Chapter Text
Part I
Adam Parrish hesitated before he shut the door to his locker. When he closed it, it would be for the last time. Adam wasn't one for sentimentality, but even he couldn't ignore the significance of the moment. He stared into the empty space inside the locker, listening to the seniors around him celebrating the last day of school before graduation, and wondered why he felt a bit sad.
On his first day at the prestigious school, the Headmaster had invited him to his office. Excited and eager to please, Adam had rushed to the office. Headmaster Child had sat behind a large oak desk, with his Ivy League diplomas on display behind him, and told Adam, "This is an exceptional opportunity for you, son. The Aglionby Alumni Association are compassionate and generous to offer a scholarship to disadvantaged young men, like yourself, who show initiative and potential. I want to remind you that the scholarship is conditional and can be revoked at any time. Though your academic record to date is outstanding, you might find yourself behind some of the other students given the - well, the different degree of primary school education you've received. There will be no exceptions made for you because of that. No one will feel sorry for you at this school. You are expected to maintain the required grade point average and participate in the necessary school programs and activities in order to keep the scholarship that you have been gifted. If you don't, there are plenty of other boys who will gladly take your place."
Adam's welcome to Aglionby could be summed up as 'Here's our handout, poor barely educated trailer park trash. Don't fuck it up.' By that time in Adam's young life, he had learned how to restrain his resentment towards people who put him down. He had reacted with a smile and said, 'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.'
It wasn't that he hated Aglionby. He didn't, not really. He knew he didn't owe the school, Child, or the Alumni Association anything. He'd worked harder than anyone else at this school and earned everything that he'd achieved. He'd worked three jobs to pay the partial tuition and to buy books and his uniform, and he still graduated at the top of the class.
Accomplishments didn't bring sadness. They brought pride. Adam decided that he was only feeling a healthy touch of nostalgia as he finished a chapter in his life. He closed his locker with a quiet click and headed down the hall. He had one more thing to do before he left.
He walked against the traffic of students headed towards the outside and to the summer of freedom. Some of them addressed him, yelling, "See you at graduation, Parrish!" or "Yo, you're going the wrong way, dickhead!" None of them were his friends. Their spoiled arrogance and their ignorance towards their own privilege offended him. It didn't matter. He hadn't been at Aglionby to make friends.
"Adam, hey, Adam!"
Richard Campbell Gansey III- or just Gansey- fell into step beside him. They weren't friends, but they'd studied together here and there, partnered in labs once or twice, and, a few times, Adam had helped Gansey get his car started. Gansey didn't offend Adam the same way the others did, which was odd, since Gansey was the textbook definition of the rich, white, privileged young male. Adam couldn't put his finger on precisely what it was. He felt like there was more to Gansey than his charismatic charm and rich and powerful parents.
"Hey, Gansey," Adam said as he transferred his backpack to his other shoulder.
Gansey clasped him on the shoulder. "I'm glad I got to see you before we left." He said it with such sincerity that, for a moment, Adam actually believed that he'd meant it. "Excited about Harvard?"
"Yeah – yeah. How about you? Did I hear that you got into Princeton and Cambridge?"
Gansey pushed up his glasses with his index finger. "Yeah, but I've decided to take a gap year."
Of course, someone like Gansey could afford to take a gap year, probably to sail his yacht along the French Riviera or to go clubbing in Ibiza. Adam chuckled. "Missionary work in Haiti? Maybe Kenya?"
Gansey looked confused. "What…? Oh, no. I'm, um, staying here."
"Here – at school?"
"No. Here in Henrietta."
Adam stopped walking. "Why?"
"I have some unfinished projects."
Adam shrugged. He didn't get it. He didn't care. He pointed to the classroom door behind him. "Well, I have to…"
"Sure." Gansey held out his hand. Adam shook it. And, for a moment, Adam thought that Gansey looked lonely. "Take care, Adam. I'd wish you luck at Harvard, but you don't need it. They're lucky to have you."
"Thanks. Have fun in your gap year."
