Ghost Walk (26 page)

“Why
are they holding onto it, then?”

“Because
it’s a
museum
.  You think people are going to will them stuff if it gets
out they’re tossing away antiques?”  She shook her head.  “It’s easier to just
store it all.”

“Seems
a waste.”  Jamie paused to frown at a hobby horse that was missing its back
half.  “They could at least fix some of these objects and put them to use.”

That
sounded exactly like something she might say.  Grace sent him a smile.  “They
don’t have enough money for a lot of repairs.  Especially not since Robert
authorized a twenty percent raise for himself.”  What had she ever seen in that
jackass?  “No one cares about this stuff.  It’s an appalling attitude for a
museum to have, if you ask me.”

“Not
everybody has your passion for giving old things a second life, lass.”  He
winked at her.  “Speaking as one of the old things you’re trying to save, we
thank you for it.”

“You’re
welcome.”  She began prying the lids off all the containers that looked
promisingly forbidding.  “Now focus on our mission and not flirting with me. 
Anything left from the murders would have ended up down here, hidden away from
tourists’ eyes.”

“Like
Clara’s shawl.”  Jamie guessed.  “On the tour, you said it was left behind at
when she was taken.”

“You
remember that part?  I thought you hated my tours.”

“I
remember everything you’ve ever said, slanderous or not.”

Grace
shot him another smile.  “I’m really glad you’re back, Jamie.”

“I
never left.”  His misty lips grazed her temple.  “I never could.”

“Anyway,”
she continued, feeling incredibly happy despite their morbid quest, “yeah.  The
shawl has gotta have her blood on it.  All we have to do is find the darned
thing.”

Which
was easier said than done.  Three hours later, all Grace had accomplished was tiring
herself out and making a huge mess.  Stacks of books, moth-eaten clothing, tarnished
flatware, and old horseshoes were scattered up and down the aisles as she
emptied box after box.

“Crap.”
 She sat back from a container full of tin soldiers and headless dolls, once
again finding nothing useful.  “This is crazy!  Where could they have put the
evidence from Clara’s death?”

“Perhaps
it’s all gone.  It’s been two hundred years, Grace.  It could have been
destroyed in a thousand different ways.”  Jamie crouched down to examine a
sword with half a blade.  “God knows, everything else down here is falling
apart.”

Grace
ran a palm through her hair, unmindful of the dirt covering her hands.  She was
hot and sweaty, her body ached in a million places, and she was coated in a
thick layer of cobwebs and dust.

…But
she wasn’t giving up.

“No. 
It has to be here
somewhere
.”  Her eyes went to the broken saber that
had captured his attention.  It looked like something Errol Flynn would have
swashbuckled with.  A new idea popped into the head.  “Hang on, they think
you’re
the killer, Jamie.”

He
snorted.  “No shit.”

“Don’t
you get it?  They think a
pirate
murdered those girls.  They wouldn’t
have stored the evidence in the ‘Local Revolutionary History’ section of the
basement.  They’d have put it with all the other boxes full of ‘Piracy’ stuff.” 
She bounded to her feet, getting her second wind.  “That’s all stacked over
here.”  She started for a completely different row of shelves.  “We just need
to…”

Her
words ended in a startled gasp as Robert stepped around the corner.

Her
ex-boyfriend looked like hell.  His normally neatly pressed suit was a rumpled
mess, his hair uncombed and greasy.  He clearly hadn’t showered since he’d been
released from jail.  From his red-rimmed eyes and unshaven face, she was
guessing he’d been too busy drinking.

And
getting fired.

There
was a cardboard carton in his hands, which seemed to contain the personal
contents of his office.  Apparently, the museum board hadn’t been happy with
their director being arrested.  What would the donors say?

Jamie
bit off a vicious oath in Gaelic.  “Grace,” his voice was tense, “slowly move
away from him, love.  Very slowly.  Donea set him off.”

Yeah,
that seemed like a really good idea.  Robert was hanging by a thread.

Grace
edged backwards, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to gauge the distance
to the door.  Too far.  God, it seemed waaaay too far.

