Dark Road Winding: The Urban Legends of Texas, #1

By C.H. Sessums

Johana Hall has her hands full juggling personal life and her public relations career in Washington DC. The last thing she needs is to get called back to Texas because her Grandpa H.M. believes he's being haunted.

Adult Protective Services wants to put the elderly ex-con in a nursing home, but mysterious happenings at the homestead convince Johana he isn't as crazy as everyone thinks.

Getting to the bottom of the local legend is the least of her worries when she realizes someone is willing to go to any means to get her grandpa off Sara Jane Road. Can she figure things out before it's too late?

Dark Road Winding was originally a part of the Once Upon a Midnight Dreary Anthology. This novella contains extra material not previously released.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cactus Rose Press
• Release date: Jan 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519968883

C.H. Sessums

C.H. Sessums is a pen name for USA Today Bestselling Author Olivia Hardin. While Olivia writes all manner of romance, C.H. scribbles out cozy mysteries set in her beloved state of Texas. Whether exploring urban legends from all over the lone star state or solving capers set in far off times, mystery meets history in all of her stories. In real life, C.H. lives in gorgeous East Texas with her hubby and their two rescue dogs. Every weekend all four of them pile up into their bunkhouse to watch classic movies and listen to old-time radio.

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Dedication

To Mawmaw Hardin, who knew the art of telling a good story and who taught me to appreciate the things worth believing in.

Chapter One

Y ou’re kidding, right ? I’m a premium member. I specifically asked for the upgrade. Johana flattened both palms on the countertop and tapped her finger in rapid cadence, unable to contain her irritation.

The make-up on the attendant’s face was so thick it looked like paint and she twisted one of the gaudy rings on her finger round and round. A line of frustrated people stood bunched up behind Johana. The blonde made every attempt to look sympathetic as she switched her hands to clasp them behind her back before speaking, I’m so sorry, Miss Hall. Our premium membership is no guarantee that an upgrade vehicle will be available. If you had arrived an hour earlier, we could have filled your request, but as it is, this is the only vehicle we have available.

Johana gritted her teeth and took the keys from the woman, eyeing her for a long moment before she rounded on her heels.

After loading her baggage into the trunk of the Corolla she collapsed into the driver’s seat. She dropped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes as she snapped her neck left and then right to pop some of the tension away. The familiar ding of an arriving text message broke her momentary calm, and she reached into her purse to grab her cell phone.

You’ve got to be kidding, she muttered when she realized this particular model of vehicle didn’t have Bluetooth connections. She dug her hand deep into her bag and felt around to locate her individual earpiece then jabbed it into her ear, arranging it until it felt right.

She scanned the text then responded to her personal assistant, Ally, before starting the ignition. By the time she got on I-10 heading east, her mind was awhirl with thoughts she’d been able to keep at bay during the flight.

They hadn’t missed Thanksgiving together in five years. Not that they were all that celebratory, but Cam always found a way to sit them down to an actual turkey dinner. He never minded when a text or email interrupted their festivities, and it was another way he’d brought some normalcy to her otherwise hectic life.

Not normal enough, Johana whispered, looking down at her phone to see if she missed his call. Nothing. She shouldn’t have been surprised. She had been clear with him that they needed a break. Her Grandpa H.M.’s latest episode was a much-needed excuse to get away and would help her stick to that break.

She glanced at the cell phone again, wishing Cam’s name would pop up. In disgust she tossed the phone into the center console. I’m like a love-lorn teenager waiting for his call.

And he wasn’t going to call. Cam was resolute if nothing else. When she suggested they needed a break to consider where their relationship was going, he agreed. He wouldn’t change the rules; he wouldn’t call, so she kept driving. Before long she would be back there, back to the place she’d grown up. Back to the place she rarely visited anymore.

Grandpa H.M. got out of the federal penitentiary a few years ago. He spent one last year with Mother Hall before she passed on, dying in her sleep at the ripe old age of 88. He told Johana he held her against him, and when he awoke he heard the angels singing as they carried her off to heaven. No need for her to linger, Johana Suzanne. She went straight to be with the Good Man.

Since Mother Hall’s death, Grandpa had consistently gotten into trouble. The parole board kept close tabs on him, but they wanted nothing more than to leave him be. The Federal Bureau of Prisons had no desire to remand a 90-year old man into the system. They probably would have lost track of him completely if he hadn’t had these episodes.

He called them paranormal experiences.

Johana called them delusional.

Whatever they were, his ghost sightings were beginning to annoy the local police along with adult protective services. They suspected Grandpa might be manufacturing the whole thing. A recent car accident was the icing on the cake for the authorities. Even though they had not been able to pin any charges on him related to the fatal crash, they either wanted Grandpa put in a home or for someone to come in and pull the reins on him.

It once again fell to Johana to get involved. She wouldn’t have bothered except that Mother Hall had loved Grandpa—even though he’d spent more of their married years behind bars than not. She loved him, and she asked Johana to look after him.

The phone rang and the familiar ring tone signaled that is was Ally. She waited for the Bluetooth to pick up. Yeah.

The scenery finally caught Johana’s eyes, and she found her gaze diverted to her left and her right. It had been years since the hurricane had washed ashore here, but the normally wooded areas on either side of Highway 73 looked barren with just tree stubs protruding all along the ground.

How’s it going out in the boonies? her ever-chipper assistant asked.

It’s going. Home sweet home, and all that, you know.

As she approached the Golden Triangle, the locally recognized name for the Beaumont-Port Arthur-Orange area, a few of the homes had blue tarps across their roofs; a sure sign that some of the people continued struggling to rebuild.

Mother Hall was still alive during the hurricane and refused to vacate her house. It was tempting to Johana to have her