Dexter's Haunting by Shawn Lane

Author:Shawn Lane [Lane, Shawn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2018-09-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

I received no answer to my call, and for a moment, I wondered what I had even expected. The reminder that I didn’t believe in ghosts and hauntings began as a thought once more, but before it could fully form, it vanished.

Something was going on.

Rather than head upstairs to the bedroom, where I seemed to spend far too much time, I opened the cellar door. I flicked on the light and headed downstairs.

It was empty, of course. I had expected nothing less. And yet, I also could not entirely shake the feeling I was being watched by someone.

I stepped toward the photos still leaning against one of the walls, going through them once more. I had stopped at Dex’s picture the other day.

Now, I looked at the other pictures I had already viewed, the ones of the pool party guests. This second showed mostly women, though I saw a man or two amongst them, laughing and holding fancy drinks. They wore swimsuits in the old-fashioned style of the day.

Then, one of the women caught my eye, and my heart sped up. “It can’t be,” I whispered.

But the woman certainly appeared to be the same, albeit much younger here than when I had seen her by the dock.

Impossible. She couldn’t be the same woman. She would have to be well over one hundred years old, and though she had been elderly, she was not that old.

Perhaps a daughter or a granddaughter of the woman in the picture. It could explain why she knew so much of the story of the Manor and Dexter’s murdered lover.

Tearing my gaze from the photo, I thumbed through others. I had almost gotten to the end of the stack when I stopped on one of a man in a tuxedo similar to the one Dexter had been wearing in the picture I’d hung in the bedroom. The man’s tie was more like a normal bowtie than the one Dexter had been wearing. But—

I felt faint. I dropped the other pictures, still clutching this one as I stumbled backward.

“I loved that photograph of you.”

Turning, I saw Dexter leaning against the opposite wall, his pose and attire elegant-casual. Black slacks, white shirt, opened at the throat. He looked so damn alive and real.

“It’s-it’s not me,” I said, the effort to speak making my throat hurt.

Dex smiled. “Isn’t it? Doesn’t it look like you?”

“What trick is this?”

His smile faded, replaced by such sadness I nearly took another step back. “It’s no trick, Owen.”

“My name is Julian.”

He nodded. “Your current name, yes. In this incarnation of yourself. But when that picture was taken, your name was Owen.”

“That’s not possible. I only look a little like him. Hardly any resemblance at all.”

Not true—I was a dead ringer for the man in the photo.

“That was a great night for me. For us. It was the first night we were together. After weeks of wanting each other, trying to pretend to everyone around us that we didn’t want each other, acting like we were expected.

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