The White House Haunting, Warm Springs, Boise, Idaho

   Laura Anne knew Ashley wanted to kill her. He was the illegitimate son of her younger sister, now her only living relative. Ashley was an odd bird, living under the radar, off the grid. But her death had to be subtle and look natural, or Ashley would not inherit her $10 million estate. Anything untoward and the money would immediately go to the Boise City parks. An accident would do perfectly, but had to be a work of art.

   She sat up in bed and smiled thinly; there was that strange clicking sound. Other times there was the whistling, as the wind across the prairie just east of Laura Anne's beloved White House, the most elegant structure on Warm Springs Avenue, which hosted the Boise elite.
   Laura Anne cocked her head as she heard the strange moaning from somewhere in the house. Ashley was supposedly out for the evening and the old house's spirits were restless, tempting her downstairs. She sat back in bed and closed her eyes; she was so tired of the waiting. Tonight the two years were up and Laura Anne could finally find peace. It was almost midnight, time for Laura Anne to seek her tormentors, to put an end to the haunting.
   Downstairs, Ashley controlled his sound effects with a master switch, allowing him through Blue Tooth to activate the odd "click", the whistle of the prairie wind, or the strange moan from below Aunt Laura Anne's bedroom. He had to draw Auntie out of bed and downstairs. Ashley stiffened as he heard his Aunt call out for Miguel, her faithful servant. But Ashley had given Miguel the night off.
   Once again Ashley activated the faraway moan. He held his breath. Would she never get out of bed and come downstairs? He knew his Aunt Laura Anne was tough, with a will of iron, always hobbling along on her oak cane. Ashley tensed as he heard the upstairs creak, then a shuffling across the bedroom floor. Laura Anne was out of bed and on the move into the hall. Ashley clenched his fists. He heard her in the hallway, the tap of the cane recording her progress. Laura Anne paused at the top of the stairs; Ashley's heart fluttered with arrhythmia.
   And then there was a shrill scream and a terrible crash as Laura Anne tripped at the top of the stairs and came tumbling down the steep steps. She landed with a hideous crunch that twisted her head grotesquely. Her trusty cane bounced down the steps, clattering on the hard hall floor. Then all was silent.
    "Aunt Laura!" Ashley called, in case she was not dead. He ran to her side, taking out his dentist's mirror and holding it to her nose and mouth. No fog. Aunt Laura Anne was dead. Ashley raised his two arms in triumph. But no time for celebration, he raced upstairs and undid the taught twine that he had tied across the top steps that had sent his Aunt headlong down the stairs. He pocketed the twine, then called 911. There had been an accident: his Aunt had fallen down the steps and needed medical attention; please send help. Then Ashley went out on the porch to await the EMS.
    In the distance he heard the wail of the sirens, one, perhaps two. Ashley girded himself as the EMS approached. Then it all happened in a blur. Along with the EMS van there was a police car with a detective, who soothed Ashley as the EMS personnel ran into the house.
   Ashley explained to the detective that he had gone to the movie. He came home and found his Aunt at the bottom of the stairs, then he called for help.The detective told Ashley to wait while he went inside and conferred with the EMS. Ashley smiled to himself. He did go to the movie, but crept out after it started and came home for the haunting.
    Suddenly another car pulled into the drive, this time a late model Mercedes. A tall, patrician man climbed out and stared at Ashley, who instantly smelled lawyer. The man came forward and introduced himself as William Farnham, Laura Anne's attorney. Ashley was dumbstruck. Why the lawyer? There was time for that later.
   The detective came out and explained to the lawyer what had taken place. William looked at Ashley: "Your Aunt left you, as her only living relative, the bulk of her estate, probably worth around $10 million, maybe more now that the stock market is moving up."
   Ashley felt pins and needles; he desperately repressed a smile. He held on to the porch railing for fear of breaking into a jig. He breathed out and told Farnham there was would be time later for discussing the estate. Ashley's concern was for his dear Aunt.
    " Is she......? " Ashley asked.
    The detective looked at Farnham and caught the lawyer's eye. The lawyer and the detective stared at each other. Ashley stifled a sob, taking out his handkerchief and wiping his face. Where were the EMS people and when would they bring out the body? Ashley wanted them all to leave so he could visit Aunt Laura Anne's renown wine cellar.
   "The salient feature of the Will is that you," Farnham said, nodding toward Ashely, "have two years to claim the inheritance. If you do not make a claim within two years, then all the money goes to the Julia Davis and the Ann Morrison Parks."
    Ashley nodded, looking. "Two years? So we have plenty of time to work that out. Right now my concern is for my beloved Aunt."
   The lawyer and the detective looked at each other again, each at a loss for words.
   "Let's go inside." The detective finally said and ushered Ashley into the hallway where the EMS personnel were standing at the foot of the stairs. Ashley gaped, as he stood between the lawyer and the detective.
    "Where is my Aunt? What did you do with Aunt Laura Anne?"
    The EMS shrugged, looking bewildered. The detective spoke softly. "Your Aunt died here two years ago as you described, a fall down these very stairs."
   Ashley's demeanor changed, his eyes narrowed and darted around the room. "Where's the body?"
   The lawyer put his hand on Ashley's shoulder. "It's true, after Laura Anne's accident we did not know how to contact you. And no one knew you were living her now, or we could processed your inheritance claim."
   " But Miguel?" Ashley protested. "Ask Miguel, he was here today. I gave him the night off. Miguel knows Aunt Laura was alive this afternoon."
    The detective coughed and shook his head. "Miguel was devoted to your Aunt. Even though she left him a bequest, he shot himself six months after she died."
   Ashley's head spun and his thoughts raced. "Well, I am here now." He croaked.
   The lawyer looked at his watch and shook his head. " It is past midnight. The two years were up yesterday. As of today, all of Laura Anne's money goes to the Boise City Parks.

