Harrison Investigations 1 Haunted (10 page)

David Jenner, of Jenner Electronics, also at the Wayside Inn
when Darcy had first arrived, stood a distance from the group, with
video and audio running. Darcy had considered bringing down
some of her own equipment, but then had decided that this was not
the night for Harrison Investigations' high-tech "ghost buster"
electronics.

"We have joined in a benign and caring circle," Liz said,
addressing the spirits. "We wish to help with any problems, past or
present. We have come in love and friendship, and wish to
communicate with any presence in his house who desires a voice. Our
minds and hearts are open. If there is a presence here, please let
yourself be known."

Darcy felt a breeze at her nape, and she closed her eyes.

The fear had never really left her. Josh, who had been born with
his unique perception, had not been afraid. But to Darcy, knowing
that a very strange door was open was still a frightening
experience. She knew that she had to allow the sensations in, but
each time, it still seemed that cold fingers clutched her heart,
and it was a fight to do what she knew she did well.

They were not alone.

Talk to me,
she thought in silence.

But then her eyes popped open as she heard a rapping at the
table. She frowned, then felt a very physical force as the hands
grasping around the table all seemed to tighten as one. Elizabeth
spoke excitedly.

"We have made a communication! Rap again, please, if you are
with us."

A tap sounded.

Darcy looked around the table, doubting that any of the ghosts
were tapping. Matt, too, was looking around the table.

The presence that had been so near Darcy and so apparent
to her backed away. It didn't disappear; it simply receded.

"Are you the spirit we call the Lady in White?" Elizabeth
asked.

There was no response.

"Perhaps a soldier?"

There was another rapping.

Matt was staring at Darcy, a certain hostility apparent in his
eyes. Anger burst through her. He assumed that she was the one
somehow managing to tap the table.

"Did you live during Revolutionary Times," Elizabeth asked,
earnest concern in her voice.

No response. Matt was still staring at Darcy.

"The Civil War?" Elizabeth asked softly.

Another rap.

"Yes! Yes!" Elizabeth said, her eyes closed, her
concentration intense. ' 'We believe we know your story. You
fought hard, so hard, for what you believed to be a just cause. You
died here in this house. But you needn't stay and fight on. The war
is over. Peace has come. And the outcome, in the end, was right.
The only outcome that could be right, and the world has moved on.
We seek now to offer true justice and equality for all men. You may
rest in peace. Do you understand me? Can my words help you find
rest?"

Another rap, then a number of excited raps.

Penny whispered softly to Elizabeth. "We don't want our ghosts
to go away! We just want them to be happy."

"They're only happy when they're at peace!" Carter said, staring
at Penny with a strange smile.

"This is so exciting!" Mae whispered.

"Hush!" Elizabeth said, moaning softly. "We'll break me very
tenuous thread that is linking us to the entity."

There was a sound at the table, one of total impatience.

Matt.

"Please!" Elizabeth said. "Captain...you are a captain, right?"
she said, addressing the ghost.

There was nothing.

"Let us know. We're here for you," Elizabeth said.

There was another rap.

"Yes, you're a captain. A true gentleman, still righting for his
cause!"

There was suddenly the sound of a shriek. The table jumped.

The sound had come from Delilah. "Someone... something touched
my thigh!"

"The captain isn't such a gentleman," Clint suggested wryly.

The table jerked again.

Matt swore, and rose, breaking the circle. ' 'David, can you
just go ahead and hit the lights?" he asked.

The room was flooded with illumination. "Okay, who was touching
Delilah's legs?"

"Matt, we had contact, real contact," Elizabeth said,
dismayed.

"Oh, please!" Matt said.

"By one horny ghost," Carter suggested, amused.

Matt glared at him. "Not me!" Carter protested.

All eyes naturally turned to Clint.

"Not on your life!" he protested.

"I'm telling you, we contacted a Civil War soldier," Elizabeth
said stubbornly.

