BOOK EXTRACT: THE MILL BY CAILYN LLOYD

7/4/2022

The Mill by Cailyn Lloyd

One

The mouse.

Someone had moved it.

The position and orientation were off slightly.

Chase Riddell invariably placed the mouse facing due north on the exact same spot: on a prominent knot just left of center on the oak desktop. His office was otherwise undisturbed. The desk and a brown leather swivel chair were the only furniture in the small, windowless room. The tawny brick walls were bare, as was the desk—except for a 32-inch monitor and the errant mouse.

The precise placement was a function of his OCD. He also hated odd numbers, unless they were multiples of five. His kitchen cabinets were studies in neatness and order, the bottles, cans, and cartons arranged by size and type. His clothing was similarly organized. He checked his locks twice whenever he went out.

The building had a keyed entrance, and his apartment had two commercial-grade locks on the door: a Schlage lever handle and a double cylinder dead-bolt. The windows were new, twelve feet above ground on the exterior, and equally secure. Management had no access to the unit without advance notice. The outside walls were brick and limestone block. The apartment was more impregnable than most bank buildings. He had chosen this place in Rock River Mills—an old paper mill converted to condos and upscale flats—partly for that reason. Crime was one problem he hadn’t expected to worry about.

He carefully examined the locks on the door, but there were no scratches or evidence of tampering. A quick survey of the apartment revealed that nothing else had been disturbed.

Not one thing.

Seemed the computer was the target of the illicit entry.

Was that possible? And why? Was he being unduly paranoid?

He couldn’t imagine how someone had broken in, but the wayward mouse was proof someone had and it was a big problem.

Had they discovered the hidden files on his computer? Files filled with photos of deviant sexual acts. Images of domination. Rape. Murder. Just the thought of them brought a stiffening to his groin.

But if someone had, surely the police would be here, arresting him. Dragging him off to jail to face life in prison.

While it was unlikely a casual browser would find the incriminating files, he could assume nothing, since someone had breached his well-secured apartment, possibly hacked into the computer, and left zero evidence of his presence—other than the errant mouse.

What now?

He didn’t know.

Chase only knew he had a problem on his hands.

Possibly a disaster.

Unless he found the asshole and killed him first.

Two

Lili stopped mid-step and closed her eyes.

Concentrated, trying to visualize the invisible.

Yes! Right there.

A vibration, a subtle shimmer. A sense of someone—or something—close by. On the other side of the wall maybe.

A moment later, the feeling was gone. But it had been tangible, her best connection yet.

Having lived in Rock River Mills for two months, she had sensed spirits in various parts of the building. Each had been subtle and ephemeral, unwilling to reveal themselves. Maybe they were just shy. She couldn’t tell. Some ghosts were like that. But they were here, and she would draw them out eventually. The strongest presence felt female, and Lili hoped it was Emma Kiekhafer, a girl who had died in an industrial accident in 1894.

Lili had spent the last three nights staking out the hallways around apartment 114 at the west end of the building. Over three thousand square feet in an open plan with twenty-five-foot ceilings, 114 was the largest unit in the Mills. High in one corner, a ten-ton industrial crane hung from a track. Sandblasted and painted, it was a striking element that graced the cover of the promotional brochure.

The entry door to 114 lay at the end of a softly lit corridor off the main hallway. A nearby exit door led to the courtyard, a lovely area shaded by oaks and maples with picnic areas and grills. A tiki bar served drinks during the summer months. Her apartment lay on the other side of the courtyard.

She walked back and forth in the hallway, sitting in various spots, meditating, trying to reconnect with the presence. When that failed, she lit two small candles and placed them near the wall—an invitation to the spirits.

Still nothing.

Pacing slowly but relentlessly, she rolled her ankle and bumped into the wall. Mrs. Kaplan peeked out, and Lili felt herself blush as she sat and pretended to fiddle with her shoe.

She didn’t know the Kaplans, but had seen their photos in the lobby on a flyer for a charity auction. Lili had heard rumors Mrs. Kaplan was unhappy with the unit, something about the bedroom feeling creepy. It sounded like an ironic metaphor, but the story had piqued her interest. She suspected spirits at work.

