Free A Haunted Romance by Sindra van Yssel

before she left the store.
    “Thank you,” she said.
    “It’s better than having to come over and rescue you when you get stuck.” His face held a sour expression. He hadn’t been exactly a chatterbox either. She’d really insulted him by implying he was lying about the key apparently. She wished she could have the words back.
    They drove home in silence. The more she turned it over in her mind, the more she thought her conclusion that he’d left the key made sense. In spite of that, she believed him. There had to be another explanation, one she wasn’t thinking of.
    “I’m sorry for not believing you,” she said as he turned off the engine, parking in her driveway.
    He nodded. “I guess I can’t blame you.”
    “There’s no other explanation I can think of.” She shrugged.
    “Well, there is one thing.”
    “Hmm?”
    “Maybe your aunt was right. Maybe the place is haunted.”
    She let herself consider it. Whoever it was wanted her to open the chest. The chest hadn’t been opened in a long time, and if Pat or Joann had wanted it open, they would have opened it themselves. Minerva? She didn’t know nearly enough to guess, but it was the only other deceased resident she knew of. Was that who was moaning? Was it Minerva's scream she’d heard outside the night before that? She could easily convince herself that it sounded like a woman, although she hadn’t been sure at the time. “There’s got to be some other explanation.”
    Trent chuckled. “Well, if you come up with one, let me know. You’ve got me curious.”
    “I did hear some strange noises overnight.” She told him about the moaning and the whistling sounds. Trent listened seriously.
    When she was done, he shrugged. “Really strange, Chelsea. Really, really strange. I bet Mrs. Gray has some information on the house, if you’re interested in the haunting idea. She’s the Selby Historical Society. All of it, now that Miss McCraw is no longer here.”
    “Where’d she go?” It was the sort of thing that ended up being important, so Cat always asked questions like that.
    “She died.”
    “Oh.” Following Cat’s instincts wouldn’t help here—if she asked who killed her Trent was likely to think she was seriously bent.
    “Let’s get the mattress. Looks like it could start raining again.”
    Chelsea looked up. The sky did indeed look threatening with gray in the south covering half the blue. The clouds were definitely rolling toward them. She opened the door, propped it with a stray brick, and together they got the mattress inside. She needed to rest for a moment, and then they continued up the stairs. Eventually it was in place on the bed.
    Trent glanced over at the chest. “You’ll let me see it when you start going through it for real?”
    Chelsea felt her cheeks heat up. But it was a reasonable request, after helping her lug the chest down, and besides, there was still the second chest in the attic. And there would be plenty to do. “Yes, once I talk to the archivist, you can help me. Maybe I could get Dalton’s help too, if the two of you can stand to be in the same room together?”
    “I’m an adult.” Trent frowned.
    “A consenting one at that.”
    One corner of his mouth turned up. “Sometimes. Are you changing the subject?”
    “Yes.”
    “I think you need some sheets on the bed first. And I’m curious about the moaning. Did it come from the attic?”
    “Why?”
    Trent shrugged. “Because that’s where we found the chest. And isn’t that where ghosts usually live? In attics? Or their rooms, I suppose. Or the place where they hanged themselves.”
    Chelsea shivered. “I hope nobody hanged themselves. But the moaning sounded like it was coming from the other bedroom, the one I’ve set my office up in.” She walked over there, not sure she was entirely happy he’d changed the subject away from the mattress.
    “Did it seem to come from any particular part of the room?”
    “Not that I could tell. Whenever I got