Gull Harbor (5 page)

Max’s footsteps pounded behind her, but she didn’t stop. She flew out of the building as he called her name. He caught up with her outside the dorm, practically tackling her on the grass of the quad.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his face hovering over hers. She shook her head, tears leaking from her eyes. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

She owed him an explanation. A gorgeous man had kissed her, and she had run screaming from his room. He deserved the truth, even if it made her appear in desperate need of psychiatric help. Anything between them would probably end right here, but she wasn’t going to lie to him.

“I…I saw something. A man. He spoke to me.”

Max’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “There’s no one in my room.”

“I see things—and hear things—that other people don’t. Ghosts. I’m not crazy, I swear,” she sobbed.

“Hey,” he said, rolling off her gently as she struggled to sit up. “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “He’s here.” She ducked her head, and Max pulled her against his chest in a protective gesture that sent her heart rate skittering.

“I’ve got you. Can you tell me what you see?”

She shuddered as a fresh wave of tears welled up inside her. “I’m scared,” she whispered. But she knew the figure had something to do with Max, so she glanced over his shoulder at the shadowy man.

“He’s older,” she said, trying to control the tremor in her voice. “He has dark hair, and a beard. I think it’s you he’s looking for.”

“Me?” He eased away from her, keeping his hands on her shoulders as he studied her face. “I don’t understand.”

“My mother told me that restless spirits attach themselves to a significant person or place. Do you know anyone who has…died?” she asked miserably.

“Oh my God, it’s my father. It has to be. He died when I was fourteen.” Max dropped his gaze, shaking his head. “We were devastated. My mom’s heart was broken. And I couldn’t help her, because I was dealing with my own guilt. My dad and I had a fight the night before he died.”

Please, let me talk to him,
the voice begged inside her head.

“This is unbelievable,” Max continued, his voice filled with awe. “What does he want?”

“He wants to talk to you.”

“Will you let him, Claire? I need to know what he has to say. Please,” he said, gripping her hands.

“I’m scared. I’m not sure I can do this,” she said, blinking back the tears. “I don’t know how.”

“You can do anything you set your mind to,” Max reminded her. “You didn’t think you could pass economics, and now you have the top score. Maybe all you have to do now is listen. Will you try for me? I’ll be right here with you. I won’t leave your side.”

She nodded. For him, she would try. She let down the blockades she had thrown up in her mind, and the disembodied words filled her head. “He says he loves you. He doesn’t want you to feel guilty or sad. You need to forgive yourself; the argument doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters now is your mother. You need to be there for her. Help her.” Claire collapsed on the cool grass as the voice faded away. “He thanked me,” she said, smiling weakly.

“And I’m thanking you,” Max said, lowering his mouth to hers and kissing her tenderly. “That meant so much to me.”

“And the part about your mom? Is everything okay?”

His eyes grew dark. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to call her. She’s in the middle of trying to divorce the mistake she married a few years ago. They have two kids together, twins, so it’s getting a little complicated.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Now I know she needs me. Claire, you have an amazing gift.” He dropped another kiss on her forehead.

A warm flush rose in her cheeks. “So do you. I never would have managed a ninety-seven without your help. And let’s not forget that you’re a musical genius.”

He laughed. “I don’t know about that, but we do make a pretty good team.” He lay down beside her, gathering her in his arms. “We should stick together,” he added, as they watched the drifting clouds float through the crisp autumn sky.

Chapter 6

Claire shook the remaining glass from her sheets at the edge of the woods. Her upper back sang with pain, and she grimaced. Sleeping on the couch hadn’t done her body any favors.

Her dreams had revolved around Max, which was her own fault, since she’d gone back to sleep thinking about him. She’d awoken with a deep ache in both her muscles and her heart. And a new word in her head, one that she was fairly certain did not come from her own subconscious.
Barracuda.
It ran through her mind every few minutes, like some kind of emergency broadcast message.

“You could make this easier on me, you know,” she grumbled as she stomped back into the house. “Seriously, ‘barracuda’?” She carried the bundle of sheets down to the dank basement and stuffed them into the washing machine.

