Dare to Tell

By Tara Fox Hall

Urban single woman Jean Bane denies her dreams and ghostly visitations of impending death until a horrific active shooter event clarifies the messages as portents. In the aftermath, more ghosts visit Jean, saving her yet again in a car accident and asking for her to “come to Evergreen Hall”, to “bring it to justice”.

Dreading their requests for aid, Jean ignores the ghosts and tries to go back to her former life. But after ghostly interference saves her life a third time, Jean leaves her boyfriend and friends for the small town of Blodgett Mills, to help restore the old estate called Evergreen Hall.

The new owner Carlton Fairhaven IV, real estate developer and recovering alcoholic, has grand plans for the family property, including transforming it into a bed and breakfast capitalizing on the Fairhaven family’s colorful history while downplaying the double series of murders of young girls decades before. But the crumbling mansion has ghosts of its own, many of which have witnessed or committed murder.

When local young women began to go missing as they did ten years prior, Jean must decide if she dares to expose the hidden truth that has long festered within Evergreen Hall.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melange Books, LLC
• Release date: Aug 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886531565

Book preview

One

The man lay where the explosion had thrown him, the folded body shaking all over slightly, as if from cold. But the skin on his blistered fingers was smoking in the chill afternoon air. I reached out to touch him, horrified. He feels like warm, wet cotton fabric. A melted strawman…

Jean woke with a gasp, her first breath a ragged moan. She began to cough, drawing air in rapidly, then bolted out of bed and ran to the sink, scrabbling for the faucet handles. She slopped some water into a glass, then drank it down. It wasn’t real. It was a dream. It didn’t happen.

Returning to bed, she grabbed a pen and notebook by the side of the bed, then made some notes. White barn with peeling paint, one story. Two sheds to the back, making a courtyard of sorts, with a flatbed truck in the middle that didn’t run. I was making a fire on the flatbed of the truck, to burn up old bales, but got distracted. The phone was ringing. The man had stopped by, I looked out and saw the whole truck was on fire. I yelled at him he was too close. I was just opening the door when the gas tank blew, knocking the guy off his feet, his face still surprised. The flatbed of the truck is slammed up against the barn side. It hangs there for a moment burning, then the metal frame collapses back leaving just a few flames. He was still alive, she said aloud, finishing the notation and putting aside the pen and paper. Another night, another horrific dream. Another note in my book of night horrors, and no end in sight.

She got dressed, then fixed breakfast, still thinking. Your therapist told you to write down what you dream, to understand what you’re afraid of that keeps haunting you. You have to give it time.

Jean drove to work still debating her dream. She was just sitting down in her cubicle when a coworker Stephan came up behind her. You look like the cat dragged you in.

Thanks a lot, Jean snapped, tossing her purse in her bottom drawer. Good morning to you, too, Stephan.

Sorry, I’m just concerned for you. His expression was sympathetic. I can’t deal with the old hag by myself, or the constant customer calls.

The phone in Jean’s cubicle began to ring, insistent. You were saying? Jean said, reaching for the phone.

Jean sat bolt upright in bed, breathing hard. It was just a dream. A weird dream, sure, not real. Stephan’s ex-wife was in an accident two years ago. She turned on the light, then dutifully grabbed her pen and paper.

She was here in my bedroom, asking me to save her daughter. I couldn’t remember her name. She just kept saying the same thing over and over. Save Angel. Save her from what?

You really should take some time off, Stephan said, as he grabbed his coat and turned off his computer. Old Grippe herself can’t argue that you need a good long weekend.

I can’t sleep, or I nightmare, Jean admitted bluntly, turning off her own computer. I don’t have any energy for anything anymore, Stephan. I’m lucky I live in a one-bedroom apartment with no pets and no dependents. I turned to therapy as a last resort and it’s not helping either.

Do you want to come out to the craft fair this weekend? Stephan offered with uncharacteristic shyness. Angel’s been looking forward to it all week. There’s supposed to be pony rides.

