Silver Hart

By Robin Wainwright

Escaping her controlling and manipulative uncle, Sammie Tamlson seeks refuge in a run-down house in Haven. To her surprise, the house, called Silver Hart, is rumored to be haunted after a series of murders were committed on the property. The owner of the house takes pity on her, and Sammie is hired on as Silver Hart’s caretaker.

Chris Hanley knows a lucrative business venture when he sees it, and the paranormal is all the rage, right now. Starting up Haunted Happenings, a company that hosts ghost hunting events is the perfect opportunity for Chris to make money while indulging in something that interests him. Chris visits Haven hoping to investigate Silver Hart, but getting inside the infamous location proves harder than he imagined. The feisty caretaker won't let him anywhere near the house. Chris discovers that there's more lurking in the shadows than angry spirits from the past. Someone wants Sammie dead. And now it's up to Chris to save her from the all the dangers of Silver Hart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Purrfect Publishing
• Release date: Oct 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536541953

Robin Wainwright

As a child, Robin Wainwright's Irish mother filled Robin's active imagination with stories of magic and the wee people. Her days were filled with other worlds where magic and the paranormal were an accepted way of life. As soon as Robin learned how to write, she continued her mother's tradition of storytelling. She shared her stories with her mother, but no one else. In 2013, Robin decided to begin sharing her stories with a broader audience and so The Widow's Walk trilogy was born. Robin lives in Southern California with her wonderful husband and two cats. She loves the rain, thunder, and lightning (although she doesn't see much of it where she lives) as well as chocolate, coffee, and Halloween. She continues to write (sometimes with the help of her cats) while sitting in her recliner, appearing to look out her window into her green yard, while in reality her vision is focused on other locales.

Book preview

Silver Hart

Robin Wainwright

Published by Purrfect Publishing, 2016.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

SILVER HART

First edition. October 25, 2016.

Copyright © 2016 Robin Wainwright.

ISBN: 978-1536541953

Written by Robin Wainwright.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Silver Hart

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Further Reading: Cat's Meow

Also By Robin Wainwright

About the Author

Peter watched the young woman climb down out of the bus and look up and down the street. He sank low behind the wheel of his rented car so that she wouldn’t see him and bolt back onto the bus. The woman seemed to come to a decision, and she slowly walked down the street of the mountain town, looking in shop windows as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

You little bitch, Peter thought. Samantha, you dragged me all the way from Phoenix to this poor excuse for a town, and now you’re having a lovely time. Well, just keep walking. The further away from the bus you get, the better for me.

Less than 12 hours ago Peter had been happily living his life, comfortable that his financial future was secure. Then he’d come home to find Samantha was gone, and the light was flashing on his answering machine. When he’d listened to that message, his whole life had been turned upside down.

Samantha paused to look in the window of a store labeled Bountiful Books. When she went inside, Peter opened his car door, strolled over to stand in an alleyway next to the bookstore, and wait for his errant charge.

Samantha pushed open the door to the bookshop and was struck by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Perfect, she’d thought, I can take care of both of my addictions—coffee, and books.

When she’d fled her uncle’s place, she had packed so quickly that she had forgotten to bring anything to read. She took out her wallet and checked her cash. She had spent most of her money on train and bus tickets, but maybe if the store had a used book section she could afford something to pass the time.

She followed the smell of coffee to the back of the bookstore and found a small cafe surrounded by comfortably worn couches and oversized chairs. She was admiring the comfortable feeling of the café when a voice startled her.

May I help you? a man asked and Samantha looked up to see a teenager standing behind the counter.

I think I’ve died and gone to heaven, Samantha said with a smile.

You’re close, but Haven is a little further up the mountain, the boy said. When Samantha looked confused, the boy continued. If you’re looking for Haven it’s a little further up the mountain. This is Bountiful.

Right, Samantha said still confused.

Can I get you a coffee?

Sure Bobby, Samantha said as she glanced at his nametag. Can I have a large latte in a to-go cup?

Can do. Is there anything else I can help you with?

Yeah, do you guys have a used book section? Samantha asked.

Yep, see those bookcases over there, Bobby said, pointing to four large bookshelves in the corner of the café. Pick a book, bring it up and you get a 20 percent discount because you bought a coffee.

Terrific, Samantha said as she walked to the bookcases.

Samantha smiled as she looked over the titles, most of which she had already read. Reading had been her only means of escape during her time in Phoenix, and she had read a lot. She settled for an old favorite that she had been forced to leave behind and took her prize to the counter.

After paying, she settled into a comfortable chair and placed her backpack on the table in front of her. She rooted around in it until she found her travel itinerary, checked the time, and pulled out her cellphone to set two alarms. The first one was meant to nudge her out of her book and remind her to finish her coffee. The second one was a backup, warning her that she was going to miss her bus if she didn’t hurry.