The Antique Shop, Downtown Nampa, Idaho

   Samantha turned the key in the lock and Willy appeared out of the morning shadows, pushing her into the antique mall and coffee house. Sam was terrified as she stumbled into the dark shop, but when she turned to to face the intruder, her fear evaporated. The young man was tall and thin, wearing a baseball cap, nervous, obviously diffident.
   "I stumbled." Willy explained in a high voice.
   Sam relaxed and looked longingly at the coffee corner. "We don't open until ten." Sam said, hoping to shoo the stranger out the open door of her antique and coffee shop.
   Willy nodded and explained that he wanted to buy the mannequin, pointing to the posed, young woman planted by the window. She was blond, blue eyed, and wearing a period-prairie dress.
   Sam was taken aback. She explained they sold antiques and coffee, and she doubted the owner would want to sell the mannequin, which was part of the decor of her antique display booth. But Willy pleaded, looking dreamily at the still mannequin. "Lydia is my soul mate."
   "Lydia?" Sam asked, raising her eyebrows.
   " Please, there is no harm to try."
   Later that day Sam approached the owner and to Sam's surprise the owner agreed to sell the mannequin for $150. But not a penny less, $150 firm. Willy returned later in the late afternoon and he agreed, but with payment conditions, asking that Sam and her colleague, George, deliver the mannequin to his rooming house three blocks away.
   The next day Sam and George drew stares as they carried the naked mannequin down the street to the Greystone Hotel, a once grand palace, now a rundown, long-term boarding house. They entered the dark, seedy building and slowly climbed the three floors, the stairs lit only by a single long, blue neon light. They knocked and Willy immediately opened the door. One moment Willy was happy to see them, but the next he was aghast that Sam and George had carried his precious mannequin naked through the streets.
   They entered the room and on one of the twin beds in the room was an outfit consisting of a demure charcoal suit and a white blouse, including lacy red under clothes. Willy proudly showed them the mannequin's new outfit. Lydia was starting a new life.
   Willy paid them in cash and Sam and George, feeling uneasy, quickly exited. George started down the hallway, but Sam lingered a moment as she heard excited voices. Putting her ear to the door, she heard Willy's high voice. Then the soft voice of a girl. George motioned for Sam to come and was startled when Sam joined him. "You look like you've seen a ghost." George said.
   Sam shook her head and they both ran down the dark stairway to the street level. They pushed open the big, heavy door and emerged with relief out into the sunlight, pausing to look up at Willy's windows. A young woman in a charcoal suit and white blouse stared down at them. She raised her hand to her lips and blew them each a kiss.
   The next day Samantha and George did not show up for work. Wags said they were an item and had eloped. They are now officially reported as missing.
   Later that week, the police retraced their steps to the old hotel. The day after Sam and George's visit, the manager recalled the young lovers coming down from the third floor for breakfast. The couple ate, returned upstairs for an interlude, then checked out at noon, thanking the manager for the service and fine food. Then Willy and Lydia vanished.
(Contributor, Sherry Gorrell)

