Free Never Die Alone (A Bentz/Montoya Novel Book 8) by Lisa Jackson Page A

the shuffle of feet on the floor above, Lena walked to the refrigerator where she pulled out a carton of milk and placed it, along with two spoons, on the small table pushed against the wall opposite the sink, the same spot where Jase and Prescott had sat during all of their years growing up on this farm.
    “Prescott said the place has too many ghosts for you,” Jase said.
    Lena shot her husband a glance, then automatically rubbed the cross that hung from a chain at her neck. “Shhh!” she warned as her children thundered down the staircase and clambered into the room.
    “Uncle Jase!” Trinity’s brown eyes lit up when she saw him. She raced across the room, blond hair flying, and flung herself into his arms. “I didn’t know you were here!”
    “I snuck in,” he teased, juggling her onto a hip.
    A moment later, her younger brother barreled into the room with a squeal of delight. “Hey!” Caleb cried, shooting across the floor to jump up.
    Jase caught his nephew with his free arm. “Hey yourself, little man.” Jase had never considered himself much of a kid person, but when his niece was born seven years earlier, all that changed.
    Lena scowled. “Hay is for horses, and we don’t have a lot of time to mess around here,” she advised her brother-in-law and sent him a don’t-mess-with-me stare. Then she glared at the children. “Kids, hurry up. Eat your breakfast. Miss Suzy won’t like it if we’re late, and Reverend Tim has a special treat for you all.”
    “I hate Bible school,” Caleb complained, and his sister’s eyes rounded.
    “Don’t you say that!” Lena hissed, looking over her shoulder as if she expected Satan himself to appear. “You love Vacation Bible School, you know you do. Now, come on, get your things.”
    Rolling her eyes, Trinity slid out of Jase’s arms. “Okay,” she said on a sigh that would have made a petulant teen proud, then climbed into her seat.
    Caleb, too, wriggled to the floor before scraping his chair back as his mother poured milk over his cereal, then handed the carton to Trinity. As the kids dug in, Lena motioned to her husband that he was in charge before walking into the front hallway. With a hook of one finger, she indicated silently that she wanted Jase to follow.
    Out in the hall, Lena pulled her daughter’s pink jacket from the hall tree as if by rote. Then, glancing outside to what promised to be a scorcher of a day, she replaced the small Windbreaker on a hook.
    “Listen, Jase,” she said, her voice low. “I know you expected us to buy you out, but we just can’t. Okay?” Her eyebrows launched upward, but she didn’t wait for his response. “It’s too isolated out here for the kids and for me. They run me ragged. Have no boundaries. No friends. And with a new baby on the way, I can’t stand another minute here.” Frowning, she swept a glance around the entry with its massive but marred staircase, high ceilings, dark walls, and ancient windows, some of which were cracked and needed to be replaced. “We can’t afford to fix this place up. It would cost a fortune. All the wiring and plumbing needs to be replaced, and don’t get me started on the roof. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to mess with it. Too much time. Too much money. Too many headaches. I want new. Clean. Bright. Light. Close in.”
    “I thought you wanted the kids to grow up in the country.”
    “Well, I was wrong, okay? I changed my mind.” She crossed her arms over her ample belly and glared up at him. “We’ve already found a place in town that isn’t haunted by . . . well, you know.” She gave him a knowing look.
    “No,” he said, wondering just how much his brother had confided in his wife of eight years. “Haunted by what?”
    Lena’s blue eyes narrowed. She looked about to say something, but pressed her lips together firmly instead. “Everything,” she said evasively, throwing her arms wide. “This place, it just won’t work for us. I want to be