Haunted (30 page)

And then, how the man had killed the woman.

Chilled, she almost threw him off her.

She closed her eyes, fighting the sudden wave of recall.
This was Matt. She had lived a past life, seen murder, and the memories lingered, and still…

All that anger. All that passion. All that hatred.

“Darcy?”

“Matt.” She lowered her head against him, chin against his cheek, not wanting him to see her eyes.

“Is something wrong?”

His knuckles brushed down the side of her face. Featherlight. Erotic, sweet, tender. Her breath caught again. The lightest movement caused a quickening in her.

“Everything is right,” she murmured.

His arms tightened around her. She was startled when he said, “I'm afraid now, when I leave you alone.”

“Matt, I can take care of myself.”

“Then why am I so afraid?”

“You don't trust in me.”

“Maybe I do. More than I imagine. And maybe that's why I'm so afraid.”

“There is a ghost, Matt.” She was quiet for a minute. The thought of the violence done in this room, in this bed, still haunted her. She fought the memories. This was Matt.

“You scare me, Darcy.”

Tonight, for a moment, you terrified me
, Darcy thought.

“Some things never can be,” she said flatly. “But I'm glad I've known you.”

“Darcy—”

“Please, let's not talk. Not tonight. Just hold me.”

“Trust me. I'll be here. Holding you. Until I've gotten you out of this house,” he said, his tone harsh, hoarse, and determined.

But his touch belied his tone.

A touch, a whisper, a breeze.

As seductive as a dream.

And yet, later, as she moved against him, she found herself asking, “Matt…did you follow me out as far as the smokehouse?”

She thought that it took him a while to answer.

“No. When I reached the porch, you came flying into me. Why?”

“I just wondered,” she lied.

He didn't say anything more.

She lay awake, absurdly afraid to sleep, afraid that the dream would return, and that it would be relived….

All that passion. All that hatred.

She would be the woman.

And he would be the killer.

 

Somewhere in the wee hours, she slept, and she did not dream. When she woke, Matt was gone. The hour was still early.

Darcy rose, showered, dressed quickly, and hurried down the stairs. She was in time. Matt was at the breakfast table along with Penny, Clint, Carter, and Adam. Clara Issy saw her, smiled, and poured her a cup of coffee.

“You're still sleeping in that awful room?” Clara said.

“It's actually a beautiful room,” Darcy said.

Clara sniffed. “Anything eventful happening in it?”

Darcy looked at her for a moment, praying that Matt wouldn't say anything, and that her cheeks wouldn't flood to a brilliant red.

“There is a ghost there,” she said, “and we'll understand her problem soon enough.”

“Tell her to quit hitting people!” Clara said.

“I'll try,” Darcy assured her.

“We're burying the skull in the churchyard today,” Penny said. “Poor Amy! At one this afternoon, she'll be all together again. Well, in a way. One ghost down. But then, this place is riddled with ghosts, really, right, Adam?”

Adam set his coffee cup down. “Benign ghosts. Some aren't miserable, you see. They linger because a place meant something to them. And only those with truly acute senses ever know that they're about. So…actually,” he said, and paused, winking at Penny, “some should be more than welcome to remain.”

“Do you think they ever party together?” Carter mused.

“The ghosts?” Clint said.

“Well, I was wondering, if they all haunt the place, do they become friends? And do they talk to one another? Like, ‘Hey, Beau, you there, Civil War guy? You spook out the parlor today and I'll take the upstairs rooms?' Whoops, sorry, Adam,” Carter apologized. “I know how serious this is to you.”

“Maybe they do correspond. I don't really know,” Adam said, hiding a smile.

“Hey, I wonder if any of them can beat Darcy at pool,” Clint said, smiling at Darcy. “Boy, kid,” he told her. “Can you play pool.”

“Thanks.” She was grateful. It seemed that he was trying to take the attention away from a subject that always turned uncomfortable when Matt was in the room.

“I have to admit, I was amazed,” Carter told her. “Who knew? She's gorgeous, she sees the future and she's a pool shark!”

“I like the game,” Darcy said, sliding into her seat.

“You should play Matt. He's the best,” Penny said.

Matt set his napkin on the table. “We'll have a tournament one day,” he said, rising. “I've got to run into the office. I'll see you all at the church. And Penny, please tell me you didn't call every newspaper in the state.”

“No, Matt, I didn't,” Penny said.

“See you there,” Matt said, waved a hand, and left them.

“I only called a few of the newspapers,” Penny said softly when he was gone.

“Penny, Penny, Penny!” Carter chastised.

“They weren't that interested, I'm afraid,” Penny said. “Except for the obnoxious guy that Matt already hates. And Jason Johnstone, of course, will do a piece. But the town will be gearing up. The reenactment of Stone Gorge is this Saturday. Carter, are you taking part in that?”

“Definitely,” Carter said.

“A battle reenactment?” Adam said with interest.

“I'm not so sure it was a battle. It was a major fight, not like Spotsylvania or the Wilderness. But there was cavalry involved, and a few companies, North and South, fought a desperate battle for a little hillock on the water, just off the main road. This year, the anniversary falls on Saturday, and the land is available—privately owned, but rented out to a living history company—and so people are very excited about it. The Wayside Inn is completely booked for the weekend, as is everything near here. It's great fun.”

“And educational for the kids,” Penny approved.

Carter grinned at Penny. “Wow. She likes me.”