The Lake Hideaway, Cascade, Idaho

   "She was a shooter." Madelyn said, as they turned into the driveway of the lake-view cabin. "She was a contract killer for the Mafia back east; now she's retired and lives on the Lake by herself. Apparently, there was a problem in New York, something went south. And Auntie Maudie came to Idaho."
   "We are bringing Auntie Maude pie for what?" Carlson asked.
   "You never know," Madelyn replied.
   They pulled into the drive of the cabin, which was set back from the road. In the yard, a big, black dog was chained to a tree and howled when their car stopped. They parked in front of the small stone and frame structure. Carlson toted the fresh pie.
   The cabin door swung open and a tall, fit-looking, gray haired woman welcomed them. She praised the cherry pie and took them to the back, settling them in patio seats overlooking the lake. Then she returned with pieces of pie and lemonade.
   Madelyn introduced Carlson, telling Auntie Maude he was interested in the Lake Cascade Hyde Manor, the mystery of the Brown Family. That heinous murder where the family was shot dead at the dinner table, and the foster girl missing. It was the lurid lake legend for the summer.
   Was Averil Brown kidnapped? Or did she murder her foster parents, the daughter and son, and then vanish to a new life? The Brown Family murders were never solved. And Carlson, Madelyn's new boyfriend, was fascinated by the story.
   " Happened early this summer." Auntie Maude said. "Just after I retired and settled here at the Lake. I was in the New York shipping business, an expediter. I moved things along." She explained, eying Carlson.
  "I had some troubles, so took my savings and came out here. But we won't talk about that."
  Carlson returned to the Brown Family. "And you think Averil, the foster girl, did it?"
  Auntie Maude shrugged. "Averil and her mother were originally from Arizona. Their name was Quicksilver, her Mother was Indian. But in early summer the mother was murdered, throat slit, by someone Averil saw in the shadows, called him Shadow Man. Averil was a strange one. Had a way about her, bright as a bulb, maybe too bright. She seemed to know things, knew all about me. But we bonded anyway."
  Auntie Maude continued: "After her Mom was killed, Averil was committed to the Institute for Gifted Girls. The Browns took her from the Institute, and the State paid the Browns to keep her. Then the murders."
   "Averil just vanished?" Carlson asked.
   Auntie Maude nodded. "Averil was different. Even I was wary around her." She smiled and looked at the young couple. "Maddy knows not much spooks me."
   Madelyn laughed and asked. " But Averil gave you the jitters?"
   Auntie Maude nodded. She got up and walked to edge of the hill that sloped away to the pristine lake. Auntie Maude turned and looked at them. "Actually, I think Averil was....."
   There was a sharp crack that echoed down the lake. Auntie Maude flapped her arms, spun around and collapsed on her back. Auntie Maude's forehead was splattered with blood, a neat hole between her eyes.
                                                                                ---
   The police concluded it was a stray shot from a small-game hunter. But Maddy knew it was New York retribution
   The County now owns the lake cabin and offers it for rent. But so far no takers.

