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Authors: Margrett Dawson

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“What did you say?” The corner of his mouth
ticked up in a tiny grin. “Tell me.”

“I said you look good.”

“Good enough to eat?”

“You could say that.” God, that treacherous
pulse between her legs was beating its insistent rhythm again.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He plonked a kiss on
her mouth. “I’ll take a shower first.”

Oh boy! She looked at her watch. It was
already six. They should grab something to eat. Even if she couldn’t swallow a
thing, Pierce was certain to be hungry again. Then they would meet Annice and
get this next challenge over with. Sometime soon they had to look at the video
and get their story straight for the law firm. Not to mention finding a way to
let Jane’s mother know her daughter might be spending nights away from home.
Jane bit her lip as she stepped into her pants.

Pierce came out of the shower in a waft of
steam and pine-scented soap.

“Boy, that is wonderful. All that hot water
at the turn of a switch.” He looked at her. “What’s up?”

She’d never known anyone who was so
sensitive to her unspoken feelings. She sighed. “Nothing really. I was just
thinking about my mom.”

“What about her?” Pierce dried his back and
began to dress. He knew she had something on her mind and he’d dropped the
bantering, sexy talk of just a few minutes before.

She dragged a comb through her hair. “I
live at home,” she began.

“Right.” He pulled on his shirt.

She sat on the one chair so thoughtfully
provided. “I told you it’s a cheap and easy way to pay off my student loans.”

“That’s why you wanted the money.”

“Right.” She hesitated. “Look, can we find
something to eat and we can talk about it?”

“Fine by me.”

 

They slipped into the benches on opposite
sides of a booth in a busy diner. Jane ordered iced tea and a muffin. Pierce
took chicken fried steak and a baked potato.

Once the ordering was out of the way Pierce
took her hand across the table. “So tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’ll try to make it short.” She gave his
fingers an answering squeeze. “I took my teaching qualifications and then a
Master’s in Fine Arts including some courses in Art Therapy. I love working
with kids through their drawings and paintings and I’m establishing a nice
working relationship with a couple of educational psychologists. Maybe one day
I’ll build up to having enough referrals to work at it full time.” She sipped
her iced water. “So I want to save money and the fee from the lawyers will help
there but I also know my mom is lonely. While I was away at college she rattled
around in the big house where my brother and I grew up. My dad died five years
ago.”

She looked up at Pierce. His face was
serious. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. It’s a good arrangement for
both of us for now, although it can’t go on forever. She should move. We both
should move. She worries about me when I go out.” Jane sighed. “It’s like being
seventeen again.”

Pierce fixed her with his dark gaze. “Are
you building up to tell me you don’t want to spend a night with me?”

“God no. I want to spend a night, lots of
nights with you, more than anything I’ve ever wanted. But I’m not sure how to…”

“Why not just tell her?”

“That’s what I should do. I was planning on
moving out soon to my own apartment.”

The waitress came with the food and Pierce
gave her the benefit of one of his smiles. The woman almost melted into a
puddle on the spot and drifted away, a dazed look on her face.

He picked up his knife and fork. “There you
go, then.”

“I suppose.” Jane sighed again. Pierce
didn’t know her mother.

 

They met Annice as they had arranged in a
shopping mall on the edge of town. The place was deserted and Annice’s car sat
under a lamp standard in the exact center of the lot. The automatic lighting
had come on but struggled against the dying glow from the sun. As Jane drew up
alongside, Annice sprang out of her shiny Mustang and clicked the remote to
lock the doors.

In ten seconds she was in the back of
Jane’s car and they zoomed out of the parking lot.

“So,” Annice leaned her forearms on the
back of the front seat, “any ideas about what to do?” Her voice rang with
suppressed excitement.

“You’ve certainly changed your thinking,”
Jane said. “You were telling me how crazy I was to spend time there and now you
can’t wait to get out there.”

“Well, that was then, this is now. Besides
I’m not alone, am I?”

Jane shot a sideways glance at Pierce. He
was very quiet. She saw a small pleat of a frown between his brows. Was he
worried about his stepmother?

“We’ll stick together,” she said firmly.
“No going off alone.”

“Heavens no. But what do I do if I see this
ghost of yours?”

“I don’t think you’ll see anything.” Pierce
spoke in a low voice.

