Tymber Dalton (36 page)

* * * *

Steve felt a small weight lift. There couldn’t be anything going on between them. If there was, she’d jump at the chance to be alone with Matt. He’d had to talk her into taking Matt to Tampa, out riding, and then this.

What more proof do I need?

He already felt better since his nap, and he was sure his skin didn’t feel as warm as it had before. He needed to find out if they had a thermometer.

He could count on Matt to protect her. Steve didn’t want to be alone in the house with Sami. He was still afraid of the visions out of the darkness, afraid he might hurt her.

He handed Matt the paperwork. “Here, look these over and see what you think.”

* * * *

Mouthwatering aromas drifted from the kitchen. Sami unhooked Steve’s IV when it finished and brought their dinner into the living room. They ate in front of the TV while watching the local news. Local being relative, because their choices were Tampa or Orlando, each over fifty miles away.

Sami tuned the men out. Steve acted normal. At least he wasn’t snarky. Why did he insist Matt go with her everywhere?

Her inner cynic chimed in.
He doesn’t want witnesses when he goes to the basement to get his booze
. Sami knew from past experience if he was determined to drink, she couldn’t stop him.

After dinner, Sami excused herself to go upstairs. “I need to make a call.”

“Who are you calling?” Steve asked.

Why not be truthful?
“There’s a new age shop in town. They offer classes. I talked to the owner the other day. Maybe I can use some of it as material.” Okay, not totally truthful. She avoided Matt’s eyes.

“Sounds good,” Steve said.

Sami retrieved the folder of information on the house and took it upstairs, wanting time to look through it without Steve over her shoulder. She still didn’t know how to approach this topic with him. Maybe he’d be fine now.

Julie answered her phone on the second ring. “It’s Sami.”

“Hi! How’s your husband?”

“I’m not sure. So far he’s not obnoxious. But I have good news. We found the well.”

“Awesome!”

“Bad news is there’s a cement cap on it.” She explained the situation.

“Oh, shoot. We need to get into it. We’ll have to figure out a way to get it open.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“Yes. It’s possible cleansing the other areas would take care of it, but I don’t want to risk it. I know it’s a pain. We can look at it on Thursday.”

“Did you figure out anything about my husband?”

“Well, I uncovered a couple of rituals that might work…” and Julie explained.

“I don’t know how to get him to go along with doing a ritual. I still haven’t said anything to him about the house blessing or even what we suspect.”

“Tell him it’s research for a book and ask him to play along.”

“Julie, you’re brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that? I’ve been racking my brain.”

Julie laughed. “You’re too close to it. It’s easy to complicate things. Tell him when you mentioned what you were doing, I begged you to let me come out and demonstrate on your house.”

“I did tell him I looked into taking classes.”

“See? That’s perfect.”

Sami had a thought. “How do I explain taking you to see the cemetery and the well?”

“The truth. I’m a local, and I’m dying to see them because of my great-grandfather and the house’s history.” Julie had a logical answer for everything. Her voice grew more serious, however. “Besides, if it really is George Simpson’s energy floating around, we don’t want Steve knowing our true purpose.”

“You’re good. Are we still on for Thursday morning?”

“Absolutely.”

“Tomorrow afternoon we’re signing the paperwork for the house.”

“Awesome! Remember, don’t say anything to Ms. Johnson, or she’ll refuse to sell. In fact, you might not want to say anything to your husband until after the meeting.”

“Good idea.” They hung up, and Sami relaxed, trying to read through the information. Her mind kept drifting, and she gave up. Laundry had piled up in the hamper by the door. She carried it downstairs and through the living room. Matt and Steve were huddled over the documents. “Everything okay?” she asked.

Sami thought Steve’s smile faltered when he looked up. “Matt says it’s all copacetic. Shouldn’t be any problems.”

“Good. I’ll be back in a minute.”

* * * *

Sami disappeared through the basement door. Steve realized Matt was trying to point something out. “Sorry…what?”

He wasn’t paying attention. He couldn’t stop thinking about the unmistakable yellow Sandusky T-shirt he spotted through the sides of the plastic hamper.

Had to be a coincidence. She wore the shirt all the time, at least once or twice a week.

He heard Matt laugh and turned to him.

“Steve, I think you’ve had enough fun for one evening.” Matt collected the paperwork and returned it to the envelope. “I need a shower anyway. You relax. If you have any more questions, we’ll talk later.”

Steve nodded and watched Matt climb the stairs. Matt hesitated halfway up, as if expecting trouble, and then continued.

How much does Matt know about this place?
Maybe he wasn’t losing his mind after all.

* * * *

Matt pulled the shower curtain and turned the shower on as hot as he could stand it. The mirror soon steamed and he stepped in, enjoying the sting of the spray. It felt good and helped him not think about Sam.

He lathered his hair and swore as soap ran into his eyes. When he stepped under the water to rinse, he jumped as he felt Sam caress his ass.

“Dammit,” he swore, barely remembering to keep his voice low. “That’s not funny. Steve might see you!”

She said nothing. By the time Matt had the soap rinsed from his eyes, he was alone in the bathroom.

* * * *

Sami emerged from the basement with a load of clothes from the dryer. Steve, his eyes closed, had switched to the Discovery Channel where the MythBusters were mangling and mutilating Buster the crash test dummy. She sat in a chair and started folding clothes.

“So when do we have our talk?” he asked, startling her. She’d thought he was dozing.