The Lake Payette Jail, McCall, Idaho

 The Assassin was waiting behind the Charmin tissue as Elina Quicksilver paused to study the paper towel discounts. The Shadow Man stepped out and flashed a wicked straight razor, slitting Elina's throat from ear to ear.
   Averil Quicksilver, following her mother with the shopping cart, reacted quickly and shoved the cart at the tall man dressed in black. The cart struck Shadow Man in the stomach and propelled him into the meat display. Then she turned and ran toward the front of the store; the Assassin spun and went through the back doors of Paulie's Supermarket.
   Averil careened into Bud Pearls, the overweight security guard, who lost his balance and flopped down on the slender Averil, pinning her to the floor. Bud looked down into Averil's bright, green eyes and gasped as he felt Averil tense her arms, lift his bulbous body, and send him flying into the Van Camps baked beans. A feat of great strength.
   She jumped up, but was immediately corralled by management and customers who surrounded her. Averil concluded it was better to go quietly then draw more attention to herself and her dead mother.
   As it was an early summer 3-day weekend and the Sheriff and Idaho State Police were busy with highway safety, the town decided to keep Averil in the small-town jail until Monday. Several bystanders had witnessed her throwing Bud, all 250 pounds of him, into the Van Camps.  And they wondered. 
   Later that night Homer Brown, the McCall Constable, looked in on Averil with a plate of cookies and a warm glass of milk. A nice gesture, but Homer had mischief on his mind. Averil was curled up with a blanket  in a corner of the small jail cell, her clothes were neatly folded on the bunk. Homer gulped and fingered the keys on his belt as he approached her cell.
   "I brought you some snacks." The pudgy Homer said, licking his lips, romance dancing in his head.
   Averil nodded, wrapped the blanket around her and approached the cell door. Homer set the milk and cookies on the pass-through ledge and looked at Averil. She was ravishing: fine white skin, raven black hair, and electric green eyes. Homer's blood raced and his heart pounded as he reached for his door keys. Averil struck her slender hand through the cell bars. She cocked her head and looked at Homer, "Hold my hand, please."
   Homer gladly took her hand. "Cup my hand and shut your eyes. See my story, for me?"
   He cupped Averil's hand in both of his big paws and shut his eyes.
   "That's my mother you see; she was Native American, a Sinaguan Princess from Dead Horse, Arizona. And now you are in that place, Roswell, New Mexico. That is where my Mom had an encounter with my father, who was otherworldly, do you see?"
   Homer recoiled at the bizarre vision in his mind and tried to pull his hands away. He wanted to bolt; he was in too deep. But he was stuck there, melded to Averil's slender hand.
   "By our standards, Dad was not a looker. But he endowed me with wondrous powers."
    She blew on Homer's hands and it was if a switch had been thrown.There was a loud buzzing, the jail lit up in a violent flashing of ugly yellow light. Homer's body jerked, jiggled, snapped, and crackled. His hair stood on end and sizzled; his eyes boiled, and smoke poured out of his ears. Averil pulled her hand away and Homer fell over backward, flat on his back.
   In the morning, the Sheriff's deputies found Homer burnt to a crisp on the floor of the jail. Averil was curled up asleep in the corner wrapped in her blanket.
   Due to the strange circumstances, Averil was transferred to the Boise Institute for Gifted Girls. Averil was available as a foster child as she was only 17. Or so her documents said.
   The Payette jail is no longer used. Today the building sits near the McCall town center in an alley off 3rd Street, a curiosity for the tourists.