"Hope to see you around," Gansey said while he turned and walked away. The halls had quieted. A few underclassmen sauntered slowly down the hall. Adam felt compelled to watch Gansey and the relaxed, casual way he jogged a few steps to catch up with them and easily started chatting about Aglionby's soccer team. Someone like Richard Campbell Gansey III could never be lonely, Adam thought. He'd clearly been mistaken.
"Adam!" Adam's history teacher and academic counselor, Mr. Gray, stood in the classroom door with his briefcase in his hand.
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," Adam said. "You're leaving. I can –"
"Don't worry about it." Mr. Gray stepped backward and waved Adam in. "I asked you to stop by."
Mr. Gray dropped his briefcase on his desk. Adam dropped his backpack on the floor and waved at a seat. "Is this going to be long? Should I sit?"
"No. I won't keep you. I'm sure you can't wait to get out of here." He popped open his briefcase and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Doing anything to celebrate?"
"A shift at Boyd's and then a late shift at the warehouse."
Mr. Gray looked sympathetic. It was a look that a few years ago Adam would've thought meant pity, but he'd spent enough time getting to know Mr. Gray that he knew it wasn't.
"Well, that's why I asked you to stop by. A summer job opportunity has come to my attention that I think would be perfect for you."
He handed Adam the paper. Adam unfolded it and read it. "A caretaker?" He looked at the paper again. "I know this place."
The property that people called the Barns was a large farm about twenty minutes outside of Henrietta. Adam had driven by it a few times while towing cars for his job at Boyd's auto repair shop. Only a few of the larger barns peeked over the dense woods surrounding the property.
Adam tapped the paper against his palm. He'd heard talk about the place. A murder happened there back in the 70s - or maybe the 80s. He didn't pay much attention to the gossip. "Isn't this the place that the locals think is haunted?"
Mr. Gray loosened the button on his dark gray blazer, leaned his hip against the desk, and crossed his arms over his chest. "That's the one. Is that a problem?"
"Might not be if the pay is right."
"I talked to the owner. He's offering a thousand dollars a week."
Adam felt lightheaded at that amount. All three of Adam's jobs didn't add up to a thousand dollars a week. In fact, all his jobs added up and doubled didn't add up to that much. He tried to do some calculations quickly in his head. "But my student loans. If my income is above –"
"Talk to the owner. All his info is there. He seems like a reasonable man. He might be willing to work with you. I already gave you a glowing reference."
"Sure. Okay. This would be a great – "
"And you have to live on the property full-time."
That made Adam's heart feel like it had stopped. He hadn't thought there would be any way to avoid having to endure the next few months living with his parents without them knowing that he was leaving at the end of August for Harvard. They hated that he went to a snooty high school, if they knew he was attending Harvard, he might not survive his father's reaction.
"Adam, if this doesn't work out, you can stay with me for the summer. And, if that makes you uncomfortable, you can stay at my girlfriend's house. Trust me, she has so many people living there, one more person would go unnoticed."
Mr. Gray had never asked about Adam's home life, and Adam had never told him. Still, he'd seen the flash of anger in his teacher's eyes when they passed over the bruises Adam wouldn’t hide.
"Thanks," Adam said. He wasn't sure what else to say. The offer had been so unexpected. "I'll – I'll think about it. But let's hope this works out." He reached down for his bag. "I have to go. I'll call him tomorrow. How'd you find out about this job anyway?"
"Maura, my girlfriend. She - well, she finds out about a lot of things that go on around here."
~ ~ ~
The Barns weren't exactly what Adam had expected. He'd imagined it gothic and decrepit with a Scooby-Doo haunted mansion vibe. It was decrepit, but the vibe was more of a 'quaint in a daisies and dandelions growing through the cracks way.'
Declan Lynch wasn't exactly what Adam had expected either. Again, with the absurd Scooby-Doo theme that had invaded his brain, he'd expected the owner of a haunted farm abandoned for decades to be a lot older, balder, and creepier. First, Declan Lynch wasn't that old. Adam guessed around fifty. Second, as Adam sat in the kitchen inside the charming farmhouse that was the heart of the Barns, 'creepy' certainly wasn't a word he would use to describe the attractive man, with a full head of dark, curly hair, sitting across from him.
