The Haunting of Wyatt House: Shadows in the Past, #3

By Mo Raven

Jodie Wyatt is missing. 

Nick, her husband and a police detective, is convinced that her disappearance is payback from a criminal he's put away. His son Josh knows differently. He has always been able to see and hear those on the other side, and he is certain that a malevolent spirit inhabits Wyatt House. 

But how can he convince his father? 

Josh finds an ally in his grandfather, Richard, and the two of them seek help from Katie Dyer, a paranormal investigator. 

Bit by bit, Katie and Josh work to put together the pieces of the puzzle—while Jodie's husband Nick stubbornly follows police procedure.

Meanwhile, at Wyatt House, the threat increases hour by hour.

It's a race against time to find Jodie, battling an invisible enemy all the way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Gem Publishing
• Release date: Nov 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781922772022

Book preview

Prologue

Wyatt House, 1895

Hidden behind the Evening Telegraph, Anna gritted her teeth. If she had to listen much longer to the rubbish being spouted by her husband and his equally inebriated friend, she would end up throwing something at them. What she desperately needed was a change of scenery. Or some decent entertainment.

Her eyes returned to the review of Wilde’s latest play.  

If we go to London next week, we should go to the theatre, she suggested, raising her voice to be heard over their slurred conversation. Politeness made her add: You could go with us, Walter. As long as you and George don’t nap through the same bits, we might manage an intelligent conversation about it afterwards. 

Walter’s visit had been the longest fortnight of her life, and she was eager to see him leave. 

I appreciate that you have given up trying to change me, her husband responded before draining his whiskey. He winked at Walter and said in a stage whisper, "I have the best time at a play; two solid hours of sleep. Both men laughed at his witticism before George asked, What’s the show?"

A new play by that fellow, Wilde. He’s witty; you like his plays. She tossed the paper aside and studied her companions. George, her sweet husband, was delighted to have his old school chum visiting; his cheeks were flushed, not just from the drink but from the nostalgia of the evening. His eyes shone brighter with each retelling of a childhood escapade. 

Her heart softened. He was enjoying it all so much; it was almost worth putting up with Walter. George’s friend was so serious and intense that just being in his presence was exhausting. Anna didn’t want to risk being drawn into a conversation with him again, so she stood to stretch, then moved to the piano and listlessly began a piece by Mozart.

Brace yourself, Walter, George teased, she’s going to try to impose a bit of culture on us.

In that case, I’m going to need a refill, Walter said, eyeing Anna and raising his empty glass. 

Hear, hear! George crossed the room to the crystal decanter on the table and eyed it with disfavour. Balls!

Anna frowned. Mind, George! Lady present. He always got a little vulgar when he’d had too much to drink.

So sorry, darling. He treated her to a goofy smile. Just noticed we are out of whiskey. I’ll have to go to the pantry and refill the decanter.

Anna’s fingers paused on the keys. Another full decanter of whisky? That meant she would have two drunken men stumbling around the house at all hours. No, I think not. She looked from one to the other. Or perhaps that is a sign that the evening should come to a natural conclusion? 

George shook his head. Too early, my dear. 

Much too early, Walter agreed. Well, get moving, man. We must have more libations.

I’ll be back in two shakes. George saluted then left with the decanter.

Anna sighed and continued to move slowly through the first movement. Walter crossed to her and leaned against the piano. He listened a moment in silence, studying her face as she concentrated on the sheet music before her.

Would you really welcome my company in London, Anna? Walter asked, his voice low and husky. Would you feel perfectly comfortable seated between myself and your husband in a public theatre?

Anna glanced at him briefly but continued to play, uneasily straightening in her seat. Walter always walked the line of impropriety. It might be a word or a look, nothing overt, but enough to make her uncomfortable. Are you fishing for a compliment, Walter? We’ve always been friends; I see no need to say more than that. 

"Is there more you could say, Anna?"

She stopped playing. There was something in his voice that made her feel nervous, and she wished that George hadn’t left. The line between Walter and common decency was rapidly disappearing. She smiled stiffly at her guest, then rose from the piano and moved to the sofa to straighten the discarded papers. You’re being silly, Walter. Perhaps you have had enough whiskey for one night—and perhaps should excuse yourself before anyone becomes embarrassed? 

She didn’t look at him but could hear his footsteps as he moved quickly and stood behind her. His breath on her neck made her itch, as though a spider were skittering down her skin. 

I find you infuriating, Anna. He moved a step closer. First, you cast me aside for George; then you invite me to stay in your home and to accompany you to London. What game are you playing?

She turned towards him, trying to swallow her anger. "I couldn’t cast aside something I never wanted in the first place. Listen to me, Walter Moss. I have never given you any sign of affection. Not then and not now. It was George who wanted you here."

He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her against him. "I had your father’s blessing, Anna. You were bound to me. You were to be mine." 

Disgusted, Anna tried to free herself. If either you or my father had ever taken the time to consult me, you would have known I could never love you. Never—

Violently he pushed his mouth onto hers. She felt his teeth pressing against her tight lips as she struggled to free her arms from his grasp, turning her head to get away from him. Walter forced one hand into her hair to turn her to him again. 

Her heart thumping in panic, Anna clawed at his face. When that had no effect, she shoved a thumb in his eye. 

Walter jerked back and pulled his hand from her hair to cradle his face. You vixen! His other hand tightened on her arm. Anna, struggling to get away from him, heard the rip of fabric.

Behind him, there was the sound of a door opening, and Anna heard her husband’s shocked voice. Walter!

The pins had come out of Anna’s hair, so it swung loosely over her shoulders, and the sleeve of her dress was torn at the shoulder. Now that George was back, Anna let her emotions go. With tears streaming down her face, she hit Walter’s hand to make him let her go. 

Reaching them, George threw whiskey from the decanter into Walter’s face and shoved him. Get out of my house. I don’t want to ever see you near my wife again, do you hear me?

Walter took a step back, his face tightening. He took out a handkerchief and slowly wiped the liquor from his face with his handkerchief before dabbing at his drenched clothes. A cruel smile broke out across his face, and a laugh rumbled deep in his throat.

He leaned close to George’s face. If it had taken you a few minutes longer to find your whiskey, I would have had her right here in your own living room.

George dropped the decanter and launched himself at Walter, closing both hands around his throat. The other man stumbled back towards the fireplace before regaining his footing and punching George in the ribs.

George doubled over, gasping for breath and then charged at Walter again with an enraged roar. Pinning him against the mantle, he pulled back to land another punch but then yelled in pain when Walter seized one of the fire-irons and slammed it into his leg. 

Stop it! Stop it! Anna picked up a glass and threw it at Walter, terrified for her husband. Walter’s wild sneer and mad eyes showed that he was capable of anything. When the glass missed and shattered on the floor, she seized a cushion and