Sighing contentedly, she tucked her phone back into her backpack and settled in to sip her coffee and visit with old friends in the pages of her book.

When the table vibrated Samantha barely registered it, lost in the story of young love and crafty witches, but when a shrill sound began Samantha jumped and looked around in confusion.

It’s your phone, Bobby said helpfully, and Samantha felt embarrassed. Must be a good book, Bobby said smiling.

It’s one of my favorites, Samantha said as she dug around in her backpack.

Samantha turned off the alarm and returned the phone to the backpack. I’ve got a bus to catch, Samantha said, Thanks for the coffee and book.

Anytime, Bobby said. Have a safe trip. Samantha nodded absently and walked toward the front of the store.

She stepped out into the sunshine, filled her lungs with the fresh pine-scented air, and relaxed for the first time in days. Bountiful wasn’t Lake Tahoe, but it was sure closer than Phoenix had been. She had missed the feeling of mountain air and the breezes that whispered of green, peaceful places and adventures waiting to unfold.

She smiled, as she looked upward toward the peaks of the mountain that rose above her, they were covered with lush green foliage. She’d love to take a hike through the woods and see what lay underneath that veil of green, but her time was limited. She checked the ticket in her pocket and verified that she only had a few minutes until her bus arrived. Hikes in the forest would have to wait until she got home.

She had begun walking toward the bus depot when strong arms enfolded her body and dragged her into an alley.

Got ya, Peter’s voice hissed in her ear.

Samantha drew in a breath to scream, but Peter’s meaty hand clamped over her mouth to silence her.

Shut up, he said huffing and puffing as he dragged her out of sight behind a large dumpster. Making me chase you all this way, when all I wanted was a chance to talk to you.

Samantha stopped struggling and relaxed in his grip hoping that her uncle would see it as a sign of her surrender.

That’s better, he said. Now will you be a good girl and let me explain everything to you?

Samantha nodded her head.

No screaming? Peter asked, and Samantha nodded again. Peter removed the hand from her mouth as he spun her around so that he had Samantha trapped between the dumpster and the wall.

I can’t believe you made me chase you to this horrible little town because of this silly misunderstanding. You know I’ve always had your best interest at heart. Haven’t I taken care of you ever since my dear sister passed away?

Yeah, with my money, Samantha snapped.

No, that’s where you’re wrong, as your guardian, it was my money. Besides you never wanted for anything.

You lived in a huge house with servants, Samantha accused.

You lived there too, Peter countered.

In a small corner of your mansion and you made me practically beg you for anything I wanted.

I wanted you to learn gratitude, which obviously didn’t work.

You really believe that everything you did was in my best interest?

Of course, what would you have done at seventeen with all that money?

You made me think that I was a destitute orphan living on your largess.

I gave you a good life, in a good neighborhood, with good schools. You owe me, Samantha.

I think I’ve paid enough for your kindness, Samantha said with a sneer.

No you haven’t, Peter said. All you have to do is sign that paper, and you can go back to being a snow bunny. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to take care of you.

So if I sign that it you’ll leave me alone? Samantha asked.

Of course, Peter said.

Samantha looked deeply into her uncle’s eyes and saw something evil staring back at her. She wondered why she had never sensed the dark intent that lay within her uncle’s soul. She was certain that if she signed the power of attorney her uncle had drawn up that she would be signing her own death warrant.

Okay Peter, I’ll sign it, Samantha said.

Peter’s face broke into a wide grin, and he stepped out of her way. Terrific. I knew you’d be agreeable if I could just talk to you. Now, let’s go to my car and I’ll drive us to the airport. No more dirty busses for you my girl.

Samantha nodded her head and then bolted down the alleyway toward the forest.

Goddamn it, Peter’s voice rang down the alley behind her along with his heavy footfalls.

Peter had put on a lot of weight since he’d been living off her trust fund, and Samantha thought that she should be able to lose him in the forest. Then she could circle back, get on her bus, and leave him the dust. She still had friends back home in Lake Tahoe, who would take her in until she inherited what was left of her trust fund.

Something caught on the strap of her backpack and yanked her off her feet.

Got you, you little bitch, Peter snarled.

Samantha scrambled to her feet and tugged desperately at the other strap of her backpack. Peter gave the bag another vicious yank and the strap in Samantha’s hand tore away. Peter clutched the backpack to his chest and grinned triumphantly. Everything she owned was in that bag, and Peter knew it.

What are you going to do now? Peter asked.

Samantha’s mind raced, trying to think of a solution, and then she remembered the bus ticket in her pocket. She spun and ran deeper into the forest. She hated to lose her clothes and such, but it was better than losing her life.

