Haunter 1: The Shadow of the Haunter

1. A Little House in the Prairie

Sometimes, things have a funny way to happen before you can even realize what on earth is going on. Hi, I'm exhibit A.

I was twenty-five back in the summer of 2023. I was living in Boston and I'd been waiting tables twelve hours a day for six months already, while trying in vain to find a job that would allow me to make ends meet. I couldn't afford a rent all by myself, so I shared a tiny apartment in Jamaica Plains with two friends. And by the end of June, ruthless math said that such as I was, my dwindling savings wouldn't last the summer.

That was when the diner manager put on his sad face and told me they had to let me go.

Great! Now what?

I was wandering around, trying to clear my head and come up with a solution for my desperate situation, when my phone rang. Blocked number? Fine. I would vent out on whoever the spammer trying to sell me shit. Serves them well.

"Miss Francesca Garner?" asked a formal lady. "My name is Ronda Williams, with the law firm Jenkins and Crown."

What? What had I done now? How come I always get in trouble without even noticing?

"Yes, it's me," I said cautiously.

"Mr. Jenkins has a document in your name. When can you come to our offices?"

What the hell was she talking about? Why would some fancy lawyer have something for me? Well, not like I had anything better to do.

Twenty minutes later, I paraded my cheap clothes into one of the most exclusive office buildings in town. The receptionist, straight out of a fashion magazine, requested an ID for confirmation and came from behind the front desk with a welcoming smile.

"This way, please."

She took me to a sober conference room with large windows to the street and a glass table to sit at least twenty.

"Have a seat, Miss Garner. Mr. Jenkins will be here momentarily. May I offer you a coffee, tea, water?"

"No, thanks," I muttered, puzzled by her obsequious ways. I was used to serving people like her, not the other way around.

Plain to see she would stand by the open door until I sat down, so I picked a chair a couple of seats from the head of the table. She flashed another smile and left, closing the door behind her.

My eyes slid to the windows and I let out a sigh, ready to wait for a couple of hours until the big shot in suit had a minute to waste on the poor girl in worn jeans and sneakers.

He walked in only a few minutes later, though, a classy elderly gent with a nice smile and a black leather binder in his hands.

"Miss Garner," he greeted me with a quick smile and a nod. "Coffee, tea?"

"No, thanks," I replied, forcing a smile back.

"Straight to business, then," he said. He sat at the head of the table and rested both hands on the binder before him. "Tell me, Miss Garner, did your late mother ever tell you about Miss Grace Blotter?" he asked softly, looking up at me.

I nodded. Mom had told me about this old lady, a big-time English professor, who had mentored her back in college. But I had no idea what it had to do with me now. And how come this lawyer knew about Mom's death? Guess my questions reflected on my face, because Jenkins smiled yet again and replied like he was telling his grandchild a bedtime story.

"Your mother happened to be Miss Blotter's favorite student ever over the decades she worked at Harvard, and they kept in touch after your mother dropped out of school. Even if she never met you, she knew a lot about you. That's why, after your mother passed in 2017, she took care that you had the means to go to college."