“You’re darn right I won’t. There are no
such things as ghosts, as I’ve told my friend Jane here dozens of times.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Pierce placed his
hand over Jane’s on the steering wheel and gave it a tiny squeeze.

Chapter Eight

 

By the time they reached the house, dusk
had fallen and the bulk of the mansion loomed as a darker mass against the
pearly sky. Jane fished the key from her pocketbook and passed it to Pierce.

Without a word he strode up the stone steps
and tried the lock. Jane’s heart pounded in her throat. She strained her ears
for any sound but heard only the rustle of leaves as some creature stirred on a
branch.

“This place sure is spooky.” Annice’s voice
was pitched low and ended with a slight tremor.

“Nothing to be afraid of.” Jane took her
friend’s hand and tucked it under her arm. “No one here but us chickens.” She
fervently hoped that was true.

The massive front door swung open and she
saw Pierce silhouetted in the opening. He took one step and disappeared.

She couldn’t suppress a gasp and hesitated
on her way up the steps.

A half minute later Pierce reappeared in a
pool of light. “I’ve switched on the power.”

“Thank heaven for that.”

“We’ll have to keep the lights off while we
go through the house but at least we can flick them on if we need to.”

At the top of the steps, Annice pulled her
hand from Jane’s arm and squared her shoulders. She looked up at the carved
stone façade. “This is one beautiful house even if it does scare the crap out
of everyone. Who did you say owns it now?”

“Some descendant of the Newland family. A
second cousin or something. He’s very old and has no heirs so he wants to
sell.” Jane was acutely conscious of Pierce’s silence as she recounted his
family history. “I think he’s given up hope of the real heir, or his
descendants, ever coming back.”

“So let’s go for it.” Annice took Jane’s
hand. “Take her other hand, Pierce. I’ve got a flashlight. Let’s go.
Lions
and tigers and bears, oh my
!” she recited as they moved together into the
front hall.

They passed swiftly through each room, the
beam of Annice’s flashlight sweeping the shrouded furniture as they went. Soon
enough they approached the drawing room and Jane felt Pierce’s grasp tighten on
her fingers. She paused. “This is where something happened.”

“You mean when you were filming? What was
it?”

“Just a flicker. A shape. Hard to tell what
it was.”

“Well I’d like to see it for myself.”
Annice started forward again, pulling Jane and Pierce with her.

Their footsteps seemed very loud on the
bare wooden floor. They marched to the center of the room and stood beneath one
of the chandeliers. The huge family portrait hung behind them over the
fireplace. Jane suddenly felt dizzy and caught her breath. In all the mental
turmoil, she’d forgotten about the likeness of Pierce in full view. Why hadn’t
she thought of Annice recognizing Pierce from the painting, even if his clothes
were different? How stupid could anyone be?

She pulled Annice toward the French
windows, praying that she wouldn’t turn around and examine the picture. “This
is where the murder is supposed to have taken place.”

“In front of the window?”

“So they say.”

Annice stood for a moment, listening. “I
don’t hear anything. Don’t see anything, do you?”

“Not a thing.” Jane suppressed a smile of
relief. Pierce had been right. His stepmother had gone.

“Ouch!” Annice let go of Jane’s hand and
brushed her hand on the nape of her neck. The beam of the flashlight careened
wildly around, picking out ornaments, drapes, pictures in a kaleidoscope of
fleeting impressions.

“What is it?”

“I thought something touched my neck.”
Annice shuddered. “Probably a spider. I think I’ve seen enough. Let’s move on.”

Jane let out a breath. “Fine.” She tried to
pierce the gloom of the room as they walked toward the far door. Had the
murderess tried to touch Annice so she could come back to the living? Or had it
really been a stray cobweb? She felt Pierce tug on her hand and she slowed as
they reached the door. He turned away from her and stood square to gaze around
the room as if daring the ghost to reveal herself. Nothing stirred.

Ten minutes later Pierce turned the key in
the lock of the front door and they went down the steps to the car.

“Well that was a blast.” Annice opened the
rear passenger door. “Do you think that really was a cobweb?”

“Pretty sure. Aren’t you?”

Annice slid into the back seat. “Positive.
You see how easy it is to believe all kinds of nonsense when it’s dark and
you’ve heard a few stories. I don’t know what you’ve got on your camera,” she
said, slamming the door and clicking on her seatbelt, “but it’s not a ghost.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

Jane put on her own belt and turned the key
in the ignition. The engine coughed and sputtered.

