Free SHUDDERVILLE SIX by Mia Zabrisky Page A

could tell a house was haunted when it gave you the creeps, and you stood there wondering whether or not you should go in, even though it would be easy to get inside because of the big hole in the bottom of one of the window screens, the window itself propped open several inches.
    He knocked and got no reply. He waited a few troubled seconds and knocked again. “Hello?” The door wasn’t locked. He went inside and inhaled the oldness. The place was deserted.
    Now a gust of wind swept through the house, and the curtains moved in restless whispers. Tobias slipped the backpack off his shoulder, lowered it to the floor and dropped it on the welcome mat. “Delilah?” he said. “It’s me. Tobias Mandelbaum. Anybody home?”
    But he already knew the answer—she was gone.
    And she’d taken her kids with her. Those three unfortunate children.
    Sunlight shone through the gauzy curtains covering the wide old-fashioned windows. He stared at everything. There was so much to stare at—the boxes and crates that maybe held something, the broken toys and abandoned mittens, an empty milk carton, a sink full of unwashed dishes, a teakettle on a back burner, a coffee cup on the kitchen table, an oak desk littered with ballpoint pens and unpaid bills, an old clock that no longer told the time, strange scratches on the living room walls. He just stared at the walls like a blind man. He couldn’t understand what those scratches were saying.
    Tobias went upstairs. The bedrooms were empty, except for a few stray personal items. They had left in a hurry. He was hit with the loss. The loss of a friend and ally in this crazy battle of theirs. He walked down the hallway and cautiously opened the attic door. A cold wind rattled past him. He put one foot on the bottom step, and a chemical aversion overwhelmed him. Delilah must have taken her, too. Delilah would never abandon Isabelle. He changed his mind and closed the attic door and hurried down the hallway toward the bathroom, where he splashed cold water on his face.
    He grabbed a towel, wiped his face and caught sight of his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He looked very old. His hearing was gradually getting worse. He had a row of narrow white teeth. His smile was strong and dazzling, but his eyes were wary. He had holding-back eyes.
    Okay, so he was old and crabby and not so good-looking, but he was still fast on his feet. He caught himself quick. He moved his arms like water, very fluid. He moved like a fish through water. He was slippery and elusive, and nobody could catch him. And the limp? The limp was an illusion he’d cultivated to throw people off-guard. The limp was a convenient deception.
    He went downstairs and felt totally defeated. The stairs creaked. The banister creaked. The walls creaked. Delilah hadn’t mentioned this sudden departure, and he doubted she’d left a forwarding address. She must have been afraid of something. She must’ve been running from something. Tobias wondered about the Judge. Where was he? At the bottom of the stairwell, he could feel his insides ripping apart. Time was slipping away from him. He felt an urgency in his gut to accomplish all the things he needed to achieve—not just his fate depended on it. He thought about his daughter, Bella, his little angel. He had given up on her. She was lost to the sands of time.
    In the sunshine-filled foyer, he picked up the backpack and closed the door behind him. He got in his car and drove away.
    Dignity, Vermont
    The old Thorpe dairy farm consisted of a large weather-beaten barn and a dozen ramshackle outbuildings. It was isolated, with nothing but woods and conservancy lands for miles around. Colton Thorpe had been called many things by the residents of Dignity—eccentric, introverted, a hoarder, a loner, an oddball, a nut. He didn’t use email or Twitter or have a Facebook page or own a laptop or even a cell phone. His biggest concession to technology was an IBM Selectric typewriter and an