You’ve got the sweetest little girl, Jean said, managing a smile. But I really should spend the time job hunting. I meant to stay here at Spotlight Marketing only for a few years after college. Instead, it’s been five. I’m never going to get out of my one-bedroom apartment if I don’t put in some resumes.

You’re just vested, remember? Stephan said. Unlike me, that’s got another year. A shadow passed over his face. I was supposed to put Katheryn through school, then she was going to support us when I went to school. Instead, some drunk driver kills her a week from graduating. Then I find out she was planning to divorce me for her classmate.

I’m sorry, Jean murmured. You’ve had a raw deal.

We both have, Stephan said gently, resting his hand on hers. Your fiancée left you with no real explanation.

Don’t remind me, Jean said lightly, pulling her hand away. His mention of his ex-wife had brought back her dream, and the pleading eyes of the ghost. Katheryn, that was her name. Where’s the craft fair again?

At the Middle school gymnasium, tomorrow 10-5. We planned to go right when they open, stay an hour or two, then get a late lunch out. He held out his hands. Come on, it’ll be fun.

Okay, Jean said, immediately wishing she could call it back. Dating a coworker—because this was a date—was not a good idea. How about I meet you there? I can say I was sick and just not show.

Great! Look for us near the pony rides! Stephan paused for a moment, as if he might try to hug her, then left.

Stop! Jean shouted, waking in bed again. She turned on the light, then reached for her pen and paper.

A hand shot up and gripped hers, nails digging into her flesh as a head popped out from under the bed, the scalp askew and bloody, one eye hanging out on Katheryn’s face. Save her!

Jean woke with a scream, then carefully peered over the edge of the bed. Nothing was there. She lay back, breathing hard. Another dream of Katheryn asking me to save Angel, really two, counting that fake wake up at the end of the first. What am I supposed to save her from? Jean shouted, then pounded her pillow in frustration. Why are you haunting me? We weren’t friends! I didn’t even know your name!

Jean walked through the throngs of people, doubting again her choice to come after all to meet Stephan and Angel. I can’t take care of myself, I’m not ready to be a mother. She saw Stephan by the pony rides and made her way over to him. Hi.

I wasn’t sure you’d make it, Stephan said, his face breaking into a smile. Hi. He gestured to a little brown-haired girl. This is her third ride.

It’s good she’s having fun, Jean commented, watching the little girl beaming as she rode the pony around in a circle.

There’s not much here, Stephan murmured dismissively. We’re probably going to take off soon. Did you want to join us for lunch?

Sure, Jean said, again wishing she could bite back the words. She forced herself to smile. You need a little time off with people. Stop being such a hag, you’ll end up like Mrs. Grippe, a perpetually miserable woman who annoys everyone around her. Where did you want to go?

Stephan murmured something, but Jean ignored him, doing a double take. On the other side of the ponies, standing across from her, was Katheryn, her scalp still askew, eyeball hanging out, and her eyes pleading, looking from Jean to Angel, then back again.

I’m not dreaming. I’m awake.

Jean? What is it?

I’m awake. This is real.

Jean?

Jean pushed under the rope barrier, then ran to the pony Angel was riding.

Miss! You can’t be in here, the ticket woman shouted.

Jean stopped the pony, the other riders protesting, one toddler starting to wail.

Jean, what are you doing?

Get her down! she said, turning to Stephan. Hurry!

Stephan looked at her for a second, then grabbed hold of Angel, lifting her down from the pony’s back. Angel began to throw a tantrum.

You can’t leave the ride in the middle!

She’s my daughter and I’m taking her, Stephan shouted, then hefted a crying Angel out of the rope barrier. Jean followed, her face flaming, aware of all the hostile stares from everyone around her.

You want to tell me what just happened? Stephan said, in between trying to comfort Angel, who was now pouting.

