It might be a murder from decades ago, but it still has its claws in the present…and someone seems determined to drag Anna into it.
It’s never a good idea to spend too much time in a haunted mansion, and Anna’s favorite cowboy ghost does his best to talk her out of it. But the opportunity to pick from the beautiful antiques left to her in a Crocker resident’s will is just too tempting for Anna and Pratt to pass up. So they’re going in…
They’re prepared to deal with a few cold spots. Maybe the occasional flickering light. But what Anna and the boys weren’t counting on was bumping up against the ghost of Josiah Bumgartner, a contemporary of Joss’ from the 1800s. And when Josiah claims the old woman who lived in the house hid his bones around the place, Anna agrees to help him find them. But something much darker is at work there. And, unfortunately for our happy little gang of antique hunters…Anna seems to have unwittingly stepped right into the middle of it.
"Yesterday's Tears: This is the most substantial read of the group, and all the previous books are good. The intrigue and suspense keeps the reader glued to the pages through a bronco busting ride to the end. Fast paced and action packed, the paranormal is pretty much an important player on it's own. There's a lot of involvement that adds to the layers of intrigue; making a depth to the mysteries."
- Texas Texan Reviews
"Yesterday’s Tears is an entertaining, suspenseful blend of ghost story and mystery and I couldn’t put it down once I got started. Lots of action and great dialog kept this novel moving along at a rapid pace. I always start looking for spookier reads as October approaches, and this was a perfect choice."
- The Book's the Thing Blog
"At a certain time of year it seems appropriate to look for something a little spookier to read. Something with a little more edge. Yesterday's Tears certainly offered all that and more.
With elements of mystery as a basis, and a ghostly paranormal element, this opportunity turned dangerously destructive for antiques store owner Anna Yesterday and friends. The action never stopped and there were surprises around every corner."
- Laura's Interests Blog
"This is a very well-written book. Sam Cheever knows how to give her readers a little extra…a little more chills with the paranormal thrown in. I love her descriptive writing. Part of the chills was the mansion itself, and how Cheever described it. I also like the way she gives the ghosts a lifelike quality, who have agendas of their own. The entire series is great to read at this time of year with Halloween right around the corner!"
- Devilishly Delicious Book Reviews
Something was in her apartment.
Anna’s gaze slid to the phone on her bedside table.
Why hadn’t she thought to grab it?
She wondered if she could get to it and dial Pratt before the intruder in the other room was on her. If she was dealing with a supernatural presence as she suspected, it seemed unlikely.
Another whimper brought the hairs up on the back of her neck.
It sounded closer.
Anna stepped slowly backward, her eyes riveted to the darkness beyond the door. Something swirled there. Something hazy and dark, only slightly lighter than the darkness.
She bumped up against her bedside table and stopped, her hand reaching behind to grasp her phone.
Her fingers clutched the cell behind her back, too numb and shaky to dial a number. She pulled air into her lungs on a gasp as the charcoal mist began to take form. The mist swirled and spun, slowly elongating until it stood about five feet five. Then the mist twisted and rounded until a woman stood before her.
The figure stayed outside the glow of Anna’s lamp, its dark eyes capturing flecks of the light that turned flat in the dead gaze.
A soft cloud of gray hair lifted around an oblong face. Gray, pasty looking skin bore the tracks of aging, its surface dull and crepey. The form was thick in the middle, with skinny arms and legs decked out in polyester slacks and a white cotton blouse. The blouse was stained and wrinkled, the tiny flowers decorating its surface obscured by a spray of some kind of brown substance.
Anna suddenly realized who it was.
The figure jerked a bit at the sound of her name, the eyes narrowing slightly. She folded age speckled gray hands in front of her and fixed Anna with a stern look down her short round nose.
“What is it? Do you need to tell me something about the house?”
Rebecca Dashery wavered in the doorway, her wispy form seeming to cringe away from the light, and Anna thought for a beat that the ghost was going to disappear.
But she blinked and Rebecca’s arm was suddenly lifting, one bent, arthritic finger pointing toward the bed.
Anna turned, frowning, and felt a jolt in her belly as her eyes fell on the journal. She reached for it. “Celeste’s diary? Is that what you came about? I was just…” She took a step toward the bed and the spirit twitched violently, her mouth coming open and a horrifying howl emerging from her thick, saggy throat.
Anna jolted to a stop, her hand still outstretched toward the bed. She felt her eyes go wide as the ghost of Rebecca Dashery disappeared into a roiling mist. The light behind Anna flickered and the bulb exploded, casting her into darkness.
She dove to the ground as the poltergeist surged toward her, only the woman’s deathly face and cold eyes remaining in the swirl of violent fog that coated the surface of the table behind Anna in ice.
The woman screamed her unearthly scream again and slammed into Anna. Prickly static electricity bit her exposed skin, leaving behind a thin sheen of ice.
The ghost was gone as quickly as she came, and Anna’s apartment went deathly silent.
She dropped to her butt on the icy carpet, hugging her knees against her chest and gulping air.
Her heart pounded against her ribs and her stomach twisted. She hadn’t expected that. What in the world?
Anna’s head jerked up and she pushed to her feet, her hand sliding across the rumpled covers to find the leather bound diary. She heaved a sigh of relief. It was still there.
But her fingers slipped across the leather. She grimaced, yanking them away. Rummaging in her nightstand, Anna pulled out a flashlight and switched it on.
She shone it on her fingers, crying out when she saw the slimy red liquid coating them.
Her pulse pounding in her head and her mouth dry, Anna slowly swerved the light toward the battered leather book on her bed. The silvery arc of light slipped over it, illuminating the shiny drops of bright red blood spattered across its surface.
And the telltale smears where Anna’s fingers had scraped across Rebecca Dashery’s horrifying message from the ether.