Blind house, p.22
Blind House, page 22
Megan could hear him but didn’t have the strength to shout back, to move, to do anything. She allowed the paramedics to work on her.
Once Megan and Sammie were secure in the ambulances, Deborah and Ian were marched out of the cellar in cuffs.
‘Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on,’ Ross growled at the sight of his wife.
Deborah clocked Ross and Marc surrounded by officers and laughed. She was being bundled into a police van but tried to resist, tried to get the last word in, ‘They had nothing to do with this,’ she shouted, ‘They knew nothing, because I’m a fucking good actress.’ She kept on laughing as an officer slammed the van door shut.
Epilogue
Eight Months Later
Saying goodbye to Nancy, Megan ended the call and breathed in the warm May air. She would just spend a few more minutes watching the waves crash below her from her perch on the dragon’s back rock. Megan would be forever grateful to Nancy for calling the police that night at Blind House and they had stayed in contact since. There were ghosts, there were pranks and there was Nancy. Nancy the elusive old lady lurking in the bushes watching the house. Nancy knew that Kerry’s disappearance was off, she knew Deborah Huston was somehow mad. She followed her instincts. She cared enough about her family history and that property to keep an eye out. She followed her gut, she kept saying. It paid off; she was there to witness Sammie trying to escape the cellar. She didn’t know about the secret hidden door- no one did. She saw it all. Her gut wasn’t wrong and she got help. Right place, right time and Megan couldn’t love that woman more.
The scamper of paws and the breathy sound of panting broke Megan’s thoughts. Her feet met with a small terrier wagging its tail and demanding some fuss. She bent down to tickle him under the chin and rub behind his ear.
‘Ah, I see you’ve got your dog under control now, he was afraid of you before,’ the lady said appearing into view from around the rocks.
It was her, the same lady that she’d seen here before. The strange lady who asked her to keep her dog under control. She was wearing the same brightly coloured clothing which clashed terribly. Megan couldn’t forget her, those colours and the weird thing that she’d said. She didn’t have a dog then and she didn’t have one now and how did the woman remember her from eight months ago?
‘I don’t have a dog,’ Megan said.
‘Ah but you do,’ the lady said brightly before walking off at pace singing some tune to herself as she went.
The dog- the black hound. Megan hadn’t had visions of it since Blind House. No one else saw it. Did that woman see it? Megan shuddered, that can’t be what she meant. She straightened up and made her way back up the coastal path slowly. She felt accomplished, it was the first time she’d actually managed to walk out this far since moving to Mortehoe. Her recovery had been slow with two broken legs, a broken ankle and a cracked rib. But Ross had seen to it that she received the best possible care, he paid for everything- she wanted for nothing.
Sammie had received some financial compensation from Ross too, not that Megan would know how her recovery was going because Sammie had cut her off again. Wanted nothing to do with her again, believing that Megan was responsible and that she should never have trusted her or thought that she’d changed. Megan was never going to shake her past with her sister and she accepted it. If Sammie could blame her for all of this then maybe Sammie wasn’t the person she thought she’d be either. Her sister had also made plenty of money selling her story to every tabloid going. Megan kept quiet and avoided all attention. Two women were murdered and Megan didn’t want the story turning into some circus.
Megan reached her house and put her key in the door. It never got less exciting, turning the key inside the lock to her new home- the house Ross Huston brought for her. He insisted on making sure that she was provided for and this house- this perfect house that she could only have dreamed of was impossible to refuse. Ross had felt nothing but bewildered, stunned, disorientated at what Deborah was capable of, what was going on under their roof without so much as an idea.
He had kept a low profile during the investigations and then moved back to the States. Besides lack of physical evidence, Deborah had maintained that he and Marc were not involved, she was too smug admitting to have been a brilliant actress- a genius. She even paid her Uncle Ian little credit, stating he merely rolled the cameras and did a bit of editing. She demanded notoriety and films to be made about her. Ross also stepped down from his role as Inspector Dark out of respect for the victim’s families and to maintain a low profile. It would be sometime before the media would die down and he could rebuild his reputation.
Marc also laid low but did check in with Megan occasionally. The odd phone call, a message to make sure she was okay. He wanted to visit but Megan wasn’t ready for that. She was moving on and Marc made it all real. He tortured himself over what had happened to Sarah. Whether she blamed him up until she died, whether she believed he was in on it and did that to her. He would tell Megan that he couldn’t sleep, that he just kept seeing her when he closed his eyes, blaming him, hating him. He asked a number of times if Megan could try communicating with her, talk to her. Megan couldn’t bring herself to try. She believed that both Sarah and Kerry already knew. They were watching and always had been. They knew. Marc didn’t have to worry. One day a cup of tea with Marc might be nice. But not yet.
Megan went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She had a peaceful evening ahead of her and with such a warm evening, she could have the windows thrown open and enjoy the sound of the waves. As the water drenched her, she decided that it was time to start seriously thinking about her next steps. She was back to full health and knew it was time to think about her business. She had closed down her paranormal investigations website whilst she was recovering. It was never going to be a permanent role for her, not without Christina. But things had changed hadn’t they?
