Free Borrowed Identity by Kasi Blake

father died of a heart attack before the war ended. Andrew lost his wife and unborn child in the fire that took the plantation house.”
    “Then what?”
    “John moved here with his wife, Anabella,” Kelly said. “He wanted to get away from everything that reminded him of the war. He bought five hundred acres. He planted wheat and invited his brother to see it. John planned on offering half the land to his brother, but he never got the chance.”
    Michael had a bad feeling he knew what had happened next. The house seemed to shudder around him with the resurrected memory of John Moore. If there were ghosts in the world, Michael had no doubt this house would be the perfect place for them.
    He waved Kelly on, wanting her to continue.
    “Before John could make the offer, Andrew killed him. It happened in the middle of the wheat field. Andrew picked up a rock and bashed his brother’s head in. The soil drankhis blood. Rumor has it the land became cursed after that. It hasn’t grown a decent crop since.”
    “Right.” Michael laughed. “How much of this is true? Is there any solid evidence?”
    “There are papers. The only thing that can’t be proved here is if the land is cursed. Everything else is true.”
    “Okay. Who owned the estate next?” Michael couldn’t help it. Curiosity grew like a seed in his belly. Now that he had a taste of the legends of Moore House, he wanted to know everything. Every detail, no matter how minuscule.
    “Well, Anabella inherited the house from her husband, of course, but she sold it a year later. A man by the name of William Smith bought the estate. He wanted to farm the land. Unfortunately, something happened every year to ruin his crop, and he lost money fast. The bank eventually foreclosed on him.”
    “That doesn’t sound particularly strange,” Michael commented. “Stuff like that happens all the time.”
    “True.” She smiled smugly. “William Smith seemed like an ordinary farmer to the outside world. However, some people believed he rode with Jesse James. In fact, there are rumors that Jesse James hid out at Moore House for a few weeks while a stubborn posse was trying to track him down.”
    “Jesse James?” Michael smiled, remembering his boyhood fantasies concerning the historic outlaw. “Cool.”
    “Yeah. They say Jesse hid in secret passages, but to my knowledge no one has ever found a hidden entryway. It’s probably bogus information. Just another rumor that grew into legend.”
    “Have you seen the blueprints?”
    “No,” she said. “They must have been lost a long time ago.”
    “That’s too bad.”
    As she continued to speak about the old mansion, Michaelfound himself becoming more and more involved in the legends. Kelly was a natural storyteller and she obviously felt passionate about Moore House. Her face and tone were animated, drawing him in.
    He found himself smiling, watching her face light up as she spoke. The urge to reach out and stroke her cheek grew stronger with every word she uttered. But touching her would mean interrupting the stories. His professional curiosity was piqued. He had to know about the people that Moore House had supposedly destroyed.
     
    C OLD FINGERS OF EXCITEMENT mixed with fear of the unknown tingled Kelly’s spine. She felt she should be whispering the tales to Michael under a blanket while holding a flashlight. Or not talking about them at all. These stories, the darker side of them, still had the ability to frighten her. Although she didn’t believe in ghosts, she did believe in evil. She’d seen evil, had felt it as her mother turned on her with that scalding pot of water.
    A tiny thrill came from talking about the legends. If Michael was going to marry her, live with her at Moore House, then he had every right to know the truth. She hoped he would come to appreciate the house as much as she did.
    “William Smith sold off parts of the estate to try to keep his head above water,” she continued. “Ten acres