“Silly boy,” Penny said.

“That does sound interesting,” Darcy said. “Where do we go to watch?”

“The main road, just the other side of the forest. Clint and I
will take you around. Clint has agreed to be a private in my company this year. We're short a few fellows.”

“Yeah, they're all dying off,” Clint said.

“So, we had a few old geezers. Armchair history buffs who have gone on to that great battle in the sky. It's still living history, and pretty cool,” Carter said.

“Yes, and I agreed to join your company,” Clint said. He stood. “One o'clock for the skull burial, huh? Adam, mind if we take your car? We can all go together that way. That Navigator is great.”

“Sure,” Adam said.

“Where are you off to?” Penny asked him.

“I'm a busy man, Penny—I've just had you fooled all these years,” Clint told her.

“I've got work to do, too,” Carter said. “We'll meet in the foyer, say twelve-thirty?”

They all nodded agreement. Both Carter and Clint started to leave. Penny cleared her throat, causing them to pause.

“Dishes. Kitchen,” Penny said.

“Yes, ma'am!” Clint said quickly, saluting her with precision, as if he were practicing for the battle to come.

Darcy leapt to her feet, anxious to get Adam to herself. She picked up her own plate, and a number of the serving platters, telling Adam, “Meet me in the Lee Room.”

Within fifteen minutes, they had extricated themselves from Penny and the kitchen and were sitting together in the Lee Room.

“I saw it all the way through, Adam, last night.”

“Good. So…?” He moved around the room, hunkering down, picking up the plug to the video, which was not in the outlet. “You decided not to tape?”

“The plugs came out after the dream. We might have something on the video.”

“Tell me about it first,” Adam advised, taking the chair in front of the secretary.

“I've been in it from both sides,” she said, “that of the victim, and that of the killer. I've felt their emotions, but I haven't seen their faces. Not clearly. But in life, they were very hot and heavy lovers. Then something went wrong. I think that the man did care about the woman, or, at the least, he was absolutely sexually fascinated with her. When he arrived at the house, he was contemplating murder. He arrived, she saw him, they struggled…and he almost stopped. But she had been angry when she'd been in the house alone. Angry, and writing something at the secretary. The murder may have been averted by lust, but then he saw what she had written. And then killed her. Here, on the bed. He had brought a strap of leather with him, but he wound up doing the deed by hand.”

“So, we still don't know who, but we do know what,” Adam said.

Darcy hesitated. “The ghost beckoned to me after that. She led me out of the room, down the stairs, and outside. I got as far as the smokehouse. Then she disappeared.”

Adam was silent for a minute. “We'll have to get Matt's permission to do some digging. And,” he added, wagging a finger at her, “we're going to have to set a few parameters for you, Darcy. You're telling me that you followed the ghost down the stairs—and outside?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“But you didn't think to get me?”

“Adam, I would have lost her.”

He shook his head. “I'm right down the hall. I should have heard you leaving.”

“It was all right.” She hesitated. “Matt came out.”

“Good.”

“Adam, there was something more. At the smokehouse, when the ghost disappeared, she didn't slip into a wall or anything. She just…faded. And I felt her sense of fear. Then…I saw a shadow. The shadow of a man, as if he were following, too, but lost her at the smokehouse as well. Either that, or…”

“Or?” Adam demanded.

“He was following me,” Darcy said flatly.

“This shadow was ethereal—or real?”

“I don't know. Yes, maybe, real. Because I heard footsteps. I felt…stalked.”

“So?” Adam prodded.

“I ran.”

“To the house?”

“To the porch. That's where I ran into Matt.”

“Are you certain that Matt wasn't the one who had followed you out? Maybe he came partway to the smokehouse, then turned back,” Adam suggested.

“He said that he wasn't out there,” Darcy told Adam.

“You don't sound certain.”

“I am certain—I think,” Darcy said, causing him to smile. “Adam, how well do you know Matt? You were friends with his grandfather, right?”

He smiled. “Yes.” Then he looked a little sheepish. “Once upon a time, Darcy, I was fascinated by history to the extent that I joined a reenacting group. A Pennsylvania group, of course. I was Yankee. Captain of a company that was involved in the skirmish here, at Stoneyville. I met Matt's granddad then. We would spend long nights on the porch, talking about ‘what ifs.' He didn't have a strong belief in the occult or ghosts, but he was willing to admit that things happened in his old place that he couldn't quite explain. But nothing bad. Never anything that could be construed as dangerous. There were lots of stories about guests seeing a Civil War soldier in the parlor. Now and then, a door would open and close. There would be a chill in the room. He didn't believe that anything ever happened in the house that couldn't be explained. As in the one woman who was certain she had seen a soldier probably did see one. It was this time of year, and lots of folks were preparing for the annual reenactment. And the cold…well, it's an old place. There are
drafts. As to the doors opening and closing, it might have been the wind as well. So he enjoyed the stories, but didn't feel that the place was in any way haunted.”

“Is that why you were so anxious that we get in here? The fact that you were friends with the Stones, and you're so familiar with the place?”

“More or less,” Adam said.

Darcy was slightly troubled. Adam never lied to her, and she didn't think that he was lying then. She just didn't think that he was telling her the whole story.

But she didn't press the point because he said, “When you returned to the house, you came back to this room with Matt, I take it.”

He took her by surprise, and she was certain that she instantly blushed. “Right,” she said.