"So, Harvard," Declan said. "Where else did you get in?"
"Penn."
Declan nodded. "Impressive." He flipped over Adam's resume. "Your major?"
“Physiology.”
“Pre-med, then.”
"Yes, sir."
"I spoke to your teacher Mr. Gray and Headmaster Child. Mr. Gray said you're intelligent and incredibly responsible for your age. Child said that you were the best scholarship student in your class."
"I was the best student in the class. Period," Adam replied, hoping he sounded confident and not bitter.
"Right," Declan said, nodding again. "I spoke to your friend too."
"My friend?"
"Gansey."
Hiding his surprise, Adam kept his face impassive and said, "Oh, Gansey. Of course. How do you know him?"
"I've done some work with his mother – the Senator – in D.C. When I heard that you went to Aglionby, I reached out to her assistant, and she put me in touch."
This was the way the world works. It wasn't all about money and education from the right schools. Connections and networks were just as important. Declan Lynch had them, and Adam now had an in with Declan Lynch. This job was proving to be even more lucrative.
"He couldn't stop singing your praises," Declan said. "Tell me, Adam, what do you do in your spare time?"
"I don't have any spare time, Mr. Lynch. I study, and, as you can see by my resume, I work."
"I see. Three jobs," Declan said without looking at the resume. "You're graduating tomorrow, right?" Adam nodded. "And, though this job will keep you busy enough, it's not three jobs. While you're living here, what will you do with your downtime?"
Adam understood now. Declan wanted to make sure that Adam wasn't going to be throwing parties or doing anything else inappropriate on the property. "I've enrolled in two courses in the summer session to get a head start on my intro courses. They'll keep me busy in my downtime." Declan appeared to be looking for more. Adam smiled and added, "And there are a ton of Netflix series that I have to catch up on." Adam had neither a subscription to Netflix or any idea what series they had that he'd want to watch, but he'd heard enough chatter about it at school to know that it'd make him sound normal.
"You're ambitious," Declan said.
It wasn't a question, but Adam answered it anyway. "Yes. I am."
"One last thing, you'll have to sign an NDA. Anything that you might find here on the property that's unusual or could feed into the local legends must not be given or shared with anyone."
"Unusual?"
"My father was, you could say, an inventor of sorts. I took great care in removing his inventions after we vacated the property, but, well, you know how it is - things have a way of falling in between the cracks."
"No problem. I'll sign the NDA. What about the contractors and the estate people – should I have them sign one too?"
"No," Declan replied, sounding like he'd already thought about it. "That'll make people look for something. Just… just, if anything strange occurs, try to handle it. If you can't – and don't worry if you can't, that’s a lot to ask – then let me know. Understand?"
"Yes, sir. Of course."
"Well, then, you've read over the job responsibilities, so you know what you're getting yourself into. If you don't have any issues, when can you –"
"We have a few things to work out regarding my salary." Declan listened to Adam's requirements: reduce the salary by two hundred dollars and add that money to the expense account provided for food and other expenses incurred. This would keep Adam's income low enough that it wouldn't risk him losing his grants and loans.
Declan looked impressed. "You have it all worked out. Your request is reasonable. Do you have any other issues or questions for me?"
"I don't have a car."
"I wondered. I noticed that you came here in your employer's tow truck. I can get you a pick-up truck. You'll need it to haul things anyway." Declan seemed to think of something. "How good of a mechanic are you?"
"I'm decent. I could pass the ASE."
"There's a car in the big gray barn. It hasn't run in years. If you can get it running, in your spare time and with your own money, it's yours. Consider it a bonus."
"Thanks. That's extremely generous of you."
"You'll be doing me a favor and taking it off my hands." Declan pushed back from the table and started to stand. "If there's nothing else, then –"
"I'll need a phone and a laptop to manage the contractors and estate movers."
"You don't have your – never mind. I'll provide both for you to be returned at the end of the summer. Anything else?"
"Why are you so easy to negotiate with and why are paying so much for this job? What's the catch?"