Peter stared at her retreating form in shock and then he clambered after her.

Samantha could hear Peter crashing through the forest behind her, she could also hear him huffing and puffing. She reasoned that it wouldn’t be long before she lost him and she could circle back. She climbed as fast as she could, pushing her way through bushes and jumping over fallen logs, moving deeper into the welcoming darkness of the forest.

She stopped to listen, and when she didn’t hear any crashing sounds behind her, she sighed in relief. She’d have to hurry in order to reach her bus in time, taking a deep breath she looked around to get her bearings and set off determinedly in what she hoped was the right direction.

Pushing through a large hedge, she was startled to find herself standing on the edge of a clearing in front of a beautiful Craftsman style house. The paint was peeling, and the steps of the front porch were worn, but Samantha could see how magnificent the house must have been with its wide front porch, peaked roof, and large windows. This was the type of house that Samantha had always dreamed of living in. She’d hated the ultramodern concrete and steel monstrosity that Peter owned. Craftsman styled houses had always pulled at her heart strings as they represented a simpler time when people sat on their front porches sipping lemonade and enjoying the nature around them.

A loud crashing in the woods behind her made her jump, and she scrambled around the side of the house to hide. Samantha peeked around the edge of the building as the sound of crunching leaves continued.

Dammit! I should have run back into the woods, she thought. She looked toward the trees and tried to decide if she had time to make a dash for it, but as the sounds of crunching leaves got louder she realized that it wasn’t worth the risk. Peter would see her if she sprinted across the clearing. She had to find somewhere to hide until he moved past.

As she crept around the back of the house, she noted that the back door had been boarded shut, as had some of the windows. She decided that the house had definitely been abandoned. Two large weathered doors jutted out from the foundation of the house. Probably a cellar, Samantha thought as she tugged on one of the doors. At first, the door refused to move, and Samantha tugged harder as her desperation grew. With a loud metallic groan the years of rust released their hold, and the door swung open. Samantha cringed at the noise and looked around the backyard; certain that sound of the rusty hinges had alerted Peter to where she was.

She looked into the dark cellar, the sunlight exposed four wooden steps, but everything beyond those steps was in total blackness. Figuring she could safely crouch on the steps and hide until Peter had moved on, Samantha took a tentative step, then two. On the third step, she turned around to grab the door, only to realize that she’d have to move further down the steps in order to close the door behind her.

As Samantha’s foot extended in search of the fourth step, a silver buck stepped out of the forest, and its ears flicked when the sound of Samantha’s scream filled the clearing.

Peter slumped sweaty and panting on a park bench in front of the bookstore. He’d tried to follow Samantha, but he had to abandon his pursuit quickly. The easy living he had enjoyed over the past five years had left him soft and lazy, he was in no shape to chase a young girl through the forest, he admitted to himself. But, he thought as he looked at the backpack still clutched in his hand, I still have my intelligence. Peter opened the bag and began to dig through Samantha’s meager belongings for a clue of her next move.

When he’d first realized that Samantha had run away, Peter had reported her credit cards as stolen and frozen her bank accounts. At the time, he had patted himself on the back for keeping his name on her accounts when she had turned eighteen, confident that she wouldn’t be able to get far without any money, but by the time he’d canceled her accounts she had already been gone for hours. She had purchased a train ticket to Los Angeles and had withdrawn the maximum amount of cash her bank would allow.

That ticket purchase had allowed him to track her to the train station where he’d shown everyone a picture of Samantha saying that she was his sister’s daughter and a runaway. Everyone had been so helpful, especially the clerk who had sold Samantha a bus ticket. In fact, the clerk had even apologized to Peter for selling Samantha the ticket. She had explained that Samantha had tried to buy a train ticket and that when her credit card had been rejected; the clerk had suggested that a bus ticket would be cheaper. She had sold Samantha a bus ticket, and to make it more affordable, she had suggested a less direct route that would still get her to her destination but with a lot of stops along the way. Those stops had allowed Peter to catch up to the bus and follow it into Bountiful.

Peter pulled a wrinkled piece of paper out of the backpack and realized it was the receipt from Samantha’s purchase of her bus ticket. Peter looked at what time the bus was scheduled to depart from Bountiful and smiled, Samantha had missed her bus. Peter dug further into the backpack looking for Samantha’s bus ticket, and when he couldn’t find it, he cursed. Had that bitch circled back and got on the bus?

Peter shoved the bus itinerary into his pocket, abandoned the backpack on the bench, and strode down the street to the bus depot. Peter paused a moment before he entered the bus station so that he could assume his pitiful uncle looking for his runaway niece posture. He walked into the building and made a show of looking around the room. With a worried look on his face, he walked up to the ticket counter.