"Absolutely," Penny agreed. "And one of you destroyed our
communication. Matt, you just can't have those two around the next
time we have a seance. Delilah, we really have ghosts here."

Delilah shivered. "You do really believe that-that a captain
from the Civil War was in this room with us?''

"I must say," Jason remarked, "Everyone's hands were on the
table." From the way he spoke, it was difficult to tell if he was
impressed with the tapping, or merely curious as to how it might
have been managed.

"We're ignoring our expert," David said, his video still running
as he turned the camera on Darcy. "What do you think?"

She answered slowly with a careful shrug. "I'm afraid we weren't
into it long enough for me to really give an opinion."

Jason smiled at her. "But what do you think? Or feel, or intuit,
whatever. Is Melody House haunted?"

"The house has a tremendous history," Darcy said. "Just being in
it makes you feel an affinity for the past. Maybe that, in itself,
makes a place haunted."

Clint laughed. ' 'Boy, you can talk your way around
anything, can't you, Darcy? What if this were one of those
game shows and you had to give a yes or no answer?''

"But it's not a game show," Darcy said.

"I was excited!" Elizabeth said. "I know that I made contact.
And we'll set up to do this again. We've only just begun. I don't
think tonight would be good. I mean, I don't think we should try
again so soon. Matt-"

"Forgive me, Elizabeth, but I don't want to set up any more
dates right now. Bear with me. I'm sorry. My opinion is that
someone here managed to tap on the table-and snag Delilah's leg in
the process, whether on purpose or not."

"Matt, you are such a cynic!" Penny protested-

"Oh, my," Delilah said, and she had a half smile on her face as
she surveyed the men in the room.

"He's accusing either you or me," Carter told Clint, but with no
malice.

"Yes, actually, I am," Matt said sternly, but he didn't sound
overly angry, just impatient. He hadn't wanted anything to do
with a seance from the beginning.

"I think I'm going to step outside for a minute, if you'll
excuse me?" Darcy said.

"I'll get drinks and some snacks out," Penny told them.

"Drinks!" Carter said with pleasure.

"I'll give you a hand, Penny," Mae said. "I'm still all
a-tingle! I'm certain as well that Elizabeth made contact. Couldn't
you feel it? The room was so cold. Oh, yes, there was someone with
us. Something. Definitely. And Matt, you must do this again,
please? Oh, you must, you must, you must!"

Darcy heard the last as she slipped through the foyer and out
the front door. She felt a little guilty for not offering to help
Penny herself, but there were others there, and she'd had the
strangling sensation that she'd needed to get out.

Night could be so strange. The summer sky like velvet, and so
near the mountains, a million stars showing cleanly against the
darkness. She leaned against the porch rail for a minute, inhaled
deeply, and smelled the fragrant, flower-filled air that marked the
season.

Then she sat back in one of the rockers, closing her eyes and
savoring the soft, cleansing sweep of the breeze, and wondering
herself just who had done the tapping.

She was startled a minute later as she felt a presence next to
her.

One that was very much alive, and carrying a low-key scent of
aftershave.

She opened her eyes to see that Matt had joined her, taking the
chair at her side. He watched her for a moment without speaking.
,

She turned back and stared at the night, not waiting for him to
speak. "No, I don't believe that the tapping was a ghost."

With peripheral vision, she saw that a slow rueful smile curled
into his lips.

"Thank God! I'd have lost all faith in you if you had said
differently."

"Oh? I didn't realize that you had faith in me to begin
with."

"That all remains to be seen."

"I've found that most people don't believe in the occult,"
Darcy told him. "Yet just the same, most people have a little voice
of suspicion somewhere within them that suggests there might be
something more between the living and the dead."

"You mean they're open-minded?" he said.

"Maybe minds aren't all open, but there's often a crack there
somewhere."