“What talk?”

“Come on, Sami. About what I said in the hospital. About how I’ve been acting the past few months.”

“Steve, you just got home. Frankly, I need time and space. I’d rather not have any kind of conversation when there’s another person in the house. I’m still trying to sort things out.”

“We can’t let this sit forever.”

“I’m not talking about forever. I’m talking about a cooling-off period.” She threw a towel back into the basket after trying and failing three times to fold it. “You caught me by surprise. On top of everything else, it hit me hard.”

“Do you want a separation?”

His question stunned her. It was on the tip of her tongue to say yes. “Steve, when I say I need time, I mean I need time. When we finally do have our ‘talk’ as you call it, I think we should see Dr. Raymond. In fact, I might want to see him first, by myself.”

Steve chewed on that. “It’s only fair.”

“I do have one question for you.”

He nodded. “Fire away.”

“Have you been drinking?”

It took him off guard. It seemed to take him too long to answer. “Sami, I swear to you, I’m not drinking.”

“So there’s absolutely nothing you want to tell me?” She watched his face, carefully, for any hint of deceit.

“I swear.”

She studied him for a long moment. Finally, she said, “You know I always told you I’d leave you in a heartbeat if you lied to me about drinking again.”

He nodded.

She studied the basket of clothes and tried to fold the towel again, this time getting it right. She knew he was lying. Either he’d gotten better at lying, or he honestly had no memory of drinking. The first option pissed her off.

The second terrified her.

“Okay,” she said, quietly, to end it. “Are you sleeping down here tonight?”

“Would you mind if I did? The TV’s down here.” They hadn’t purchased extra satellite boxes yet.

“I don’t mind.” She looked at her watch. “You’re due for more medicine. Do you want a Valium, too?”

He nodded. “That might not be a bad idea.”

She set the basket on the bottom stair and went into the kitchen. Pog followed her, wanting his dinner. She fed him and got Steve’s pills. He was engrossed in the show already.

Must be nice
. From deep conversation to TV in seconds.

She turned to go up the stairs and the basket sat on the third riser. She looked at Steve. She’d swear he never rose from the couch. “Very funny, Boy Genius. Great way to rip out stitches.” She picked up the basket and he looked at her, confused.

“Huh?”

She hefted the basket. “The laundry. I left it at the base of the stairs. You moved it.”

She noted the confusion in his face. “Sami, I didn’t touch the basket.”

If he’s lying, he’s getting good at it.
“You didn’t move my laundry basket?”

He shook his head. “No. I haven’t been off the couch.”

She looked at the basket in her hands and wanted to drop it. A chill enveloped her. “Never mind.” She hurried up the stairs and nearly collided with Matt coming out of the bathroom.

“Not very funny,” he whispered. “And not very smart!”

“What are you talking about?”

He shushed her to keep her voice down. “Coming into the bathroom and goosing my ass.”

She shook her head. “I was downstairs. I haven’t been up here until just now.”

He visibly paled. “You’re not kidding?”

She shook her head. “Hell, no. What, do you think I’m stupid?” She thought for a moment. “You didn’t move my laundry basket, did you?”

He shook his head.

“Oh boy,” she said. “I think we have a new batch of trouble.”

Matt bid Steve and Sami good night and took his laptop and MP3 player upstairs. He heard Sami make her way up shortly after and timed a bathroom run to coincide.

“Good night,” he whispered.

She paused at her bedroom door. “’Night.” The door closed behind her and he completed his trip to the bathroom.

Back in the guest room, Matt tried to make sense of the files copied from Steve’s computer. Except for the one file, he found no other references to a relationship between Sam and himself.

The manuscript, other than the odd asides, was good. Even though only a rough draft, Matt saw where Steve was going with it. Most likely would break the
New York Times
list within a couple of weeks of release.

Matt couldn’t focus, felt restless, and couldn’t sleep. He started to program his MP3 player for sleep mode when he thought about the digital voice recorder.

Why not?

He retrieved it from the dresser and plugged his headset in, started at the beginning.

He heard Julie’s voice speak the time, date, and location. The sound of Sam walking it upstairs, the attic steps unfolding, Sam putting it down. Then, in the distance, the sound of Sami closing the attic steps again.

And all was quiet.

It was quiet for a while. He considered using the fast-forward button when he heard a noise, realized it was him coming up to the attic for measurements.

He heard himself walking around, muttering, the snap of the tape measure. Then he left and closed the stairs.

Silence.

Minutes later, a child’s voice, barely louder than a whisper.

“No, Daddy, please. It hurts.”

Every hair on his body stood on end. He rewound it and listened again.

And again.

A little girl’s voice.

It was too late to play it for Sam. If Steve was awake, he’d wonder why Matt went to their bedroom that late at night.

Matt found his notepad and wrote the counter time and kept listening, this time with every nerve ending tuned.

Minutes, then hours passed. He thought he heard noises, someone moaning, faint but still audible—

“Oh, Matt!”

He snorted, trying to stifle his laughter. That was Sam.

Oh, hell—that was Sam!
He looked up and realized the recorder had been situated directly over his bedroom.

I wonder if there’s any way to erase just a portion of the recording?

It wasn’t very distinct, but still audible. He let it play, noting the counter range for Julie.

Maybe she’ll do us the favor of erasing it.

He nearly shut it off for the night when he heard another voice, a woman.