You’re going to think I’m crazy, Jean began, But I saw—

Shots rang out. Screams followed, then more shots. Stephan grabbed Jean’s hand and both of them started to run. They were at Stephan’s car, just getting in, when the first police cars streamed into the parking lot, officers jumping out with guns drawn. Stephan floored the engine, going over the grass, and onto the street.

What happened? Jean said, when they pulled up at his house and were safe inside.

Angel, go play in your room while I heat up dinner, Stephan said.

I don’t want her to stay! Angel said, then ran out of the room.

Sorry, Stephan said, as he turned on the stove. She’s spoiled. And she doesn’t understand you saved her.

We don’t know what happened, Jean said evasively.

I know shots plus police response usually means an active shooter, Stephan said, getting out some eggs. I hope you like omelets.

Anything you want to make, Jean said, sitting down at the kitchen table. Your place is nice.

It’s single man bare bones with toys all over, Stephan replied. But thanks. Now, do you want to tell me how you knew something was going to happen?

Well, your dead wife came and warned me in dreams, and then she was on the other side of the pony ride, warning me at the craft fair. Jean braced herself for a challenge.

Thank you for saving Angel, Stephan said, chopping up some vegetables and mixing them with the egg.

Jean blinked at him. Aren’t you going to say anything else?

My daughter is alive and pouting in her room, and other kids maybe aren’t, Stephan said, tossing in a handful of broccoli. Why don’t you turn on the news or google the fair? They should have a preliminary report, if nothing more.

Jean whipped out her phone, thumbing buttons. She put it down ten minutes later, her face white. A man tried to kidnap his two kids, who were at the fair with his wife, her boyfriend, and her dad. He killed the two men, wounded the wife, and several other parents getting one of his kids. He shot several people who tried to intervene before the police got there. Several bullets went wild, killing one of the children riding, and wounding the pony it was on.

I thought of Katheryn as a bitch for so long, Stephan whispered. It’s good to know she gave a damn about Angel, even if she didn’t give a damn about me.

You believe me just like that?

I was there, I heard the shots. I’m safe and my daughter is safe. Stephan gave her a grateful look. I really don’t need to understand anything else.

That night, Jean was afraid to go back to her apartment, but she forced herself to. You did what she wanted you to do. It’s not like she’s going to be lying in wait like a ghost spider. She looked around her apartment carefully, but nothing was out of place.

It was a long time before she got to sleep.

The next morning, Jean went into the bathroom, relieved at having no dreams. When she turned on the bathroom light, she let out a screech. Thank you was written in lipstick on the mirror in disjointed block letters.

In the weeks that followed, Jean began to relax more and more with every full night of sleep that went by and no ghostly manifestations. Energized, she spent several weekends looking at possible jobs, and even sent in a few resumes.

Stephan had asked her out for a few more dates, always in daylight hours. At first, Jean had gone because she illogically worried if she did not that Katheryn’s ghost might come back. It took until the fourth date, a picnic at a park, for her to get the gumption to ask him, Are you still interested?

To his credit, Stephan didn’t make excuses. I like you, he said directly. But Angel needs to come first for me right now, and she’s made it obvious that she’s jealous. He reached out and squeezed her hand. I would tell you that didn’t matter, if I thought you wanted me for me. But you don’t, do you?

Jean looked away. I like hanging out with you, Stephan. But I’m not sure what I want. I meant what I said about wanting more than what I have now. I’ve been looking at jobs across the country. If they get back to me and say they’re interested, I really am considering going. She cleared her throat. I mean, I’m going to go.

I’m happy for you, Stephan encouraged. You should go.

You aren’t angry?

I’m glad I got to know you a little, that we spent time together. He smiled. And I’ll always be grateful.

Jean nodded, then changed the subject. She was just packing up the cooler when she felt a light touch on her hand. Sure that it was Stephan, she turned with a smile that became a grimace of utter terror.