He rocked thoughtfully for a minute. "We've always had a
military tradition in my family. I went straight into military
schools and served in the army for several years. The dead bodies I
saw all stayed that way. I first became a cop in the D.C. area, and
though much of the country might suggest that the main crimes there
are political, I can guarantee you, there were plenty of criminals
in the area who know how to kill. Death is usually ugly, but always
complete. Then, again, I'm the direct heir to all those years of
history, tradition, murder, and mayhem that have gone on at Melody
House. If someone were to see something or have a link to the past,
wouldn't it be me?"

Darcy laughed. ' 'Not when there's not even one of those cracks
in your mind to allow the dead to try to speak to you."

He was silent again, rocking, then looked at her with one of the
smiles that suddenly sent a streak of warmth to quicken her limbs
whether she wanted to admit it or not.

' 'When my dad died, I wanted him to speak to me somehow
in the worst way. I was willing to do anything-I would have crawled
into the coffin to go with him, I loved him so much. It was just
about the same with my grandfather, except that I was older
then, and more aware that he had lived his years, good years, and
gone on."

The emotion with which he spoke touched her deeply. Then he
said, almost scowling, "You weren't the one pulling off that
tapping sound, were you?''

She stiffened, cold and indignant instantly. "No, I was not! And
come to think of it, your words just now were quite interesting.
You didn't mention your mother. Do you have something against
women, Matt?"

He turned to her, those strange dark gray eyes of his bearing
something of a dangerous spark. "I like women just fine, Darcy.
Especially the really honest ones, and yes, they are out there. I
didn't mention my mother because she died when I was a few months
old, which didn't allow me a great deal of time to get to know her
well."

She turned back to the night. "Sorry."

"What about you?"

She gazed at him, and suddenly smiled despite herself. "I don't
have anything at all against other women."

"No, I meant, how did that crack in your mind turn into a gaping
hole where the dead came rushing through to speak to you at all
times?"

"Oh," she murmured.

"Well?"

"I was in a car crash with a really good friend. And he
died."

"And then he spoke to you?''

"Something like that." She thought that he was going to scoff at
her again, but it seemed that he could be quite mercurial in his
manner. She was startled when his hand lay upon hers where it
rested on the arm of the rocker and his words came out soft and
gentle.

"Don't you think that sometimes people see people, or hear them,
just because they so desperately want to hear that person speak
again?''

"Sometimes, yes."

"But not with you?"

"I wish that was all that it had been," Darcy told him.

His eyes were almost affectionate, and he watched her with an
appreciation that once again sent her heart thundering, her
blood racing. And she was startled to realize that she hadn't been
so strongly, almost magnetically, attracted to anyone like
this in years. Maybe never. There was something in him beyond his
extraordinary looks, and even the sense of power and security that
he emitted. Something that made her want to crawl against his skin,
stroke his face, and feel the warmth burst into sensations far
greater. She was almost afraid to hear him speak, because the
temptation to lean closer to him was so strong and aching. He was
about to speak, and she was beyond fascinated to hear what he was
about to say.

Except that words never left his mouth.

The great double doors at the front of the house flew open and
Delilah came bursting out, full of smiles and charm.

"Aren't you all coming in to join us for a drink and some
snacks? I must say, Penny is just the most priceless human being in
the world. In a matter of minutes she's created the most delightful
spread in the kitchen!"

They both stared at her rather blankly for a minute.

Darcy had liked Delilah from the start. She was a nice woman,
and seemed intelligent, and really concerned about her job for the
county.

At that moment, though, she could have hit her.

Delilah continued, "Oh, Matty, please, don't be upset about the
silly tapping tonight. Penny and Liz are right- we did come close
to contact. Don't be angry with all of us!"

"I'm not angry," Matt said, rising and sounding only somewhat
impatient. "We'll join you."

Delilah started back into the house. Matt reached out a hand to
Darcy. "Coming?"

She accepted his hand and rose. It was as if there were sparks
in his fingers. At that moment though, she wasn't sure that he
noticed in the least.

