Ghost Layer (The Ghost Seer Series Book 2) (10 page)

Given the nature of her gift, Zach suspected this wouldn’t be the last time people might threaten her. Should he help her become accustomed to that? Instinctively, he wanted to protect her, take her away from any danger, make her problems go away.

Clare was a strong woman, a woman redefining herself as Zach had been forced to realign his own life, which was part of the reason they clicked. His mouth flattened as he realized he’d have to let her decide how much danger to have in her life.

So he concentrated on the puzzle of her “accident.” Through his work he knew the past could hold secrets that affected the present.

Clicking through scenarios, he liked the one of a prospector being murdered near his mine. A mine he hadn’t heard being worked by anyone else. An unregistered mine that might now be on federal land. The mountains of Colorado were honeycombed with mines, some old with poisonous gas and most unstable. Hard to find just one without knowing exactly where it was.

With the economy being what it is, a secret cache of gold might come in handy.

Looking at his watch, Zach headed out. How long would the sheriff question Clare? If it had been him, and he had a wounded victim, maybe only forty-five minutes or so for a simple fall, but that couldn’t be it because Rossi said Clare had been targeted and Laurentine seemed to think the fall wasn’t accidental. Even pressing the speed limit, it would take Zach two and a half hours to get there.

WHEN HE GOT
into South Park, zoomed past Fairplay, and left it behind, he could see a big house on a ridge with lights blazing. His gut clutched. Everyone was up because of the incident with Clare. She’d better damn well be all right or he’d . . . speak to her strongly about leaving this job. And his mind had done the hamster wheel thing after all.

At a set of iron gates, the guard came out of his hutch bundled in a coat. From the way he walked, Zach knew he’d been on the job as a policeman . . . probably a deputy sheriff as Zach had been. At least he appeared alert and on the ball.

Zach rolled down the window and passed over his ID: driver’s license and the card that said,
RICKMAN SECURITY AND INVESTIGATIONS
. The man scrutinized him. “PI,” he sneered.

“Ex-cop, just like you,” Zach shot back. He jerked his head toward the house. “Sheriff still up there?”

“Nope.” Dark eyes scrutinized and craggy face set. “What county did you work?”

Shrugging a shoulder, Zach said, “Cottonwood in Montana was the latest.”

The guard grunted.

“How many guards does Laurentine employ?” Zach asked.

After eyeing him another few seconds, the guy answered, “Round the clock here at the gate, so three. He has that big bruiser as a body guard.” The man’s mouth turned sour. “From now on, he’ll probably have some of his hands patrolling that old ghost town of his to keep it safe.” The guard finally handed Zach back his license and card. “What are you up here for?”

“I don’t take kindly to having my lady hurt.”

Thick, dark brows rose. “You’re screwi—you’re interested in the ghost chic—woman?”

“Ghost seer,” Zach corrected smoothly. He leaned out the window companionably, though the cold was more than nippy. “Anyone come up here tonight before the incident that shouldn’t have?”

Another shrug. “Laurentine likes having guests, will even accept some of the wealthy locals if they want to brownnose with him. Charlie, the guy on before me, said he saw some lights moving through Curly Wolf after dinner, but Laurentine has businessmen over tonight and usually shows them around.”

“Dinner’s when?” Zach asked.

“Seven p.m.”

“Near dark.”

“That’s right.”

“So you talked to the guy on before you and know what he and the sheriff discussed?” Zach asked.

“That’s right. We’re friends and the assault is the most stir we’ve had in a while. At least of a threatening sort. Charlie was called up to the house, and when they were done with him, he passed a coupla minutes with me.”

“No one came through the gates on his shift?” Zach asked.

“Two people came and went for dinner, nobody after that. And nobody on my shift except for the sheriff. I came on at eleven p.m.”

“You didn’t see anything—any lights—up by the house near the time of the incident?”

“I can’t see anything near the house.” The guard stepped back. “The estate’s big. If someone wanted to sneak in, there wouldn’t be a problem. More likely the person who hurt your woman was inside the house, though.”

“Uh-huh,” Zach said.

As soon as he entered the house, a woman came toward him, waiting for him. She radiated disapproval. She was tall, a good five-nine, slender build, and had her pale blond-gray hair done in a braid around her head. “Mr. Slade?” she asked in cool tones.

“That’s right.”