Annice groaned. “Don’t tell me this rust
bucket is going to keep us here. I’m in serious need of some strong coffee and
a washroom. Not in that order.”

“I can do it,” Jane said through gritted
teeth. “It just needs some care.”

“Care! I should say so. It’s been on life
support for the last six months. No wonder Pierce won’t drive it.”

Pierce turned in surprise from the front
passenger seat. “No, I—”

To Jane’s relief the engine fired and she
stamped on the gas. The car lurched down the gravel drive, spewing small stones
from under the wheels until she braked at the big entrance gates.

With barely a glance at the deserted road
she swung in the direction of home. She blew a strand of hair away from her
face and wiped her palm on the leg of her pants. The rapid beat of her heart
began to slow as she steered toward town. Why was she so stressed out? Did she
need to ask? Resurrecting a ghost might be common TV fare but it wasn’t your
ordinary everyday occurrence. Add to that the mind-blowing sex, lack of sleep,
worry about Pierce and you had more than enough reason.

A bright light appeared in the rear window.
“Uh oh,” Annice said from the back seat.

The whoop-whoop of a police siren confirmed
the worst. Jane pressed the brake and steered to the roadside, easing to a
stop, switching off the engine. This was all she needed.

 

The police car pulled in ahead of her but
the officer didn’t emerge.

“He’s checking the plates,” Annice whispered.
“Hope you don’t have any tickets you haven’t paid.”

Jane shook her head. “Not one.”

“How would he know?” Pierce asked.

“Computer link. Everything’s connected.”
Don’t
ask any more questions! Don’t give yourself away.

At that moment the door of the cruiser
opened and a police officer in uniform emerged. He stood for a moment in the
beam of the headlights and put on his hat.

“It’s Pete. Pete Burrard,” Annice said in
an excited voice. She poked Jane in the arm. “You know him. He was captain of
the football team in high school. I dated him for a while.”

Memory came back. Giggling sleepovers,
hanging around the coffee shop, gossip about boys, heartbreak and ecstasy. The
joys of teenage years.

Pete was well over six feet,
broad-shouldered, slim-hipped. “My, he’s matured well. Like a fine wine,”
Annice said. “With my luck, he’s married with six kids.”

“Good evening, ladies, sir.” Pete ducked
his head to look in the car. “Let me see driver’s license and registration
please.”

Jane switched on the dim overhead light,
fumbled for her wallet and took out her license. Pete shone his flashlight on
the card and glanced in the back. As his hands moved into the beam of the
courtesy light Jane saw he had no ring.

Annice obviously noticed the same thing.
“Hi, Pete. Would you like mine too?” She waved her ID through the open window.

He looked at her in surprise. “Annice
Sinclair. Well I’ll be darned.”

“How you doing? I didn’t know you were back
here.”

Pete ignored her card. “Just been here a
couple of months.”

“So what’s new in your life? Apart from
being a policeman, I mean.”

Annice had edged closer to the open window,
her chin skimming Jane’s shoulder. “So are you married?”

“Not anymore. Divorced a year ago.” He
leaned his arm on the roof of the car. “You?”

Jane shifted in her seat and stole a glance
at Pierce. He raised his eyebrows, shrugged and turned his attention back to
Annice and Pete. Jane supposed she had to contain her impatience and let the
little scene play out.

Annice stuck her left hand through the
window and waggled her fingers. “No one special in my life,” she said.

The radio on Pete’s belt crackled and
brought him back to the job at hand.

“So, what were you doing back there at the
big house?” He bent lower and looked at Pierce. “You have your ID on you, sir?”

“I’m sorry—” Jane began.

“This is a friend from out of state,”
Annice interrupted. “He’s a bit jet lagged and all his luggage is back in town.
We didn’t think to tell him to bring ID with him. We were just cruising around,
showing him the area.” She flashed the cop a winning smile.

Pete shook his head. “Always a good idea to
carry ID on you, sir.”

Pierce leaned forward. “You’re right and I
apologize. But I was kind of worked up about seeing the old house. My special
interest is late nineteenth century buildings, officer. I’m an amateur
architect and the young ladies were kind enough to offer to show me the
mansion. I would really like to see inside some time.”

