“There she is,” George called out. “Cyprus Manor.”
Mistake or not, it was too late to back out now. We’d arrived. I just hoped the lion—or whatever waited for us on the grounds—was kind to strangers.
“George sure was ready to get the hell out of here,” Jared muttered as we carted our belongings into the house.
After disposing of us and our stuff on the dock that had seen better days, Jared and I had to make multiple trips to lug it all inside—not giving us time to get acclimated to our surroundings.
“He sure was,” I mused as I set one of the generators at my feet.
Now we had a chance to breathe and take it all in, and the first thing I noted was how eerie it was.
“Do you hear that?” I asked.
Jared tipped his head to the side and listened. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly. Don’t you find that strange? It’s too quiet.”
There should’ve been birds chirping, the wind blowing, and mayapple branches swaying. But there was none of that. Everything was still, and it was unsettling to say the least. Not to mention that the longer I stood there, the more the grounds gave me the creeps. There was something off about the entire place, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I was sure by the time the weekend was over, I’d have my answer for that as well as other things—like what happened to Cassandra.
“I thought it’d be more beat up. I’m surprise at how good of condition the place is in,” Jared surmised as he looked around at the grounds.
“Me too.”
Yes, there was typical wear and tear on the house, given that it was so old. But for the most part, the manor was pretty much intact. There weren’t any rotted boards. The stairs didn’t creak under our feet as we ascended them. The huge wraparound porch was in damn near pristine condition. And we hadn’t even been inside yet.
“Ready?” I asked as I reached for the door handle.
“As I’ll ever be. Let’s see what the trespassers have done to this place. I will bet there is a least one mark of the beast painted on the walls. Maybe a drawn pentagram or Ouija board somewhere too.”
“What do I win if there isn’t?” I couldn’t help but ask.
It was probably wrong of me to do such a thing, especially since my tone came out more suggestive than I’d intended, but long boat rides and creepy manors in gator-infested bayous knocked down a few of my barriers.
“What do you want to win?” Jared tossed back to me.
I swallowed hard. “Um, loser makes dinner for the winner?” I suggested lamely.
The disappointed in his eyes was palpable, but he quickly recovered. “You’re on. Let’s see what we’re working with.”
“Deal.”
And with a twist of the knob, and as I pushed the door open, a loud creak filled the air. Then, I stepped over the threshold.
It was time for the investigation to begin.
6
Jared
Every house had a story to tell, and depending on the age of it, those stories could multiply, and the past could get as murky as the waters of the bayou. I was very curious about the stories of Cyprus Manor. The real stories, the history about the antebellum mansion, and how it came to be. The hushed whispers and campfire stories of the manor were fables, and I didn’t give a damn about those.
After carting everything into the house from the porch, Kade and I paused to catch our breath before finally allowing ourselves to look around.
“Wow,” I breathed as I spun in a slow circle, taking in the hardwood floors, faded and peeling wallpaper, and pausing to trace my eyes over the spiral staircase with ornate carvings.
“This place is gorgeous.”
My voice echoed off the walls as I walked toward another room and came to a stop when I saw I was in the middle of a library. There was a large desk positioned under an even larger picture window and aside from dust and cobwebs, it looked nearly brand-new. Built-in bookcases adorned two of the walls, and I noted how there were still knickknacks and even some books on the shelves.
I’d just reached out to touch a small globe, noticing how it was only covered in a thin layer of dust and nothing else, when I heard Kade’s voice behind me.
“This is fucking strange,” he said tersely as he stomped closer to me.
“What is?”
“This entire house. It’s old. It’s been unlived in for God only knows how long, and yet…”
“It looks like it just needs a good cleaning?” I suggested.
“Yes! It makes no sense. Has someone been squatting here?”
“I guess that’s something we’ll find out during our investigation.”
“We definitely will. And if there is, maybe they’ll know what happened to Cassandra Mayfield, if they aren’t the one responsible.”
I nodded and turned back to the bookcase, wanting to look at more of the items on the shelves, or pull a book to see what it was, but Kade spoke again.
“Let’s get the generators set up. It’s going to be dark soon, and we need to figure out sleeping arrangements.”
“There are probably at least three or four bedrooms upstairs. Maybe there are beds in them?”
But Kade was shaking his head. “I don’t know what condition those mattresses are in, and the thought of lying on something that has been sitting unused for years doesn’t sound too pleasing. And, I don’t think it’s a good idea to split up.”
“Why not?”
He shot me a look. “Despite there are alligators, and the fact this house doesn’t look like it’s in too much disrepair, it’s hard telling what other critters are lurking around—or people. No, it’d be best if we just used an air mattress and slept on it together in the living room.”
“T-together?” I choked out.
Kade narrowed his eyes. “On the same mattress. We each have a sleeping bag, right? So it’ll be okay.”
I nodded. “Right. You’re right. Let’s…let’s get everything sorted out and then we can finish walking around. I have a bet I’m trying to win, and so far, it looks like I’m not.”
“I hope you can make a good sandwich. I’m starving.”
“How can you mess up slapping cold cuts and cheese on some bread?”
“You’d be surprised. Come on, let’s go look around, and watch your step. This place might look safe, but there could be some weak spots.”
I followed him out of the library, but my mind wasn’t on weak spots, or even winning our bet. No, I was thinking about his response and wondering how many people made sandwiches—and other food—for him. Were they lovers? Friends? Was the food served in bed after a night of being tangled in the sheets? Or was it served as a romantic gesture before taking their dessert to the bedroom? Did they even make it to the bedroom?
I had to snap myself out of it. What Kade did and with whom was none of my business, and since he was nothing but my boss—and that was all he would ever be—I had no right to get jealous of his faceless ex-lovers. But if he’d been served a shitty sandwich in the past, then I’d have to work with what I had and make sure it was nearly gourmet. Besides, whoever the shitty sandwich makers were, they were in his past for a reason. And for the next few days, it was me who would be sharing an air mattress with him in an empty manor on a bayou—not someone else.