Whispers (43 page)

“
Reilly?”

The voice that had reached across the room between their twin beds when they’d been boys. The voice that had matured with their years until it rumbled deep and tormented.

“
Reilly? You there?” Chloe said again in Matt’s voice. Her face was slack, her eyes closed. “You there, man?”

He had no choice but to answer though every cell in his body urged him to bolt. “I’m here, Matt.”

Bill spoke then, taking over the questions while Chloe channeled Reilly’s brother into the room.

“
Why are you with us, Matt?”

Reilly swallowed, waiting for the answer.

“
I shouldn’t’ve done it,” Matt’s voice said. “She was always yours.”

“
Who are you talking about?” Reilly asked.

“
She was always yours. I’m sorry.”

“
Who, Matt? Who was mine?”

“
I found something out there,” he said. “It found me.”

“
What’dya find?” Zach asked, leaning forward. “Where?”

Chloe did the stuttering thing again, a static sound that could have been Matt, could have been anyone.

Bill said, “Why are you still of this world, spirit of Matt? What peace do you seek?”

“
What did you find?” Zach asked again.

Chloe frowned, tilting her head as if to understand what was being asked. They confused him, Reilly thought, and then felt foolish for it. Matt was dead. Whatever trick this was, it wasn’t Matt, and dead people didn’t get confused.

“
Stop it,” Reilly said. “Right now, this is over.”

Chloe’s frown faded. She spoke again, still using Matt’s voice. It was filled with emotion, filled with the pain that Reilly knew had been his companion for all those years since he’d killed their father. It was so real, so exact that he felt tears in his eyes, clouding his vision.

“
I’m sorry,” Matt’s voice said. “I’m sorry.”

Angry, Reilly wiped his eyes and looked away. This was a mind game. A sick trick. But some piece of his heart responded to the agonized voice.

“
It’s okay, man,” Reilly murmured. “It’s okay.”

After a moment, Bill said, “Spirit of Matt, the other world awaits you. You have fulfilled your destiny here. It is time to move on.”

Reilly watched intently, thinking for a moment that he might see the light everyone talked about, might see what Matt moved on to, might have that small comfort of knowing his brother was free from the agony this life had offered. But only the candles flickered as the wind howled and rocked the house.

He shook his head, trying to bend his mind around what had just happened. He didn’t believe this shit and he was pissed. He clenched his fists and turned to find Gracie staring at him with huge eyes. Her fear kept him from leaving the room. From raging out into the storm. She looked like she might ask him something, but Chloe began to make the noise again.

It wasn’t a hum, not a moan, but it grew and pulsed around their jarred nerves like a vibration. It was uncanny, inhuman, unreal. It traveled the room like a flame on a fuse, hissing and sparking and raising the anxiety to a screaming pitch. The feeling of being watched made Reilly look back over his shoulder as the tension rose higher and higher and Chloe’s tonal song reached a crescendo. Then it dropped to silence. When she spoke it was her own voice once again.

“
Are there spirits who would join us?”

The quiet crackled with the strain of holding it. Gracie wrapped an arm around both Analise and Brendan, holding the two of them protectively. The pressure increased in the room until it seemed that each of them leaned forward, waiting to catch whatever came next. Reilly’s skin felt too tight for his body.

A dull light formed just behind Chloe’s head. At first it was just a glow, like the flame from a large candle that waned and brightened in the stillness. It shivered as thunder rolled from the sky and exploded in the hush. Then it grew larger as they stood transfixed, watching it change and morph into the shape of a man.

“
Is that Matt?” Analise whispered to Gracie.

No. It wasn’t. This was someone, something, new. Gracie shook her head but didn’t seem able to answer her daughter.

“
Aiken, is that you?” Chloe asked.

Gracie visibly jumped at the question. Reilly turned to her, watching the blood drain from her face in the dim light.

“
Will you speak with us, Aiken? Will you let us lay to rest the curse that follows us?”

“
What curse?” Analise asked.

As they watched, the form took on substance until it was a solid, glowing light that throbbed before them.

“
Daddy, it is time for you to move on. Leave this world. Leave our family,” Chloe said, her voice softer, weaker. There was a pleading quality that Reilly felt as much as he heard.

The light began to waver and Chloe’s face took on a hopeful glow. In that instant, Reilly understood that she’d been telling the truth all along. She wanted only to lay her ghosts to rest. But why had she needed him for that? And why had Matt’s voice filled her?

“
There is nothing here for you anymore, Aiken. It is time for you to leave this world.”

The glowing shape winked and dimmed. Reilly realized it was listening. As crazy as this all was, it was listening. The scratchy feel of the air seemed to diminish as the shape faded. But then abruptly, Zach stood.

“
No,” he said. “You promised me the money, you crazy old bitch. You can’t let him go until he tells us where it is.”

The light flared, as if excited by the anger in Zach’s voice. Bill surged to his feet, glaring at Zach with clenched fists. The light grew brighter and brighter until it was nearly blinding. They stared at it as it began to move away.

“
Where’s it going?” Zach demanded. He marched over to Chloe and yanked her up. “I said, where is it going?”

“
It’s not Aiken,” she said. “God help us, it’s not Aiken.”

“
What the hell is going on?” Reilly said. “Who are you?”

“
It’s none of your damn business,” Zach said. He pulled a tiny handgun from the back of his pants and pointed it at Chloe. “Follow the light.”

“
It’s not Aiken,” she repeated, her face gray beneath her skin.

“
I don’t give a fuck who it is,” Zach shouted. “I want the money. Now follow it or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

“
Like Jonathan?” Bill asked. “Why, Jonathan? He was a troubled man, just looking for answers.”

“
Well, I’m looking for answers too. I’m looking for answers she said I’d find. And I want the money.”

