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“It’s got postage right on it,” Cleo said, looking relieved to be back to the logistics of it all. “Just follow the directions and get it shipped off in the morning. It’s got a rush on it in the lab. It won’t be long.”
Ronnie nodded. “Did you guys eat? I have some leftover macaroni and cheese.”
“I’m making steaks,” Nick announced proudly.
“At the hotel?” Ronnie furrowed her brows. “That can’t be safe.”
Nick stood a little taller, proud of his plan. “We figured since we’re going to be staying around a little while longer, we’d rent something a little more accommodating. There was a cottage by the river we were able to grab for a few weeks.”
“What cottage?” Ronnie asked, her quick blinking eyes unsettling Nick.
“It’s like a hunting cottage or something. It’s off Old Mack Road. I don’t remember the number.” He considered fishing his phone out of his pocket, but Ronnie was already shaking her head wildly.
“Carter,” she called, a nervous tremble in her voice.
“What’s up,” he asked, rounding the corner in a hurry. “You okay?”
“They rented the Clementine Cottage.”
“No,” Carter gasped, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Ronnie to see if it was a joke. “Why would you do that?”
“Uh,” Nick stretched out the word, “it was one of the only places around that was open for a few weeks. Everything else is just weekend rentals. And most were filled up.”
“Why do they call it the Clementine Cottage?” Cleo asked, hugging her arms around herself the way she always did when she was nervous.
“It’s a good place,” Nick assured her. “You saw the pictures.”
“Ghosts don’t show up in pictures,” Ronnie said, her voice spooky and quiet but not playful. The seriousness left Nick confused.
“Ghosts?”
“Clementine Sullivan axed her whole family in that house in 1908. She lost her mind, went to live in the woods, and was never heard from again.” Ronnie and Carter exchanged a knowing look.
“Axed her family?” Cleo asked, looking uncharacteristically shaken up. “In that cottage?”
“You’re not seriously falling for this, are you?” Nick chuckled. “They are messing with us. The cottage is not haunted.”
“It certainly is.” Ronnie pulled out her phone and clicked until she found the website she was looking for. “The Clementine Cottage is a well-known spot around here. They laugh every time some tourist unknowingly books it, but they never stay very long.”
Cleo snatched the phone and read intently. Nick couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“You are the last person I would expect to believe in the paranormal.” Nick eyed her closely. “Everything in your life is planned and logical. You are wildly skeptical of everyone, and you won’t normally settle for anything less than cold hard facts. But this you believe?”
“There are plenty of documented accounts within the field of pseudo-science that relate to paranormal activity,” Cleo explained. “I am highly logical and thrive on facts, but I’m also not foolish enough to believe a field, like science, that’s been dominated by men for generations has everything all figured out. And also, ghosts give me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Did you just say heebie-jeebies?” Nick asked, putting a hand up to his head to see if he was running a fever or something. “I’m seeing a whole new side of you suddenly.”
“I don’t mess with things I can’t explain. We aren’t staying in that cottage.” Cleo handed the phone back to Ronnie with pleading eyes. “Can we stay here?”
“Of course,” Ronnie replied with a smile. “We can get creative. The couch is lumpy as hell, but—”
“Not a chance in hell,” Nick said, cutting his hand through the air. “I already paid for this cottage, and I’m a little tired of getting creative with everything we’ve had to do. Carter, please back me up here. This is crazy.”
“You don’t want my opinion,” Carter said, clearing his throat. “I peed my pants twice in that house when I was little. Carmen used to drag us in there and scare us half to death. It was her favorite pastime for a while.”
“Games,” Nick said, looking disappointed in him. “She was messing with you. I’m not going to let some old folklore make me sleep in Sammy’s sleeping bag on the hard floor. Cleo, please just trust me. Nothing is going to happen there.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, raising a serious brow at him.
