The Haunting at Sebring Hotel (A Riveting Haunted House Mystery Series Book 13) Read online

  The Haunting at Sebring Hotel

  J.S Donovan

  Contents

  1. Mirror, Mirror

  2. Hotel Deville

  3. Burn Notice

  4. Scrutiny

  5. Terror

  6. Accusation

  7. Cosmic

  8. The Guest

  9. Alley

  10. Redemption

  11. Woke Girl

  12. Check Out

  13. Blood, Sweat, and Tears

  14. The Kindness of a Stranger

  15. Silence

  16. Butterflies

  17. EMF Meter

  18. City on a Hill

  19. Darkest Hour

  20. Amenities

  21. Slasher

  22. Vanished

  23. Scorched

  24. Doubts

  25. Names

  26. Past Sins

  27. Suspicious Behavior

  28. Cherry

  29. Loveless

  30. Light and Dark

  31. Deadly Confession

  32. All Hallows Eve

  33. Unchained

  34. Concierge

  35. The Kitchen

  36. Scarred

  37. Meat Locker

  38. Dark Waters

  39. Closure

  About the Author

  Copyright 2019 All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means without prior written permission, except for brief excerpts in reviews or analysis

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  1

  Mirror, Mirror

  In the misty woods and under the star-speckled sky, the 1923 Art Deco hotel stood. Leafy vines crawled up its brick walls. Hidden from the naked eye, faded Masonic symbols and strange icon were etched into the brick awning and other parts of the exterior. A foggy glass pyramid capped the peak of the four-story structure. From a top-down view, one could see mismatched stones forming two overlapping circles in the woods. The obelisk-like hotel was erected at the center of the circles’ overlap. The initiated would know this architectural formation as the phallus of Osiris. To the rest of the sleeping world, it was a strange design choice by the hotel’s mysterious creator.

  In Suite 204, Alma Milford quietly rose from her bed. She yawned deeply. A strand of brown hair stuck to the corner of her mouth. She swiveled out of bed and accidentally stepped on her lover’s shoe.

  “Ow,” she mumbled, faint pings of pain throbbing in her bare foot. She looked over her shoulder. The man had his back to her. Covers cocooned his body. Alma pursed her lips. She used rationality to drown her shame. It’s a dog eat dog world. We all lie to get ahead. You’re just like everyone else. The amoral philosophy left her feeling empty and bitter. She walked to the window and parted the curtains.

  The rising sun bled its vibrant colors across the indigo sky. The Atlantic Ocean twinkled far beyond the surrounding woods. Just like in the postcard, a long line of maple trees flanked the only road to Club Blue. She didn’t know why the hotel had such an odd name. It seemed like horrible marketing on the owner’s behalf. Alas, Club Blue’s secrecy was its greatest selling point. Without an invitation, it was near impossible to find the place.

  After showering, Alma sat in front of the large desk mirror. She put on Chanel lipstick and popped her lips. The crimson shade nicely contrasted her glossy green dress.

  The man rose from her bed and grabbed his crumpled clothes off the floor. Alma’s attention stayed fixed on her reflection. The man behind her might as well have been out-of-focus. Partly dressed, he kissed the side of her neck. “See you tonight.”

  Alma smiled insincerely and watched the man’s reflection leave. She continued putting on her make-up, hoping that her beauty would hide the rot in her heart. She reached her hand into the decorative flowerpot on the desk and removed the micro camera.

  At midday, she arrived at one of Sebring’s fancy restaurants. There was a large divide between the rich and poor in the coastal northeastern town. The wealthy folks from the surrounding city used Sebring as a refuge from the stresses of the outer world. The lifelong residents were mostly crab fishers and workers in the lumberyard trapped in the town by low income.

  Holding her little purse close to her side, Alma stood in the restaurant’s entrance. The dim lights shined over quiet tables. A fireplace glowed at the center of the small lounge. She spotted the man in the three-piece suit. He waved her over.

  Alma joined him.

  “How was he?” Carl asked, a wicked smirk on his face.

  Alma smirked back. A sickening feeling pitted in her stomach. She opened her purse and removed the camera’s SD card.

  “No time for small talk? Then again, what can I expect? I’m not one of your clients,” Carl teased.

  She put the SD card on the tabletop and held it below two fingers. “Make the transfer.”

  “Tsk tsk.” Carl clicked his tongue. “Not until I see it.”

  “We’ve worked together enough to know I’m good for my word,” Alma replied.

  “And I’ve been around long enough to never pay for something that wasn’t vetted first,” Carl replied. He gestured to the card.

  Sighing, Alma slid it to him.

  He pulled out his phone and SD card reader. He pushed the card inside and fast-forwarded through the video. Carl chuckled. “His wife’s not gonna be happy when she sees this one.”

  Alma glanced around the restaurant, paranoid people were watching her. No one was, of course. Carl disconnected the SD card reader and slid it and his phone into his blazer’s inner pocket. Before he could take his hand out, Alma said, “The transfer.”

  “Right,” Carl said as if almost forgetting.

