Unhallowed Ground (23 page)

And he didn’t want to feel so…
unnerved
by this encounter. At least it hadn’t been a total dead end, even though she clearly wasn’t the woman he was looking for, a woman who had somehow known that this Martha Tyler existed—and probably also about the odd coincidence that the name of a modern-day Cassadaga medium was the same as a so-called witch who had lived almost a century and a half ago.

As he drove, he realized that he needed to call Jamison; he had promised to keep the lieutenant up-to-date on what was going on with his investigation, which was only fair, since the police had given him every bit of assistance possible.

But when he picked up his cell phone, he felt a strange chill shoot along his spine.

Sarah.

Sarah was in danger. He was sure of it.

He punched in Sarah’s number, glad that he’d thought to copy it from her cell that morning, but she
didn’t answer, and the chill came back, more powerful than before.

Martha Tyler’s words haunted him.

Someone you care about is in danger.

He told himself it was probably nothing, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to make sure she was all right. She’d been at the library, but the library would be closed by now. So where was she, and why wasn’t she answering her phone?

Was it possible to care so much about someone when they weren’t even in your speed dial yet?

Maybe she had already gone to Hunky Harry’s, and she couldn’t hear the phone over the noise in the bar. Maybe she’d forgotten to plug in her phone, and her battery had died.

There were a dozen perfectly logical—and perfectly safe—maybes, and he told himself he was being ridiculous to panic because of the words of a medium he’d never even met before today.

He called Tim Jamison, who was out of the office on personal time, though he could be paged if there was an emergency. Caleb passed and tried Will.

But Will hadn’t heard from Sarah yet, and since he and Caroline were already at Hunky Harry’s, that put paid to one possible explanation of her whereabouts.

“Will, can you try to find her?” Caleb asked.

“Sure, but where are you?”

“On the way back, but still a ways away.”

“Where have you been?”

“I’ll explain later. I’m just uncomfortable, not knowing where she is.”

“Does she usually give you her schedule?” Will asked.

Caleb almost smiled at Will’s protective alpha male persona, then said seriously, “Will, I can’t reach her, and I’m worried.”

“Any particular reason?” Will asked.

“Just everything that’s been going on lately,” Caleb said.

“Right. We’ll head right out and check the library on the way over to her house, then head back here,” Will said. “And don’t worry. We’re on it.”

Caleb pushed down hard on the gas pedal, hoping that Adam Harrison had some influence with the Florida Highway Patrol, because otherwise he would be looking at one mean speeding ticket if he got pulled over.

At first, Sarah just stood dead still in the dark.

She told herself that she was merely stunned by the sudden turn of events, but that she certainly wasn’t frightened.

The wind had closed the door.

Lightbulbs blew all the time.

But as she turned and strained to see in the dark, she couldn’t help wondering how the hell wind was blowing in the kitchen. And why would the light have gone out at the precise moment when the door slammed shut?

She forced herself to think logically.

There was nothing to be afraid of; she was in her own basement. Yes, there was something about the darkness that had always scared humankind, a fear of the unknown. But that didn’t mean that fear had any basis in reality.

She climbed the steps to the door and turned the knob. Or tried to.

Panic did set in then. How could the door be locked? That was certainly well beyond the power of the wind. She pushed against the door, then beat her fists against the unyielding wood. “Hey!” she yelled.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!
If someone was in her house, she really shouldn’t be yelling.

She turned around again, desperately trying to see in the darkness, and told herself to get a grip. She had her softball bat. She was only frightened because it was human instinct to be frightened. What she needed to be was angry—angry with herself. Sensible people who discovered skeletons in their houses stayed away. They sent workers in to return things to normal before they thought about making the place their home again. Especially when they owned a perfectly good carriage house.

She groaned, then was surprised to see that a dim light seemed to be seeping into the basement from…somewhere.

She started down the stairs again, intently holding onto the softball bat with both hands, ready to swing.

And then, to her horror, she tripped.

Swearing, she dropped the bat as she reached out in the darkness, trying to find the rail, but it was as if it slipped out from under her hands. She went tumbling down the wooden stairs, continuing to curse herself all the while.

With a thud, she landed at the bottom of the steps, the baseball bat landing at her side.

Stunned and winded, she lay on the cold stone floor of the basement, seeing the light disappear and feeling the darkness press against her like a heavy cloud.

“She’s definitely not in the library—the place is locked up tighter than a drum,” Caroline told Will.

They had walked around the building, but the front gates were locked, as was the fence to the backyard.

“I could scale the fence,” Will said.

“Or we could call Vicky,” Caroline suggested, punching in the number as she spoke.

Vicky answered and told Caroline that Sarah had left the library some time ago, long before she herself had locked up for the night.

“Okay, so she’s not here,” Caroline said. “There are a couple of ways to get to Hunky Harry’s. I’ll take the main streets, and you go around the plaza.”

As she started to walk away, Will shouted, “No!” and hurried to catch up with her.

“What’s the matter?” Caroline asked him.

He took her arm. “I don’t know, exactly, but Caleb sounded anxious. It’s not late, and there are a lot of people walking around, but…I don’t want you going off alone.”

“You’re scaring me, Will,” Caroline said.