Declan settled back in the chair. The old chair looked solid, but it creaked under the shift in weight again. The kitchen in the farmhouse was a hipster's wet dream, filled with mason jars, real handmade solid wood furniture, mid-century appliances, and the refrigerator looked like it was from the '50s.
Declan noticed him looking at the fridge. "That thing was ancient by the time I was a kid. It still works, though. Don't make them like that anymore.
"Yeah. Anyway. You've heard of the local legends about this place. It's hard to find someone I think I can trust not to exploit that and spread around information that this place is haunted."
Adam wasn't entirely convinced that was the only reason. "Is it?"
"What? Is it haunted?" Declan laughed, trying to appear casual, but Adam had noticed the shift in him. Declan appeared a little less in control. "I don't believe in ghosts."
There felt like there was a 'but' hanging in the air. Adam took a chance. "But…?"
Declan looked at the table. After a few seconds, he smirked. "But, if I did, and there was anyone who would come back from the dead to be a royal pain in my ass, it would be my little brother."
~ ~ ~
Adam's father's voice boomed through the double-wide trailer. "Whose fucking truck is that?"
Adam finished folding his valedictorian stole and placed it in his suitcase. He smoothed the wrinkles out of the satin before closing the lid. He gripped the handle and pulled the suitcase off the bed. After taking one a long deep breath, he stepped out of his tiny bedroom and came face-to-face with his father.
His father looked at the suitcase in Adam's hand and sneered. "Where do you think you're going, boy?"
"You don't have to worry about taking care of me anymore, Dad. I'm leaving."
"Like hell you are. You're going to get a job with that fancy-ass degree you've got and pay me back for all the money that I wasted on you."
"Thank you, Dad, for the almost basic level of care you've given me."
Behind his father, his mother, still in her nightgown, snapped, "Don't talk to your father like that!"
Adam stepped to the side. "But I am leaving today."
His father had him pressed up against the fake wood paneling before Adam had finished his sentence.
Adam didn't flinch. He had written this script in his head for weeks now. His father's actions were predictable after all these years.
He looked his father in the eye and said, "This time, you're going to have to do more than just knock the hearing out of my ear, Dad. You're going to have to kill me. Because, if you don't, this time, I'm going to have you arrested."
The wall next to Adam's good ear cracked under his father's fist. "Where did you get that truck?"
"Let him leave, Robert," Adam's mother said. "He ain't nothing but trouble. It'll get worse now that he's got that snooty degree. Won't get him any better job than you've got, though."
His father spat his words in Adam's face. His breath smelled foul and faintly like beer and onions. "Not until he tells me where he got that fancy, expensive truck."
Adam smirked and lied to his father one last time. "It's my boyfriend's."
Robert Parrish let go of Adam like he was on fire. Taking advantage of his father's shock, Adam pushed passed him. He met his mother's eyes. Her mouth twisted in disgust, and she looked away. Without missing a step, Adam headed out the door and into the sleek, new black truck Declan Lynch had provided him.
It wasn't until he put his hands on the steering wheel that he realized they were shaking.
Yesterday, Adam had graduated from Aglionby with a degree and a first-class ticket to future success, and he'd quit all three of his back-breaking, shitty jobs: the auto shop, the warehouse, and the factory.
Today, Adam severed the relationship with his abusive parents, and drove away from the confining, suffocating life inside of a trailer towards the wide, open spaces of the Barns, with everything he owned contained in one small suitcase sitting in the bed of the truck.
The truck had a new car smell and a sunroof. He didn't own it, but it made him feel proud that he'd earned the access to it. He opened the roof and all the windows and let the warm June air swirl around him. He drove like that all the way to the Barns, where he found Declan waiting for him on the porch to work out the final details.
Declan handed him a ring with a dozen or so keys of various sizes. "I'd like to tell you that they're all marked."
Adam took it and slipped the ring on his wrist like a bracelet.
"Water and electricity are turned on," Declan continued. "I've emailed you details for the money accounts. One is for expenses related to the property. The other is your personal expenses. I didn't come up with a system for you to submit receipts and invoices."