The Outpost, Moscow, Idaho

   Matt Brown knocked on the door of the isolated prairie farmhouse. Matt was surprised when a young girl in a long white dress with a mane of black hair and electric green eyes opened the door. She was stunning. Matt explained he was from the County School Board and he wanted to talk to her parents about her schooling. The alluring girl invited him in and showed him to the living room of the isolated farmhouse.
   She introduced herself as Cecilla, then left to get ice tea for Matt. Matt watched her go and she seemed to glide across no floor, no locomotion. He scanned the living room; there was just the sofa, a wing-back chair and the coffee table. No personality.
   Cecilla returned and sat across from him. Matt listened for other voices or sounds in the house.  He wanted to launch into the reason for his visit: why wasn't Cecilla in school? Where were her parents? But first he took a swig of tea and immediately his head began to swim. He wobbled. Cecilla moved from the chair and sat beside him, then she leaned over and kissed him on the lips. And all went black.
   When Matt awoke, he was groggy and in bed, listless, unable to move. Cecilia was sitting with him. Matt asked what was wrong, why he felt so strange. His whole body tingled. Cecilia explained he was fine, just making the change. Soon he would be a Sentinel.
   What change? Sentinel?
   Matt dozed and later awoke feeling more alert. Cecilla was there by his bedside, watching him. Matt asked her who she was and where was her family? And where did they come from? Cecilia said she came from far away.
   "From the stars?" Matt joked.
   " From beyond the stars." Cecilia said seriously." And soon you will be part of the Outpost, a Sentinel."

                                                                                ---

   After a few weeks, a State Trooper knocked on the door, holding a picture of the missing Matt Brown. Cecilia answer the door with a young man hovering behind her in the shadows. She invited the trooper in and served him ice tea. The  trooper vanished.
   Whisperings and rumors started in Moscow Town that the old Swenson Farm hosted a strange cult. People who visited the farm disappeared. It was a black hole. The rumors grew and tempers flared; there was talk of a march on the old farm. A pickup of hotheads, armed and drunk stormed the farm. It was empty.
   The occupants had left in the dead of night. Today the Swenson farm sits empty; no one dares to venture there.
   But the Outposts continue to grow and the Sentinels wait and watch.

The Isolated House, Coeur d' Alene, Idaho

   Alex Bentley answered the door, there were soft words, then a gunshot and Alex fell dead on the cabin floor. Linda sprang into the cabin followed by Ken and Phil, each waving a handgun.
   Sarah stood mute with horror and fear as she looked from her dead husband to the intruders, who quickly scanned the cabin. Ken raced up the stairs to check the master bedroom and bath. He returned and gave a thumb's up.
   Phil smirked, looking Sarah up and down. "I got dibs."
   Sarah recalled a jail break down south, two men with help from a girlfriend: armed and dangerous. This trio fit the description.
   "I have to go to the toilet." Sarah said, nodding upstairs.
   The three laughed, then Ken ordered Linda to take Sarah to the bathroom, while they scouted for money and valuables.
   Sarah led the way to the small bathroom. She sat while Linda studied herself in the bathroom mirror. Sarah's eyes were drawn to the small window over the bath tub. There was a blue light hovering outside, which suddenly focused and shot through the window, bathing Sarah in a gauzy blue hew.
    Linda was putting on lipstick when she glanced over and saw Sarah illuminated in the blue light. She dropped her lipstick and turned to Sarah, but the light was gone and Sarah was now looking intently at Linda.
   "Keep quiet and I will let you live." Sarah said softly, rising to adjust her jeans, then opened the door and went downstairs. Linda followed behind.
    As the girls came down the narrow stairs, Ken looked up and noticed Linda was pale and her eyes were darting toward Sarah who was unnaturally composed. Linda joined Ken and Phil, and told them she had seem a blue light envelop Sarah.
    "Too much crack." Phil snorted.
    But the three intruders sensed a change.The balance of power had inexplicably shifted.
    "You can take firsts." Phil murmured to Ken.
    Sarah was standing by the fireplace next to the fire irons. Ken snarled, "there are three of us. Let's do this bitch".
    Sarah grabbed the poker and hurled it at Ken, sent it sailing through his mouth, smashing his yellow teeth and impaling Ken on the wall. Neither Phil nor Linda saw Sarah's move. So fast.
   Phil 's hand went to the back of his jeans for his gun, while Linda lifted her snub-nose revolver. Sarah grabbed the fireplace shovel and swatted the gun out of Linda's hand, then pushed the shovel, which flew at Phil, catching him in the throat. Phil's head flopped on his shoulder, his mouth wide.
    Sarah whirled on Linda and put her hands on the sides of Linda's head. Sarah backed her against the wall, her face so close that Linda thought Sarah was going to kiss her. Sarah smiled, "I told you to keep quiet." Then Sarah twisted Linda's head until there was a snap, like a chicken bone cracking. Linda fell in a heap.
    Sarah spent the night holding Alex's hand, talking softly. In the morning, she was gone. The police eventually came, but no one could explain how it went down. Alex was shot, Ken impaled with the fire poker, Phil almost decapitated,  and Linda a broken neck.
    Sarah Bentley is listed as missing, a person of interest.
   Today the bank owns the remote house outside Coeur d' Alene and it sits empty.

