As they stepped inside, the musty smell of decay filled their nostrils, and the silence was deafening. Claire's footsteps echoed ominously in the empty corridors, while Ryan scanned the surroundings with a detective's trained eye.

“Do you feel that?” Claire whispered to Ryan, ignoring that Oliver was right next to them, her voice barely above a breath.

Ryan nodded, a furrow forming on his brow. “There’s something here, something… unsettling.”

Oliver let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Really, you must stop watching The Next 48.”

With a serious look, “I’ve never seen it.” Claire stated. Claire started walking down the hall to the right, not waiting to see if either would follow her.

“I assure you, there’s not much to see until I get the renovations done, and that, even with my finances, will take some time. Right now there’s peeling paint, dripping faucets, and stained and ripped carpet. Some ceilings are caving in, some fireplaces that I wonder if will ever work again.” Stopping mid-thought to look at Ryan, “Do fireplaces become outdated? Too old to safely work?” He asked.

Rolling her eyes, Claire knocked loudly on the door. “What? It’s a huge place, I have to make sure he hears us.” Claire shrugged as Ryan stared at her.

“A bit aggressive,” Ryan stated. When it was clear that Claire wasn’t going to give a response, he continued. “Don’t you think?”

Claire shot a look toward Ryan and, once again, knocked loudly on the huge door. “Even the door seems sad and secretive,” Claire remarked.

Before Ryan could be sarcastic, the door whipped open, and out of breath, Oliver glared at them.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows through the windows, Claire thanked Henry for sharing his stories and they bid him farewell. Outside, the air felt heavy with unspoken truths, and Claire couldn’t shake the feeling that they were just scratching the surface of the mysteries surrounding the old asylum.

As they drove back towards town, Ryan glanced at Claire, his eyes reflecting the same mix of curiosity and unease. “What do you make of all this?” he asked.

Claire gazed out at the darkening sky, a determined look in her eyes. “I think there’s more to this than meets the eye. We need to uncover the truth; he’s not telling the whole truth.” Claire paused. “Or maybe he doesn’t know it all. She had to have others in her life. Somehow. Somewhere. There had to be someone.”

The detective in Ryan began to surface. “Henry answered, but at the same time he didn’t. Everything was vague.”

Claire gave a short laugh. “Oh, there’s Mr. Detective. Are you finally curious too?”

“I am.” Ryan sighed, knowing that this was his future, for the time being. Once his wife dug her heels in, that was that. There was no changing her mind.

“Do you know who took care of the grounds after you stopped, Mr. Jacobs?” Claire asked in a softer tone than she had previously.

“I don’t,” Henry replied.

“She had friends though?” Claire continued.

“Not really. She had one or two over the years, but they never stuck around long. With Adelaide rarely leaving the asylum, they’d come to her. Once in a while, a garden tea is nice, but when you realize that garden is outside of an asylum full of crazy people that you often hear screaming while you chat on a bench, it doesn’t quite hold the same appeal.” A Henry shared this, it felt to Claire as though he felt this was something she should know, and he shouldn’t need to tell her.

“Adelaide did care for the flower gardens and treat patients though?” Ryan asked as he stood up. He wanted them to start making their way to the door. They had intruded enough.

“She did. As the years went on, she spent less and less time in her gardens and more and more time treating patients. I think it made her crazy.” Henry looked puzzled. “Tell me, do the two of you think crazy can be contagious? I mean, if you work with it, analyze it, at with it, drink with it, sleep with it…” Henry’s voice trailed off.

“She really never left?”” Ryan was surprised.

“Very, very seldom. She would even have the cooks bring in the groceries. Her accountant paid the bills. The housekeepers picked up new linens, clothes, and other needs.”

They were now back at the door. Ryan and Claire thanked Henry for the chat and for allowing them to intrude. 

Claire looked surprised for a moment, realizing she rarely got asked that question. People in Willow Creek had always stayed in their lane and minded their own business. “I had graduated college and just really wasn’t sure what I wanted. I knew I didn’t want the big city life – too many crazy people for a forensic psychologist.” Claire paused, giving an uncomfortable laugh. “Plus, you know how it goes, family drama I was tired of it. So, I packed what I could fit in my car and started driving. I only ended up here because I heard it mentioned while paying for gas as a station along the highway.” Claire stopped again, looking at Ryan she continued. “I only stayed because I met Ryan. I had only planned to stay here a year or two.”

“I see. Therefore, you would agree, Oliver Blackwood could have just dropped in here quite randomly, after all?” Henry inquired with a mischievous smile.

Claire went to speak and stopped, knowing there was no point and that the old man was very correct in his thought.

Ryan was getting impatient, knowing Clare would pester and question Henry Jacobs until winter was upon them as well as falling snow.