"No problem. I'll come up with something."
"No need to submit for your personal expense account. That's for whatever essentials you need. There are debit cards for both accounts on the table, along with a phone and laptop."
They both turned toward the sound of a car coming down the driveway. A cable provider truck appeared. Adam said, "They said it'll take a week or so to get the cables laid to get the internet and the landline up and running. I figured it was best to get them started right away."
"Good thinking. When do your courses start?"
"Not until the 20th."
"Well, I'll…" Declan pointed randomly over his shoulder. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out. I'll be in and out of Henrietta over the summer, so I can swing by."
"Business in the area?"
"No, my son's attending Aglionby in the fall. I'll be moving him and his mother downtown, after I find a suitable place." He saw Adam's eyes roam over his left hand and empty ring finger. "Divorced. My son has some issues that need attentive and careful parenting. We've stayed friendly for him."
"Why not just live here?"
Without hesitation, Declan replied, "Too big for us, and my ex isn't exactly the farm type. Well…" He pointed again randomly. "You know –" Behind Adam, the door to the farmhouse slammed shut. They both jumped and looked at it.
Adam shrugged. "The wind."
"Yeah. The wind," Declan said. He shrugged too and walked off the porch. "Well, time's money. I'll be seeing you, Parrish."
Three things happened at the exact same time: Declan started to back-up his dark blue Infiniti QX60; two guys got out of the cable truck, and one called out, "You Adam Parrish?"; and the kitchen window of the house shattered, sending glass flying onto the porch.
Declan drove away, unaware. Both men said, "Whoa!" The taller of the two walked forward. "Tire must've kicked up a rock."
"Yeah," Adam said, knowing that wasn't what had happened. The glass to the window fell outwards, if a rock from the driveway had shattered it, the glass would have fallen inward. Adam walked off the porch towards the technicians. He'd deal with the window later. Right now, he had a job to do.
~ ~ ~
Adam held the debit card in one hand and the new iPhone in the other. He'd never had access to money that was simply there for his needs. He felt powerful. He felt successful. He felt hungry.
He picked up the phone and did something that he'd always wanted to do – he ordered a pizza.
It took a while for the delivery guy to show up with a large pepperoni pizza and a two-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper. Adam met the delivery guy at the end of the driveway. On the way back, the truck filled with the smell of pizza, making Adam's stomach growl.
The pizza was greasy and only warm, and he didn't have any ice for the soda, but it was the best meal he'd ever had. He sat at the table eating and, using the new MacBook that Declan had left for him, created a system for organizing and tracking invoices. He also developed a template for an online project plan that Declan could follow for updates and started to populate it with key milestones.
There was still so much to do. He wanted to dive right into everything, but first, he had to settle into one of the bedrooms. He'd only been to the second floor once when Declan showed him around briefly the day of his interview. Declan had told Adam to pick whatever room he would feel most comfortable, which, after one look, Adam knew that it would be the master bedroom. It was almost as big as the entire trailer he'd grown up in and had everything he needed, except for a kitchen. In front of the large bay window was an antique Victorian solid oak rolltop desk with a swivel chair. It would be the perfect spot for him to sit and do work. He could live here all summer while he oversaw the rest of the house being emptied, cleaned, repaired, and upgraded.
He took his clothes out of his suitcase, left the things he wouldn't need in there, and slid it under the bed. He put the clothes away in a large vintage armoire that smelled musty and faintly of mothballs. He grabbed the new phone, opened a blank email, and typed in 'baking soda.' Walking around the room and assessing it made the list grow longer: sheets, a blanket, a pillow, towels, shampoo, toothpaste, and toilet paper. He definitely needed to stock up on supplies now.
He walked around the bathroom and kitchen, adding to the list. He searched for a washer and dryer, finding an avocado green matching pair in an alcove between the mudroom and the kitchen. The dryer didn't have a duct, and the hose connecting the washer to the water supply was rotted. He'd worry about washing his clothes later.