“Mr. Laurentine is expecting you. Ms. Cermak is with him and Ms. Legrand in Mr. Laurentine’s office.” Now that he was closer, he saw the lines framing the downward curve of her mouth. She turned, expecting him to follow her, and he did, through a luxuriously furnished great room. His cane made soft taps on the wood, the sound disappearing when he reached rugs. All the lights were on, here and in the upper corridor. She walked quickly and he only had time to glance at the stairs—wider than he’d imagined and glossy with polish—before she led him through a wide hall and down to a door that Rossi stood outside of.

“Hey, Rossi.”

“Slade.” He jerked a head at the large, also polished, walnut door. “The man wanted me out here.” Skin tightened around his eyes, and Zach figured there was plenty of access to the room through windows or other doors. He gave Rossi a nod that he’d be alert to any danger, and the fine tension in the guard’s body eased. Zach wasn’t lying. He’d be sharp to field threats to Clare, to himself. Then he’d take care of Laurentine. That guy might be Rossi’s priority, but he wasn’t Zach’s.

The housekeeper—Clare had told him her name was Patrice Schangler—opened the door, gestured for him to precede her, then followed and closed the door behind her.

Zach’s gaze went straight to Clare, who huddled in the corner of a love seat, her skin pale beneath the tan of her skin, smudges under her eyes. He strode over to her, took her hands. They seemed too cool between his.

The housekeeper said, “If that is all for now, Mr. Laurentine?”

Laurentine, dressed in custom jeans and a tailored denim shirt, waved a hand. “Of course. I’ll see you at breakfast,” Laurentine said.

Without another word, the woman left.

“How are you?” Zach asked Clare.

She smiled. “Pretty well.”

“I’m fine,” Laurentine said. For an instant, Zach caught a flash of slyness in Laurentine’s eyes. Was he just maliciously amused? Or was he involved in the accident? He sat on a couch with his arm around the beautiful Missy Legrand, who leaned against him. From the subtle body cues, neither of the two was more emotionally involved than hot sex and posturing for others.

“Good to know.” Zach’s gaze met Laurentine’s for a fleeting instant as he checked out the rest of the room. Heavy, floor-length curtains probably masked tall windows or sliding doors. The rest of the room was decked out as an office, with an impressive desk that screamed look-at-me-I’m-a-big-shot and loaded bookcases. Since some of the volumes appeared well read, Laurentine’s character rose a bit in Zach’s estimation.

He released Clare’s hands after chafing them to warmth and he stared at Laurentine. “So do you want to tell me what the sheriff found out?”

Laurentine arched his brows. “You’ll get Clare’s story later.”

“They took my phone,” Clare said. She straightened her back until she sat ramrod stiff, mouth flat, staring at Laurentine. “Mr. Laurentine made it clear when I spoke to him yesterday afternoon that I was to consider myself on call. So when I received a phone call from him near midnight, I, of course, came down to see him.”

“You work from eight a.m. to eight p.m. from now on,” Zach said. “No earlier and no later. Rickman will adjust the bill, if necessary.”

Clare turned a chill look on him. Uh-oh.

“I will take your advice under consideration,” she said.

“Right. My advice.”

“I don’t mind paying for Ms. Cermak’s time.” Laurentine’s smile showed an edge of teeth. He seemed to want to aggravate the situation. Because he liked trouble making, didn’t like Zach, didn’t like Clare, or didn’t like them both.

“That was not the impression I received from you yesterday,” Clare said. “I will discuss any hours with you, and confirm such with Tony Rickman tomorrow.”

“If we stay,” Zach said, reached for her fingers and squeezed them, then sent her a tender and lopsided smile he hoped would soften her.

She glanced sideways at him. “If we stay. I don’t need to speak with J. Dawson here.” A tiny sigh escaped her. “I suspect he’ll follow me until we find his murderer.”

Missy Legrand’s eyes widened. Maybe Laurentine had kept her in the dark about the situation.

Clare waved a hand. “To continue, I hurried down the stairs and slipped on some furniture polish on the third or fourth step.” She grimaced and her fingers tightened on his.

“The sheriff found more than what is used to polish the stairs,” Laurentine said. “Nearly a pool, and it wouldn’t be easily seen, since apparently it blends in with the wood.” Laurentine flicked his fingers. Of course he wouldn’t know about furniture polish. “Naturally the lights are low in the corridor and the great room at night.”

“A lot of furniture polish is almost clear,” Clare said.

Zach grunted. “Anything else?” He’d take her through everything once they got back to her room, then talk to the sheriff in the morning.