He told the lie with a completely straight
face.

“I’ll vouch for him, Pete,” Annice said.
“It was all completely innocent. Sorry if we raised any concerns.”

Pete straightened. “No problem if you don’t
have ID if you’re not doing anything illegal. We’ve been asked to keep an extra
eye on the old house. We received some reports of prowlers, lights at night.
Then you come screeching out of the driveway.”

“Well you know about the ghost stories.”

“Yeah, when I was a kid our scout troop
camped up here in the woods. We scared ourselves sh—silly with ghost stories.”
Pete laughed. “Well I guess you three aren’t ghosts or burglars.”

“Absolutely not.”

Pete took a step back and touched his cap.
“Goodnight then. Drive carefully. Good to see you again, Annie. Might catch you
later.”

“Sure thing, if you don’t call me Annie.”

Mercifully the engine started and Jane put
the car in gear. “Good night, Pete. Thanks.”

Though what she was thanking him for she
would have been hard-pressed to say. Thanks for giving me a scare and
shortening my life by a few years? Thanks for being an unattached male easily
distracted by my friend’s pretty face?

They drove in silence for a mile or so then
Annice’s voice came from the back. “Are you going to tell me what’s going down
here?”

“What do you mean?”

Annice sat forward again and spoke over
Jane’s shoulder as if Pierce weren’t there. “Who is he, Jane? What’s the
story?”

“Pierce and I met a couple of days ago—”

Annice turned her head toward Pierce.
“Where are you from?”

He cleared his throat. “Originally from
around here.”

“I don’t buy this. You’re both up to
something. Ghosts, haunted houses, no ID, mysterious background.”

Jane took a deep breath and a big decision.
“I’ll tell you but not tonight. Tomorrow.”

“So there
is
something. I was
right.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Jane had no idea if
she was making the right choice but a little voice told her she was going to
need support from someone who knew her way around. Annice was a legal
secretary. She had contact with all kinds of people.

“You’re sure? You’re not shitting me?”

Jane saw Pierce flinch at the word.
Welcome
to the world of modern young women.

“I promise. I might need your help anyway.”

“It’s a deal.”

They had reached the dark parking lot where
Annice had left her car and Jane pulled in beside the low-slung Mustang.

Annice opened the door and wriggled out.
She stood on the tarmac and leaned in Jane’s window just as Pete had done.
“Where?”

“Where what?”

“Where shall we meet? Full o’ Beans?”

“Right. At nine.”

“You got it.” She wagged a finger at
Pierce. “I don’t know what you’re up to mister but if anything happens to her
I’ll come for you.” She straightened and took her car keys from her pocket.

“Don’t be silly. Nothing’s going to happen
to me.” Jane put her car in gear once again.

“Better not. ‘Night.”

Annice clicked the remote on her key and
the lights of her car came on with a gentle beep.

Pierce stirred. “How—”

“Don’t ask. All will become clear.” She was
even catching Pierce’s speech patterns. With a last cheerful wave to Annice she
pulled out in the direction of Pierce’s motel.

Outside the door to his room, she sat with
both hands on the wheel. The door was bright green with a long scratch under
the handle.

“Do you have your key?”

Pierce nodded. “Will you come in?” He
placed one hand on her shoulder and kneaded the tight muscles near her neck.

She had been asking herself the same question
for the last ten minutes and hadn’t gotten an answer. His hand on her was warm
and firm, doing wonderful things to her aching back. Her whole body was tight
as a drum. She needed a massage all over, not just her neck. The temptation to
say yes was almost overwhelming.

She opened her mouth. “No, not tonight,”
she heard herself say. Her subconscious had taken over and she knew it was the
right decision.

She turned to face him, the gearshift
forming a barrier between them. His hand slid down to her arm.

“I would like to come in with you. I can’t
tell you how much I want it. But I’m not going to do it.”

“But—”

She placed one finger on his mouth. “That
policeman was a lesson. You can’t be here without a past, without documents to
prove it, and a birth certificate from over a hundred years ago won’t cut it. I
need to think about it. I need to let my mom know I’m okay, prepare her about
moving out and a thousand other things.” She kissed his cheek. “You were right
about telling her. If I survive I’ll be back tomorrow morning, nice and early.”

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