After a quick shower, she hauled the laundry basket full of wet sheets outside to the clothesline. Her stomach growled at her as she pushed wooden clothespins into her mouth. “I know,” she mumbled. She’d been spoiled by her daily trips to the diner. But today she had decided she would go visit her mother, so breakfast had been a banana washed down with a warm soda.

She would hit a drive-thru on her way off Cape, she told herself. And when she returned this evening, she’d have fresh, air-dried sheets. “I needed to change them anyway,” she announced defiantly.

The flying rock came out of nowhere, connecting with her temple and sending her reeling. She stumbled over the laundry basket and landed face down on the ground. The air left her lungs in an audible rush, and the world went gray.

“Claire! Claire, are you all right?”

Max. His figure swam into focus as he hurried toward her. What was he doing here? And how had he picked the worst possible time to show up?

He dropped down beside her, smoothing her hair back. “What happened?”

“I…I hit my head on a rock.” It was close enough to the truth. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees with a moan. “Dizzy.”

“Lie back down,” he ordered her. He yanked off his shirt and balled it up. “Put this under your head.”

“No,” she said, her voice stronger. She shifted back to sit on her heels. “What are you—never mind. Dan sent you to check on me, right?”

Max dabbed at her temple with his shirt. “He was worried. He said you always come in before 10:00. Obviously he couldn’t leave the diner, so he asked me to swing by.”

She knocked his hand away. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Thanks,” she snapped.

“I mean, you’re bleeding, Claire.” He pressed the shirt back onto the split in her skin that was just beginning to throb. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I can’t afford that. I only have catastrophe insurance, and I hardly think this qualifies. Besides, I’m on my way out.”

“What? You can’t drive anywhere.”

This was getting old. And he needed to put his shirt back on. “Actually, I can do whatever I want,” she pointed out as she got to her feet.

He grabbed her elbow to help steady her. “I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”

Why was he being so nice? “I don’t think so. I’m going to Boston to visit my mother.”

That was enough to leave him momentarily speechless. She pulled her arm free and dusted herself off. “Thanks for stopping by.”

He stared at her as she brushed the pine needles from her curls. “Your mom? Is she…”

“Still in a coma? Yes.” Ten years ago, a horrific accident had sentenced Ileana Linden to a seemingly eternal vegetative state. “My father won’t sign the paperwork to let her go.”

“I’m sorry, Claire,” he said softly. “Have you talked to him about it recently?”

She suppressed a hysterical giggle. “He hasn’t spoken to me since I was a junior in college. So, no.”

“Wait…you never went to law school?”

Her patience was wearing thin. She sighed and glanced at her watch. “No, I didn’t go to law school. I never wanted to, if you recall.”

“I just figured you would go along with your dad’s plan, once I was out of the picture.”

She glared at him. Her back hurt, her head hurt, and now her pride was hurt. “That’s certainly insulting. I did manage to go on with my life after you left.”

“Oh I know you did,” he said bitterly. His blue eyes grew dark with anger.

“You’re unbelievable!” she shouted. “What did you expect me to do? If I was supposed to sit around and pine for you, maybe you should have put that in the note.” She turned her back on him and snatched up the empty laundry basket.

The ominous tones of a smoke alarm suddenly rang out from the house. “Now what?” she grumbled. She strode across the yard, but Max darted in front of her.

“There’s no fire,” she said as she joined him on the porch. “Things have been going off since last night…my iPod, the T.V., lights.”

“I’m still going to check.”

She had reached her limit. “Suit yourself. I’m leaving.” She dropped the laundry basket and snagged her purse off the bottom stair. “You can let yourself out.”

****

“Thanks for meeting me,” Max said. He pulled two draft beers into frosty mugs and handed one to Dan. “Let’s go back to my office.”

Max ushered Dan into his office and shut the door behind them. “Have a seat,” he said, rolling out the more comfortable desk chair for Dan. He lowered his own tall frame onto a barstool. “We need to talk about Claire.”

