Page 6 of The Haunting of Lockton

“A Parrish,” he corrected. “Alice, the wife of the original owner, up and left him one day. Many claim she went into hiding to escape Arthur Warren and his abuse. She started over far away from here.”

That matched our research, at least the speculation that Arthur Warren was a goddamn psychopath.

“Have you experienced anything—” I leaned closer. “—spooky here? Don’t leave any details out. The more disturbing, the better.”

“Strangely enough, I haven’t.” Dalton handed Julian two room keys. “Will you be covering Redwood in one of your episodes?”

“Not exactly,” Julian answered. “We came to investigate Lockton.”

Dalton’s expression changed. It was subtle, but there was a sudden uneasiness in his eyes. “Ah. The asylum.”

“Have you been there before?” I asked.

“Can’t say that I have.” He scratched at his jaw. “It freaks me out if I’m bein’ honest.”

“And this place doesn’t?”

Julian bumped my side. “Although we’re not here to investigate Redwood, can we still record a little for our show?”

“Of course. People can’t help but have a look around, hoping to see a ghost or two.” Dalton’s Southern drawl thickened. “I just ask that you be respectful of the other guests if ya do. Oh, and use a map. Not sure how deep you dove into your research, but this mansion was built like a maze. Secret rooms, hidden passageways, and corridors that twist and turn and lead to nowhere. Some take you in circles. It’s easy to become disoriented if not careful.”

“Arthur Warren designed Redwood, right?” Julian asked.

“Correct.” Dalton placed his arms on the counter. “It’s rumored he got a sick satisfaction from watchin’ people become lost in the mansion. Even his own family.”

“Did Warren die here?” I asked. “We couldn’t find much info regarding his death.”

Well, Julian couldn’t. I mainly sat beside him and played Candy Crush on my phone while he researched, filling me in on anything interesting he learned.

“His death is somewhat of a mystery,” Dalton answered.

“Mysterious how?” Julian asked.

“Well, Warren was at the height of his power, with more money than any one man could ever hope to spend in a single lifetime. Yet, the story goes that one day, he took his pistol off the wall, walked into the woods, and ate a bullet. No one knowsthe exact reason why. Some say it’s because Alice left him. Others believe it was the guilt that drove him to it.”

“Guilt?”

“Over the way he treated his family, I’d imagine,” Dalton said. “There are rumors he had a son he kept locked inside one of the rooms here. A son who disappeared without a trace. Many believe he killed his son and then took his own life.”

This was some fucked up shit.

“Thank you for your time,” Julian said before turning from the counter and nodding to me. “Let’s grab the bags from the car and go up to the room.”

“Sounds good.” I followed him through the door, then turned to look up at the mansion once I was in the courtyard beside the parking lot.

Redwood looked creepy, but I didn’t feel anything weird. No hair standing on end at the back of my neck, no chills down my spine. For a place where dozens of people had died, it seemed… well, kind of peaceful, honestly.

“I’m not carrying these by myself,” Julian said after opening the back hatch of the SUV. He slung his backpack over one shoulder and grabbed his suitcase, placing it on the gravel.

“Sure you can.” I stuck my hands in my pockets. “I’m the pretty one, and you’re the pack mule.”

“We’re twins.” He placed my suitcase on the ground too.

“Yeah, but I’m the hotter one. You even agreed with that earlier in the car.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

I laughed and went over to help him. We carried our luggage inside and walked up the grand staircase.