CHAPTER FOUR
TWILIGHT HAD SETTLED OVER THE FLAT GRAY OCEAN AND THE TOWN along its shores, the last glimmer of sunlight fading. Sunderland had been settled in the year 685. In the fourteenth century it became a shipbuilding port; by 1815, the largest in the world. Today the city was an auto building center.
A long history of changes, Ran thought, over the years.
Standing next to Violet and Zane on the front porch of Eve St. Clair’s home, Ran studied the redbrick two-story. White trim outlined the windows, and the arched front door was also white. An interesting gabled roofline mirrored the smaller pointed roof over the porch.
Ran pushed the doorbell, and the sound echoed through the residence. Violet took a moment to straighten the wool jacket she wore with a long navy skirt and a pair of sturdy boots.
With his short dark hair and brown cargo pants, Zane stood with his back straight, a pistol in the shoulder holster beneath the brown bomber jacket he wore over a beige sweater.
He sliced Ran an unreadable glance as footsteps sounded on the opposite side of the door. This was all new to Zane. Ran inwardly smiled. This could turn into a very interesting evening for his newest team member.
The door swung open and Eve St. Clair stood in the opening. She was taller than Violet, maybe five-six. Violet was thinner, a willowy woman, while Eve was slender, but with attractively feminine curves. She was wearing a pair of stretch jeans and a light blue sweater. Glossy dark hair curled just past her shoulders, the shifting ruby highlights even more compelling than he had imagined.
Ran smiled. “Dr. St. Clair? I’m Ransom King. This is Violet Sutton and Zane Tanner. They’re part of our team.”
Eve smiled, her whole face lighting up. Ran felt a kick that was completely unexpected.
“I’m Eve. Thank you for making such a long journey. Please come in.”
They stepped into the entry beneath an old-fashioned frosted glass chandelier, and Eve closed the door behind them. Ran noticed her hands were shaking.
“I’m not sure how all of this works,” Eve said. “On the phone you said I should call you Ran.”
“We’re going to be working together, so yes, absolutely.”
“Would you like a tour of the house, or shall we go into the living room, where we can chat?”
“There’s no hurry,” Ran said. “Let’s sit down and talk for a while, maybe get to know each other a little.”
“All right.”
As Ran moved farther into the entry, he noticed a staircase down the hall, a living room off to the right, and a dining room off to the left. A philodendron spilled over a blue china pot in a plant stand near the door, and leafy plants in pots lined the hall.
Eve led them into the living room, furnished with a burgundy settee and two matching wingback chairs, protected here and there with delicate, white crocheted doilies. An old mahogany rocker sat by the fireplace. Burgundy flocked wallpaper covered the walls, and a brass lamp hung from the center of a molded ceiling.
Aside from the seating area in front of the hearth, the room was almost completely filled with antique furniture. In addition, there were knickknacks in display cases and bookshelves around the room filled with leather-bound volumes, along with silver-framed family photos on tables and pictures on the walls.
“Please make yourselves comfortable,” Eve said. “You’ll have to excuse the clutter down here. I’ve been able to get through the stuff upstairs, but these were my uncle’s most treasured possessions.” She glanced at the objects in the display cases and the photos on the walls. “I’m going through everything little by little, but I’m also working, and it’s a big job, not something my housekeeper can tackle.”
“Not a problem,” Ran said, moving toward one of the wingback chairs.
“I’ve given Mrs. Pennyworth the week off so you can work undisturbed.”
As Violet walked farther into the living room, her gaze swept the space and she began to sway on her feet. A fine-boned hand fluttered at the base of her throat. When she took a gasping breath, Zane latched on to her arm to steady her.
“You all right?” he asked, concern lining his forehead.
Violet nodded. “I just . . . I just need to sit for a moment.” Zane walked her over to the settee and urged her down.
Violet’s gaze went to Eve, whose face had gone paper white. “It’s all right. Sometimes when there are a lot of objects in the home . . .” Violet took a slow, calming breath. “How do I explain it? You see, everything in our world is made up of energy. I’m sensitive to many different forms. There is a lot of energy in this room.”
Eve frowned. “Are you . . . are you saying there are ghosts in here?”
Violet shook her head. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just feel the weight of the things around me. The older they are, the more energy they store.” She managed to smile. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
“I wonder if that could be the reason I . . .” Her words trailed off and she glanced away.
“The reason you what . . . ?” Ran prodded.
“Sometimes I feel as if the air in the room is pressing in on me. My chest clamps down and I feel light-headed. A couple of times, I actually thought I was going to faint. That’s the reason I’ve been working so hard to get my uncle’s items sorted and put away. I thought maybe the dust or mildew or something was the problem.”
“What was your home like in Boston?” Ran asked.
“In Boston, I lived in an apartment. The décor was minimal, sleek and modern, plenty of windows to let in sunlight. As a psychologist, I deal with people’s emotional baggage. Sometimes I get caught up in it. The simplicity of my surroundings helped to keep me balanced.”
Ran stored the information. He knew too much clutter visibly affected Violet. Perhaps Eve had sensitivities she didn’t yet understand.
Eve smiled again, a little brighter this time. “Would any of you care for something to drink? This is England. Perhaps a cup of tea?”
Zane started to shake his head, but Violet touched his arm. “It was a long flight over. Tea would be lovely.” Giving a person something to do helped relax them and build rapport, a lesson learned long ago.
