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Authors: Heather Graham

The Presence (31 page)

BOOK: The Presence
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She glanced at her watch. Though it had seemed like she'd spent aeons in the rafters, only fifteen minutes had passed since the others left. She hesitated for a minute, afraid, and then she purposely walked back to the castle.

She resolutely made her way upstairs, into Bruce's room, and sat in the chair by the cold embers in the fireplace. Then she closed her eyes and spoke softly.

“If you're here, this would be a great time for you to appear,” she whispered. “Please, we're alone now. And… I'm going to trust you. I'm not going to scream or panic.”

And when she opened her eyes, he was there, watching her gravely, sadly.

Come.

“Yes, as you wish,” she said.

He turned, tartan swaying, taking large steps with his long legs. He exited the master chamber, heading out to the hallway.

Toni moved along the hallway, following. He led her to the landing of the stairs and paused there. She waited
as he looked back, assuring himself that she followed. Then he started down the stairs and she came behind.

Once again, he paused in the great hall, assuring himself that she was following still. She knew where they were going. “Down to the crypts?” she whispered. He stared at her with silent gravity, turned again, and traversed the secondary hall.

As she had feared, the door to the winding stairway down to the realm of the dead was open. Once again, he awaited her.

She stared at him, shaking her head slightly. “Why me?” she asked softly.

There was no reply; she hadn't expected one. Again he turned and started down the winding steps. Toni followed quickly. This time, however, she turned on the lights.

The lights didn't seem to help much, though, not when she was down there by herself—with a ghost. She was grateful that the MacNialls had not chosen to lay their dead out in simple shelving, that there were no decaying shrouds resting upon bodies left to go to dust with the passage of time. Still, ancient marble and words etched in Gaelic, monuments and carvings all reminded her of where she was. There was a certain cold down here that defied all logic. And as she wandered through the crypts, alone in the castle, with only the presence to guide her, she wondered at her own sanity.

As she ventured deeper into the recesses of the hallway, the light seemed to fade. On her left, the tomb of a laird from the 1500s was adorned with the life-size figure of a Renaissance man, seated upon his coffin, head resting upon a hand, marble eyes staring. She looked away quickly, feeling as if the blank eyes were watch
ing her. She knew where she was going—the end of the hallway in the crypt.

She arrived, and though she had followed the vision of the great MacNiall down to this point, he was gone. The far end was cast in deep shadow. She stared at the marble figure, too much like the Bruce she knew, and wondered why she was here again, what it was that she hadn't seen.

Her blood seemed to turn to instant ice as she saw what was different tonight.

The stone sarcophagus just behind his—which had been set beside his own in the niche hundreds of years ago by someone determined that one day Annalise's earthly remains would one day join those of her be loved in death—was ajar.

She frowned and whispered aloud, hoping that the ghost would hear. “But she will come home, you know. Bruce will see to it. She will come home and lie beside you!” Her voice echoed back to her eerily in the arched stone corridor.

She moved forward, stepping around the edge of the effigy of the great MacNiall in death, trying to ascertain how and why the simple slab atop the second vault had been left open.

The shadows were thick and heavy. At first she could see nothing. She started to press at the stone, thinking she could see better if she could move it, but the weight seemed far too great for her at first. Then she heard a scraping, stone against stone. It was giving, moving back.

And she saw what lay within the coffin.

A scream tore from her throat. Loud, shrill, terrible.
It ricocheted off the stone and echoed with resounding horror.

Toni backed away from the tomb, turned and ran down the corridor, desperate to leave.

She had her answer. She knew what the great MacNiall had been trying to tell her.

19

T
here was nothing like riding, especially a horse as fine as Shaunessy. And God forgive him a certain pride, but there really was nothing as beautiful as the hills of his native land. Drawing to a halt at the top of a crest, Bruce surveyed the lands—dotted with sheep and cattle—that stretched in shades of green and purple as far as the eye could see.