There was a 24/7 Walmart about forty minutes away. Adam drove there and got what he needed quickly. At the check-out, he swiped the card that Declan had given him and tensed up, waiting for the transaction to go through. Seeing 'Approved' pop up on the screen felt like hitting the lottery.
Driving back from Walmart, with the bed of the pickup truck full of things for his comfort, doubts that this was too good to be true crept into his mind. The negative thoughts became easier to ignore as he put the food away. This was real, he told himself. It only felt strange because his life had changed so quickly. The morning of his interview for the job, he'd eaten a small bag of stale chips for breakfast. Now, he could have eggs and bacon or milk and cereal. The store-brand, of course. He wasn't going crazy or anything.
He cleaned up the master bathroom and took the longest, hottest shower he'd ever taken while thinking about that big bed, with its ornate Victorian headboard and fresh, clean sheets, waiting for him in the other room. He'd never slept in a bedroom like this before, and it was all his for the next twelve weeks. Like the truck, he knew it wasn't really his, but he could enjoy it because he'd gained the right to it with hard work and intelligence.
When Adam slipped into bed, it was everything that he thought it would be. The new pillows he'd bought, though the next to the cheapest ones, were still comfortable and firm and so different from the single flat pillow his mother had allowed him to use at home. Home. The trailer. It wasn't home anymore. Of course, this wasn't his home either. It was only temporary shelter until he got to Harvard, but it was good enough. He fell asleep happy, imagining what his life would be like now, free from fear, free to be who he wanted to be, free to come and go as he pleased.
A clap of thunder woke Adam in the morning. The clock on his phone showed that he'd slept almost ten hours. He'd hadn't slept more than four hours straight in years.
The room felt colder than it should have, and, as Adam's sleep grogginess wore off, he realized one of the three windows was open. He was sure that he hadn't opened it the night before. He got out of bed, closed the window, and locked it. He inspected it. It was an old wooden window, and he thought maybe there was some termite damage, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The only logical possibility was that the unlocked window was open a crack, and the wind and the storm caused it to open further.
It wasn't an outrageous hypothesis, and Adam quickly forgot about it as he shifted his focus to the plans for the day. The rain was a problem. The cable guys wouldn't show up, and neither would the company he'd called to come out and fix the broken kitchen window. The rain hadn't ruined Adam's plan for the day. He could still explore the house and perform an inventory on each room. He started right after breakfast, beginning upstairs. He carried a notebook from room to room, cataloged every piece of furniture, lifted the sheets and inspected the items for any damages, and, if he found any, made notes of it. He checked under every piece of furniture and in every drawer and closet for any belongings, finding only minor things here and there - a bobby pin, a stapler, pens from hotel rooms – things like that.
In the bedroom farthest down the hall, a floorboard appeared loose around the bed. He moved the bed out of the way and pried the floorboard up to find a small stash of things: a pack of Marlboros with three cigarettes left inside; a lighter; a half-smoked joint; a black pin with a red anarchy symbol; three used patches, with string dangling from where they'd been sewn on something once; and a black and white photo of two teenagers, with neck tattoos and mohawks, kissing. He laid the patches out side by side. One said, 'The Clash.' The other two had 'Misfits' across the top. One with four skulls across the bottom, and the other had a woman with a skeleton head and 'die die my darling' embroidered next to it.
It felt wrong to throw these things out. These weren't random things. They had meant something to someone and that someone had placed them in this hiding spot with affection and purpose.
Adam placed everything back in the nook in the floor and went in search of a hammer to nail the floorboard down.
But even after he had carefully secured the items, he couldn't get them out of his mind. While he cataloged the rooms downstairs, his thoughts drifted to the photo or, more specifically, the unknown owner of it. He didn't know if the person, who had hid the picture, was one of the young men in it or if it had only been a photo for a teenager to fantasize with. But either way, it made Adam's work here feel different, more personal, and, now, he looked at the entire house differently.
There were only a few large rooms downstairs, and the furniture was sparse. One room – he now thought of as the music room - only had a piano. The living room had the most furniture and a fireplace. The dining room table had a few deep scratches on the top, and Adam found an old wad of gum stuck to its bottom. He started to wonder about the family who'd lived here at the time of the murder. Or had it been murders, plural? Declan had mentioned a brother. Had he been killed here? He wished he had paid more attention to the local talk about what had happened here.