Laurentine said, “The sheriff found an outside door unlocked.” The multimillionaire scowled. “I pay people to do a security check, and I have a system.”

“Who checks?”

“Ms. Schangler and her nephew see to the windows and doors. Of course, they state that they’d checked everything, and all was fine.”

“I’ll take a look at the door shortly, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s late,” Laurentine said.

“It’s assault,” Zach stated. He stood and went to the curtains, separated them enough to see they did cover a door to a terrace. A door with standard locks. Pitiful. Zach’d ask Rossi for a floor plan. The guy would have one and was easier to work with than Laurentine.

He saw nothing in the dark beyond the doors, but didn’t plan on giving his eyes time to adjust. “Why didn’t you want Rossi here with you?”

Missy Legrand rose with a sensual movement and said, “I asked Dennis to have him stay out there when the sheriff and his two deputies came in. So many men in law enforcement.” She scanned Zach, and, like Clare, ignored his cane. Point for her.

“I get tired of having Rossi with us all the time. Are you done, Mr. . . . Slade?”

Zach offered his hand. “Zach Slade, I’m with Rickman Security and Investigations.”

“You were wounded by an armed drunk driver in Montana six months ago.” Missy took his hand, gave him a soft grip. The touch of her skin had no effect on him; her scent was pleasant but not interesting. He stiffened at her words.

“I’m a bit of a news junky,” the actress said. “I recognized you.”

Zach let her fingers go. “Ms. Legrand.”

Clare stood slowly, as if her body pained her. He moved to her side.

Looking at Laurentine, she said, “I’m off the clock until eight a.m. tomorrow morning.” She paused, then ruined the moment by saying, “Unless J. Dawson visits me.”

“Come on, Clare,” Zach said.

“I assume you intend to stay with Clare,” Laurentine said.

Zach shrugged. “If you have a problem with that, we’ll leave.” Again he met Laurentine’s eyes. “Feel free to fire us.”

Clare stiffened beside him, no doubt her frugal soul flinching at the thought of doing work for no money. Or at him making decisions for her again.

“That reminds me.” Now Laurentine stood. “How are you doing at solving J. Dawson’s murder?”

Smiling with teeth, Zach said, “Pretty well. We can talk later.”

Since Clare was moving slowly and steadily toward the door, he didn’t taunt Laurentine any further. Zach reached the door first and opened it for Clare.

“I’m on the second floor,” she said.

“Is there an elevator?” Zach asked, tapping his cane louder than necessary in the hallway.

Clare didn’t even glance at him, lifted her chin. “It’s best I get accustomed to taking the stairs. I can’t ignore staircases the rest of my life.”

“We’ll be careful,” Zach said. She wasn’t moving with her usual suppleness.

“Absolutely,” she said. “Especially since I have some pain meds in me.”

He wanted to take a good look at the scene, too. Unlike Laurentine, he knew what furniture polish looked like.

They walked slowly side by side to the stairs and went up. There were fancy gold velvet cords attached to posts blocking off the top three stairs, which left only enough room for a person to pass on the right, next to the wall. Ropes like the kind that were used in a museum. Like what Laurentine might have in the ghost town of Curly Wolf.

“I wasn’t running,” Clare said with only a small hitch in her voice. “Even though he’d—or I thought it was Mr. Laurentine—called twice.”

Zach smiled. “The irritation and rebellion factor.”

“Yes.” She wet her lips. “I’m not . . . not sure how much worse it might have been if I’d been going faster.”

“Hard to say. Did the voice sound like Laurentine’s?”

“That’s a good question. The number showed up as his. As a house phone.”

“Interesting.” And not too surprising that a place in the mountains would have a landline as well as a satellite.

“I suppose. To be honest, I don’t know if the voice was Mr. Laurentine’s, the words were so short.”

“Yeah?”

“‘Meet me now.’ Like I said, the sheriff took my phone to check the logs or do tests on it or something.”

“Uh-huh.” They turned left and walked down the hall that was open to the great room. She stopped at the second to the last door on the right, which would face toward the back. No view of Curly Wolf.

Once inside they turned to each other. Zach put his arms around her carefully as she held him tight, burrowed into him.

“Clare.” His own voice caught. Here she was, close, so he could feel her, her curves against him, the fullness of her in his arms, the
life
of her. And her scent washed through him and she was near and safe. “Clare.”

“Oh, Zach.” Her voice came muffled and her back trembled as he stroked her. “I don’t trust anyone here except Rossi.”

“Good choice.”