It was amazing to look out over the peacefulness and tranquility of the scene below him. So much tragedy, bloodshed and pain had come before in this very area, where ancient tribes had battled for the best land, where the early nationalists had waged war against imperialism and where, in later years, men had shed their blood again and again for their loyalties, ideals and pride.

The last gave him pause, for he was disturbed, deeply disturbed. And uneasy, as well. He felt a growing sense of something…about to happen. Something about to break.

“Foolish, eh, old boy?” he said aloud, as Shaunessy pawed the earth.

He turned from the tranquil setting of the valley to stare into the dark green depths of the forest. Ten years
had passed, yet the case he had solved still disturbed him.
Why?

He knew why. He had entered the mind of a heinous monster, and it had scared him. It had made him wonder if, in doing so, he could become a monster himself.

I do not believe…!
he told himself. And yet…just as he had never forgotten the case, he had not, in the last days, been able to rid himself of the vision of Toni, face down in the stream.

Ghosts and ghost-busters! he thought angrily. Aye, tricks could be played with the mind, and all of this was playing tricks with his own.

Darcy Stone had gotten to him. As had Toni. There had been such a serenity about her. No driving passion, no wild speech. And he couldn't help but wonder, as he sat there atop Shaunessy, what the hell he was doing? Because one thing was true.

The vision returned again and again, haunting him. And the sense of fatalism was growing.

 

Toni slammed against the door, absolutely terrified that she would find it locked. But it burst open as it had before, easily allowing her an exit.

The phone. She had to get to the phone.

Eban! Eban was around somewhere. Not in the main castle. He never came in…or did he?

Striding for the main hall, she came to an abrupt halt before she could turn for the stairs.

Thayer was standing in the doorway, looking dazed, wild. Like a madman. Blood covered his forehead and caked his hair. His shirt was ripped; he was filthy. The handcuffs he'd been wearing dangled from his one wrist.

“Thayer?” she said.

“There was an accident,” he said.

“An accident?” she said carefully. What she had seen below was still so vivid in her mind that she realized she didn't trust anyone. An hour ago she had been de fending him so staunchly. But now, the way he looked…

“What happened?” she asked thickly.

“Hit…the constable…bastard…hit me. I hit him back.”

“Where? Where is the constable?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I crawled out. I…Toni!” He started walking toward her. Panic seized her. She'd been too trusting. He'd been up in the rafters, smoking dope, when they'd all been in a precarious situation. Can't hang a man for that! she chided herself. But the way that he was staring at her…

He grinned suddenly, but it seemed lopsided and eerie. “Toni, you look as if you've seen a ghost. Been prowling around in the castle graveyard, eh?”

That did it. Screw the phone. She was getting the hell out. When he walked toward her, she pushed him. Hard. He staggered back, falling. “Toni!”

Ignoring him, she raced toward the stables, thinking to get Wallace. But she came to a dead halt. Eban was coming from the stables. He had an oilcloth in one hand and a sword in the other. He was just cleaning the sword! she told herself.

“Miss Fraser!” he said. “Coomin' to the stables, are ye? Aye, and good. Y'can see to old Wallace, good old lad!”

She shook her head, trying to appear nonchalant.
Wallace! Good old Wallace. Was the horse dead this time? Had Eban poisoned him?

“I'm off for a bit of a walk, Eban!” she said, and waved jauntily, hoping Thayer wouldn't appear behind her right then. But…maybe it would be best if he did. Both men couldn't be guilty of heinous things….

Or could they?

She quickened her pace, grateful that she was going downhill. A walk at first, a trot, a lope…and then she was running.

“Toni!”

She looked back. Thayer, menacing in his stagger and tone, was coming after her.

It was a long, long way to the village.

She paused, looking back, taking a deep breath. He might not have moved quickly enough when Jonathan was coming after him, but he was cutting some speed now.

She happened to glance to the other side of the slope and saw the constable's car, overturned, down below.

There was no other choice.