"Matty?" she said lightly, arching a brow.

"It's what happens when you've lived in a small town and known
people too long and too well."

"Ah," she murmured, wanting to ask,
how well?

She refrained, and let him lead her on back into the house.

Penny
had
created quite a spread. Tea, coffee, mixed
drinks, chips and dips, buffalo wings, Southern pecan pie, and
other little desserts that Darcy knew she had prepared earlier in
the day.

Darcy had never been less hungry, but since Penny had baked the
pie herself, she toyed with a piece and opted for an Irish
coffee-made with decaf, Penny explained, so she wouldn't keep
anyone up all night. Clint and Carter were in rare form, accusing
one another of the tapping, Delilah was flirtatious, and Mae was
excited, thanking Matt over and over again for letting her come,
and begging to be invited if they tried a seance again. Liz scolded
the boys for being silly when she was up to something important.
Penny seemed a little quiet when she wasn't being the perfect
hostess. David Jenner spoke about the different qualities of tape
and film, and asked Darcy her preferences for her work. As they
picked up the remnants of their meal, Delilah charmingly cornered
Matt over a parking problem they were having near the town
hall.

Darcy rinsed plates and put them into the dishwasher with Clint
and Carter bringing in the used utensils and only half helping as
they flirted. She had grown to like them both, even though she did
get a start, feeling as if she were speaking with a modern-day Jeb
Stuart every time she met Carter's eyes above the growth of his
beard. Still, she was strangely keyed, and exhausted at the same
time. When she could, she left the two of them dealing with the
dishwasher and excused herself to Penny, Mae, and Elizabeth
and escaped up the stairs to the Lee Room.

As she prepared for bed, she didn't feel a thing in the room.
Not the slightest intuitive whisper of a presence. Not even the
sense of being watched. Despite the fact that it was her business
to discover just what was going on, she was glad she was ready for
a good night's rest.

She fell almost instantly and soundly into a deep sleep.

And that's when she was awakened.

Darcy's head jerked up, because a silent scream seemed to enter
into her mind, pierce through her subconscious, and seize her
attention with a start. She looked around in the night as if she
had been rudely prodded by a fire poker.

And there she was, a woman in a silver nightgown, standing in
the doorway, hand to her throat in terror, issuing that
silent scream.

Darcy saw the image in the dim and hazy light, saw the woman
trying to bolt the door, but the force behind it, trying to enter
from the hall, kept her from doing so. Then the woman came racing
toward the bed, and for a moment, her eyes met Darcy's. There was a
terrible plea within them.
Help me!

It was as if the woman saw her there as well, and the plea was
as silent as the scream, heard only in Darcy's head. But God, that
scream! It sounded again within her mind, and the woman's beautiful
lips moved, beseeching Darcy to hear her. But she couldn't
understand the words; she knew only that they were desperate.

Because this wraith was running from death.

The killer, Darcy sensed, was coming from behind the woman. From
the hallway. The bedroom door now burst open. Darcy could make out
a hazy image of someone large and shadowy, shielded by the night,
coming forward.

Toward the woman.

Then, above the woman's shoulder, she saw the flash of the
knife, as clearly as if a spotlight hit the blade, and glinted from
it.

The scream sounded again...more terrible than ever.

And the knife...

The knife flashed above Darcy.

She wasn't easily frightened. She communicated with the dead
after all.

She sought them out.

But that night...

The malevolence was so strong, the danger seemed so real. The
blade...it was threatening her, and she knew it.

She struggled for calm, for sanity, trying to convince herself
that she was seeing nothing but an image from the past. There was
no knife wielded by a dark and deadly murderer. Not now...what she
saw was nothing but an image from the past.

But it moved again, glinting, and...dripping.

Dripping blood.

And she was terrified suddenly that if it touched her...

