The Haunting of Alcott Manor Read online

  The Haunting of Alcott Manor

  Book One

  Alyssa Richards

  Alyssa Richards

  Published by Dragonfly Books

  Copyright 2017 Alyssa Richards

  Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers, allowing us to continue to publish quality books and protecting your good karma. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected]

  Ebook ISBN — 978-0-9792265-9-5

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017944806

  Editing by Book Alchemy, LLC

  Formatting by Formatting Fairies

  Proofreading by Theresa M. Cole

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Sign up for Alyssa’s newsletter at to receive special offers and news about her latest releases.

  You can follow her on:

  Twitter

  Facebook

  Instagram

  Contact Alyssa at:

  [email protected]

  Contents

  Praise for the novels of best selling author Alyssa Richards

  Also by Alyssa Richards

  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

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  A Note from the Author

  A Murder at Alcott Manor

  Chapter 1 - A Murder at Alcott Manor

  About the Author

  Praise for the novels of best selling author Alyssa Richards

  “The Haunting of Alcott Manor is a great read…an escapist read, full of secrets and surprises that caught me out completely!” —Jeannie Zelos Book Reviews

  “Man oh man! Alyssa Richards has seriously outdone herself with trilogy. It encompasses love, passion, deception, heartache, reality and alternate reality. Just a stunning from start to finish. This trilogy is awesome. If you're looking for a paranormal romance that's focused around psychics and time travel, definitely grab this trilogy. It's simply amazing!” — Nay’s Pink Bookshelf

  “…undoubtedly Alyssa Richards has just become one of my new favourite authors for this year.” —Living in Our Own Story Blog

  “This is well written with complex characters who reveal more of themselves as the story progresses. It is a great mystery with paranormal elements that make it enthrallingly different and captivating.” —Splashes into Books

  “I felt like I was standing right in the middle of a Movie Set of something between Pierce Brosnan’s “The Thomas Crown Affair” or Sean Connery’s “Entrapment”. I was sucked into the story from the beginning and I could not stop reading. It was such an interesting mix between the paranormal – romance and crime elements that kept me reading “and wondering what might happen next.” —Jeri’s Book Attic

  “An intriguing read that kept my interest until the last page. Very enjoyable and definitely recommended.” —Archaeolibrarian, I dig good books!

  “This book was loaded with mystery and suspense. The plot was well executed and kept me on the edge of my seat. The sizzling passionate scenes between Addie and Blake were red hot.” —Smut Book Junkie Book Reviews

  “I was very drawn to the characters. Richards did an excellent job weaving you into their world whether it was the good guy or the bad guy you just wanted to know what they were thinking, doing and their next move. I definitely recommend.” —The Reading Pile”

  Also by Alyssa Richards

  THE FINE ART OF DECEPTION SERIES:

  THE FINE ART OF DECEPTION, UNDOING TIME

  SOMEWHERE IN TIME

  LOST IN TIME

  THE FINE ART OF DECEPTION BOX SET

  THE ALCOTT MANOR SERIES:

  THE HAUNTING OF ALCOTT MANOR

  A MURDER AT ALCOTT MANOR

  A STRANGER AT ALCOTT MANOR

  Be the first to know about Alyssa Richards’ next novel, sign up here:

  www.AlyssaRichards.com

  Chapter 1

  It was the wind that stopped her.

  Not the force of it, but the message it carried on its course. Cold air tumbled over warm currents, whipping around her legs and across her chest. It swirled about her body like a lover who simultaneously promised what was next and took control to make it come about.

  Seventies rock blasted in her ears and she slowed her run. Her feet stopped their rhythmic pounding on the packed sand of Stinson Beach.

  Her beach.

  She tried to catch her breath and searched the deep lapis waves that rode toward her. It was cold air that blew over the warm, a pattern her mother said meant that upheaval rode on the appearance of calm.

  “No,” Gemma said between gasps for air. Her voice was low. Determined. Firm. “Not again.”

  She pulled the earbuds from her ears, stared at the waves that rolled over the depths of the ocean, and the wind settled as though backing down from her challenge. It switched to a sun-warmed draft that caressed her face and neck.

  Something tingled inside of her from it, like the effects of a possessive kiss. An awakening, a calling. The result of an event already put into motion.

  She tried to cast aside her mother’s Native American wisdom, especially because it had proven itself right more often than she liked.

  “Stay away.” Her voice held no mercy and no patience. She fit the earbuds into her ears again and cranked up the volume.

