Haunted (22 page)

“Perhaps you were dreaming,” he said. His tone was logical and matter-of-fact, but he wasn't looking at her as if she were insane.

“Perhaps I was. But it gets even better.” She paused just a moment, watching him carefully. “You see, Josh was there
again. It was as if he had come in behind the woman. And he seemed as natural about being there as if we were back in school, and he had met up with me in the cafeteria. ‘Darcy, please, she just needs a little help. She can reach you, and she can't get through to her granddaughter. Darcy, it's a little thing. Just find her granddaughter,' he told me.”

“So…” Matt said, and the word was elongated, betraying a hint of doubt. “You told Josh that you would find the woman's granddaughter?”

She smiled. “No.”

“Then what?”

“I don't really remember. I woke in the morning, certain that I'd had a dream myself. But I couldn't quite accept that. I went back to the church, and I found the minister, and I asked if there had been a funeral the day before that might have involved a woman named Charisse. He said yes, that a young woman named Charisse Whittaker had been the one to make arrangements for the funeral of her grandmother, Lanie Beacon. He asked if I was a friend of Charisse's. I told him not exactly, but that I had known Lanie. He seemed surprised, since apparently, Lanie had been very ill for some time. I asked if he could get a note to Charisse for me, so I wrote suggesting that she look in the Shirley Temple doll for the diamonds. He promised to get it to her for me.”

“And he did?” Matt queried.

Darcy nodded. He wasn't touching her. He just leaned against the balcony, listening, as if she was telling him about any event in her past.

“And then?”

She hesitated. “Three days later, Charisse called me. She was practically hysterical with gratitude, she had been nearly destitute, paying off her grandmother's bills. Though Lanie had been sick for a long time, apparently, she hadn't been in her right mind before she had died, and so she hadn't told
Charisse much of anything about her jewelry. She had known that her grandmother had a few pieces, and had hoped to sell them to be able to pay off the funeral and medical bills. As it turned out, Lanie had actually had quite a small fortune in jewelry, gifts her mother had given her from her family, who had been some kind of Russian nobility. At any rate, Charisse was grateful to me, and sadder than ever about Lanie, because her grandmother had been so careful to hold on to the gems so that she might have them when Lanie died. She asked me how I knew, and I told her the truth. She didn't seem to doubt me at all, she just kept saying thank you and asking me if I needed any financial help or if I wanted any kind of reward. I told her that I was fine and that I hoped everything would go well for her and her children.”

“She didn't want to meet you to say thanks?” Matt asked.

Darcy smiled wryly. “She couldn't have been nicer or more grateful—on the phone. She expressed no desire to meet me. I think the whole thing was quite…creepy for her.”

“After that?” Matt asked.

“There were more…happenings. I was a theater major at the time. When I first went to college, despite what had happened on prom night and after, I thought I had the perfect life. I was in school in New York City. There was competition coming out of the woodwork, but I was also in the land of opportunity. I had wonderful film classes as well. An opportunity to work part-time for MTV. And, yes, I had some work modeling and I was making really decent money for a student. Then, I dreamed one night that I was at a funeral with a friend whose brother had died. It was so real that I told her how sorry I was the next day. She wanted to know why I was sorry. I realized that I had been dreaming, but then a week later her brother was killed in a boating accident. Naturally, I went to the funeral. And she accepted my condolences then, but I could see in her eyes she didn't want me anywhere near her, it was almost as if…as
if I had somehow caused it to happen. I was seeing someone at the time too. Fairly seriously. We broke off that night. I felt terrible. As if I were some kind of a pariah. I went out to Queens the next day, to the cemetery. And I didn't actually see Josh then, but it was as if I could hear him. I wasn't exactly suicidal—but I was feeling fairly desperate. But while I was just sitting there, I felt as if Josh were by me, telling me that I needed to go and see his father. I remembered Adam, how very kind he had been to me at Josh's funeral. While I was having that thought, I could swear that I saw all kinds of ghosts walking around the cemetery. One man in particular. He was wearing some kind of a uniform, but I didn't know what it was. I walked over to the gravestone where he was standing, and saw that he had died in 1780. The gravestone was hard to read, it was broken and untended, but I finally made out the words ‘Revolutionary Hero.' So…I started telling him how grateful the nation was for all that had been done to give us our freedom, that we were far from perfect, but a truly great nation in the ideals for which they had fought and died. Anyway, he smiled, and disappeared, and I didn't feel quite so terrible, and the next day, I looked up Adam Harrison.”

“And he told you that you weren't ill, or insane, but that you had a special gift?” Matt asked. She couldn't tell if there was skepticism in his voice or not.