A moment later, Mr. Kaplan looked out, locked eyes with Lili, and walked down to where she was sitting. He was tall, at least six feet, with dark hair and a short beard. He was good looking, fit, and carried himself with a vaguely military air.
Accusingly, he said, “Do I know you?”

“Lili Paltrinieri, 124. You might’ve seen me around.”

He shrugged. “Is there a reason you’re lurking in our hallway?”

“Probably not a good one.”

“Try me.”

Lili contemplated several lies before settling on the truth. Technically, she could loiter here. It wasn’t their hallway, but if they took an interest, her efforts might be more effective inside the apartment. “I’m psychic and I think there’s a spirit in this hallway or your apartment.”

“Oh, Jesus.” He rolled his eyes. “Not you too—”

“Your wife?”

He nodded, then eyed Lili suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not casing the place?”

“One, I live in the building. Two, do I look like a thief?”

“No. But maybe your boyfriend is.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Now she was sure he was a cop or ex-military from his questions and demeanor. Exasperated, she pulled a business card from her back pocket and handed it to him.

He eyed it, then pulled an iPhone from his pocket and tapped furiously for a moment.

“So you’re the owner of Revelations, a metaphysical store,” he said with a hint of derision. “Seems you’re legit. You might as well come in and meet my wife.”

Lili stepped in and scanned the room with an admiring eye.

It was stunning. The Kaplans had money. Real money.

A suit of medieval armor guarded the entrance to the large combined living room, dining area, and kitchen. The brick walls were decorated with an interesting selection of quality fine art from classic to modern, interspersed with sculptures on plinths, the atmosphere and lighting imparting the impression of a cozy art gallery. Two of the abstract canvases looked like Kandinsky originals. The furnishings were a careful mix of antique and contemporary. Expensive, modernist steel light fixtures hung from the high ceiling on long pendants. It looked like the hand of a professional decorator at work. The crane hanging in the far corner was an exquisite touch.

She now understood why they might worry about theft.

“I’m Raleigh Kaplan, and that’s my wife, Olivia. Your name again?”

“Lili—Lili Paltrinieri.”

Olivia Kaplan walked over from the kitchen area and extended a hand in greeting. A short, long-haired blonde, she was more cute than beautiful with an intelligent gaze. “So, Lili, why are you hanging out in our hallway?”

It wasn’t their hallway, but pointing that out wouldn’t be helpful. “I’m psychic and I think there’s a spirit in the hallway or in your apartment.”

“I knew it!” Olivia said, flashing a look of vindication at Raleigh. “Who is it?”

Lili briefly retold the story about Emma dying in the Mill in 1894, though she wasn’t certain it was Emma she had sensed.

Olivia’s eyes widened with the telling of the story, and she looked at the apartment as if seeing it for the first time. Finally, she said, “That’s awful. Why didn’t they tell us? I don’t know if I would have wanted this apartment if I’d known—”

“Babe, you love this place and had to have it.” Raleigh gave Lili the stink eye, clearly regretting letting her in. “Knowing the story, I still would’ve bought it. Somebody died here over a hundred years ago. It means nothing now.”

“But I didn’t know the story when we bought it.” She looked to Lili. “Is there anything else?”

Lili shook her head.

“It’s getting late,” Raleigh said. “You should probably leave.”

It wasn’t a friendly request.

Lili scurried out the door. She didn’t much care for Raleigh Kaplan and felt a twinge of pity for Olivia. She seemed nice and exuded a pleasant aura. What was she doing with that guy?

She then spent a fruitless hour wandering the mill hallways.

Returning to her condo just after 1 a.m., she felt tired but not ready for sleep. There was more than one way to explore the building.

After a small glass of wine, she stripped and slipped into bed.

Relaxing every muscle and joint, she wiggled her fingers, enjoying the soft texture of the high thread count cotton sheets. She gazed at the white ceiling without focusing, receptive to the slightest disturbance in the ether, to the vaguest feeling or presence in her apartment, a space she had grown to love.