Standing shoulder to shoulder was a thin man, almost emaciated, the bones of his face so pronounced they seemed as if they would poke through his tissue paper skin. Go, he growled at her, his head lowering like a bull about to charge, eyes boring into her. Go!

Jean let out a howl and stumbled backward, dropping the cooler and falling over a wooden step physical fitness station close to the ground, banging her ankle.

Stephan came running to her side. What is it?

We need to go, Jean said, looking fearfully around her. Right now.

That night, Jean texted Stephan before bed, saying one last time that she was fine and thanking him again for his concern. I can’t tell him I saw another ghost while I was awake, or that I don’t even know who this one was, much less what it wants. Nothing happened at the park tonight, I checked. What did its message mean?

In the morning, Jean checked her email first thing, planning on an easy Sunday of bingeing TV and eating ice cream after doing the one chore she’d vowed to do that day. But in her inbox was a letter from one of the companies she’d sent her resume to, asking for an in-person interview the following week. Wow, they even sent me a plane ticket, rental car voucher, and everything. She glanced at the calendar, then picked up the phone to call in sick to work for Monday.

Thank you, Miss Bane, the company rep said, as both he and Jean stood at the conclusion of the interview. We have another applicant to see today, but we appreciate you coming to see us. We’ll let you know before the end of the day.

Thank you, Jean said politely, then left the building. She walked to her rental car, and got in, starting it. Where to go? I already checked out of the hotel. I guess I’ll drive around town. My flight doesn’t leave for another four hours. If I’m going to live here, I should find out where everything is.

She drove around, locating the post office, the grocery stores (there were two), the pharmacy, a local discount chain store, and a small park. She stopped at a small diner-style restaurant, and enjoyed a mild BBQ chicken pizza, then stopped at a bakery for a loaf of fresh bread for the flight home and a brownie for now. She drove to the park and ate it in the car, as it began to rain. She was just finishing it when the passenger side of the car door opened, and a teen girl got in.

Hello, who are you? Jean said irritably, brushing crumbs off her blouse.

Martha, the girl said shyly. Sorry, do you mind if I just sit here a moment until it stops? It wasn’t supposed to rain today.

I guess, Jean said slowly. Have you lived here long?

All my life.

Can you tell me a little about the town?

Blodgett Mills? It’s a quiet town. But the people are nice, mostly. Only a few are bad. The girl looked out the window at the rain, which was now coming down in sheets.

She’s a little strange. Bad how?

I hope you stay, Martha added, still looking away. This town needs strong women.

Jean laughed. That’s not how I would describe myself. Why do you say that?

Everyone knows everyone here. Lots of people related to one another. It’s a good place for secrets. Men like to keep secrets, but they only can keep them if women keep silent, too.

You’re being strange, Jean commented, snorting then yawning. Are you here to warn me?

Just to say hi. It’s nice to meet new people, especially good people.

You just met me. You don’t know I’m good. I could be bad.

I know bad, Martha said in a low voice. You’re not bad.

Bad how?

Martha turned to face Jean, her plain face now old dry bone, a grinning skeleton with bits of dead skin and tufts of hair clinging to the scalp. Bad people do this, the thing croaked.

Jean let out a scream, then jolted awake in the front seat to the ringing of the cell phone on her lap. A quick check of the time told her that more than three and a half hours had passed. Dammit, I’m going to miss my flight! She started the car, then answered the phone as she was driving out of the parking lot. Hello?

Hi, Jean?

Yes?

Whatever came next was lost in a squeal of metal as a pickup truck slammed into the side of her car, the two vehicles overturning in a spray of glass.

Jean. Wake up, Jean.

Jean blinked her eyes, then recoiled from the figure sitting near her bed. Martha. You’re a ghost!

I never said I wasn’t, Martha said, raising her eyebrows. You shouldn’t drive and answer your phone.

How is it you’re talking to me…um, like a person?

You’re in a coma, Martha said, taking Jean’s hand forcefully. But you’ll come out of it soon. I meant what I said, Jean. We need you here. We need your help.