  The gray shingles and glass of her house were in her sight now. She ran toward it with all the speed she had left, along with the sinking feeling that this wind pattern was signaling yet something else she couldn’t outrun.

  Chapter 2

  Gemma flipped on the gas stove to heat the kettle for tea. She wanted to shake off the warning that rode on the early ocean wind, and a plunge into her morning routine was the way to do it. There had been enough abrupt and recent change in her life. Permanent change that could not be undone. Change that had been predicted by the wind patterns then, too.

  She paused in front of the eight-foot Victorian coatrack in the foyer, a ghosted memory of her mother formed in the center mirror—her mother's long dark hair smoothed and tucked behind her shoulders, as always.

  This antique from her childhood home had captured lots of precious memories over its lifetime—that’s all this was. Like when her mother brushed Gemma’s red hair into two bristly pigtails that burst to the sides when she was five, and when her mother hemmed her party dresses as a tee
nager. And when she passed on her favorite advice. “There’s someone for everyone,” her mother would say mid-embrace. “You just have to trust your instincts to find him.”

  She forced herself to relax her grip on the ache in her chest and the coat in her hands.

  On with routine.

  She gathered a large can of cat food, a can opener, and two small, white bowls in her arms. Her hip bounced the screen door open, she stepped onto the back deck that faced the ocean, and the door shut behind her with a satisfying slam.

  It would have been more design-perfect for her to stick with the sliding glass door that had been there when she moved in. Though this was the same type of screen door slam she and her brothers had grown up with in their parents’ lovingly restored Queen Anne Victorian.

  Gemma’s door didn’t yet have a good squeak to it, but she hoped, with time, it would come. She had long dreamed of the day when this screen door could whine and slam, then three sets of small, sandy feet would trample through the house like a herd, leaving giggles in their wake.

  The collection of bowls and metal clattered against the glass-topped bistro table. She scooped the fish and gave the spoon an exaggerated tap against the porcelain edge to call the two strays she cared for.

  Her eyes scanned the beach, expecting to see her two furry neighborhood friends galloping from behind a bush or another yard, their tails twitching behind them.

  “Fred! Ethel!” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and placed two small white bowls full of chopped fish-scented meat on the floorboards of her back deck. Finally, two cats, both light gray with darker stripes, meowed and trotted around the seagrass that lined her property.

  “You’re late,” Gemma said with warmth and love for her stray friends.

  Both sandy-pawed felines stopped in front of their feast and stared at her. Actually, it may have been closer to a glare.

  “Well, clearly, I was early.” The left side of her smile tipped in a smirk. Her phone vibrated and she ignored it.

  “Gemma!” Cameron, her neighbor with the angular glasses and slightly oversized veneers waved and headed her way. After too many invitations, she’d finally gone out with him, but, no. He was just—no. Too needy.

  “Call.” She pointed to her phone. “Have to take this.”

  She stepped inside and glanced at the caller ID: Platinum Life Magazine. Her heart danced a triple beat to the tune of hope. Platinum Life Magazine was a national publication that was widely considered the arbiter of taste on every area of design, from interiors to fashion. They covered the globe with their opinions and they were calling her.

  She made a wide press-perfect smile before she answered the call—in part to bolster her confidence in case they were calling to offer her a subscription, but also to lend her voice a friendly, agreeable tone. “Gemma Stewart.” Clear and succinct. Professional and approachable. Well done.

  “Hello, Ms. Stewart, this is Dawn with Platinum Life Magazine.”

  "Yes, hello."

  “I hope I'm not calling too early; I didn't want to take the chance that I might miss you." Her voice was curt. Sharp. Clearly on a mission.

  Gemma relaxed her PR smile. If the other woman didn't give soft and fluffy edges to her words, Gemma was relieved she didn't have to, either. "No, this is fine."

  “Excellent. We're doing our resort issue four months from now, and we decided on a last-minute addition entitled ‘Top Ten West Coast Resorts.’ I was narrowing down the candidates and was impressed to find that the top three resorts on our list were designed by your firm.”

  Gemma was impressed, too. It had been a long, hard climb to this place in her career.

  “We would like to add a one-on-one interview with you to the issue.”

  She hoped her quick inhale didn't sound like a gasp on the other end of the phone. “I'd be honored.” A wow-I-did-it feeling lit in her chest and burned as bright as the early morning sun.