  He removed his cellphone, dialed a number, and told the person on the other end his bank router number. After a moment of waiting, he said, “Thirty thousand… yes… thank you.” He hung up. “Any other women in your position would get less than a tenth of that.”

  They’re not as good as me. Alma checked her banking app on the phone.

  Carl said, “It’ll take a few minutes.”

  Alma asked, “So who wants the video?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that,” Carl replied.

  “Higgins Capital?” Alma asked.

  “Not saying,” Carl lied.

  Alma hated the nature of her business. She’d screwed a lot of big-name people, literally and figuratively. Some wanted to kill her while others sacrificed everything they owned to be with her. She made sure never to see any of them again. Things were easier when her business was back home in Mexico. There were plenty of places for the elite to indulge themselves without anyone noticing. To them, Alma was just another pretty chica. In the States, she had to be more careful. She’d been in the northeast for a few years. Her handlers had created a nice profile for her. Currently, she was a wealthy socialite who was happy to discuss business with anyone.

  After two long minutes, the money appeared in her account. An invisible weight lifted off her shoulders.

  The waiter arrived. He placed the 18oz prime rib and loaded baked potato in front of Carl. The waiter turned to Alma. “And for you, ma’am?”

  “Not hungry,” Alma replied. She scooted out of the booth.

  Mouth full, Carl asked, “Where are you going?”

  Alma ignored his question. “Until next time, Carl.”

  “I look forward to it,” Carl replied, watching her leave. He stabbed his fork into a chunk of steak and took a bite. Watery blood trickled down his c
hin.

  Alma returned to her room. She started to pack her suitcase when a thought came to mind. There was a private party in the ballroom tonight. A lot of movers and shakers would be there. She’d get a chance to scope out her competition and maybe collect some dirt on Higgins Capital’s CEO. She needed leverage in case he tried to burn her. Thirty Gs was a drop in the bucket to these people, but they were still fickle when it came to spending money.

  Alma unpacked her bags. One more night, she promised herself. Be gone before sunrise.

  She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. It felt like someone was watching her from the other side. Alma set aside the paranoid feeling. She meditated until dinner.

  Wearing her vibrant green dress, she outshined the crowd. She flirted with the fat cats, said things that made them blush, and eventually took one back to her room. The man from last night was too drunk to notice. After getting the secret video she needed, she sent away Higgins’ CEO. The man was ignorant of his board’s plan to blackmail his rival. That made him an even better target for Alma if his people tried to betray her.

  After a few hours of rest, Alma grabbed her packed bags and headed out of the room. The second after she left, a part of the suite’s wall popped open, revealing a hidden door. A figure stepped out of the darkness. His gloved hand squeezed the knife’s hilt. He followed Alma.

  2

  Hotel Deville

  Anna Hall kept one hand on the steering wheel and drove farther away from her old life. She wore mustard-colored pants, a cardigan, a gold and white vertical striped shirt, and low black heels. Her hair matched her auburn eyes, and years of polite smiles left laugh lines on her pretty face. At forty-two years old, she never thought she’d get a fresh start, but here she was. Blue skies were above her head and the open road lay before her. Maine never looked more beautiful. She kept her attention on the road. Her spacious Kia Sorento cruised.

  Fourteen years old and youngest of Anna’s two boys, Asher sat in the back seat and played on his tablet. His skinny thumbs rapidly tapped the screen. His rectangular glasses captured harsh explosions and assault rifle muzzle flash. He wore a green polo, straight-legged jeans, and sneakers. His style hadn’t changed since sixth grade. He took a break from his game to use his asthma inhaler. He returned to his game without ever looking up. James’s death hit him hard. To be without a father at his age would leave a long-lasting effect. Anna heard his softs sobs through the walls at night but didn’t know how to comfort him. Anna’s oldest son was much more closed off.

  Having the front seat leaned back as far as it could go, seventeen-year-old Justin Hall watched the world blur by in the window. Methodical bass and obscene hip-hop leaked from his large headphones. He paid Anna no mind. The boy was tall and athletic. He wore a thin hoodie and a t-shirt with a woman’s lips and tongue sticking out, much like an adult version of the Rolling Stones icon. Justin’s hair was short and messy. He had a well-defined jawline, handsome dark eyes, and an uncaring expression. He has more walls up than Fort Knox. At any given time, she didn’t know if he was going to lash out or tell her he loved her.

  Anna’s heart ached. She wondered if her boys’ issues were a product of her parenting or the media-centric society around them. From day one, most Gen Z’ers had access to unlimited porn, smut, and trash that came with the internet. Anna fought vigilantly to keep their eyes and ears safe, but it was an uphill battle she failed daily. Asher was on the web more than his older brother. The asthmatic boy could go days glued to his computer screen, scrolling through endless social media feeds, playing the latest gory video game, or streaming Netflix’s darkest shows. His reclusive tendencies skyrocketed when he hit puberty last year. His many allergies might’ve gotten slightly better, but his social anxiety crept into most parts of his life. It doesn’t help that his older brother called him gay all the time. Asher wasn’t, but older brothers will do what brothers do.