Her apartment, a warren of brick rooms, overlooked the Rock River. The kitchen was modest but modern, with an adjoining low-ceilinged dining area that she had converted to a sitting room with a concealed flatscreen. The contractor had added a small second-floor office with a large skylight, accessible by a spiral staircase. Lili had turned it into a spare bedroom. Her bedroom sat in the left corner of the apartment. The window there, fifteen feet above the water’s edge, let in the gentle sounds of the river, an ambient soundtrack more soothing than the apps people used to relax and sleep.

She had decorated the walls throughout with all manner of paraphernalia. Small antiques, clocks, old hand tools, gears, a camshaft, and other mechanical oddities. More esoteric items like runic symbols, crystals, zodiac signs, and framed Tarot cards—though she didn’t read Tarot; she just loved the card designs. Interspersed were old black and white photos and enlarged images from the Hubble Telescope collection on canvas. She also had many bookshelves stacked with books. It looked a bit like a museum.

While she loved the apartment itself, there was a deeper significance in choosing unit 124. In numerology, the numbers one, two, and four equaled seven, a number that imparted reflective and introspective qualities to the space. A seven home was an ideal environment for someone with a spiritual nature like Lili.

Gradually, she reached a state of total relaxation, her inner eye a blank slate, the first step to embarking on astral travel, a spiritual discipline that allowed her consciousness to leave her body. To reach out and explore the world, a literal out-of-body experience. Settling into the first stage of sleep, a shallow semiconscious state called alpha phase, her mind drifted upward and floated near the ceiling. Separate from her body but still connected by the astral cord, awaiting instructions.

She could travel anywhere, but she drifted back to 114 for another look, to see if she could connect with the spirit or spirits there, even though astral travel was only vaguely useful for ghost hunting. She wouldn’t see Olivia or Raleigh. In the astral plane, she moved on a different level than the living. She couldn’t snoop or spy on people even if she wanted to.

The Kaplan apartment was silent and dark when she arrived. Lili burrowed into the fabric of the room, seeking the hidden energies lurking there.

At first, it was still.

Tranquil.

A slight disturbance rustled the drapes framing the windows and then the room and all its trappings disappeared. Lili stared, agog at the cavernous space of a different era: the stark image of a factory filled with vapors and large machines. A pungent smell permeated the air. Bleach maybe?

She had slipped into a vivid, harsh world she could scarcely comprehend. How had people worked in such a place?

A lurking shadow gave her a start.

Someone or something was watching. A vaporous presence more sinister than the female spirit she’d sensed earlier.

A ghost. A belligerent male spirit, like a dark cloud, eying her with a hostile gaze.
Lili felt trapped and vulnerable until she broke the connection and drifted home.
The sensation of his glare stayed with her the longest.

Whoever it was, he wasn’t very nice.

As she returned to her body, the memory sent an icy shudder through her.

From the base of her skull to the tips of her toes.

The Mill
by Cailyn Lloyd

As a psychic, seeing ghosts is routine for Lili. She isn’t surprised to discover spirits lurking in the renovated paper mill where she just bought an apartment. What she doesn’t expect is the dark, sinister presence under the floor and the serial killer who is prowling about the mill. When a woman is found murdered and another goes missing, Lili tries to work with one of the spirits—a young girl long dead—to expose the psychopath. But not everyone can be trusted and soon, Lili fears the killer will flee, never to be found and free to strike again.

From the bestselling author of Shepherd’s Warning and The Elders Series comes a terrifying and compelling story that will keep you reading long into the night.

About Cailyn Lloyd

Author of the bestselling trilogy, the Elders, Cailyn Lloyd spent three years living in a truly haunted house and experienced firsthand the nuances of strange and eerie places. The Mill is her highly anticipated fourth novel in the ghost and horror genre.

In addition to writing, Cailyn is an accomplished weather photographer. Her work has appeared in newspapers, textbooks, and magazines, including Life and Weatherwise. She is a composer and musician with three album releases to her credit. Cailyn lives near the Kettle Moraine State Forest in Wisconsin and when she’s not writing spooky stories, loves hiking with her dogs and spending time with her children.