Secrets to Tell Read online

  Stacy M. Jones

  Secrets to Tell

  First published by Stacy M. Jones 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Stacy M. Jones

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Stacy M. Jones asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Stacy M. Jones has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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  For Sara – your enthusiasm for my stories keeps me writing

  Contents

  Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  About the Author

  Also by Stacy M. Jones

  Acknowledgement

  Secrets to Tell would not have been created without a wonderful creative team working with me. A special thanks to Sharon Aponte with Chick & a Mouse Graphic Design for the great cover, and Dj Hendrickson for her invaluable editing and suggestions. A special thanks to all of the magical women who have shared their knowledge with me about crystals, ghosts and spells. And to all my readers and those who continue to support me on this journey – thank you.

  Chapter One

  Harper Ryan sat at a square table in the middle of her aunt’s shop – Hattie’s Cauldron: Potions & Pastries – in the Heights neighborhood of Little Rock. Her elbows rested on the table as she stared directly at the pointed amethyst stone that hung on a simple silver chain. Harper tried again to ask the pendulum her question. It didn’t budge.

  No matter how she asked or held the pendulum, Harper could not get it to move in any direction. It wouldn’t swing for yes or no. The stone sat frustratingly still, dangling right down the middle. Harper gave it a shake and then plopped the pendulum down on the table. She rested her head in her hands.

  “Are you still trying to ask if the Willow family will grant you an interview?” Harper’s Aunt Hattie asked from behind the counter.

  Harper mumbled into the table, “Yes, I’ve been trying to get this interview for months. It’s so frustrating. The patriarch of the family is so difficult. Now it’s even more complicated.”

  “Complicated is an understatement. Teddy Willow is dead.” Hattie’s friend Lottie tossed a spoon at Harper to get her attention. It missed her and clanged on the table and landed on the floor.

  Harper turned her head to the side and looked at her disapprovingly.

  Lottie, who was in her late sixties, close to Hattie’s age, was a regular at the shop. She led the in-crowd of older ladies in the Heights. “Seriously, Harper, I don’t know why you’d want an interview with them anyway. The house is haunted, and the family has been trouble dating back to Teddy’s father. Let well enough alone I say.”

  The one thing Harper failed at more than anything else was leaving well enough alone. It wasn’t in a journalist’s nature. Harper had been trying for months to get Theodore Willow II, who went by Teddy, to grant her the interview and tour of Willow House, a local historic plantation home that had been in the same family since it was constructed in the early 1800s. She had been hoping to land the interview for Rock City Life, the local lifestyle magazine in Little Rock. When Teddy had been found dead in Willow House earlier that week, Harper had reached out to his son, who went by Ted, with the same request. So far, no response.

  Harper had been consulting with Rock City Life since she moved to Little Rock earlier that year. She had, after all, been the editor-in-chief of her family’s more than hundred-and-twenty-year-old national lifestyle magazine, Charlotte, when she lived in Manhattan. Harper spent much of her life in New York City, until it all fell apart and she moved to live with her Aunt Hattie. She’d been in Little Rock for just about nine months.

  After Harper moved to Little Rock, Rock City Life’s editor-in-chief, Dan Barnes, asked her to help turn the magazine around. The job suited her, but it had not been an easy task. Before taking over the magazine, Dan had been the editor-in-chief of the city’s newspaper. He and Harper butted heads more than once about the kind of content the magazine should deliver. Overall though, despite the differences, they worked well together. It would just take time and major wins like the Willow House interview to really turn the publication around. Now with Teddy’s death, Harper thought the request looked even bleaker than before.

  Five nights ago, Teddy, who had lived at Willow House for all eighty-four years of his life, had passed away suspiciously. The news reports said he had fallen down the home’s front grand staircase. But like all things in Little Rock, rumors circulated quickly that the death was not an accident, but rather he’d been murdered. The medical examiner had the body.

  Harper had debated whether she should even follow up on her initial interview requests. She had figured it might be a good time to ask Ted, Teddy’s only remaining child, if Rock City Life could do a special tribute and highlight the home’s legacy. Harper knew it wasn’t the most appropriate time to make such a request, but the death was big news in Little Rock. Better than any publi
cation, Rock City Life could create a dynamic tribute to Teddy’s life.