“What’s going on
is
pretty scary.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Caroline asked. “Just a few days ago, I wasn’t afraid at all. I knew Winona Hart had gone missing, but it seemed like an isolated incident, nothing to do with me, and I wasn’t scared. Now…now we’ve connected that other girl, Jennie, with Winona. And
then Caleb found that body on the beach….” Her voice trailed off. “Will, I’m frightened, really frightened. We have to find Sarah. Now.”

He took her hand and started walking.

“This isn’t the way to Hunky Harry’s,” she said.

“I know,” he told her, his grip firm on her as he started moving more quickly.

Sarah lay on the floor for several long moments, feeling a dozen pains streak through her. She groaned aloud as she finally tried to move.

She flexed her muscles, moved her arms and legs. Luckily she didn’t seem to have broken anything. She carefully got to her feet and realized she hadn’t even sprained an ankle. She wasn’t injured, just sore.

And still in a very bad place.

Note to self,
she thought dryly.
Find cell phone and attach to body.

She thought she heard movement nearby, and she spun around, lightning bolts of terror streaking through her once again.

Hello?
a voice breathed somewhere in her head.

She gripped her softball bat and inched forward into the dark. She couldn’t see a thing, even though she was young and had very good vision.

If she couldn’t see and someone else
was
in the basement with her, at least that person couldn’t see, either, she told herself.

She held very still. Nothing happened.

She continued to wait, holding her breath, for what seemed like forever.

As she waited, she realized that those fractured particles of light seemed to be seeping back into the basement. From where?

As she stood there, she suddenly felt a strange warmth settling over her.

Something—some
one
—touched her shoulder. She wanted to scream, but she was frozen with fear.

She insisted to herself that whatever it was, it wasn’t real.

And yet…

He was there. A man. Indistinct. Just a product of her imagination, she told herself. She couldn’t possibly be looking at Civil War soldier Cato MacTavish in his cavalry uniform. She couldn’t possibly be feeling his hand on her shoulder as he put his finger to his lips, warning her to silence.

He couldn’t be real. She had hit her head in the fall, and now she was seeing things. Or maybe her mind had gone because she was so terrified.

He led her forward, still cautioning her to silence, and, inexplicably, she let him. She followed him through the basement to a far corner where a number of old wooden crates had been piled haphazardly.

She could have sworn she saw him reach out as if to move one of them.

She moved it herself and saw that, behind it, the rest of the crates had been stacked into a series of steps.

Keeping her bat firmly grasped in her hand, she crawled up onto the first crate. She could have sworn that Cato gave her a boost.

She crawled up on the next crate, and her excite
ment grew. There was more light here, though it was still pale and dim.

She turned when she felt herself being assisted up onto the next crate, and for a moment she saw him.

Really saw him.

As if he were a man of solid flesh and blood and bone.

The sweeping Southern hat, with its huge plume. The handsome dress cavalry jacket. The eyes that were so like Caleb’s.

He moved an arm, impatiently, as a whisper seemed to sound in the air.
Go. Go quickly.

She moved on to the next crate.

And then she discovered the source of the light.

Just as he was about to turn the corner to St. George Street, Will suddenly drew back.

“What?” Caroline demanded.

“Look,” he whispered. “But carefully.”

They were behind a string of bushes alongside one of one of the smaller of the old mansions, which had an overgrown lot on the far side of it.

A car was parked in front of the lot. Caroline didn’t recognize it, and she didn’t understand why Will was staring at it, and why he was hiding behind the bushes now when he had been so intent earlier on hurrying to Sarah’s house.

“Will? What’s going on?”

“Shhh. That’s Tim Jamison’s car.”

“So? He’s a cop. He can park anywhere he wants. Maybe he’s investigating something,” Caroline said, perplexed.

“Caroline, he’s not investigating anything, he’s just sitting in his car,” Will said. “And he’s not alone.”

Caroline peeked around the bushes. There were two people in the car. Tim Jamison.

And…

The other person had long flowing hair. And a feminine profile. And as she watched, the two of them leaned in toward each other and met in a passionate kiss.

Caroline let out a loud gasp. Will clasped a hand over her mouth and drew her back into the bushes.

She shook free of his grasp and whispered, “Stop it. If Tim wants to have an affair, that’s his own business. We’re on our way to Sarah’s, so come on. I don’t care if they’re going at it like rabbits in there. We have to get to Sarah’s.”

As they were whispering in the bushes, she was suddenly aware of headlights as an old Volkswagen Bug pulled up next to them.

“Hey!” Renee Otten stuck her head out the passenger window. “Why are you two hiding in the bushes?” she asked, and giggled. “Get a room.”

Down the street, the engine of Tim Jamison’s car revved, and the car drove off down the street.

“We’re on our way to Sarah’s. She’s not answering her phone,” Will said.

“Then quit wasting time skulking around and hop in,” Barry offered, leaning past Renee.

“It’s just around the corner—we’ll meet you there,” Will said, then gripped Caroline’s hand and started walking quickly again. Will glanced up at the house by
the vacant lot and remembered the last time he and Sarah had been at this very house. They had been wary, and suspicious, seeing the lieutenant’s car.

“What?” Caroline asked.

“Do you know who lives here?”

“No. Do you?”

“Sure do. That would be Mr. Terrence Griffin the Third.”