“You said she was all right,” Dan said, his relaxed demeanor disappearing. “What’s happened?”

“She is all right. For now, anyway. Like I told you, she went to Boston for the day. But while I was with her this morning, the smoke detector went off.”

“There was a fire?”

Max shook his head. “She said appliances have been turning themselves on. But of course I checked the house anyway, even though she left. I mean, she knew I was going to take a look around,” he added.

“And you found something.” It was a statement, not a question.

“The house was a disaster. Broken mirrors, smashed glass, piles of leaves on the floor. Yesterday, all her food was thrown out of the fridge. I saw that mess, and it was bad—but it seemed like more of an annoyance. Today, though, once I got a look at the rest of the rooms, I got a very different feeling. Now I’m seriously worried.”

“I am too. I don’t think she fell down this morning on her own.” Dan leaned forward and scrubbed his face with his hands. “What can we do?”

“She’s very—” He stopped and took a sip of his beer.
Dan thinks I just met Claire,
he reminded himself. “She seems like she can be a very stubborn woman when she sets her mind to it. I doubt we can convince her to leave. But maybe we can help her get to the bottom of this mystery before something terrible happens.”

“I think I’d prefer to actually burn the house down.” Dan glanced at his wristwatch. “If we hurry, we might be able to get it done before Claire gets back.”

Max smiled grimly. “I like the plan in theory. But both of our insurance rates might go up if we get convicted of arson. Seriously, though, what do you know about that house?”

“Let’s see. It was built in the 1950s, I believe, by the Williams family. They mostly used it as a summer place until old Mrs. Williams died. Then her grandson Gary moved in year round for a while. He was bad news.”

“How so?”

“Well, he didn’t have a job. The house was paid off, so there was no mortgage to worry about, but he had to be getting money for living expenses from somewhere, right? The rumor was that he was a drug dealer. And that makes sense, because about four years ago—right before you bought the tavern—he disappeared. Just vanished and abandoned the house. The property taxes went unpaid for a time, and then the town seized it. Then the new couple bought the place at auction.”

Max scratched the stubble on his chin. “Maybe it’s the grandmother who’s behind the haunting. Could be she’s pissed about what Gary was doing. Or that he lost the house.”

“I suppose that’s possible. But her name wasn’t Maria, of that I’m sure.”

“I’ll go to town hall tomorrow, see what I can find,” Max said, standing up and pacing the small room. “In the meantime, the two of us will just have to try to keep an eye on Claire as much as possible.”

“Oh, she’ll love that,” Dan said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Max drained the rest of his beer. “No kidding.”

Chapter 7

Max pushed his way through the diner’s front door. Nodding to the customers he knew, he crossed the room and took a seat at the far end of the counter.

“You hungry?” asked Dan. “I was going to close up shop soon, but I can rustle something up for you.”

“No. Maybe.” He looked up at the clock. It was late afternoon; he’d spent most of the day searching for information about Gary Williams and his haunted house. He had very little to show for his efforts, and he blew out a frustrated breath. “Don’t go to any trouble,” he said finally.

“No trouble.”

Five minutes later, he was presented with a fish sandwich and a plate of thick steak fries. “Thanks. I’ve been to town hall, the police station, and the court house. It’s like a wild goose chase unless you know exactly what you’re looking for.”

“You find anything?”

He shrugged. “Not much. Gary Williams spent a year in jail for unlawful possession of a firearm. That was before he moved into the house here. It was widely suspected that he was dealing drugs all over the Cape and as far away as Boston, but obviously the police can’t just search a house or car without cause or permission. He must have been careful after that initial arrest. And then he disappeared, so problem solved.”

Dan folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll try an Internet search after I close.”

“Tried it already. It’s a fairly common name, but maybe you’ll get luckier than I did.” Max put down his sandwich and picked up his phone. “I need to talk to Claire. Do you have her cell number?”

“Get this—she doesn’t have a cell phone. Her financial situation is pretty shaky. She had to get a loan to pay for her last year of college, and she’s been trying to support herself and pay it off ever since. And she’s not exactly making the big bucks.”