He didn't inventory the kitchen, but he did heat up chicken soup for lunch. As he stood at the stove, between stirs, he tried to google some information about the incident that spurred the rumors about the Barns. He couldn't search anything. His phone kept flickering between one bar to 'no service.' He ate the soup at the table listening to the wind and the rain beating against the piece of wood that he'd nailed into the outside wall as a temporary fix for the broken window.
The contrast of the severe sounds of the storm outside and the thick silence of the house inside created a strong feeling of isolation, intensified by the knowledge that he had no way of contacting anyone. He laughed to himself, thinking that this really did seem like the perfect setting for a horror movie. It was a ridiculous thought. Still, after lunch, when Adam stood at the top of the basement stairs and looked down into the darkness, he decided that he would tackle the basement on a more cheerful day.
That left the attic. Adam decided to leave that as well and instead focus on getting the inventory into a spreadsheet, so he could start planning a schedule for the estate movers. Still hungry, he made himself a sandwich, poured himself a glass of milk, and headed up to the bedroom.
The first thing that Adam noticed when he entered the room was his suitcase opened and empty by the side of the bed. Briefly, he thought that he'd opened it and forgot, then his brain processed the rest of the room. All three windows were open, and rain poured inside. The armoire doors were also open, and his clothes were thrown around the room.
Every possible situation that led to this went through Adam's mind.
His father had found him and was messing with him. No. Robert Parrish wasn't this subtle.
Declan Lynch had really hired him as an unsuspecting participant in a reality show. No. That was highly unlikely. Adam had thoroughly read through the document he signed. Nothing in the document would protect Declan from legal repercussions if Adam was filmed without his knowledge.
Adam had entered a fugue state and did this himself. That was a possibility, but he hadn't felt like he'd lost track of time. He hadn't "woken up" somewhere without knowing how he got there.
And lastly, the one thing that Adam didn't want to believe but it made the most sense. He came to the inconceivable assumption that the Barns was, in fact, very, very haunted.
At the moment of his conclusion, the suitcase raised off the ground and hovered in mid-air for a few seconds before it flew out the window.
Adam's instincts kicked in. His brain shouted, 'Run. Get out!' He ran down the steps, grabbed the keys to the truck, and headed out the door. He started the car and put it in reverse.
He had no place to go.
He slammed the shift back to park.
He could take Mr. Gray up on his offer. That still left him jobless. Boyd might take him back, but the factory and the warehouse wouldn't.
Adam had never run from anything in his life. He'd attended Aglionby even though he knew it would bring his father's wrath down upon him. He'd walked among the elite boys of Aglionby wearing a second-hand uniform and a backpack from Goodwill. He'd listened to the sniggers of his schoolmates every time he'd answered a question in his thick, poor-white-trash Virginia accent, yet he never stopped raising his hand.
Adam had never run from anything in his life. And he wasn't going to run away from this.
He sat in the truck and processed it all. Ghosts were real. A spirit was currently inhabiting the Barns. A ghost that seemed to be nothing more than a bully.
He knew how to handle bullies.
When his heart rate slowed, he got out and walked around the side of the house to retrieve his suitcase.
Back in the house, he walked straight to the bedroom. Calmly, he closed the window, fetched towels from the bathroom, and laid them on the floor to mop up the rain. Humming softly, he walked around the room picking up his clothes, folded them into a neat pile, and put the pile back into the armoire. He panicked slightly when he couldn’t find his diploma, valedictorian sash, and honor cords, but he eventually found them under the bed. They went back into the suitcase, which he shoved back under the bed before heading downstairs to wash and dry the towels.
When he came back upstairs, he found the room in shambles again, forcing Adam to entirely accept the fact that ghosts were real, and one was currently being a real pain in his ass. He cleaned it up again with the same casual coolness, even if he was boiling inside with frustration.
He needed this job. He'd clean up this room a hundred times a day if it meant keeping it. This ghost would not beat him.