  Unlike Asher, Justin would do everything he could to escape the house. Anna was supportive of that, but he never told her where he’d go and would come home smelling like pot. Anna confronted him a few times, but Justin backtalked. Though James could put the boy in line, his methods shook Anna. She glanced over to her eldest son, pondering if she spent enough time nurturing him. He was her firstborn, and unexpected at that. Once Asher came into the picture, frequent trips to the hospital consumed most of Anna and James’s time. Justin learned to fend for himself.

  “Hey,” Anna said.

  Justin’s music blocked her out.

  “Justin,” Anna said firmly.

  Seeing that her methods were failing, she started dancing to faint music leaking from his headphones. Asher noticed pretty quickly. Still playing his game, he bobbed his head to the steady thump of the bass. A good five seconds passed before Justin glanced over to her and then back to the window. He did a double-take and removed one headphone. His annoyance was palpable. “What?”

  Anna said, “I’m not allowed to say I love you?”

  Justin moved the speaker over his ear again and turned up the music.

  Asher shrugged.

  Anna chuckled.

  They drove by the wooden welcome sign for Sebring, Maine. A lighthouse was painted on the front. Population: 2344.

  Anna glanced at the rearview. “We’re almost there.”

  Classic New England homes and farmlands lined their trek. Autumn touched one leaf out of every hundred trees. Fall season seemed to hit here before anywhere else. Anna’s SUV rumbled as she drove over the downtown’s cobblestone roads. There were mom-and-pop restaurants, antique shops, a century-old butcher shop, and old brick buildings with blocky designs.

  They followed the road alongside the coast. The Atlantic Ocean hammered the rocky shores. The chilling waves smashed against the jagged stone. There was no sandy beach, and the 52 degrees Fahrenheit water dissuaded swimmers. A picturesque lighthouse stood on its own island two hundred yards from the short pier. As sunset drew closer, the lighthouse turned on and cast its rotating beam of light. The old cylindrical building connected to a small home. An elderly fisherman entered carrying a bucket of crabs.

  The road took Anna away from the ocean and through the woods. She turned down a single-lane street. Fat maple trees flanked both sides, forming a portal of sorts toward the grandiose four-story motel at the end. Anna’s excitement stirred as the building came into view. It was made of red brick and white stone. Vines climbed the walls and stopped just below the second floor. Stone pillars supported the grand awning fit for an ancient Roman temple. A glass pyramid shape capped the building but was barely visible from the road. The building looked like it belonged in New York City and deserved another twenty floors. But no. The strange structure was hidden away in the small coastal town of Sebring, virtually unknown to the world. Etched in stone in the beautiful awning were the words “Club Blue.” Two hexagrams made from two interlocking but oppositely oriented triangles were carved on either side of the words.

  Asher glanced up from his game. His eyes went wide in awe. “Whoa.”

  “Pretty cool, huh?” Anna replied.

  Two human-sized statues of bearded mermen flanked either side of the glass front doors. One held a trident and the other sounded a conch horn.

  Anna let the boys out and parked around the side. There were only six other vehicles at the extended-stay hotel. Anna entered the large lobby. Her heels clicked on the glossy tile floor. Beautiful wall lanterns and chandeliers illuminated the vast and tall room. The receptionist counter sat midway through the room and on the right wall. The entrance to an upscale, dimly lit but currently empty bar was opposite of the counter. Soft piano music drifted out of the bar and into the lobby. Open doors to the ballroom were at the back center of the room. On the same side as the counter but near the back of the room was the elevator and entrance to the stairway. The restrooms were nearby.

  Anna and her sons lingered at the empty front desk. Peeved to see no one was working, Justin dinged the desk bell. The sound e
choed off the walls. The place was grand, intricately detailed, and strangely empty.

  Justin took off his headphones. “Are they always this late?”

  “They know I’m coming,” Anna reassured him. Following the advice of a realtor friend, she had stopped by once before and fell absolutely in love with the place.

  Wearing a slim suit and having slicked-back grey hair and a thin mustache, the concierge arrived at the desk. The man was tall, gentleman-like, but also timid. His eyes were bloodshot. He wore a weary smile at the sight of Anna. As a night manager herself, it was not something you wanted to see. He said, “Good evening, Ms. Hall. I’m pleased you arrived safely from your journey.”

  “I have. The countryside is beautiful this time of year.” She put an arm around Asher. “This is my youngest, Asher. And that’s Justin.”

  Asher smiled awkwardly.

  Justin seemed uncaring.

  The corner of the concierge’s mouth twitched. “I’m sure you’d like the grand tour.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Anna said.

  The concierge sifted through his key ring and found a key that was old and small. He walked to the bar. “Club Blue has maintained its same level of excellence since its inception in 1923. Staying true to Marco Blanc’s vision, we’ve avoided electronic locks and a modern redesign in favor of something more classical. Here is the lounge, a favorite among our patrons.”