She turned for the forest, tearing into its dark shadows as quickly as she could.

 

Bruce rode back to find the stables empty, the cars gone and his front door open. Striding into the great hall, he shouted, “Toni? Gina…David! Anyone?”

A sense of emptiness was his only reply. Still, he strode through the second hall, thinking someone might be in the kitchen. But he never made it there. The door to the tombs was standing open.

His heart thundered in his chest. Damn her! Had she gone down, fallen…scared herself into a state of catatonia?

He took the spiral stairs at a dangerous speed. “Toni?”
There was no answer, but he knew the route she would have traveled. He strode swiftly toward the great laird's tomb.

He frowned at first, seeing only that the slab was shifted over. Then he got a whiff of the sickening smell just as he looked in.

He didn't reel; didn't fall back.

He'd been wrong, dead wrong. They weren't going to find Annie O'Hara in the forest. She was here. How?
his mind shrieked.

At the moment, how didn't matter. Toni was no where to be seen, and his sense of panic was growing.

He bolted back up the spiral stairs, feeling an urgency to find her unlike any premonition he'd ever experienced before.

Premonition. Aye! For that's what it was. That picture of Toni, blond hair trailing…facedown in the water.

 

The trees shielded her from the first second she moved into the cool green darkness. She tore across the brook, heedless of the fact that she soaked her shoes and jeans up to her knees. The cold didn't mean anything, not at this moment. Then, finding the thick trunk of an ancient oak, she leaned against it, getting her breath, trying to think rationally.

She was certain that, this time, she had found the remains of a recent victim, those of Annie O'Hara. It actually made sense; it was logical. The other bodies had been dumped here, in the forest. And now a body was actually discarded, right in the castle. Bruce's castle! That should make Bruce appear guilty. Except that…it couldn't be!

She heard thrashing, and she turned around.

“Miss Fraser!”

It was Eban's voice, Eban calling her.

Why? Why had he chased her in here? And where was Thayer? He had been far ahead of Eban when she had looked back. In fact, she hadn't even realized that Eban had followed her.

“Lass! 'Tis dangerous in here!” Eban called with dismay. “The laird doesn't want ye in here, y'know!”

Flat against the tree, she remained perfectly still until she heard his footsteps moving on. She started to move out from around the tree. But as she did so, she was stunned to see Thayer, frozen, dead still, standing directly in front of her.

“Toni!” he said softly. “Ah, Toni, here y'are! Luv, I've been lookin' for you. Ah, Toni! I'm sorry, really, truly sorry!”

 

They nearly crashed into one another. If Kevin hadn't shouted, David never would have stopped the car in time.

Ryan braked to a halt and leaped out his side of the car just as Gina came out of hers. They both rushed at the minivan.

“Something's wrong! Really wrong,” Ryan said.

“Yeah! You can't drive!” David accused, but Ryan's look silenced him.

“What? What?” Kevin demanded.

“We were at the castle maybe fifteen minutes ago. Toni is gone, the door to the castle was standing wide-open and the door to the crypt is open!”

Ryan paused for breath, and Gina continued. “And
the constable's car is upside down at the bottom of the slope!”

“We just came up the road—Toni isn't on it. Did you find Bruce?” David asked anxiously.

They both shook their heads.

“Neither did we,” Kevin ventured.

They stared at one another for several seconds. Then they looked to the dark green canopy of the forest. Kevin groaned.

“She had to have run in there!” Gina whispered.

“All right, all right, let's go!” David said. He and Kevin exited the minivan. The four of them stood together, looking at the forest. Then they walked in.

When they came to the brook, David said, “Kevin and I will follow it this way…you two go that way.”

And they parted.

 

He couldn't possibly have the strength to hurt her, Toni thought. But she dared not take that chance. She stared at him a moment, then turned to run again.

“Toni, wait! For the love of God, lass, wait!” he cried.

For the love of God!

