southern ghost hunters 02 - skeleton in the closet (25 page)

Now that I was able to get a closer look, I could see the spiderwebs tangled in the skeleton's empty eye sockets. The rotting remnants of dress gloves clung to his fingers. I cringed at the way his bony hands gripped the leather-bound Bible.  

I placed my light on the floor and braced myself on the doorframe as I reached down to pry the Bible from the man's cold, dead hands.

Chapter Twenty-Four

T
HE
CORPSE
RELEASED
the book, crumbling away as if it, too, had been waiting to be freed from the secret.

Ellis's light illuminated the cracked and aged Bible. On the inside cover, generations of Hatchers had scrawled a hand-inked family history dating back to 1758.

"Where does one write a confession?" I asked, opening to Genesis. Might as well start at the beginning.

The thin paper felt stiff with age and I feared for the fragile book as I turned the pages.

"I have an idea," Ellis said, so I handed him the book.

His fingers trembled as he paged to Proverbs 28:13. 

I didn't get it. "What makes you think…?" 

Oh, my word. Black ink underlined one of the verses.

"I went to Sunday school, same as you," he said, running a finger over the line.

Evidently Ellis had paid more attention.

It read:

He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh [them] shall have mercy.

Scrawled in the side margin, in black ink, was a missive that took up almost all of the white space on the page: 

I, Lieutenant Colonel Jeremiah Hatcher, under the command of Eli Jackson, do hereby solemnly swear to the truth of what happened the day of October 17, 1863. While we were charged with manning the cannon overlooking the town of Sugarland, we left our posts.

Colonel Vincent Wydell challenged Colonel Eli Jackson to a duel over which Sugarland family should indeed guard the cannon. In the midst of the duel, Yankee cavalry came upon the cannon and fired a shot into the town, which lodged in the wall of the library. 

The town, believing itself under attack, panicked, sparking the fire that burned the square. We then charged down to save the town from itself, thereby abandoning the hill and the cannon once more to the Yankees, who used it to defeat the main Confederate force on the battlefield overlooking the town.

We were not heroes that day, but prideful men who neglected our duty and the safety of our families. May God forgive us.

Lieutenant Colonel Jeremiah Hatcher

May the Lord have mercy on my soul.

Mercy indeed, on all of us.

I read it again, just to make sure. "I don't believe it." The Battle of Sugarland was one big lie. Our town celebration meant nothing. And Virginia Wydell's entire extravaganza was based on a humiliating moment in Wydell history, not a success.

Ellis huffed out a breath. "It would be bad enough for Mom to lose her fortune to Maisie, but her entire reputation? This is worse. At least for her."

That was right. She'd never live this down. That cannonball in the wall wasn't a symbol of town and family glory. It was a permanent reminder of her family's pride, arrogance, and greed.

I stood for a moment, taking it all in. "I still can't believe we fought each other and then we burned down our own town."

We'd based a big part of our identity on this moment, just as Virginia had. We held festivals, took pictures, sang songs. We were in the Tennessee Guidebook. 

Right now, people were gathering by the old cannon overlooking the square, getting ready to celebrate our historic military victory.

It was all a lie.

He studied the passage again. "When you leave a major position unguarded, the enemy will take advantage." 

The Battle of Sugarland had been bloody and brutal hand-to-hand combat. And it had been completely avoidable. 

"So tonight, up on that hill, they're celebrating internal fighting, a lucky shot, and town panic."

And now that I knew the truth, I couldn't help but see it. "Didn't you always wonder how our militia all ended up in the town and not on the battlefield?" 

Ellis shuddered out a laugh. "There's an old family story about how Jackson and Wydell fought a duel before the battle. The Wydells always liked to say Eli Jackson's battle wound was really just a shot from Great-Uncle Vincent."

"Sounds like it was more truth than family pride," I told him.

He closed his eyes for a moment. "I want to tell her. Alone."

I wanted to give him that, but… "You can't." His mother had already seen to it. She'd made an extra-large spectacle of the midnight celebration tonight, and now it was going to come back to bite her. Because we couldn't let it go on. Not now.