“Not that day,” Darcy told him, smiling. “He broke down crying, and asked me about Josh, and I told him that Josh was just as he had always been, kind and there to help. And he asked me, next time I saw or heard his son, to tell him how much he had loved him, and cherished every day that he'd had him with him. Then he asked me to come back. That's where we began. I did go back. I submitted to all kinds of tests, and I met other people who worked for him. People who experienced events the way that I had, and people with different forms of…extrasensory perception. I wasn't going to go back to school at first,
but Adam suggested that I should, that we would keep close contact, and that he would be ready for me full-time whenever I was ready to come back. My interests had changed, however. I wanted to study human psychology, to help me deal with the people who had a bad time dealing with me. And I was fascinated then with history, architecture, old homes….” She paused, shrugging again. “And I'm a good student. I don't think my IQ is off the board or anything, but I'd always had a good bent toward the academic. So I studied, acquired the degrees I wanted…and then went back to Adam. Full-time.”

He was quiet, watching her, waiting, perhaps, for her to say more. The night breeze continued to drift gently around them.

There was no more to say. And she was disturbed to realize just how anxious she was for him to say something that would show he wasn't so disturbed by her that he would turn away. Not now, perhaps. He was, in his way, a true gentleman. Raised to courtesy.

She didn't want to care. She knew better than to care. She shouldn't have gotten involved in any way with him, because she had studied so hard, learned so much about the human psyche. When she frightened people, they turned away. By the nature of her existence, she frightened people.

“So…?” she murmured, wishing she didn't sound quite so desperate. She had longed to sound casual. Things were the way they were. She couldn't change the way that she was—God knew, she would have done so years ago were it possible.

“There must be a certain satisfaction in feeling that you've helped someone,” he said. “Even if it does happen to be someone dead.”

He sounded polite, courteous, and even gentle.

“Are you making fun of me?” she asked very quietly.

“No.”

“But I know that you don't believe in ghosts, or the occult, in any way.”

He smiled. “I can't say that I'm convinced. That I can suddenly fall on my knees and say that I'm a true believer.”

“Then?”

“I believe in you,” he told her.

The breeze moved.

She must have heard him wrong.

“What?” she whispered.

He made a move toward her, taking her into his arms. His thumb stroked her chin in a way that made her incredibly warm. His eyes touched hers.

“You are quite different.”

She arched her chin upward. “If you're not convinced that there is a world beyond that which most people know, you must think that I'm a liar. Or insane.”

He shook his head. “There are often rational explanations for what doesn't seem rational at first.”

“A scientific explanation for anything?”

“Maybe.”

She smiled. “But you do believe in God, in a greater existence.”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

“How would you explain God, then?”

A slow smile curled his lips. “Hey, we could get into a whole thing here on the missing link, Darwinism, and more.”

“But you're missing my point. Belief is not tangible. God is not tangible. So…if there is a greater being, then there can be a much greater reality than the one we see daily, that most people accept.”

“How about I say that I'll try to keep an open mind?” he asked her.

“I say that you're incredible!” she breathed softly.

“There is one thing of which I am convinced,” he told her.

“Oh?”

“You are a force of nature!” he said. She smiled. He swept her up. She slipped her arms around his neck.

“Manly muscles and sinew, you know,” he teased.

“Totally appreciated,” she assured him.

He walked back into the bedroom.

By the time Darcy slept, it was so deeply that she wasn't so much as nudged by a vision or a dream.

“A
dam!”

Darcy was stunned and delighted when she came downstairs the next morning to find that Adam Harrison was in the dining room, sharing tea with Penny.

“There's my girl!” He stood, straight and dignified as ever, a smile creasing his features as she hurried forward to greet him with a warm hug.

She pulled away from him, searching his eyes. “I didn't know you were coming. I thought you were really involved with the situation in London.”

“Indeed, but apparently, that will be solved at another time,” he told her. “I hadn't heard from you, young woman!” he told her sternly.

She laughed. “Adam, you're the one with the international cell phone. You could have called me, too.”

He shrugged. “I leave you alone, unless you call to say you need me. You know that.”

She arched a brow. “Did I send out a psychic distress signal of which I'm not aware?”

“Can you really do that?” Penny inquired with awe.

Darcy laughed, looking away from Adam to smile down at Penny, at the head of the table where she remained seated. “I'm not sure,” she told Penny.

“Anything is possible,” Adam assured Penny. “But no, I
simply came because, as I said, the situation in London is complex, and must be handled at a later time. And since Matt's granddad and I were such great old chums—not to mention the fact that I paid Matt, rather than having Matt pay me, a most unusual experience, I do assure you—I thought that I should add my moral support to Darcy's work here.”