  By all accounts that Harper could gather, Ted’s sons, Preston and Asher, had been living with their grandfather at Willow House. Ted had forsaken the family legacy for the oil fields long ago. The grandsons had moved in with the grandfather after they graduated college and had never left. Both Preston and Asher were in their thirties. Neither were married.

  Willow House, which sat on the western edge of the city, was the only one of its kind in Little Rock. Sure, there were other plantation homes and other historic architecture, but Willow House was the only historic home that never changed hands. It had only one family throughout its history. The home and the Willow family were as much a part of Little Rock’s history as anything else.

  The Willow House property had been purchased by Jefferson Willow in the early 1800s. By 1833, the land had been farmed and the grand home built. The Georgian architecture boasted eight forty-foot columns that lined the front of the massive three-story white home. Once farmland, most of the grounds now offered meticulous gardens cared for by groundskeepers. The long drive-way – which sat behind wrought iron gates that framed the house in the distance – was dotted with pecan trees.

  After the Civil War and brief occupation by Union soldiers, Willow House was returned to its former stately presence and had been kept up all of these years. It remained a family home though. There were no tours that were today common for former plantations in the south. No one used the space as a wedding venue. No one outside of the family and a handful of staff was ever provided access. The wrought iron gates remained closed. As such, it had long since been fodder for ghost stories, gossip, and scandal.

  Throughout the years, the Willow family had made their money in various ways. From farming to investments in steel and the railroad and then to commodities trading, real estate, and banking. They had their hands in a little bit of everything and their fortune grew.

  Everyone assumed that the entire estate was left to Ted, and no one really knew what he planned to do with Willow House. Over the years, he’d shown no interest in the property, but his sons, who had been living with their grandfather for years, certainly did. The question on everyone’s mind was if Willow House would go on the market or remain in the family.

  One thing was for certain, with the elder and eccentric Teddy now deceased, there were many in Little Rock who hoped to get a look behind the gates. If the tour and interview were granted, it would be a major win for Rock City Life. The struggling magazine desperately needed a win.

  Lottie waved to Hattie, asking for another blueberry scone that had been made fresh that morning. While Lottie waited, she turned her attention to Harper. “Seriously, Harper, you’re better off not getting involved with that family even for an interview. They are a weird bunch out there. Everyone who is anyone knows that. Nothing but scandal.”

  Harper barely registered Lottie’s words. Nothing was going to sway her. Her head snapped up though at the sound of her phone. Harper fished around in her purse, which was hooked on her chair. She received several text messages from Dan. He told her to immediately put on the news. The medical examiner had come back with their findings from Teddy Willow’s autopsy.

  Chapter Two

  “Hattie, can you turn on the television? Dan said there’s a news conference we need to watch.”

  Hattie searched behind the counter for the remote and turned on the barely-used television, flipping channels until she found a local one. The local news focused on Det. Tyson Granger, a detective with the Little Rock Police Department. He stood with other officers in front of Willow House.

  Harper had first met Det. Granger when he had been assigned to the murder case of Tucker Reese, Pulaski County’s lead prosecutor, who had been killed at the Saints & Sinners Ball on Hattie’s property earlier that year in February. Whether Det. Granger felt the same or not, Harper now considered him a friend. She just wasn’t sure if she was more friend or nuisance to him though.

  Harper left her chair and stood as close to the television as she could. She craned her neck to look up at the TV, which was mounted on the wall. Harper called over her shoulder, “Can you turn up the volume? I can barely hear what he’s saying.”

  With sufficient sound, Det. Granger sprung to life. He detailed the death of Teddy Willow. The man had been found at the base of the front staircase at Willow House. He had suffered several contusions, but it was the one on the back of his head that left no doubt about the manner of death. Teddy Willow had been murdered.

  Harper bounced on her toes, listening to Det. Granger detail more from the autopsy. They had no suspects at the time, but everyone in that house would be looked at closely. This included Ted and his wife Darby, and the grandsons, Preston and Asher, as well as Asher’s girlfriend, Violet, who had also been staying at the home for the last several months. There were groundskeepers at the home who would also be questioned.

  When the press conference ended, Hattie clicked it off. “I think you can assume your interview is now canceled.”