She ran. She thought she was leaping brush and dodging trees in a race to go deeper into the forest, but she came back to the water instead. Standing dead still, trying to think of her next move, she heard a groan. Her eyes darted to the water…to her left. Farther to her left.

There was someone in the water. Someone. Not a body, since the person was groaning. Male, or female? She couldn't tell. She couldn't even see clearly, the branches were so low, the green darkness so vast…
The groan sounded again. The mass was moving.

“Oh, my God!” she breathed, and rushed forward.

 

He rode Shaunessy hard down the hill, reining in when he saw the cars. The two of them, almost touching. The constable's car, down the slope.

He dismounted, leading Shaunessy quickly toward the entry and the brook.

Eban came out of the forest, shaking his head. Bruce strode quickly to him, catching him by the shoulders. “Eban, where's Toni?”

“In there!” Eban said, waving a hand. “But the lass won't come to me!”

“Eban, you're certain? Who else is in there? All of them? You've got to answer me, Eban. Thayer? Thayer…he struck Jonathan. He's in the woods now, right? Eban, listen carefully. There's a body in the crypts. Do you know how it got there?”

Eban stared at him, then frowned. “Laird MacNiall, there be lots o' bodies in the crypts.”

Bruce prayed for patience. “One of the murdered girls is in the crypts, Eban. Do you know how she got there?”

Eban stared back at Bruce, shaking his head. “Y'don't keep up the place, Laird Bruce, if y'll forgive me sayin' so!”

“Get to the castle and call Detective Inspector Robert Chamberlain. Please. Quickly, Eban. Get him out here.”

“Aye, Laird Bruce. Aye!”

Eban hurried toward the castle. Bruce cursed himself for not carrying his cell phone, slapped Shau
nessy's haunches so he'd head back, as well, and plunged into the forest himself.

 

“Constable!”

Toni rushed to Jonathan Tavish's side, trying to help him up.

He leaned on her heavily to gain his footing. “Toni… Miss Fraser…I'm sorry, but he's a bad seed, that one, he is! Slammed me in the head, wrecked the car! And he's loose.”

Toni swallowed hard. “Come on. We'll get out of here. There's much worse, Constable Tavish. The body of that last missing girl…I'm almost positive I know where it is.”

“Oh, aye?”

He found some strength, straightening to look her in the eyes.

“In the crypt. The castle crypt,” she said. “I—I don't know what it means. I can't believe that Bruce MacNiall… No, others had access, too.”

“Aye, and who would that be? Your cousin, Miss Fraser?”

“Anyone had access to the castle,” she said. “It wasn't locked when we reached it, before we knew about Bruce. And there's Eban Douglas, as well. He's a local, and your friend, but he's a strange little man. Think about it! Anyone had access.”

“Aye, anyone had access,” he agreed.

The sound of a twig snapping suddenly alerted them to another presence. They both looked ahead.

Thayer had found her. He looked steadier, and he stared at Jonathan with loathing.

“Toni…you need to get away from him.”

She sighed. “Thayer, we'll still help you. We'll see that you're represented. We'll—”

“Toni! You've got to get away from him. He clubbed me in the side of the head! Law-enforcement officers don't do that!”

“You bloody bastard!” Tavish roared. “You clubbed me!”

“You're not right, Tavish! You're not right!” Thayer shouted.

That caught Jonathan's attention, and gave him back his full power. He rushed Thayer, slamming him down against the ground. She heard a grunt, saw that the wind was knocked out of Thayer, and that Tavish was about to slug him hard in the jaw.

“Constable, no!” she cried, running through the water toward him.

The blow landed. Thayer's eyes closed. Toni's heart leaped to her throat. Despite all that she had seen, something in her heart was denying it.

“We've got to get him help. You might have killed him!” Toni said angrily.

Jonathan Tavish straightened again and stared at her, brushing his muddied blond hair from his forehead. “Ah, lass!” he said, coming toward her. “Poor, wee, beautiful lass! I'd envisioned so much more for you!”

BOOK: The Presence
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