Page 17 of The Curse of Redwood
“She’s not,” I said. “You gotta let it go, Ben. Forget about her.”
His gaze lifted to mine. “Just like you can forget about Z?”
“That’s different. Z isn’t a wrathful spirit.”
Then, Z’s words came back to me.“If you ever truly thought I was pleasant, you were greatly mistaken.”
What had he meant by that? Had he been a horrible person while alive? Had he done terrible things in death? I recalled the dreams of Ezekiel and wondered if it was really Z. That would be impossible, though. There was no way I could’ve seen into his past.
An idea struck, and I downed the last of my coffee before bouncing in my seat with anticipation. “Hey, Ben? Are you okay with making a detour before I take you home?”
“What kind of detour?”
“To the library. I want to learn all I can about Redwood Manor.”
***
“Good morning, Florence,” Ben said, nodding to the older lady behind the front desk as we entered the library.
“Mr. Cross, good to see you again.” She greeted him with a warm smile before glaring at a man who was trying to print something. “You have to pay to use the printer, sir.”
I chuckled under my breath. Women both young and old had a thing for my best friend.
“Not a word,” Ben muttered, as we walked farther into the room.
Ben had experience in navigating the library, which was one reason I had invited him. I enjoyed researching morbid shit, but compared to Ben—who did this crap for a living—I was an amateur who had a thing or two to learn.
“Haven’t you already read everything there is to know about the mansion?” Ben asked.
“Only what I could find online,” I answered. “I’ve never come in here. When I was in school, teachers had to literally drag me into the library. I hated it so much. It’s so boring.”
A smile touched Ben’s lips. “You’re a walking contradiction. You hate reading, but you love research.”
“Not all research,” I said. “Just spooky stuff.”
“What are you wanting to look up first?” Ben walked over to the computer at the end of the row.
I pulled up an extra chair and sat beside him. “I already know when it was built, but I never saw anything about the original owners. That’s who the legends say triggered the curse.”
“Well, there are records of families from Ivy Grove dating back to when Theo lived. I’m sure they go even farther back too.” Ben pulled up a site and typed something into the search. His fingers moved so fast over the keys my eyes crossed as I tried to follow. He paused. “When did you say the mansion was built?”
“The 1840s.”
Ben nodded and typed something else. He then pulled up a photo of what looked to be an old deed. Instead of being called Redwood Manor, the words Warren Estate were written at the top.
“Warren?” I asked. “God. Where have I heard that before? That’s what the little boy called Z, but I feel like I knew it before then.”
Then it hit me: Ezekiel James Warren. That had been the name from my dream! As impossible as it seemed, I had somehow seen into Z’s past—or what I assumed was his past. The puzzle pieces were slowly sliding into place. But what did it all mean?
“What?” Ben asked, arching a brow at me.
“Does it say anything else about the Warren family?” I leaned toward the monitor, trying to read the small print on the deed. I sucked at reading cursive writing, though. “Did they have any kids? Grandkids? How long did they live there?”
“Let me look.” Ben’s fingers clacked at the keys before he brought up another page. “It says here that Arthur James Warren purchased the home in March of 1842. His wife was named Emeline, and they had one son. Oh wow.”
“What?
“Their son, Norman, fought in the Civil War at eighteen and was killed. Emeline grieved so heavily that she ended up taking her own life. Arthur remarried a woman named Alice Parrish in 1864, and they had a son named Ezekiel the following year.”
