Chapter 9
Lia
A SWEET, LITTLE-GIRL FRAGRANCE wafted around us.
“Do you smell it?” I asked.
“Yeah. Smells like Mellie.”
I examined the room intently, wondering if I’d see a form like I had that time with Hugh. Nothing.
“Do you know where it is?” I asked the entity. My answer came as a now-familiar, feather-light touch on my cheek. “Can you take us to it?”
What followed turned into a frustrating process of trying to understand the ghostly signals. Trying to differentiate between floors drove me crazy. Sometimes I wanted to scream.
Finally, in front of the door near the middle of the hallway on the third floor, everything stopped. Coop and I stood still, waiting for the next signal.
Nothing.
“Maybe here?” I touched the doorknob with my fingertip.
Nothing.
But I got no other impression either. I nodded to Coop, who slowly opened the door, watching me for any sign.
Nothing.
We eased into the room, pausing after every couple of steps. Only when I moved toward the fireplace did I finally sense something … and it was not toward the fireplace. Instead, I felt drawn toward a huge, antique armoire.
“That wall?” I asked.
Nothing.
Biting back my frustration so hard it made my jaw hurt, I took a breath and moved toward the fireplace. An overwhelming need came over me to go toward the furniture again.
“I guess it’s here,” I said.
“On the wall,” Coop asked, “or behind the dresser?”
“I think …” I paused, listening. “Behind?”
“Of course,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Whynothave the ghost, or whatever this spirit thing is, lead us to the right stone behind the heaviest piece of furniture in the citadel?” Coop took off his jacket.
“Maybe he, she …itcan go through walls?” I took one end, but Coop shook his head.
He opened the large doors and took out the drawers first. It still weighed a ton, but we walked it away from the wall enough to get behind it. Where some stonemason had mortared a single, carved stone near the floor.
“Is this it?” I pulled out my phone. “Come look.”
He grabbed the flashlight from his jacket pocket and knelt beside me. I held my phone next to the carving. They were the same.
“Now what?” I felt the mortar around the stone. It wasn’t any looser than any of the plain ones.
“Hang on. Your dad and I were doing some work in the next room.” Coop got up and jogged away. He returned with a toolbox. “I’ll need some room.”
I got out of the way, and he took my place, carrying a chisel and a mallet. Coop went to work breaking away the mortar. At first, he didn’t seem to make much progress. I knew from working with my dad that some old concrete, and I assumed mortar too, could even get harder as it aged.
Once Coop got a good crack in it, though, it only took a few more hard hits for the stone to come loose. A couple more, and he slid it free from the wall.