Zane joined Violet on the sofa, and Ran settled back in his chair. A few minutes later, Eve returned with a silver tea tray holding a flowered teapot and four delicate cups and saucers. Violet and Ran declined sugar, while Zane took two lumps. Ran had a feeling Zane wasn’t much of a tea drinker.
Eve handed the tea around and her hand brushed his as he accepted the cup. A zing of awareness shot up his arm. Eve’s eyes met his and the surprise in them said she had felt it, too.
“Thank you,” Ran said, balancing the saucer on his knee as he leaned back in the chair. His gaze followed Eve, who sat down in a matching wing chair at the opposite end of the settee. With her ivory complexion, high cheekbones, and the slight bow at the top of her full pink lips, Eve was a beautiful woman.
She was also a client, he reminded himself.
His gaze went to Zane. Ran wondered what the investigator was thinking as he sat stiffly on the settee. Zane was way out of his comfort zone. He didn’t believe in any of this. Ran wondered if he thought Violet was faking her reaction to the clutter in the house.
“So what do we do now?” Eve asked.
Zane flicked Ran a glance, leaned over, and set his cup and saucer on the coffee table. “I’ll take a look around outside, make sure everything is secure.” There had been recent reports of crime in the area, one of the reasons Ran had brought Zane along.
Ran just nodded. As Zane left the house, Ran took a drink of his tea. Though he was basically a coffee drinker, Earl Grey was his favorite.
His gaze returned to Eve. “Why don’t you tell us about the voices,” he suggested. “That’s the way you described them when we spoke on the phone. You said it sounded like someone was speaking out in the hall.”
“Whispering,” Eve corrected. “Like two people whispering, or kind of murmuring. Sometimes they grew angry, sometimes it sounded a little like laughter, only not the good kind.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if she were cold, though the coal fire in the hearth actually made the room a little too warm.
“Did you recognize either of the speakers?” Ran asked. “Could it have been someone you know?”
“No, definitely not. I’d never heard the voices before I moved in. And they aren’t always the same. Some nights it’s as if there are several different speakers. Usually it sounds like two men talking, but once I thought I heard the voice of a woman.”
Beginning to get used to the weight of the clutter around her, Violet rose from the sofa. “Do you mind if I wander a bit? It would help if I could get a feel of the house.”
Eve rose from her chair. “I could show you around.”
“I’d rather take my time and just stroll,” Violet said. “If you don’t mind.”
“Of course. Please go ahead.”
Violet smiled. “Ran can keep you company while I’m gone. I won’t be long.”
* * *
It was dark outside the windows. Unease trickled through Eve as the hour grew later. She glanced across the living room to the tall man sitting opposite her, making her uncle’s burgundy wingback chair look small. Ransom King. Ran, he had insisted during their FaceTime call.
Needing a diversion, Eve rose from her chair. “I think I’ll move around a little before Violet comes back.”
Ran nodded, but his gaze remained sharp. Eve started for the hallway, passing the dining room on the opposite side, which had tall, old-fashioned doors that slid open on long brass runners.
She wandered toward the mahogany Chippendale table in the middle of the room, draped with a Belgian lace cloth. Eight matching chairs upholstered in patterned burgundy velvet surrounded it. A mahogany sideboard rested against the wall.
The room was much less cluttered than the living room and hadn’t been used in years. Once Uncle George had loved to entertain, but that had been long ago. They had grown apart after she had gone away to college. She was glad she had spent precious time with him before he passed.
Eve returned to the hallway, a central corridor with stairs leading up to the second floor. She’d started back toward the living room when she heard the murmur of voices. She hadn’t met King until tonight, but she’d spoken to him on the phone, and this voice wasn’t his. A second male voice began speaking, the tone harsher, bolder.
Goose bumps rose on her skin. Her pulse increased, began to pound in her ears. The whispering grew louder, an argument of some sort, then abruptly ceased. Freezing air rushed into the hall though the doors and windows were closed. Icy air stalled in her lungs and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
Light-headed, her heart hammering as if it tried to escape her chest, she leaned against the wall, knocking a porcelain vase off an ornate pedestal, sending the object crashing to the floor.
King appeared in the hall, took one look at her pale face, and strode toward her. Her knees went weak as he reached her, and he caught her around the waist before she hit the floor. He turned her into his arms, and Eve desperately hung on.
“I’m right here,” King said. “Just take it easy.”
She swallowed, tried to control her racing heart. “The dining room . . .” She pointed in that direction. “Let’s . . . let’s go in there.” It was the place downstairs she went when she needed a break from all the clutter.
She leaned against King as he guided her into the room, pulled out one of the dining chairs, and urged her down in the seat.
Violet appeared in the doorway. “What’s happened? What’s going on?”
Eve took a steadying breath and forced a wobbly smile. “Everything’s all right. I just . . . I heard them. I heard the voices.”
Violet looked at King.
“Did you hear them?” he asked her.
“No, but I was upstairs. I didn’t feel or hear much of anything.”
King looked down at Eve, his blue eyes intense.
“Did you hear them?” Eve asked, praying that he had, for the first time admitting how worried she was that the voices were only in her head.
King’s fierce blue gaze didn’t waver. “Actually, I believe I did.”
Eve closed her eyes and gripped her hands together in her lap. “Thank God.”
“God or the devil,” King said. “At this point, there’s no way to be sure.”