“Moral support?” Penny said. “But you're the head of the company—”

“Ah, but not nearly as gifted as my very special associate here,” Adam assured her. Darcy realized that he was looking at her with concern. “I hear you nearly had a terrible fall yesterday.”

“Boards rotted, Adam. It was nothing. I didn't really fall at all. And it probably wasn't a life-threatening situation. I might have broken a few bones.”

“Any kind of a feeling about it?” he asked.

“Did a ghost in the library shove me through the boards?” she queried ruefully. “No. No feeling whatsoever. Boards rotted. Period.”

“Ah, but Penny has been telling me that you made an excellent discovery in the woods,” Adam said.

Darcy had to smile. “Adam, I'm not sure that everyone would refer to a skull as an excellent discovery.”

“A poor, brutalized girl can now be put to rest,” Adam said, and his tone was both sad and serious.

“We will have a church ceremony, no matter how Matt feels,” Penny said.

“Matt just doesn't want a circus, I'm sure,” Darcy murmured.

Penny leapt to her feet suddenly. “I'm sorry, I've just been so charmed to see Adam that I've completely forgotten my manners. Let me get you some coffee, dear.”

“Penny, I'm a big girl. I know where to get the coffee,” Darcy assured her.

“But Penny is a Southern hostess of the most gracious
variety,” Adam said, staring at her in a way that said,
Let Penny get the coffee!

“It's absolutely my pleasure,” Penny said.

“Then I will most graciously accept a cup of coffee, thank you, Penny,” Darcy said.

With a brilliant smile, Penny went off to get the coffee.

“So?” Adam said, frowning. “What's going on here?”

“Adam, honestly, I don't know. Usually, a wounded spirit is pleased to be eased. There's just something…I don't know.”

“Josh hasn't been able to help you?”

It had taken a very long time, but Adam had accepted his son's death. He had even known it was coming, though he had never really sat down with Darcy and explained how, if Josh had talked to him, or if he had intuited the short life span of such a special young man. She thought for many years, though he had kept his own counsel on his feelings as well, that Adam felt a certain pain that she could communicate with his deceased son, while he could not. But whatever his personal pain, kindness had always been one of Adam Harrison's greatest virtues. His son had inherited the trait. For the good or the bad of it, she was sure it was why she and Josh had been best friends, and why he was still so often with her, even now.

She shook her head slowly. “It's very strange. It's almost as if he can't enter this house. As if there's a block…he helped me find Amy's skull, to see what happened in the woods, picture her murder. But I've tried to reach him while I'm in here. I can't.”

“Very strange,” Adam said.

Darcy shrugged, opened her mouth to agree, then shut it again. Penny was returning with a mug full of coffee for her.

“Did you see Matt?” Darcy asked Adam, after thanking Penny.

“Briefly. He was hurrying off to work when I arrived,” Adam said.

“He's a very good sheriff,” Penny said proudly.

“Um. And you might have mentioned that fact to me when sending me out here,” Darcy said.

“Come now. I'm sure you two have managed to get along okay,” Adam said.

Darcy was glad that he wasn't blessed with a true second sight, but she began to suspect he did have a special intuition, he seemed so amused as he spoke.

She merely smiled. “I imagine he was quite glad to see you. I told you that he found me a poor substitute when I first arrived.”

“He was glad to see me,” Adam said. “Naturally—his granddad and I went way back.” Adam hesitated, studying her. “He's also anxious about you being here now.”

“Oh?” Darcy said carefully.

“He's afraid you're going to get hurt.”

She couldn't help the flare of anger that went through her. She'd bared her soul to the man the night before, and he'd claimed—at least, she thought that he'd claimed—to have something of an open mind. But now day had come and Adam had arrived, and he wanted her out. “I fell through some old floorboards, and didn't get hurt. And he doesn't believe in ghosts, so…?”

Adam arched a brow to her just a hair, his eyes indicating the fact that Penny was listening. They never discussed their progress—or lack thereof—in front of others.

“Matt is convinced that someone very much alive is pulling pranks,” Penny said.

“Attempting to kill or injure someone is a prank?” Adam said.

Penny waved a hand in the air. “Floorboards do rot. Matt is just being Matt. Suspicious. Because he thinks someone has been causing the disturbances at the house—again, someone alive, and not a ghost.”

Darcy was silent, uneasy for a moment. Because that one night, she had been convinced that there had been someone, alive and well, playing tricks as well.

“Having you attempted using sensors, photography, or tape as yet?” Adam asked Darcy.

“No. You know me. I like to spend time without equipment first.”

“Right. But don't you think it's time to bring it in?”

She lowered her head slowly in acknowledgment, thinking that it was actually a damned good thing that she hadn't set up sound or videotape in her room
as yet
.