"I understand. Mom set herself up for this." He winced. "She won't even see it coming." 

She might if she was the one who killed Darla. But I didn't say that. It would only hurt him more.

The room had grown quite warm, at least in comparison to the bone-soaking chill I'd felt when we entered the house. I looked back to Pa Hatcher's skeleton, lying crumpled on the closet floor. "I'm surprised Ma Hatcher didn't destroy the Bible."

Ellis shook his head. "I don't think a God-fearing woman of her time would dare."

"So she locked the body in the closet with the evidence and guarded it until her death."

"And afterward as well," Ellis added. "But she must not have known about the letter hidden in Jeremiah Hatcher's personal secretary, the one that talked about the Bible."

"I doubt Leland Wydell found it, either." Even after he'd bought the piece and used it for his personal correspondence. "That aging leather trim must have made it easier for Darla to pry the letter from its hiding spot."

Ellis simply nodded. "Can you walk?"

We leaned on each other as we made our way out of the dark, abandoned house.

I clutched the Bible to my chest. I'd never been so glad to step outside, until a gunshot sounded and Ellis dropped to the ground. 

Montgomery Silas stepped from the shadows and aimed a revolver at my chest. His forehead shone with sweat. "Hand over the Bible, Miss Long."

"Let me at least see if Ellis is okay," I gasped, raising my hands in the air.

"Give me the Bible first."

I stared at him, and suddenly everything clicked. "Virginia Wydell didn't kill Darla Grace. It was you."

His expression hardened as he pulled the trigger.

Chapter Twenty-Five

H
EAT
SEARED
THROUGH
my shoulder. My eyes felt gritty as I came to on the musty floor of the old Hatcher house. "Ellis?" I croaked. 

I could barely hear over the loud crackling noise that surrounded me.  

The room had grown hot, and I smelled smoke. A hand gripped my good shoulder and shook me hard. "Stay with me, Verity." Ellis crouched over me. "I'm too hurt to lift you and we need to get out of here."

I opened my eyes. Flames rose from the wall directly in front of us, disappearing behind churning black smoke. The roar of the fire grew louder.

"How are we going to get out?" I pleaded.

"Look for a door or a window," Ellis said, covering his mouth and nose with the top of his shirt. 

I couldn't see anything that would tell us where we were. Choking smoke surrounded us. I coughed, fighting a wave of dizziness. The house was ablaze, and old wood like this wouldn't last long. 

I grabbed my cell phone from my pocket, hoping to call for help, but a black screen greeted me. Ma Hatcher had fried it.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't supposed to turn out this way. Sweat beaded on my back and ran down from my hair. The house groaned around us. 

"Come on," Ellis said, leading me as we crawled across the warm floorboards. "I think I see the door."

I clung to him, my eyes watering from the smoke. And I swore it wasn't an illusion, but I could almost make out the form of Josephine, shimmering into view directly in front of us. It could have been the smoke…but no. It was her! I didn't understand how I could see her, and then I realized she was kissing Matthew.

"Josephine," I cried.

The couple jolted apart. Josephine covered her mouth with her hands and Matthew stared down at us in shock.

"The house is on fire!" My throat burned with the smoke I'd inhaled.

Matthew's eyes darted about to take in his surroundings. "So it is. I hardly noticed."

Josephine was crying now. "My house!" She darted up through the ceiling. "Oh, Pa!"

The door stood directly behind the couple. Ellis found the knob, twisted. It didn't budge. He began wrestling with it. Desperate. Montgomery must have barred it. 

I stared at Matthew. "Get us out!"

A calm came over Major Jackson, as if he went into battle mode. "Stand aside," he said, not giving us any time to do so before he blasted the door open. 

Fresh air streamed in, stoking the fire. Flames shot up around us with renewed vigor.

Oh my word. We couldn't make it out that way. We were going to die in here.

"This way!" Matthew commanded, gliding the opposite direction, toward the stairs.

No! He was going to get us killed. We had to stay low and get out the door, or a window on the first floor. Only they were all on the front of the house, behind that wall of flames. I wanted to cry. I was already dizzy and… 

"Quickly," Matthew pleaded. "I can see. You can't!"

