Free Halloween Hijinks (A Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 1) by Kathi Daley Page B

his creepy old house.
    When I was seven , one of my classmates told me that, in his youth, Hezekiah had murdered and then dismembered over a hundred people. It was rumored that he buried the body parts under the floorboards in the basement and then settled into a life of seclusion in order to maintain the spell he’d used to trap the souls of his victims in a sort of limbo for all time.
    As I turned onto the dirt drive , I reminded myself that the story couldn’t possibly be true. If Hezekiah had murdered a hundred people, he surely would have been arrested, and even if he’d managed to avoid incarceration due to some powerful black magic, as many of the kids in town believed, the spell would have been broken and the souls released the moment the old man finally died. As with many local legends, no one in town will admit to actually believing the strange tale, but when Hezekiah died and a distant heir tried to sell the property, no one would buy it for any price. As a result the house has stood empty for more than fifteen years.
    As I stood before the front gate with Charlie at my side, I listened for voices in the inky night. It’s not that I believe in ghosts, exactly, but even the most stalwart nonbeliever would have to admit that in the fifteen years the house has been empty, strange and unexplainable occurrences have taken place within its walls. Hezekiah died when I was nine. For years no one dared enter the creepy structure, but as time went by the rumors ceased, and homeless vagrants began to use the building to ward off cold winter nights. The legend of Hezekiah Henderson and the haunted basement faded and became dormant until I was fifteen and three homeless men were found dead from no apparent cause other than fear-induced heart failure.
    When I was seventeen, a group of kids prowling the streets late at night reported hearing the sound of crying from within the dark walls, and when I was twenty, something that looked a lot like blood appeared on the back exterior wall. According to the authorities, these incidents, as well as several others, had logical and scientific explanations, although no one has actually revealed what those explanations might be. Most accept the vague answers they’ve been given, but there are those of us who wonder if, perhaps, the house really is haunted.
    I seriously considered turning around and high-tailing it out of there when I heard the most sorrowful howling. “So what do you think?” I asked Charlie. “Should we brave the spooky house or come back in the morning when it’s light?”
    Charlie barked once and trotted thro ugh the gate someone had left open. He headed down the rutted dirt drive with nary a care in the world. I thought about calling him back but knew I’d never be able to sleep if I didn’t rescue the poor dog trapped inside the house. I grabbed a flashlight from my truck, worked up what little courage I possessed, and slowly followed Charlie down the overgrown drive.
    “I ’m an adult,” I reminded myself aloud. “I no longer believe in ghosts. Creatures that exist only in my imagination cannot hurt me.”
    I stopped walking and looked at the dilapidated old house , which seemed to take on a life of its own the closer I got. I tried to control my imagination as shadows fluttered across cracked windows, and the once stylish shutters hung loosely so as to creak and clatter in the wind. My heart pounded so loudly I could hear it as I stood at the bottom of the five rotted steps leading to the equally rotted front porch. I knew my fear was unfounded, yet I found myself unable to continue on. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called a familiar number.
    “Hey, what’s up ?” Ellie answered.
    “I’m at the Henderson place.”
    “Why?” Ellie sounded as horrified as I felt.
    “There’s a dog trapped somewh ere inside. I need to go in and see if I can find him, but all those stories we told as kids are repeating themselves in my imagination and