Excuse me, sir, Peter said to the man behind the counter. I’m looking for my niece. Peter pulled a creased photo of Samantha out of his pocket and handed it to the man who looked closely at it and then scrutinized Peter.

Why are you looking for her? the man behind the counter asked.

She ran away from home, and I promised her mother I’d find her, Peter said.

The man looked closely at the photo and then handed it back to Peter. She looks a little old to be a runaway, he said.

Peter’s frustration threatened to bubble over and ruin his worried Uncle façade. He slowly tucked the photo back into his pocket using the time to push down his agitation.

She looks older than she is, Peter said. Have you seen her?

Now what would your niece be doing in our little mountain town? the man asked.

Peter gritted his teeth in annoyance, he really wanted to smack this small town hick, but he couldn’t afford to break character. She bought a ticket for a bus that stopped here. I had hoped that someone here had seen her.

Nope, I didn’t see her, the man behind the counter said, and he turned his back to Peter signaling that the conversation was over.

Peter stood in shock staring at the man’s back; he wasn’t used to anyone treating him with such disrespect.

Let me see the picture, a woman’s voice said, and Peter turned to see an older woman holding out her hand.

Madge, the man behind the counter said in a warning voice.

Oh shut up Samuel. The man’s just trying to find his niece, the woman said.

This is none of your business, Samuel said.

It’s not going to hurt to look, is it? Madge asked.

No ma’am, Peter said as he pushed the photo into Madge’s outstretched hand. Madge looked at the photo of a serious looking young woman with short blond hair and intense green eyes.

Oh, she’s a pretty thing, Madge said.

Thank you, Peter said softly, although inside he was seething with impatience and anger.

Madge studied the picture and then nodded her head. I think I did see her, she got on a bus about ten minutes ago.

Are you sure? Peter asked urgently.

Pretty sure, Madge said as she handed the picture back to Peter.

Samuel made a disgusted sound and Madge turned to him angrily. The world’s not a safe place for pretty young girls, you know that.

Yes I do, Samuel said shooting Peter a sharp look. You know if your niece is a runaway, we should let the local sheriff know that you’re here in town looking for her. He could probably help.

Peter’s gut clenched and he shook his head. No, it’s probably too late. If Madge saw her get on a bus, I’m sure she’s long gone.

I’ll just give him a call, maybe he could take you up the road to the next stop, Samuel said as he reached for the phone.

I said no, Peter said with a sharp voice.

Samuel and Madge exchanged a look, and Samuel picked up the phone as Peter began walking to the door. Thank you for your time, Peter said over his shoulder as he made his escape.

That bitch has better be on that bus, Peter thought as he started his car and quickly headed out of town. He knew that his time in Bountiful was over.

Samantha groaned as she rolled over in her sleep. Oh God, she thought, what did I do yesterday to make my body ache like this? And why is my bed so hard?

Samantha cracked her eyes open and looked around the room. She was lying on a concrete floor, next to a small cocktail table with a couple of chairs, but she couldn’t see beyond the table because the light was too dim. She turned her head to look for the light source in the hope that she could turn it up, but what she saw made her memory return in a painful rush. The light was leaking around the edges of two doors set in the ceiling above a set of broken steps.

Oh shit, Samantha said as the memory of her wild run through the woods rushed back. She struggled to stand up but only made it to a sitting position where she clutched her aching head between her hands. Shit, she groaned as pain rushed through her head in waves, and she struggled not to throw up.

There is no need to curse, said a dignified female voice.

Samantha peered into the darkness trying to see the owner of the voice, but the area lit by the dim sunlight was too small.

Hello? Samantha called out gently, wincing as a sharp spike of pain drove into her temple.

Hello, the woman said, sounding closer. Samantha cracked her eyes open and looked into the darkness. She could see the dim outline of a lady standing by the little table.

Can you see me? the woman asked, and Samantha nodded.

Good, the woman said.

Samantha squinted as flickering candlelight brightened the room and she could see the woman more clearly. The woman was middle-aged, delicately built, and wore a beautiful vintage-styled housedress made out of blue fabric. Her graying hair was pulled up off her neck into a tight bun. The look of disdain she shot Samantha made her feel disheveled and unkempt.

Can you stand up? the woman asked, and Samantha slowly stood, clutching one of the chairs for support.

Have a seat, the woman offered and Samantha gratefully flopped into a chair. She watched as the other woman gracefully descended until she was sitting in the chair opposite her. The woman sat with her back ramrod straight and her hands folded demurely in her lap. Samantha knew that she was sitting across from a woman of refined tastes and upbringing, and she struggled to remember the etiquette lessons her parents had forced on her. She pulled her elbows off the table and placed her hands passively in her lap.

The woman nodded in approval before she spoke. "My name is Emogene Brennan-Henderson, I am the