The Whitefish Cabin, Glacier National Park, Montana

   He didn't mean to kill her. He didn't even remember her name. It was a Whitefish-bar scene where he met her.   
   Now he sat on the Going to the Sun Road in Glacier National Park and stared at the oversize garbage container with her dead body inside. He would push it tumbling down the side of the mountain, more than a mile  below to the isolated valley.
   No time for remorse, so he kicked the gray container and watched it begin to bump down the mountain side, but it came to a stop about 100 feet from the top.
    Cannon sighed, this would not do. He worked his way down the incline until he reached the container, which was snagged on a rock. He put his feet against it and gave a great push, dislodging the container and sending it bounding down the incline. But Cannon lost his balance and he began to slide down the slippery slope, gaining speed, then tumbling head over heels.
   Cannon awoke on his back, his head throbbing, part concussion and part hangover. It was pitch black; was he dead? Suddenly Cannon heard a tapping and a muffled voice. Where was he? What happened?
Cannon raised himself and looked around. He was a few feet from the garbage container, which was moving, sounds emanating from it. He crawled to the container and ripped off the duct tape, opening the lid.
    A girl peeked out. She was alive!
    Her name came back; it was Adriana, the girl he had taken home from the Whitefish Bar, they had roughhoused and she had cracked her skull on the coffee table. In a panic, Cannon had decided to dispose of her as they had just met and there was no data trail linking them. Cannon could not afford the scandal, so he slid her in the compost garbage container, duct tapped it shut, planning to send it to the remote valley beneath the Going to the Sun Road. Winter was coming, the rangers might not find her until springtime.
   Adriana slithered out of the container and grabbed him in a bear hug. "What happened? Where are we?" She demanded woozily.
   "We were kidnapped, the Mexican cartel." Cannon responded, the lie flowing from nowhere. " I think they were going to demand ransom, but something happened and they dumped us here."
   " And you saved me." Adriana enthused. "My hero!"
   Cannon hugged her. "We have to to get out of here. We're in a valley in Glacier National Park and its getting cold. I smell snow," Cannon replied.
   They followed the stream running through the valley, reasoning it would lead them to a town. Suddenly it got windy and the snow began to fall fast, a wicked storm that strengthened into a blizzard. Cannon and Adriana stumbled through the dark to an old hunting cabin, hoping to find warmth and provisions. But the cabin was barren. Together they huddled on the floor of the cabin, away from the swirling snow. "We are soul mates, Cannon." Adriana whispered, then kissed him. "Meant to be together."
    Two days later after the unseasonal blizzard had passed, rangers on patrol found Adriana and Cannon huddled together in the old cabin. They were frozen, eyes closed and icicles drooped from their cheeks.
   The families were wealthy and endowed Glacier Park to maintain the old cabin. Adriana and Cannon were buried together beside the rustic hut, a simple marker:
    "Here lie our son and daughter. Briefly together in life, now entwined forever in heaven. May they rest in peace."