Ghost Writer - Pandora Pine Page 0,74

better. You always need to leave room for improvement.” Cope sprinted up the front steps knowing Jude would be hot on his heels.

“Bullshit!” Jude called back. “If you’d said I was a ten, I could improve to an eleven.” Jude bounded up the stairs after him.

“Now you can improve to an eight!” Cope laughed, darting into the house.

This brief bit of levity made Cope feel less stressed, but as he climbed the stairs the weight of it pushed against him, seeming to slow his steps. He found himself hesitating at the door to his office. Part of him knew he needed to get in there and confront the situation, while another rarely seen version of himself wanted to run back down the stairs and into his husband’s arms.

Seeing the typewriter in the office brought everything back to him. Brooks Stanhope, Geneva Beecher, Father Radcliffe Musgrave and the atrocities that man inflicted upon gay members of the Salem community.

Cope had been speaking with spirits since high school. He’d considered it his job to help long before anyone paid him a penny for his services. It was time for him to get his ass in there and do his job.

“Brooks? Can you hear me?” Cope took a seat at his desk, rolling a new piece of typing paper into the machine. “Geneva told us about Father Musgrave. Now, I need to hear your side of the story. We think Musgrave may be holding other souls hostage in the house. I can’t help any of them until I know what happened to you.”

The room was filled with silence. Cope knew he needed to be patient with Brooks, but time was of the essence. Getting up from his chair, Cope headed for the door. He knew it was a dirty trick, but it had worked in the past, getting Brooks to engage with him.

He was out the door and nearly to the staircase, when a soft voice spoke from behind him.

“Cope?”

Stopping dead in his tracks, Cope turned to see a young man standing in the office door. He was wearing perfectly creased dress pants and a checked short sleeved shirt. Cope wasn’t an expert in history, but the man’s hair was styled like he’d seen in so many Hollywood movies from the 1950s.

He smiled at the young man, who looked so bright, and full of promise. “Brooks Stanhope, I presume?”

“Yes. It’s good to meet you at long last.” Brooks wrung his hands together, as his eyes darted around the room.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, but how is it that you’re able to appear to me now, rather than through the typewriter?” It may have seemed like a mean-spirited sort of question, but if Brooks had somehow been able to break away from his tormentor it might lead Cope to a way to set the captives spirits in that house free.

“I don’t know. I was going to try to type everything out for you on the machine, but somehow, I appeared in this room instead. Is this the home you share with your husband and son?” Brooks wore a stunned look on his face, as if he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his own mouth.

“Yes. This is our home. Jude is downstairs and our son, Wolf, is across the street at daycare.”

“Actually, I believe your husband is standing behind you.” Brooks smiled. It lit up his entire face. In that moment, Cope’s heart broke for the young man. Not only would he never know the kind of love and freedom Jude and Cope enjoyed, but there was a very good chance being gay was what got him killed.

When Cope turned, Jude was indeed standing behind him. He wore a look of surprise on his face. Without needing to ask, Cope knew Jude was able to see Brooks as well. “Jude, I’d like you to meet Brooks Stanhope.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Jude looked as if there were something else he wanted to say but seemed to be deferring to Cope, at the moment.

“What can you tell us about Father Musgrave and what happened in that house?” Cope would very much have liked to spend a bit more time chatting with the engaging young man. Something told him they weren’t going to have nearly enough time to speak about everything that needed to be said.

“Believe it or not, it all started with Nathaniel Beecher around the turn of the last century. He was having an affair with one of the servants.