Page 50 of In Her Memory

“I‘m at the police station in Piltdown. I’m safe.” Piper took a shaky breath. “Dad came to me in a vision, Jenna. He helped me remember.”

“Dad?” Jenna whispered. Did this mean that her sister had the same experience?

“I know it sounds crazy, but—” Piper stopped. When she spoke again, her voice had changed, taking on more urgency. “Listen, I know you’re working a case…”

“How could you possibly know—”

“Dad told me. He said to warn you: ‘Be careful of a ghost that’s not really a ghost.’”

Jenna gasped. Last night, in a lucid dream that had felt all too real, Pete Shannon’s spirit had warned her with eerily similar words: “Don’t believe in ghosts.”

“There’s more,” Piper continued. “My... my voices shared something with me. They said, ‘The walls are alive.’ I think they meant wherever you’re investigating now. They said to look for something small and black in a place where it shouldn’t be.”

Jenna struggled to make sense of what she was hearing. Piper had always been sensitive—perhaps more so than Jenna herself—but this was something else entirely. “Piper, are you sure—”

“I know how it sounds,” Piper cut in. “But the voices said you should know.”

Jenna took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll call Frank right now. He’ll come to Piltdown to get you. Wait for him right there in the police station.”

“Thank you.” The relief in Piper’s voice was palpable. “And Jenna? I’m sorry. For everything.”

“We’ll talk about it when you’re home,” Jenna said softly. “I love you, Piper.”

“Love you too.”

The call ended, and Jenna sat motionless, phone still clutched in her hand.

“Jenna?” Jake’s voice broke through her daze. He was crouched in front of her, his eyes filled with concern. “What happened? Who was that?”

“My sister,” Jenna said, the words feeling strange in her mouth. “It was Piper. She’s... she’s coming home.”

Understanding dawned in Jake’s eyes. He reached out, squeezing her hand. “That’s great, Jenna.”

She was still trying to process it all. With an effort, she pulled herself back to the present. There was a dead man in the room, a potential crime scene to secure, and a house full of people who needed to be questioned. And somehow, in the middle of it all, Piper had reached out with a warning strangely similar to one Jenna had received.

“I need to call Frank,” she said, already dialing. The call connected after two rings.

“Hi, Jenna Marie,” Frank’s voice came through, gruff but warm. “What’s going on?”

“Frank.” She kept her voice steady through force of will. “Piper’s in Piltdown. At the police station. She wants to come home and I’m tied up at Calloway House. There’s been another death here.”

The silence on the line stretched for several heartbeats, then: “I’m on my way to get Piper. I’ll leave right now.”

They clarified the location, and then the call ended. “What great news,” Jake commented. “And she’s fully aware of who she is?”

“Yes. That’s what she said.”

Jenna stood, tucked her phone away and forced herself back into professional mode. “I need to do my job here,” she muttered as she moved to the window, looking out at the grounds of Calloway House. The morning had grown brighter. From this height, she could see the edge of the forest that bordered the property, the trees a dark mass against the clear blue sky.

After a few moments, she turned back to the room, this time paying attention to the space itself rather than the body—the massive four-poster bed with its rumpled covers, the antique furniture, the heavy drapes. Everything was opulent, tasteful, and somehow oppressive.

Her eyes caught on the dark wooden paneling that covered the lower half of the walls. She’d noticed it before, of course, but now she looked at it with new attention.

The walls are alive.

Piper’s words echoed in her mind. What could that possibly mean? Jenna stood looking at the most decorative wall. The wood was rich and dark, polished to a soft sheen. She began to notice details she hadn’t before—an intricate inlay pattern woven throughout the paneling.

It was a vine motif, she realized, winding its way across the wall in an elaborate design. Thin lines of brass formed the stems and leaves, creating a delicate tracery against the dark wood—beautiful work, clearly done by a master craftsman. And nestled among the leaves were clusters of grapes, each one a small, rounded bead of mother-of-pearl that caught the light with a violet glow.