  There it was.

  “To some extent, yes. I saw the people Lowell killed. They helped lead me in the right direction.”

  Jacob raised his eyebrows and pushed out his lips, nodding as if working hard to look impressed. �
��Interesting. And these ghosts, did they have anything to do with the reason you were committed to Lockwood Psychiatric Hospital?”

  More mumbling from the courtroom.

  “As I said earlier in my testimony, Lowell convinced everyone I tried to kill myself when he’d actually tried to murder me.”

  “I see. And you also said you escaped and faked your own death, in large part to avoid Lowell. Correct?”

  “That’s right.”

  Jacob stopped mid-pace to face Sully directly. “You had a troubled relationship with your foster uncle, didn’t you?”

  “It had always been uneasy, I guess.”

  “You had a difficult upbringing prior to your coming to live with Flynn and Mara Braddock. Suffered abuse even. Could it not be you were so used to searching for enemies in the people around you, you invented one in Lowell?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Isn’t it true, Mr. Gray, he always included you in family events? He always bought you birthday and Christmas gifts—nice ones too? He went to many of your school functions?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Yes.”

  Jacob’s smile contained no small amount of satisfaction. “I’m putting it to you that he tried hard to be an uncle to you, and you threw it back at him.”

  “No.”

  “I’m going to suggest you had it in for him and set him up for these crimes.” He turned again, mid-pace, to face Sully. “Maybe because you committed them yourself.”

  Jada rose from the table. “Objection.”

  The judge peered down at Jacob. “Is there a question you’re getting around to asking the witness?”

  “I’ll withdraw,” Jacob said.

  But the damage, it seemed, had been done. Sully cast an eye over the jury. One of them, a woman whom he’d caught smiling at him sympathetically once or twice earlier today, turned away from him. A man who’d been training a suspicious eye on Lowell was now regarding Sully the same way.

  The jury believed he was crazy. Sully could think of only one remedy.

  “This gift you say you have,” Jacob said. “How does it work exactly? I mean, tell me, can you see any ghosts in this room?”

  “I can,” Sully said. “One is beside you right now.”

  The hissed chattering started up again. Sully thought he saw a flash of discomfort cross Jacob’s face.

  “Let’s not focus on me,” he said. “What about you? Anyone around you?”

  “She’s the only one I can see at the moment. Do you want to know or don’t you? She’s a young girl—”

  Jacob held up a hand for silence. “Enough of this.”

  Jada rose to her feet. “I’d like the witness to be allowed to answer the question, Your Honour.”

  The judge eyed Jacob. “You asked the question.” He turned to Sully. “Please, finish your answer.”

  Jacob’s unease was clear as Sully continued.

  “She’s around five or six, and she’s been near you off and on throughout the day. Her hair is dark and curly, and it’s damp, like she’s been out in the rain. She’s wearing a nightgown, a white, frilly thing with long sleeves. She’s got dirt and mud all over her, and she’s covered in bruises. My read is she was badly beaten and buried, possibly while she was still alive.”

  Jacob had grown pale throughout the description. Now he collapsed into his chair, looking very close to passing out.

  The room burst into noisy chatter. The jury, Sully noted, no longer eyed him with doubt.

  “Mr. Jacob?” the judge called from the dais. “Mr. Jacob? Are you all right? Do you need medical attention?”

  Jacob shook his head, weakly. A deputy sheriff approached him, urging him to put his head between his knees. Jacob waved him off.

  “We’re taking a brief adjournment,” the judge said. “Members of the jury, please retire to the jury room.”

  As Sully watched them file past, he saw several studying him with a mixture of curiosity and outright fascination. A couple seemed desperate to have some questions answered, and two women smiled at him.

  He’d pulled the jury back onside.

  Jacob was another story. Slightly more composed, he fired a glare at Sully, one both heated and tear-filled.

  Sully had no idea who the little girl was, but she was unquestionably important to Leonard Jacob.

  Also in little doubt was that she would be the reason Jacob wouldn’t stop his questioning today until he’d torn Sully apart.

  2

  Mid-January, amid a cold snap that felt like it would last forever.

  Six weeks had passed since Sully provided evidence at Lowell’s trial. Six weeks in which he’d done everything humanly possible to avoid the public.

  Once completed with the day and a half of gruelling testimony, Sully had quickly realized his problems were only beginning.