Reilly felt the shock of that confession hit him. Zach had killed Jonathan.

“
He knew,” Gracie whispered. “When he touched you, he knew what you were doing. He saw it.”

Zach glanced at Gracie, but he kept the gun on Chloe.

“
Too bad for him he didn’t see what was coming, huh? Too bad he didn’t know where the fucking money is.”

Reilly closed his eyes, thinking of the questions that Zach had asked in his “interview” that morning. He’d wanted to know about the Diablo’s secrets. And what of Zach’s sudden sickness on the way home and miraculous recovery this evening? Just a ploy to deflect attention while he murdered the man who had seen into his future?

Another thought hit Reilly. At the Buckboard, Bud Bowman had asked him about Hollywood ... Reilly opened his eyes as dawning comprehension washed over him. Bud had said,
What happened to Hollywood?
Zach played it off, but now Reilly understood. Zach had been here before and Bud recognized him. He’d hunted Reilly down not to interview him about his past, but about Diablo Springs. He’d assumed if Chloe wanted him here, it was because he knew something. Not because he was part of this cycle she was determined to end. But what was his connection to all of it? To Chloe? To Gracie? It didn’t make sense.

Chloe came unsteadily to her feet. Zach held her arm at an angle that had to hurt, but she didn’t complain. Her voice was quiet now, but her lips kept moving over the same words. “It’s not Aiken.”

Gracie seemed to have been struck silent by the events. Now she stepped forward. “What money are you talking about? There’s no money here.”

Zach looked at her, his eyes considering. Reilly read the thoughts going through his mind without problem. He would use Gracie, if he could.

“
There’s no money,” she repeated. “Look around you. Does this look like a place where someone with money would live?”

“
She said there’s money,” Zach said, jabbing the end of his small gun into Chloe’s side. “She said this Aiken would tell us where.”

“
How do you know Aiken?” Gracie demanded, looking at Chloe. “Jonathan said you warned my grandmother about him. Who is he?”

“
They lied,” Chloe said. “They told her he was dead, but it was a lie. All a lie.”

Once again Chloe’s voice was strangely disembodied, but it wasn’t a spirit she channeled. It was a memory.

Gracie opened her mouth to ask more, but it was Bill who spoke. He started to move toward the fireplace. Zach swung the gun around to track him. The suppressed violence vibrating over them made everyone step back until they looked like an audience around the frail old woman and the crazy gunman.

Bill cleared his throat and pointed to the picture over the mantel. “That is Aiken.”

Reilly stared at the man who so resembled Chloe.

“
Why does she think he’s here?” Reilly asked.

“
Because they tried to murder him here, but they failed.”

“
They—” Gracie started to ask, but Zach interrupted.

“
Tell me where the money is,” he repeated.

Chloe whispered, “I don’t know.”

And without hesitation, Zach pulled the trigger and blew a hole through Bill. Before the tall man had hit the ground, Zach turned the gun on Analise.

“
She’s next.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

July 1896

Diablo Springs

TWO weeks had passed since Sawyer swung me into his arms and claimed me forever. Two weeks that seemed a lifetime of learning. There was no question after that where I would sleep or who I belonged to. The girls giggled among themselves and teased me about the look he’d put in my eye, but I didn’t care. I loved him and though the words were not spoken, I felt he loved me back. What a strange world that had brought me to this place and time.

I had not forgotten about Chick during my bliss, however, though I was no closer to finding a solution to her problem. I worried on it constantly and each time I saw a man take her up the stairs, I felt sickened. She was too much child to be a woman, too much woman to be a child. When I thought of her fear, I knew it was justified.

I’d done my best to avoid Aiken but he had done his best to see that I didn’t. Each night he sat at my table and each night I beat him at cards, praying as I did that I would break him and force him to move on. He played on credit, still banked against his loan to Sawyer. Each time he drew on it, I made him put his mark on the ledger showing his growing use and Sawyer’s diminishing debt. I wondered if he understood numbers enough to know just how much he’d lost at the tables. There was no limit to the betting and the miners seemed as determined to lose their winnings as to find it. Many a hand I’d dealt had stakes high enough to make my heart flutter. One game at a table such as this could have reduced my father to a pauper. I had no trouble envisioning the high-stakes hand that had won Sawyer this very saloon I’d come to call home.

I was torn about one thing, though. While I wanted Aiken gone with all my heart, I knew that should he leave, he would take the women with him, and that I could not abide. I tempered my desire to influence Sawyer, if I could, to force him out. There had to be a way to free my friends of his domination.

There were no more than a hundred men living in Diablo Springs when we arrived, but each day more swarmed the small town until their white canvas tents dotted the hillside like the boulders from a landslide. Each morning I awoke to the sounds of hammers and picks striking stone like the rhythmic chiming of a discordant bell. The silver was hard to find and slow to be had, but apparently, enough had been mined that others were drawn to the search. I grew accustomed, if not agreeable, to the smell of sweat and unwashed men. It might have been worse if Aiken had not insisted that they bathe before bedding any of the girls. Of all the things I loathed about Aiken, this one redeeming characteristic went far on his short list of good.

Ever the entrepreneur, Aiken set up a tub in a tent beside the Diablo and charged two dollars for a bath. The men could have easily bathed for free in the warm springs, but I’d learned that in addition to being a superstitious lot, most of them were afraid of the water. It seemed that legends about the “devil springs” surpassed even those about the silver to be found in the surrounding mountains. I had heard that the springs were haunted, cursed, damned. I had yet to see evidence of it with my own eyes, and for me it would always be the wonderful place Sawyer and I escaped to sometimes in the early hours of the morning when the smell of smoke and the layers of spilled whiskey were too thick to take to bed. Though I will admit that at times I felt the mist swirl like a phantom and I was glad not to be alone there.