Who is we?

The ghosts of Evergreen Hall. It’s a large mansion that overlooks the town.

If you’re haunting a house, how are you here? Jean said, trying to clear her head.

You’re coming to, Martha said urgently, her hand like a vise now on Jean’s wrist. Please, come to Evergreen. The others are there, they can talk to you too, if you come. I was killed here in the town a few weeks ago. I’m stronger because I’m new. They’re all very old, faint like old wallpaper. They need you desperately, Jean. Please!

What do you want me to do? Jean managed, the cobwebs clearing from her mind.

You must bring it all to light, Martha said, as she faded from sight. Bring them to justice.

Jean opened her eyes. The hospital bed was the same, but Martha was gone. She sat up, then winced, rubbing at her temple where a large bandage lay.

How are you feeling? a nurse said, entering.

Am I okay? Jean said stupidly, trying to shove off her covers.

Now, now, lie still. The doctor will be in shortly.

A doctor came into the room, his attire like he stepped off the golf court. You took a serious head wound, but you don’t have a concussion, Mrs.—?

Miss Bane, Jean said. What happened?

Two drivers talking on their cell phones, the doctor barked at her. Jasper Henken’s got a broken finger, but the two of you got off relatively lightly.

Shit, I’m going to have to pay for the rental car, Jean sighed, lying back down. Thank God I got insurance.

The nurse hooked up the IV drip. There’s a sedative in there. Try to get some rest. You’re lucky you’re not in a coma.

I was in a coma, Jean whispered. A ghost came and talked to me.

You need to stay the night, the doctor said, then he left, followed by the nurse.

A man came in a few moments later, his finger splinted. I’m glad you’re all right. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you pull out.

I didn’t see you either, Jean admitted. We were very lucky.

It was more than that, Jasper murmured, his face pale. We had a couple of guardian angels looking out for us.

Yeah, mine’s name was Martha, Jean joked.

Jasper made a strangled noise, his eyes bugging out. What did you say?

I met a girl in the parking lot, right before I drove out and you crashed into me. She said her name was Martha. She asked for my help.

Funny you should say that, Jasper said, rooting in his back pocket. Because at the moment before I hit you, I felt the wheel jerked out of my hands, turning hard. Someone was with me in that truck. And they weren’t there when I came to. He handed her a picture of a teen with long light hair and freckles. Is this her?

Jean nodded, her mouth dry as a bone. Who is she?

Martha Henken. My daughter. Jasper put the photo away. I thought there was someone in the car with you, too. I got a glimpse of a man, really thin, almost like he was starving to death.

The thin man who told me to go. Did you know him?

Jasper shook his head. But I saw him. I’d guess he saved you the way Martha saved me.

How could she save you?

She jerked the wheel. I should have slammed straight into the side of your car, crushing you. Our vehicles hit wheel to wheel instead. Lots of glass all over, but your airbag saved you and mine saved me.

Where is she? Jean said. Martha? And why did she act like she was a ghost?

Because she’s dead, Jasper said, tears in his eyes. She is a ghost.

I’m so glad to be going home, even if it’s to a crummy apartment. Not getting the job is a disappointment, but also a big relief. Jean boarded her flight, then relaxed back in the seat. She was anxious at first that her dreams would be filled with ghosts, but her sleep was uninterrupted until the final ding of their descent to landing.

Jean unlocked her door with a sigh, then contemplated if she could take another day off of work. Probably not. It’s already Friday tomorrow with the hospital stay, talking to the insurance company about what happened, and then waiting for a return flight home. At least Jasper was nice and assumed all responsibility for the incident.

You owe him, her conscience said. You owe Martha.

I don’t owe anyone, Jean said aloud vehemently, as she got into bed. I never asked for this gift, and I don’t want it. Everyone can just leave me alone. She turned over and went to sleep.

"So, you’re alive and