How the changes occurred, Megan didn’t think she’d ever know or be able to explain- who could? But ghosts were real, Megan had witnessed and experienced things that she couldn’t dispute, not this time. Not once had she felt sensitive to spirits, that was Christina and other people who believed. But not her. So what changed? Did the grief of losing Christina do something to her? Did her friend’s energy from the other side do something to her? But Christina hadn’t come through to her- why hadn’t she? She connected to Sarah and Kerry hadn’t she?
The thought of Sarah and Kerry being laid to rest filled Megan with comfort. They had been removed from the coldness of the lake to a better resting place where their families could mourn and remember them. The whole ordeal was terrifying but what Megan realised was that she helped uncover the truth, delivered justice. She helped the dead so they could rest in peace. It felt rewarding. It brought comfort. As Megan rinsed away the remaining soap from her hair, she decided that she would- she’d activate her website and go back into business.
She stepped from the shower and smiled at owning her own luxury towels to wrap herself in. Then the mirror caught her eye. The steamed up mirror with writing. Writing which said, "I told you so." Megan spun round, her heart beating fast. Through the doorway, there they were on the landing. Christina, a ghostly apparition of Christina- with her arm around the black hound. The two of them together. Christina was smiling and they vanished. It was quick and brief but they were there.
It told Megan all that she needed to know. Christina was watching her and was there for her. And so was the hound it seemed, a spirit guide being there for her at her every turn, every decision, every danger, letting her know that she wasn’t on her own, to help guide her courage and instincts. The hound didn’t want to take her to the other side, it wanted to keep her right where she was.
THE END
Dear reader,
Thank you for choosing to read Blind House. It is my debut novel and if you would like to hear about future releases then I can be found on Facebook: Jamie-Lee Brooke- Author and Twitter: @Jamie_Lee Brooke. Did you enjoy Blind House? I would love to hear your thoughts. Why not leave an Amazon review? Reviews give independent authors a fantastic boost and are hugely appreciated. Thank you once again.
Acknowledgements
I am blessed to have numerous friends and family who have supported me and cheered me on in my quest to achieve my dreams and ambitions. I am eternally grateful for each and every one of them. Special thanks go out to my beta readers and proofreaders- Carla Buckley, Phil Price, Sarah Federici and Anna Wallace. Their input and encouragement have been nothing short of valuable. I’d like to thank my writing group friends who are only a message away in answering my stupid questions- John Lovell, Vanessa Morgan, Terry Walsh and Mark Wallace. Long may our friendships continue. Lastly, I’d like to thank Ian Morgan for the loan of his laptop at times, all help gratefully received!
Jamie-Lee Brooke, Blind House
Thank you for reading books on Archive.BookFrom.Net
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Once Megan and Sammie were secure in the ambulances, Deborah and Ian were marched out of the cellar in cuffs.
‘Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on,’ Ross growled at the sight of his wife.
Deborah clocked Ross and Marc surrounded by officers and laughed. She was being bundled into a police van but tried to resist, tried to get the last word in, ‘They had nothing to do with this,’ she shouted, ‘They knew nothing, because I’m a fucking good actress.’ She kept on laughing as an officer slammed the van door shut.
Epilogue
Eight Months Later
Saying goodbye to Nancy, Megan ended the call and breathed in the warm May air. She would just spend a few more minutes watching the waves crash below her from her perch on the dragon’s back rock. Megan would be forever grateful to Nancy for calling the police that night at Blind House and they had stayed in contact since. There were ghosts, there were pranks and there was Nancy. Nancy the elusive old lady lurking in the bushes watching the house. Nancy knew that Kerry’s disappearance was off, she knew Deborah Huston was somehow mad. She followed her instincts. She cared enough about her family history and that property to keep an eye out. She followed her gut, she kept saying. It paid off; she was there to witness Sammie trying to escape the cellar. She didn’t know about the secret hidden door- no one did. She saw it all. Her gut wasn’t wrong and she got help. Right place, right time and Megan couldn’t love that woman more.
The scamper of paws and the breathy sound of panting broke Megan’s thoughts. Her feet met with a small terrier wagging its tail and demanding some fuss. She bent down to tickle him under the chin and rub behind his ear.
‘Ah, I see you’ve got your dog under control now, he was afraid of you before,’ the lady said appearing into view from around the rocks.
It was her, the same lady that she’d seen here before. The strange lady who asked her to keep her dog under control. She was wearing the same brightly coloured clothing which clashed terribly. Megan couldn’t forget her, those colours and the weird thing that she’d said. She didn’t have a dog then and she didn’t have one now and how did the woman remember her from eight months ago?
‘I don’t have a dog,’ Megan said.
‘Ah but you do,’ the lady said brightly before walking off at pace singing some tune to herself as she went.
The dog- the black hound. Megan hadn’t had visions of it since Blind House. No one else saw it. Did that woman see it? Megan shuddered, that can’t be what she meant. She straightened up and made her way back up the coastal path slowly. She felt accomplished, it was the first time she’d actually managed to walk out this far since moving to Mortehoe. Her recovery had been slow with two broken legs, a broken ankle and a cracked rib. But Ross had seen to it that she received the best possible care, he paid for everything- she wanted for nothing.
