"This is what she had become."
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Cleopatra Banks' last week in the small town of New Chelsea is nothing like she would have imagined it, but nothing could have prepared her for the stinging betrayal she's faced with and suddenly the prospect of...
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The Jones's mansion is everything I'd imagine a mansion to look like and so much more.
Only a mere ten minute drive from home in the middle of a neighborhood I pass through every single day on my way to school sits the biggest and most obnoxious house I have ever seen in my entire life.
The neighborhood is eerily quiet and unlike Greendale, the houses are far apart and tall iron and brick fences separate them ensuring security, privacy and of course secrecy.
I shift uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Natasha's not to subtle red convertible. Luckily she has the top up to keep the heat in but unlike me, she seems unfazed by the mammoth structure we're parked in front of that's causing chills to run down my spine.
She takes out a tube of lip gloss and applies the pinkish liquid on her lips. She evenly distributes the lip gloss using her lips and then lets out a quiet breath. I squint my eyes at her, thinking it a very odd thing to do considering our current dilemma.
"What?" she asks me with a shrug of her shoulder when she catches me looking. "Nothing," I mumble.
"How long do we have to wait here? What are we even waiting for?" I ask, stretching my neck forward in order to catch something or someone's movements behind the electric gate and past the perfectly manicured hedges inside it.
We've been sitting in her car and waiting for almost an hour now. A whole hour just sitting...waiting for something to happen.
"Be patient, we have to figure out how to get inside first. I don't see anyone coming or going and there might not be anyone inside. For all we know, the house might be abandoned," she informs me.
"Who would abandon a mansion?" I ask her, furrowing my eyebrows.
"Anything's possible when you're running away from a ghost," she replies as she taps the steering wheel with the tips of her nails.
I swallow nervously. This all feels like something from one of those low budget horror movies. Rich people, secrets, ghosts, two clueless teens in a loud red convertible...
It's like we're asking for trouble to come looking for us.
"I thought you'd have a plan. You're supposed to be Nancy Drew remember? And we can't exactly break in because frankly speaking I do not want to end up behind bars," I say.
"Quit your whining, just let me think for a minute."
"I'm hungry. Why don't we just go over to the gate, press a button because I'm pretty sure this gate comes with an intercom and hopefully somebody responds so they can tell us what the hell happened to Isabella. Was she butchered? Was there a gun fight? Was it an accident? Where was she buried--"
"Wait, I see something!" Natasha interrupts me and starts looking forward and up. I follow her line of sight and surely there's a figure moving about somewhere upstairs in one of the rooms.
