Читать книгу Darkwood Manor - Jenna Ryan - Страница 9

The road that wound northward along the rocky Maine coast felt slick beneath the tires of David Morris Gimbel’s vintage Corvette.

He grinned as the car jumped forward. You couldn’t do speeds like this in the city, and a vehicle needed to stretch its legs every now and then. Plus the text message he’d received that afternoon had sounded urgent. He was considering the implications when his cell phone interrupted.

He glanced at the screen. “I’m twenty miles away, Haden. More problems?”

“Lights winking off and on,” the man on the other end responded. “I’ve been hearing moans and thumps, too. Then, not five minutes ago, a wail that made every hair on my body stand up. Saw a shadow on the cliff, but it disappeared when the wail started.”

David navigated a hard corner one-handed, squinted into the misty night. “Shadows are made by people. So are noises and light switches. Wail could’ve been a dog hunting for a mate.”

“I’ve had three dogs in my time, Gimbel. None of ’em ever made a sound like that.”

“Nineteen miles.” David scoped the road before him. Unless his mental GPS had been thrown off by the moonless September night, he was two wide turns away from Cemetery Point. He gunned it through number one and strove for patience.

“Lock your doors, draw your shades and pour a couple fingers of whiskey. The next sound you hear will be me screeching to a halt in front of your cottage.”

“I can hear you screeching from here,” the man retorted. “Aw, hell, I should’ve called my nephew instead of a nonbeliever like you.”

The tires slipped, but David didn’t back off the gas. “Since when do federal sharpshooters buy into the woo-woo scene? Pour the whiskey, Haden, and wait for my head—”

He broke off, swore sharply.

He heard Haden’s gruff “Gimbel? You there?” right before his cell phone landed on the floor.

The silhouette of the guardrail was a blur, but he figured the nose of his car hit it at more than three times the posted limit. If ghosts existed, he was about to find out.

Closing his eyes, he prayed his death wouldn’t be painful.