Sammie had received some financial compensation from Ross too, not that Megan would know how her recovery was going because Sammie had cut her off again. Wanted nothing to do with her again, believing that Megan was responsible and that she should never have trusted her or thought that she’d changed. Megan was never going to shake her past with her sister and she accepted it. If Sammie could blame her for all of this then maybe Sammie wasn’t the person she thought she’d be either. Her sister had also made plenty of money selling her story to every tabloid going. Megan kept quiet and avoided all attention. Two women were murdered and Megan didn’t want the story turning into some circus.
Megan reached her house and put her key in the door. It never got less exciting, turning the key inside the lock to her new home- the house Ross Huston brought for her. He insisted on making sure that she was provided for and this house- this perfect house that she could only have dreamed of was impossible to refuse. Ross had felt nothing but bewildered, stunned, disorientated at what Deborah was capable of, what was going on under their roof without so much as an idea.
He had kept a low profile during the investigations and then moved back to the States. Besides lack of physical evidence, Deborah had maintained that he and Marc were not involved, she was too smug admitting to have been a brilliant actress- a genius. She even paid her Uncle Ian little credit, stating he merely rolled the cameras and did a bit of editing. She demanded notoriety and films to be made about her. Ross also stepped down from his role as Inspector Dark out of respect for the victim’s families and to maintain a low profile. It would be sometime before the media would die down and he could rebuild his reputation.
Marc also laid low but did check in with Megan occasionally. The odd phone call, a message to make sure she was okay. He wanted to visit but Megan wasn’t ready for that. She was moving on and Marc made it all real. He tortured himself over what had happened to Sarah. Whether she blamed him up until she died, whether she believed he was in on it and did that to her. He would tell Megan that he couldn’t sleep, that he just kept seeing her when he closed his eyes, blaming him, hating him. He asked a number of times if Megan could try communicating with her, talk to her. Megan couldn’t bring herself to try. She believed that both Sarah and Kerry already knew. They were watching and always had been. They knew. Marc didn’t have to worry. One day a cup of tea with Marc might be nice. But not yet.
Megan went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She had a peaceful evening ahead of her and with such a warm evening, she could have the windows thrown open and enjoy the sound of the waves. As the water drenched her, she decided that it was time to start seriously thinking about her next steps. She was back to full health and knew it was time to think about her business. She had closed down her paranormal investigations website whilst she was recovering. It was never going to be a permanent role for her, not without Christina. But things had changed hadn’t they?
How the changes occurred, Megan didn’t think she’d ever know or be able to explain- who could? But ghosts were real, Megan had witnessed and experienced things that she couldn’t dispute, not this time. Not once had she felt sensitive to spirits, that was Christina and other people who believed. But not her. So what changed? Did the grief of losing Christina do something to her? Did her friend’s energy from the other side do something to her? But Christina hadn’t come through to her- why hadn’t she? She connected to Sarah and Kerry hadn’t she?
The thought of Sarah and Kerry being laid to rest filled Megan with comfort. They had been removed from the coldness of the lake to a better resting place where their families could mourn and remember them. The whole ordeal was terrifying but what Megan realised was that she helped uncover the truth, delivered justice. She helped the dead so they could rest in peace. It felt rewarding. It brought comfort. As Megan rinsed away the remaining soap from her hair, she decided that she would- she’d activate her website and go back into business.
She stepped from the shower and smiled at owning her own luxury towels to wrap herself in. Then the mirror caught her eye. The steamed up mirror with writing. Writing which said, "I told you so." Megan spun round, her heart beating fast. Through the doorway, there they were on the landing. Christina, a ghostly apparition of Christina- with her arm around the black hound. The two of them together. Christina was smiling and they vanished. It was quick and brief but they were there.
It told Megan all that she needed to know. Christina was watching her and was there for her. And so was the hound it seemed, a spirit guide being there for her at her every turn, every decision, every danger, letting her know that she wasn’t on her own, to help guide her courage and instincts. The hound didn’t want to take her to the other side, it wanted to keep her right where she was.
THE END
Dear reader,
Thank you for choosing to read Blind House. It is my debut novel and if you would like to hear about future releases then I can be found on Facebook: Jamie-Lee Brooke- Author and Twitter: @Jamie_Lee Brooke. Did you enjoy Blind House? I would love to hear your thoughts. Why not leave an Amazon review? Reviews give independent authors a fantastic boost and are hugely appreciated. Thank you once again.
Acknowledgements
I am blessed to have numerous friends and family who have supported me and cheered me on in my quest to achieve my dreams and ambitions. I am eternally grateful for each and every one of them. Special thanks go out to my beta readers and proofreaders- Carla Buckley, Phil Price, Sarah Federici and Anna Wallace. Their input and encouragement have been nothing short of valuable. I’d like to thank my writing group friends who are only a message away in answering my stupid questions- John Lovell, Vanessa Morgan, Terry Walsh and Mark Wallace. Long may our friendships continue. Lastly, I’d like to thank Ian Morgan for the loan of his laptop at times, all help gratefully received!
Jamie-Lee Brooke, Blind House