  “Perfect.” Dawn said it with all the conviction of a deal closed. “Now. I'd also like to include a sidebar on the page highlighting a custom top ten from you. Maybe you could talk about the top ten design tips for creating an oasis at home? Or the top ten relaxing features to include in your vacation home? We can refine it later. Just come up with a top ten list, and we'll work with it.”

  "Sounds great.” She kept her voice calm, but her heart fluttered such that she had to walk around the room. She inhaled deeply, well aware that this was a dream-come-true moment.

  “I'd like to do a photo shoot of you at one of these signature properties you've done, really show off your amazing talent. Could we shoot the one in San Francisco?"

  “Sure, I can make that work. How soon?"

  "We're on a tight deadline—can you do Monday? That would give you and the hotel the weekend to stage for the photo shoot.”

  A bullet of adrenaline shot through her heart and ricocheted down her arms. The weekend was not nearly enough time to take care of current work and get everything staged. “Plenty of time,” she heard herself say.

  They traded email addresses and said their goodbyes. Gemma flipped her phone onto the driftwood dining table and did an air high five. “Yesss!”

  This would be a new level of success for her business. Platinum Life was a career-making publication. She paced the kitchen floor, pumping her fists now and then.

  The new all-too-quiet of her empty house was so loud it almost echoed. She glanced out the window. Fred and Ethel had moved on with their day, their empty bowls waiting for her on the porch. Preston was gone. It was too early to call friends.

  She sighed at her ocean view amidst her moment of silent victory and decided she’d phone her assistant Charlotte in about an hour to get the shoot organized. They could toast with a glass of champagne at the staging. Other than that, there wouldn't be any available time for celebrating. Too much work to do.

  The teakettle scream-whistled. She reached for her phone and noticed that it had slid next to a puffy envelope that she'd brought in from the mailbox the night before. Johnston and Lewis was printed in the upper left-hand corner. These would be the final divorce papers, the ones she hadn't wanted to look at last night.

  She lifted the kettle from the flame. “Okay, Mom. You're right about one thing. I have to trust my instincts." The memory of Preston's betrayal ignited a special strain of fury, and her voice sounded strangled. "Right now, my instincts are telling me this divorce is the right decision."

  She ripped open the envelope and double-checked a couple of items on the document. Though he had asked, she was not going to pay him alimony. He had plenty of family money; he could run back to Daddy if he needed a check. And he would. She knew he would.

  She had a keen sense of justice, which demanded that he’d never see another dime from her.

  Damn it.

  There it was. His attorney said they would take that clause out. They hadn’t. She rifled through the drawer in the island for a pen and crossed through that line item several times. In the margin, she wrote in all caps: NO ALIMONY.

  Maybe this was what the had wind pointed to, the finality of her divorce. She signed her name on the line. "There. Done. Free.” The chokehold on her voice relaxed.

  With a personal policy against doing work barefoot—it made her feel too informal—she slipped on her most-loved black boots, the ones with the silver chains hung around the ankles. She grabbed her favorite tea and mug and poured hot water over the pungent herbs while she searched out the window. Now that she’d signed the papers, the wind patterns ought to have relaxed.

  Her sight stumbled on a tan suit that she'd tossed over the back of an upholstered chair. Her freshly christened ex-husband had called and told her he’d forgotten the suit in the closet and asked her to send it to him. It was custom-made, he’d explained.

  Hot tea in hand, she picked up the suit and headed to the outdoor alcove. She tossed it on top of the wood in the outdoor fireplace and lit it with a long-neck lighter. Then she settl
ed into the niche that was protected from the wind by three sides of her house. She crossed her ankles such that her boots were now the center point of her view of the ocean. Now and then, she glanced at the fireplace, the last remnant of her wasband disintegrated in a satisfying burn.

  She should have gone for more old-fashioned qualities of love like loyalty, honesty, and kindness. She ought to have avoided someone who had drop-dead, all-too-perfect qualities. Those opened doors to temptations that few knew how to resist.

  She tapped the play image of the first voicemail message and immediately, her call waiting buzzed through. Dad. She walked to the gravel garden she’d designed at the southwest corner of her lot.

  “Hi, Pop.”

  She dragged her boot over the dark gray pebbles that formed a mock river and flowed into the alcove. She knew he would be happy to hear her news about the magazine feature. “How are you?”

  “Not bad. Gotta minute? I have an opportunity I want to discuss with you.” His voice sounded mostly upbeat, but a certain amount of emotional weariness weighed his enthusiasm. When she heard the fatigue, something caught in a tender place in her heart, and she decided to hold off on telling him her news.