“Claire, maybe we should start wrapping this up,” Ryan suggested.

“Dead is dead.” Ryan declared with a shrug. “It’s not mean.”

“Henry, you believe in ghosts?” Claire asked.

“Ghosts, spirits, undead. Whatever you’d like to dream up. The thing is the dead have to go somewhere. Who are we to say they aren’t lurking over our shoulders as we read a book? Who can say for certain they aren’t sitting at the table with us, bringing us a sense of calm or a feeling of despair, while we drink a cup of coffee? Who’s to say they aren’t that voice in our head that we sometimes have a discussion with?” Henry saw the disbelief on their faces. “Maybe they are the ones that take that sock we can never find, or the silverware. In any case, no, I did not continue the upkeep of the asylum.”

“Do you know who did?” Claire inquired. “Also, you say Adelaide had no family. You do know the person who purchased the asylum? His name is Oliver Blackwood.”

“She had no family. An only child. Both of her parents were only children and Adelaide never married. I would say, under those circumstances, it’s certain she had no family.”

“Many have the last name Blackwood.” Ryan offered.

“But why move here to purchase an asylum that has been empty for fifty-five years and needs so much repair? I understand coincidences, but this seems a bit much, even for that.” Claire answered.

“Why did you move here, Claire?” Henry interrupted Ryan, who was about to speak.

Henry scratched his head and sat farther back in his recliner, closing his eyes as if to vision the old days – his time back at the asylum with Adelaide.

Ryan looked at Claire, and she shrugged.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Ryan said as he leaned slightly forward.

“Yes.” Henry slowly reopened his eyes. “Sometimes I can still smell the gardens. The roses. The lavender bushes and the peonies.” Smiling, he continued, “The scent of Adelaide’s perfume within the halls.” Henry stopped smiling.

“Mr. Jacobs….” Claire pushed.

Frowning, he went on. “The smell of bleach, excrement on the sheets and bathroom floors – it didn’t seem to matter how much housekeeping cleaned – the smell of medicine.”

“Anyway. Let’s see now.” Henry fidgeted. “Where were we?” Henry spoke while showing no expression on his face.

“Have you been taking care of the grounds? We know it can’t be a ghost.” Claire began again.

“Careful, now.” Henry’s look became serious. “We should never mock the dead.”

“Adelaide…she was a kind soul. Worked in the asylum’s gardens, she did. Always humming some tune as she tended to the flowers. She was left the asylum by her grandfather when he passed. He’d pushed so hard for her to get the business degree needed to run it and they psychology degree to assist the people that would stay there.” Henry paused, lost in memories.

Claire leaned in; her curiosity piqued. “Do you know what happened to her?”

Henry's eyes glistened with a mixture of sadness and fear. “One day, she just disappeared. Vanished without a trace. Some say she still haunts the grounds, searching for something she lost. She was there and then she wasn’t.”

Ryan and Claire exchanged glances, the weight of the story sinking in. “Do you know why the asylum was abandoned?” Ryan inquired.

“Did no one look for her?” Claire asked at the same time.

Henry let out a heavy sigh, his gaze distant as memories continued to resurface. “The asylum was a place of horrors. Cruel treatments, experiments… things no one should ever endure. One day, the patients revolted, chaos ensued. The authorities had no choice but to shut it down.” Henry paused. “Adelaide, they were happy to just say she disappeared. Some thought she went to live with a distant family member. But I couldn’t think of any family she had.”

Claire shuddered, feeling a chill run down her spine. “And what about the grounds? Who has been maintaining them all these years?”

Henry's expression darkened. “Some say it’s Adelaide's spirit, still tending to the gardens she loved so dearly. Others believe it's something more sinister, lurking in the shadows.”

Ryan let out a chuckle as Claire shot him a look of warning to control himself. “How about a serious answer? We you still taking care of the grounds?”

“She had no family?” Claire felt a sadness come over her as she asked Henry. She couldn’t imagine someone having no family to turn to. “What about friends? I mean, she couldn’t have just sat all alone in the asylum day after day. Did she treat the patients like her grandfather had wanted her to?”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee before responding, “Alright, I’ll see what I can dig up on this potential groundskeeper. But promise me, no psychological profiling over coffee, okay?”

Claire smirked, “Deal. I’ll leave the profiling for the office. And maybe you Detective Ryan Thompson.”

As they finished their coffee, Ryan pulled out his phone and started searching for any information on the groundskeeper of the old asylum. After a few minutes, he looked up and said, “His name is Henry Jacobs. He’s still living on the outskirts of town. Seems like a recluse.”