“I'll call Jenner later—I understand his company is our contact,” Adam said. “For the moment…Penny, would you excuse us? I'd like Darcy to show me the woods.”

“Of course!” Penny said. “You two go right on and get to work.”

“Thanks, Penny,” Darcy murmured, and started out of the dining room, and then the house, Adam Harrison behind her.

They'd passed the stables and walked some distance from the house before Adam spoke again. “Just what do you think is happening in the house?”

She glanced at him, smiling ruefully. “It's crawling with ghosts. There is a Civil War soldier in the place, definitely. A benign fellow, I believe. And perhaps he's happy, watching over the place. Most of the time, the feeling is quite good.”

“Except for in the Lee Room.”

Darcy shrugged. “Mostly. I had a pretty strange chill in the living room once.” She shook her head. “I don't know what's going on, Adam. It doesn't make any sense. I've done a lot of reading. There was a young woman who was having an affair with the heir to the house many years ago. She was supposedly an illegitimate relation from a few generations back. The young heir then married a proper young woman and his mistress, Arabella, disappeared. At least from the record books. She's not among Penny's known ‘haunts,' or those she tells about on her legends tours. But I've tried connecting with her…and I get no response. It seems as well that Josh isn't able to connect in the
house, or in the Lee Room. As I said, it's very strange. Arabella should want to communicate, to let me find her, wherever she is, and perhaps bring to light the fact that she was murdered—if, indeed, she was.”

Adam was quiet as they moved down the path. “Do you feel as if you're in any danger?”

She stopped, staring at him. “Adam, you know that, sometimes, I experience the fear of what went on years before. And I've woken here shaken and frightened—but it's nothing I haven't lived with before, and I'm really determined now that I am on to something, that I can get to the bottom of this. I do believe that someone was murdered in that room. I've gotten snatches of what happened in my dreams. Several times. You understand how that works with me. I'm asleep, and somewhere in my mind, I know that I'm dreaming. But I also become that other person in a way, and see and experience the situation from their point of view—
as it happened
. I've slipped in to the past life of a woman in the room—and into the life of the man who came after her.”

“Can you see their faces?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I've seen him reach the house. I've seen her as she's been here, alone first, then realizing that he's come.” She shrugged and let out a long sigh. “Last night, I saw him race up the stairs after her, and he was furious. He's carrying a stretch or broken rein—long enough to wrap around her neck, which is what I believe he eventually does. But the dream eluded me before I could see the end of it. Or even make out faces.”

“So you're close.”

“Very close.”

“I should keep watch while you sleep,” Adam said.

Darcy hesitated. She shook her head then. “I'm more frustrated than frightened. Honestly. I want to see this through. We should set up equipment, yes, and I probably should have
done so a few days ago. But we're not going to get anything on tape—maybe a little mist. I need to get to the bottom of the dream. I need for the entire sequence of events to play out for me.”

“I understand you had a seance here.”

“Yes, and there was definitely a feeling of spiritual presence—but not through the medium. The ghosts were probably laughing at us all that night. Except…”

“Yes?”

“The malignant presence. I felt it that night, as well. But someone was definitely playing tricks that night. Parlor games. Rapping on the table.”

“Who did it?”

“I don't know.”

Adam paused on the walkway. “Ah-huh!”

“Ah-huh?”

“We're going to recreate the seance.”

Darcy grimaced. “Adam, the woman who came was earnest and all that, but not a real medium.”

“Don't be silly. Your ‘medium' will be here for the seance, of course. We need to recreate it with everyone present who was here that night. Except for this—you'll be the medium this time.”

“You're going to try to figure out who was rapping on the table? I can tell you right now—both Clint and Carter can be pranksters. And Penny is so determined that Matt believe in ghosts that she might have done it herself.”

“I'll be watching for the table rapper myself,” Adam said. “To get to the bottom of the story with the ghost, we're going to have to find the mischievous living soul first.”

Darcy arched a brow. “There's something not right. Most of the time, spirits just want us to tell what happened in the past—see the evil culprit named, the truth known. This is all so very strange.”

“Let's see what happens at a seance when you're doing the
communicating and I'm doing the watching,” Adam said. He turned back toward the house, then cast his face back in her direction again. “Enough of a walk for me,” he said cheerfully. “Come along. We've a lot of communicating with the living to do this afternoon.”

“You want to have the seance tonight?”

“Why let grass grow beneath our feet?” he cross-queried. “Sure. Absolutely. If it can be arranged, we'll plunge right in tonight!”

 

Matt hung up the phone, groaned, and put his head down on his desk.

Naturally, Shirley chose that moment to tap, and walk into his office.

“Matt?” she cried with concern.