Page 67 of A Haunting at Keystone Manor

“Hi, I’m looking for a therapist that does house calls?”

“What? Speak up whipper snapper, I can’t hear you. Damn millennials these days, ain’t got no manners.”

Millennials? I speak louder. “I’m looking for a therapist that does house calls!”

“House calls? What, you’re too lazy to get off your ass? Too busy playing on your little screened phones, are ya? That’s the problem with your generation; you’re all a bunch of spoiled little princesses. I’m eighty-seven. By the time I was your age, I was president of a fortune 500 company, and we didn’t need any therapy. This country is going to the dogs, I swear. Grow up, pussy—"

“Excuse me?!” I screech into the phone. “Listen here you old, miserable fuck, I need a therapist for me and my boyfriend. We’re dead, so we can’t leave the house—”

“Boyfriend, huh? No wonder you need a therapist, you’re both mentally ill. First, you got the kids ‘identifying’ as cats and pissing in litter boxes at school, and now apparently you can identify as a dead person. What are your pronouns?”

I slam the phone down, and stare at it in shock. What the fuck? Did I dial the right number?

I shake my head, deciding to take a break before resuming my search.

Chapter thirty-four

Confrontations

Alex

I sit at Brandon’s desk with my chin in my hands, thinking. There has to be someone out there willing to see Jake. Maybe I should try Craigslist. I don’t even know if that’s still a thing.

I perk up when I suddenly hear a muffled commotion coming from the lobby. Time to get back to work.

“Professionalism, Alex,” I remind myself. Conflict resolution has never been my strong suit, but I’m working on it. “You can’t threaten to send Sasha after all the problem guests.”

Walking into the lobby, I stop dead in my tracks at the sight of Elder Covington and two of his goons. One has Brandon by the arm and is dragging him out from behind the desk when one of our guests walks through the front door. He takes one look at the Russians and puts his hands up, slowly backing away before bolting to his car. Great, another bad review. Thankfully the Russians let him go.

“Hey man, watch it!” Brandon yelps as one of the Russians pats him down. He pulls a blunt from Brandon’s pocket and sticks it behind his ear. “That’s mine! You have to pay for that, bro. I only share with my homies, and you are not a homie.”

The Russian raises a hand like he’s about to backhand him, but Mr. Covington speaks up. “Now, now, Danil. We can resolve this without violence. Tie him up.”

He looks to me with those beady, black eyes of his. “Is anyone else here? My son?” I shake my head. It’s a lie. Seth is probably in the attic, and Jake is working out back. I pray that they stay hidden until these goons leave. I have no idea where Sasha is.

“Search the house, Victor. Make sure this little boy isn’t lying to us.” He looks to Danil, who is holding Brandon by the elbow. Brandon’s hands are tied in front of him, and my heart lurches at the sight. “Take that one into the basement. Put anyone else you find down there as well, but bring my son to me.”

I gasp as the Russians leave to search the hotel. “Please don’t hurt him,” I plead.

Mr. Covington turns his full attention to me, and it takes everything in me not to cower. “Why does it seem like every time there is trouble nowadays, I find you right in the middle of it?” he asks me.

“Fuck you!”

Mr. Covington looks like he’s about to respond to that, but a noise behind me catches his attention, and he smirks. I turn to see Victor hauling Jake roughly by the arm. His eyes go wide when he sees Mr. Covington. Sasha follows close behind them with his head down. What the fuck?

“Good to see you again, Sasha. Was anyone else in the house?” he asks Victor.

“No, boss. Just this one.” He pulls Jake in front of him and shoves him towards his father. They haven’t found Seth, then. Good.

“Check again. My boy is fond of playing games.” Victor nods and stops to whisper something in Sasha’s ear that makes him grimace before heading for the stairs. Fuck.

“Father, it’s good to see you again,” Jake says with a tremor in his voice. I watch as Sasha schools his expression and walks over to the reception desk, leaning against it and looking a little too at ease. My stomach sinks as the realization hits that he could have double crossed us.

“I’m not here to play games with you, boy. You’re going to come with me without making a scene. Then you’re going to sign the deed of this hotel over to me, as agreed. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you managed to give control of your trust over to one Brandon Sinclair. I shouldn’t be surprised, you are my son after all. That’s probably the smartest thing you’ve ever done. How did you manage to pull that one off?”

“Turns out I was never officially declared dead. On paper, I’m still alive, and I can do what I want. I guess that was an oversight on your part. You’re not as smart as you think you are.”

Jake takes a deep breath, mentally preparing what he’s going to say next, and I see Mr. Covington balling his fists, getting ready for a fight. I inch forward, ready to intervene if he tries to put his hands on Jake. “There’s been a change of plans. I’m not going anywhere with you, and I’m not giving you the hotel. I want to resolve this amicably, if that’s even possible for you. I’m tired of fighting with you.”