“You’ve
ruined my life.”  Robert told her in an eerily calm voice.  “Do you know that? 
You’ve cost me
everything
.  I don’t even have a job anymore, because of
you.”

“Um… 
That’s a shame.  I lost my job, too.”  Somehow she didn’t think that was going
to mitigate his anger, but maybe they could bond over their unemployment
checks.

“Your
job was
nothing!
”  He snapped.  “But I was somebody in this town and you
took that away!”

“You
broke into my house, Robert.”  Grace retorted, unable to stop herself.  “It
wasn’t my fault you refused to accept it was over between us.”

Robert
let out a sound of pure rage and heaved the box full of desk supplies at her. 
“It
was
your fault!”  He roared as she dodged to the side to avoid getting
hit with a stapler.  “All of it was because of
you!
”

“Donea
fucking argue with him!”  Jamie stepped in front of Grace, like he simply
couldn’t stop himself.  “Stay calm.  Three steps back is that sword.”

A
sword?  Was he kidding?  Grace wasn’t a frigging pirate.  What the hell was she
going to do with a sword?

Her
dumbfounded expression must not have registered with him, because Jamie kept
talking.  “It’s broken, but the blade is still sharp.  Donea look at it.  Just
listen to me and I’ll guide you to it.”

She
nodded, because she didn’t have a better plan.  No way was it going to work,
though.  Jamie would probably call it pessimism, but it seemed pretty clear to
Grace that she was going to be raped and murdered surrounded by spiders and
broken dishes and wearing her stupid tour guide dress.  Oh God.

Peaceful
green cornfields.  Peaceful green cornfield.  Peaceful…

Jamie.

The
image of him suddenly filled her mind, offering a deeper feeling of security
than even the endless rows of corn on her parents’ farm.  Jamie.  She let out a
long breath and her eyes flicked up to his stunning profile.  He was her safe
place.

“I
love you.”  She whispered, because she might not have another chance to say it.

“You
don’t
love me.”  Robert wailed, thinking she was talking to him.  “If
you loved me, you would have forgiven me for that pizza-tramp!  You wouldn’t
have had me thrown in prison and gotten me fired! 
You wouldn’t have ruined
my life!
”

Jamie
ignored his caterwauling.  “You’re not saying goodbye to me, Grace.  I won’t
lose you.  I can’t.”  Patriot blue eyes burned into hers.  “Keep moving towards
the sword.  Two steps.  You’re going to be
fine
.”

She
gave her head a frantic nod, wanting to believe him.  “Just don’t leave me
alone.”

“Never.” 
It was a solemn promise.  “Never again.  I was stupid to even try it, Grace.  I
could
never
leave you.  No matter what, I will be right by your side.”

“You
left
me
, not the other way around.”  Robert was still sure was talking
to him.  “You never considered
my
feelings, at all.  Never thought about
what
I
wanted and now you show up here to --What?-- try and make things
right?  Well, it’s too late!”

“One
more step, Grace.”  Jamie watched Robert with dark and unfathomable hatred. 
“Feel for the hilt with your hand.”

“I’m
not here to see you, Robert.”  She told him, careful not to look at the weapon
as her fingers tried to find it.  God only knew what she’d do with it once she
held it.  Everything she knew about sword fighting she’d learned from watching
Game
of Thrones
reruns and she’d had to cancel HBO last year, when her paycheck
shrank.  “I just want you to leave me alone.”

“Then
why did you come to the museum?”  He demanded, stalking forward to make up the
distance she’d created.  “Security told me they saw you come down here on the
monitors and thought you were looking for me.”  He glanced around, noticing the
dozens of unpacked boxes on the floor.  “Wait, are you
stealing
from the
museum?  From me?!”

“Of
course not!  I’m…”

He
cut her off, a triumphant smile on his bloated face.  “You are!  You pretend to
be so sweet and good, but you’re a dirty bitch underneath it all, aren’t you?” 
He reached for her with sick determination.  “You’re nothing by a thieving
whore and that’s exactly what I’m going to treat you like.”