"Come on," I said, attempting to lead Ellis farther back into the house. 

He clutched his bloody right side. "Stop. No…"

 "The ghost says to go this way," I choked out. "We can trust him," I added, praying I was right. 

Ellis cursed, and for a second, I didn't think he'd go into the fire with me. 

But he did. He believed in me. Together, we crawled toward the stairs, farther into the burning house, every instinct screaming at me to go back the other way.

The stairs felt hot underneath us, threatening to collapse with every creak and moan.  We pressed forward. We didn't have a choice. 

From the top of the landing, we heard Josephine weeping in her room. 

"My house," she wailed, tears streaming down her face. Fritz ran in circles around her, agitated and barking. "Do I even exist without my house?"

"Yes," I told her. "You have us. And Matthew. And Fritz."

She didn't appear to even hear me. 

Ellis hurried past her and tested the window. "She won't have us for much longer if we don't get out of here." 

He was right. The house would collapse under us. We couldn't make it out downstairs, and we had no exits up here. No matter where we went, we were trapped.

The window opened without the rush of flames we'd endured downstairs. The fire hadn't reached the second floor. 

Matthew materialized and pulled Josephine into his embrace. At the same time, he pointed out the window to a sturdy pine that grew at least ten feet away. It wasn't burning, not yet. "Go, Verity. I'll push you along," he urged. The thought of jumping out the window terrified me. It was a long way down. The alternative was smoke inhalation and death. No alternative at all, really.

"Okay," I said, trying to gather my wits. "We have to go out the window. Jump for that tree. Matthew's going to push us," I explained to Ellis. 

"Who's Matthew?" he demanded. He couldn't see.

"A friend," I explained, making my way toward the window. "Get Josephine out of here too," I said to Matthew.

I crouched near the edge of the window. 

Ellis grabbed hold of my shirt. "Verity, don't." He was having trouble focusing, the same as I was. We'd both be passed out from the smoke in less than a minute. 

I untangled myself from his grip. "Matthew!" I hollered, launching myself at the faraway tree.

I fell sharply, and then I felt the smack of power against my back and a gust of air that threw me straight into the branches of the tall pine. I grabbed for the nearest branch I could reach and hung on for dear life. I wrapped my legs around the one lower, and managed a clumsy fall against the rough bark. Shinnying, I made it to the trunk and turned back to Ellis. 

"Jump!" I screamed.

I didn't see him at the window.

He'd been shot. He was suffering from smoke inhalation. He might have passed out.

"Ellis!" I hollered. He had to make it. I couldn't get back to him. I didn't even hear sirens. Whenever the fire trucks did arrive, they would be too late. "Ellis!" 

He clawed his way over the windowsill, dripping with sweat, his side bloody, his face and arms stained with soot. "Jump for the tree!" I pleaded.

We locked eyes and he launched himself out the window.

I screamed as he plummeted, and then choked out a sob as an unseen force drove him straight into the tree below me. The old pine shook with the impact. If he fell, I didn't know what I'd do. 

But I saw him catch hold and start shinnying down. 

Before I could think on it too much, I forced myself to follow. I didn't worry about the height or the fire or the tears stuck in my throat. I headed down to solid earth.

The fire blazed, consuming the house, illuminating the ground below. I briefly spotted Josephine in her bedroom window, panicked, before flames took over.

We ran to Ellis's squad car.

We slid in and he reached across the console for me. He wrapped a hand around the back of my head and kissed me hard, like he couldn't quite believe we'd gotten out of there. I returned the kiss, scared and grateful and happy to be alive. 

"You're okay," I said, cupping his cheek.

He closed his eyes hard for a moment before giving me a bold, beautiful look that said it all. "We're both going to be just fine."

"You're bleeding," I told him. I couldn't see it from where I sat, but it had looked bad when he went down. 

He looked over at me, his skin streaked with soot, sweat, and blood. "You too." 

Now that some of the adrenaline had begun to wear off, I felt the throbbing pain in my shoulder.