  With Jacob refusing to speak publicly about the ghost, reporters covering the trial went off and did some research. The little girl, they discovered, was unquestionably Leonard Jacob’s sister, the subject of a missing person’s report approximately sixty years ago. It had taken some digging for them to find it, in part because she didn’t share Jacob’s last name, and he’d never told the story throughout his public life. Miriam Garver was her name. Jacob, it turned out, was Leonard’s middle name.

  He’d gone to great efforts to hide his tragic past, just as Sully had tried so hard to keep the nature of his gift out of the public eye. In the end, they’d outed each other.

  Miriam’s name was back in the news as amateur sleuths tried to discover what had happened to her. And Sully’s own name was out there too, each time Miriam’s came up.

  The psychic who saw her ghost during the trial for an accused killer.

  The paper had come again this morning, slipped beneath his apartment door by his neighbour from across the hall, Emily Crichton. The top headline read in bold letters: “BRADDOCK JURY DELIBERATING,” causing a swell of tension that had yet to ease. And below was another story about Miriam, this time talking to a woman who’d been the little girl’s friend. Miriam’s father had been a severe alcoholic, and it wasn’t unusual for the girl to come to school with bruises. No doubt Bill Garver had killed her in a fit of rage, she said. Maybe, the woman surmised, he’d been abusing her in other ways too.

  A knock sounded on Sully’s apartment door, and he rose from the unmade sofa bed to answer it. Too heavy a knock for Emily, so he suspected the landlord.

  Who he got instead was Leonard Jacob.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he demanded.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Jacob, a man seemingly unused to being refused anything, pushed past Sully into the small one-room suite.

  “I didn’t invite you in,” Sully said.

  Jacob ignored the comment. “My life has been a nightmare since you said what you did at the trial.”

  “About your sister? Fine with me. My life hasn’t exactly been a bed of roses either. I’ve had reporters showing up. Which is nothing compared to the loons. I’ve had people in obvious need of mental help claiming they hear demons. I’ve had people insisting I help them talk to their dead relatives for guidance on love and money. I even had someone turn up threatening to kill me, saying I’m an abomination against God. I had to call the police for that one. I’m not exactly enjoying this either.”

  Jacob took a sharp step toward him. “Are you expecting sympathy from me? You brought this on yourself.”

  Sully mirrored Jacob’s posture. “You called me a liar, called me insane. This was the only way I could prove to you I wasn’t. Besides, you asked the question. All I did was answer it honestly.”

  Jacob stared at Sully a long moment. Sully could see the emotion raging in his expression, the torment of thoughts he might be considering whether to express. “Why her?” he demanded at last. “Why talk about her?”

  “She was there. She still is. She’s beside you now.
”

  “Don’t. Don’t you dare. You have no right.”

  “I’m not saying it to upset you. I’m stating a fact.”

  “You got that information from somewhere.”

  Sully crossed his arms. “Where? She died something like thirty-five years before I was born. From what I understand, it took quite a bit of work for the media to connect her to you. You went to a lot of effort to get away from your past.”

  “And it’s caught up with me all the same. Because of you.”

  “You left me with no choice. Anyway, I had no idea you were trying to hide that part of your life. All I knew was what I saw.”

  For some reason, his words proved the turning point. Jacob turned from Sully and walked the few steps to the kitchen table, where he sat heavily on one of the chairs. He dropped his forehead into a hand and massaged his temples. “I wasn’t trying to hide it. I was trying to escape from it.” He twisted to meet Sully’s eye. “What that one media outlet reported about my father was true, you know. He was a terrible drunk—abusive. And, yes, he killed my sister.”

  Sully closed the distance to the table and sat facing Jacob, anger dissipating at the confession. “Why?”

  Jacob shook his head slowly. “No idea. Just drunk, I suppose. As for the rest of it, it’s possible he sexually abused her. Our mother was out of the picture by then, and my father was a terrible human being.”

  “What happened to your mother?”

  Jacob’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Whenever I try to help a ghost, I need to know everything I can about them. It’s like any investigation. It helps if I can get a clear picture of their life and death.”

  “I didn’t come here looking for your help.”

  “No, you came here to confront me. I’m not concerned about you. It’s her. She needs to find peace, and I think you can help me get that for her.”