  Harper headed back to the table and sat down. “Why would you say that? I bet the family would be eager to garner some good press coverage now.” Sitting back down in her seat, Harper once again picked up her pendulum.

  Hattie stood over her. “Harper, you can’t be serious. They just said that the poor man was murdered in his home, probably by one of his grandsons. The family is never going to allow you access. If they don’t stop you, Det. Granger certainly will.”

  Harper ignored her aunt. She asked her pendulum again. Mentally, she begged and pleaded for an answer, but it wouldn’t budge. She dropped the stone on the table a little harder than she meant and rubbed her head in frustration.

  “No answer is still an answer, Harper. It’s the universe’s way of telling you to stay far away from this,” Hattie cautioned.

  Harper laid her head back down on her arms on the table in frustration. She definitely did not feel her supposed powers growing at all. The Ryans had a family legacy. All the women on the Ryan side of the family had magical powers – witches and psychics and such. All except Harper it seemed. At least that’s what she believed. Hattie believed something else. She was sure Harper had the gift.

  Since moving to Little Rock and living with her aunt, Harper was determined to uncover her magic. Only that was working out about as well as turning around Rock City Life. Always an over-achiever, starting life over at forty wasn’t exactly going as planned.

  Harper had been at it for months now. Spring had turned to summer and then into fall. It was the beginning of November. Harper didn’t feel like she had made any progress with anything. She had even done a special Halloween ritual Hattie had given her. She ended up blowing out the candle and digging into the enormous bowl of candy Hattie had kept by the front door for the kids. She was by all accounts a terrible witch or psychic or whatever she was supposed to call herself.

  “Maybe the pendulum just isn’t your thing,” Lottie offered, as she sipped her tea.

  Harper picked her head up. “What do you mean? If I have these powers as Hattie claims then why wouldn’t it work?”

  Lottie shrugged. “Aren’t there a lot of tools in your arsenal, Hattie?”

  Hattie, who had busied herself behind the counter, looked quizzically at her friend. “There are, but what are you getting at?”

  “Maybe it’s like anything. Harper might very well have the skill, but maybe the pendulum isn’t the right tool to tap into her ability. What else is there?”

  Hattie grabbed her cup from the counter and poured herself some coffee. She passed by Harper and gave her head a pat. She sat across from Lottie. “I started with the pendulum and then learned on my tarot cards. Eventually, I developed my clairvoyant ability, but that didn’t come right away. I have my book of spells, my grimoire, that’s been passed down for generations. That’s how most of the women in my family have learned. I’m not sure what else to teach.”

  “Aren’t th
ere all sorts of skills though?” Lottie pressed. She held her hand up and counted her fingers down. “There are people who are mediums who can speak to the dead. There are people who can read tea leaves and palms. There are people who use shells and bones like in Voodoo. When I looked on the internet, I was amazed at all that was out there.”

  Hattie laughed. “You’ve been researching.”

  “I thought it might help Harper. She’s clearly getting desperate.”

  Hattie tapped her finger on the table. “There are other tools from different practices. That’s true. I’m only familiar with what my family has done for generations. It’s not like there are conferences for practitioners.”

  “Maybe there should be,” Harper said dryly.

  “Can you see ghosts?” Lottie asked, leaning forward in her chair.

  “No, absolutely not.” Harper had no idea what Lottie was driving at, but the day she walked around seeing ghosts was the day she gave it all up. Ghosts weren’t for her.

  Lottie shrugged. “Well, we can cross that off the list. You aren’t a medium.”

  “Thankfully. I’d be happy never to develop that power.”

  Hattie continued to tap the table with her finger. “Harper, maybe there is something to what Lottie is saying. You’ve always had spot-on intuition without any tools. Maybe the pendulum is getting in the way of your natural ability. I had given it to you thinking it might help you tap into your ability easier, give you some grounding in it. I thought it would help provide a little more of a concrete foundation than what you had. My great-grandmother never used any cards or any tools though. Maybe your raw intuition is enough for you.”

  “I don’t know…” Harper said, shaking her head. “I think maybe it skipped a generation.”

  Hattie took another sip of her coffee and stood. “It didn’t. But you just hit on the problem. For any of this to work, with or without tools, you have to believe in yourself. Now, stop moping and get to work.”

  Harper sighed. “What I need to get to work on is figuring out how to get into Willow House now.”