Jamie’s
beautiful hand slammed out, trying to shove Robert back from her.  If he’d been
solid, the smaller man would have been careening into the shelves behind him. 
Grace’s eyes narrowed in sudden consideration.  No one noticed.  Jamie’s
ghostly palm passed through Robert’s chest and her ex continued his advance. 
Jamie’s cursing could have blistered paint.

But
now Grace knew what to do.

Her
fingers finally sealed around the broken saber’s hilt.  She swung it in a wide
arc, catching Robert off guard.

He
leapt back in surprise, narrowly escaping a long slice across his stomach. 
“Holy shit!”

Grace
arched a brow, holding him a bay.  Maybe she had a bit of pirate in her after
all, because this was coming pretty naturally to her.  “Robert, you’re an
asshole.”  She said succinctly.

Jamie
gave a chortle of delight that the tables had turned.  And also at her
cursing.  The man really was a scoundrel.

“You
think I’m afraid of you, you rotten little slut?”  Robert hissed.  “I’m going
to hold you down and make you
beg
for me.”

“There’s
only one man alive who can do that and he’s dead right now.”  Grace told him
seriously.  “Now, nothing is going to stop me from saving him.  Certainly not
someone as boring and normal as you.”  She jabbed the jagged sword point at him
and Robert went failing back in panic.

…Right
into the shelves behind him.

He
floundered against the boxes, trying to keep his balance.  It was no use.  The
shelves tipped like a row of dominos, taking Robert with them.  He fell backwards
with a frantic scream, buried under cartons of broken pottery and embroidered tablecloths.

“Go!”
 Jamie bellowed.

Grace
went.  Rather than run out the door, though, she headed down the aisle of
piracy artifacts.  Robert would dig himself out in a moment or two.  She didn’t
have much time.  She desperately ripped boxes open, trying to find the shawl. 
Scrimshaw whales’ teeth and model ships tumbled to the floor as she haphazardly
dumped the cartons onto the cold cement.

“You
have to get out of here!”  Jamie tried to grab her arm and drag her to the
exit, but his fingers passed right through her skin.  “
Fuck!
”

“I
can’t go yet.”  She got out breathlessly.  “Not yet.”  If she left now, she’d
get no second chance.  This was her one and only opportunity to save him.  “I
have to find it.”  His name was a frantic chant in her mind as she tried to
calm down.

Jamiejamiejamiejamiejamiejamiejamiejamie.

“I
am
begging
you, love.  Leave
now!
  He’s not going to give you
another opportunity to escape.  You’ve made him too mad.  He’s going to
hurt
you.”

“He
won’t.”  Grace tipped a box full of yellowed papers onto the floor.  “I’m not
going to be here.”  Once she had the shawl, she’d be safely back in 1789.

“Donea
do this.”  Jamie pleaded an agonized expression on his face.  “It’s not worth
it. 
I’m
not worth it.”

“You’re
worth everything to me.”  She heard Robert coming for her, trying to find her
in the maze of shelves.  Oh God.  Her Keds skidded on the ancient parchment as
she worked her way down the row of boxes.  For once, she didn’t worry about
damaging antiquities.  “It
has
to be here.”

“Grace!” 
Robert shouted, his angry voice creating a terrifying echo.  “Where are you,
you semi-frigid shank?”  Seriously, how could someone be semi-frigid
and
a skank?  The man was a total moron.  “I’m going to teach you who you really
belong to.”

Jamie
was about to lose his mind.  “Grace,
please!
”

Robert
rounded the corner of the aisle, his bloodshot gaze siting on her.  “
There
you are.”  He snarled, looking nothing like the husband-materially guy he’d
pretended to be for so long.

Jamie’s
eyes widened in horror.

Robert’s
hands went to his belt buckle as he prowled forward.  “Nice try, bitch.  But
now you’ll see who the
man
is around here.”

“No,
no, no, no, no.”  Jamie’s arm came up, trying to shield her.  “Grace, where the
fuck is the sword?!”