Claire nodded, a determined look in her eyes. “Let’s pay him a visit. Maybe he can shed some light on the mysteries surrounding the place.”

Later that day, they found themselves standing in front of a weathered old cottage at the edge of the town, not too far from the asylum. The air was filled with the scent of fallen leaves and damp earth, adding to the eerie atmosphere surrounding the old asylum.

Ryan knocked on the door, and after a moment, it creaked open to reveal an elderly man with weathered features and piercing eyes. “Henry Jacobs?” Ryan asked.

The man nodded, his gaze shifting between Ryan and Claire. “What do you want?” he grumbled.

Claire stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “We’re here to ask you about the old asylum. Do you remember Adelaide? What can you tell us about what happened there?”

“Maybe slow down, just a bit, Claire.” Ryan suggested.

Henry's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Adelaide. After a moment of silence, he beckoned them inside. As they entered the dimly lit cottage, Claire couldn’t shake the feeling that they were about to uncover secrets long buried in the shadows of the past.

As they settled into the cozy yet musty living room of Henry Jacobs' cottage, the old man spoke in a low, gravelly voice, “Adelaide…I don’t know that it’s my story to tell. Well, at least what I know of it. I’ve long suspected there was more to it.”

“You never said anything? Claire asked.

“She’s deceased so the story has no value kept secret. There’s no one left to hurt.” Ryan interjected before Henry or Claire could say anything else.

“Oh, son.” Henry paused. “There is always someone that can be harmed, even if it may only be the memory of the dead.”

Blurb:

In the heart of Willow Creek, Blackwood Manor stands as a silent sentinel, its shadowy past veiled in mystery. When entrepreneur Oliver Blackwood arrives to breathe new life into the abandoned asylum, the town is set ablaze with curiosity and suspicion.

Enter Claire Thompson, a forensic psychiatrist, and her husband Ryan, a dedicated detective, whose marriage is tested as they unravel the dark secrets shrouding Blackwood Manor. As they delve into the chilling enigmas of the past, they unearth a sinister plot that threatens to consume them both.

Will Claire and Ryan confront the malevolent forces lurking within the mansion's walls, or will they become entangled in a web of deceit and danger? "Blackwood Manor" is a tale of love, betrayal, and redemption, where the whispers of the asylum beckon them into a world where the past refuses to stay buried.

Book Synopsis:

In the heart of the picturesque town of Willow Creek lies the enigmatic Blackwood Manor, a once-abandoned asylum with a haunting history. When wealthy entrepreneur Oliver Blackwood arrives from afar to renovate the decrepit building into a luxurious mansion, the town is abuzz with speculation and whispers of the past.

Amidst this backdrop of mystery and intrigue, forensic psychiatrist Claire Thompson and detective Ryan Thompson find themselves entangled in a web of dark secrets and unexpected twists. As they delve into the chilling events surrounding Blackwood Manor, they uncover a tangled web of deception, betrayal, and long-buried grudges that threaten to unravel the town's peaceful facade.

As Claire and Ryan navigate the treacherous paths of the past and present, they must confront their own demons and strained relationship, all while solving the mysterious death that has cast a shadow over Blackwood Manor. Together, they must unravel the truth behind the eerie occurrences within the mansion's walls and confront the malevolent forces that lurk in the shadows.

"Blackwood Manor" is a gripping tale of suspense, redemption, and rediscovery, where the line between reality and illusion blurs, and the true essence of love and courage is put to the ultimate test in the face of darkness. Join Claire and Ryan on a journey of self-discovery and uncovering the secrets that lie hidden in the depths of the past, where the whispers of the asylum echo through the corridors of fate.

How did publishing your first book change your process of writing? 

Publishing my first book taught me to keep going and believe in myself. If you keep doubting yourself and going over the same thing, you’re never going to move forward.

How many unpublished and half-finished books do you have? 

I have six partly finished books waiting for me to finish telling their stories. One of them has been speaking to me lately so stay tuned.

What’s the most difficult thing about writing characters from the opposite sex? 

Getting into the mindset of a man. They communicate differently. Once you crack that code, you’re all set.

What period of your life do you find you write about most often? (child, teenager, young adult) 

I definitely talk about young and mature adults.

How do you select the names of your characters? 

The names come to me as I’m writing the scenes.  Some names just fit if you know what I mean.

Do you believe in writer’s block? 

Yes, I do because I’ve experienced it. It’s not fun, and it’s such a relief when it lifts.

Are your characters inspired by real people? 

As a matter of fact, they are a combination of many of the people I meet. So be careful, you may wind up in one of my books.

Links:

Amazon Amazon.com: Julie Castle: books, biography, latest update

Facebook http://www.facebook/authorjuliecastle.

Author page www.juliecastleromance.com