Darcy sprang from the bed, screaming herself. The image
wasn't fading, it wasn't a whisper, a hint of what had happened. It
was pure evil. And something deeper than her intuition, than her
acceptance, than any peace or calm she might have garnered over the
years, deserted her completely. Terror, older and more basic
than any human emotion, lit into her. She raced beneath the
images, and tore out of the room, shrieking herself as she tore out
of the room.

Darcy ran down the stairs, mindlessly fleeing.

She came to the landing and it was there that she heard her name
shouted. She had probably been called several times before the
sound had made its way through to her conscious thought.

Darcy stopped dead still, sanity filling her mind as quickly as
it had deserted it.

She could have kicked herself, thoroughly.

It was Matt Stone calling her name, rushing down the stairs. He
was in boxers and a robe, haphazardly cast over his shoulders.

Even as she saw him appear at the top of the stairway, Penny,
gray hair tousled, came rushing behind him in a pair of
pajamas.

The front door burst open as Carter, Clint slamming into his
back, appeared.

It was uncanny, almost as bizarre as the dream, or
reality, she had just experienced, the way they all appeared
so quickly, the entire household, within minutes. She almost
felt as threatened, watching as Matt and Penny came down, and Clint
and Carter came forward, and they gathered in the foyer at
the foot of the stairs, alarmed, and then, as they saw her, saw
that she was fine, disgruntled.

Matt Stone's eyes were hard and suspicious.

"The Lee Room sent you racing out in a panic?" Matt said, an
edge of derision in his tone. "I thought you were the great ghost
hunter."

Clint was kinder. "Are you all right, Darcy?"

She stared at Matt. "Yes, and I'm terribly sorry. I must have
had a nightmare."

"Ghosts don't scare her-nightmares do," Matt murmured.

Penny was staring at her sagely. "You saw the lady in
white."

Carter let out a long sniff. "Oh, Penny! I used to spend a lot
of time in that room. I never saw any lady in white."

"I've seen her, Clara Issy has seen her, and she sent a bride
running out of that room naked as a jaybird!" Penny said
indignantly.

Matt stared hard at Penny, Carter, and Clint, one by one, then
turned around, starting up the stairs. "Tapping on a table is one
thing," he said irritably. "But if you two have rigged that room
somehow..."

"Matt, jeez, dammit, I wouldn't do that!" Clint protested
angrily.

"I sure as hell wouldn't! I don't believe in the damned spooks!"
Carter said.

"I believe in them wholeheartedly. They are here," Penny said
indignantly. Matt had already started up the stairs. Darcy watched
as the others all rushed back up the stairs behind him. She
followed, protesting.

"Look, I had a dream. A nightmare. I woke you all. I'm
sorry."

Matt didn't appear to hear her. He slammed against the door of
the Lee Room, causing it to open all the way. He, Carter, and Clint
walked in. Where, of course, nothing was disturbed, and nothing at
all was out of the ordinary.

Matt, however, appeared determined. He threw open the closet
door and carelessly rummaged through her hung clothing, looking for
what in the small space, she didn't know. He looked under the bed,
then walked to the balcony doors, throwing them open as well.
He walked out on the balcony, then came back in, arms crossed over
his chest as he stared at Darcy.

' 'Just exactly what did you see?''

"I didn't see anything," she lied. "I had a dream. That's all.
And I'm sorry. Terribly sorry."

"I don't think you should sleep in here anymore."

She felt a flicker of the fear returning, but held her
ground.

"I need to sleep in here."

"Why? You can explore this room-or do whatever the bell it is
that you do-by day."

Darcy shook her head. "Look, once again, I'm really, really
sorry. This won't happen again. I swear it."

"No."

"Aw, Matt, you're just down the hall," Clint said, championing
Darcy.

She flashed him a smile of gratitude, despite the fact that his
words didn't seem to help any.

"No," Matt repeated stubbornly.

"Look, I swear to you, I'm really not a mincing little coward. I
had a dream, and it gave me a terrible start. But I need to stay in
that room. All right, Matt, I disturbed you. And I realize that
you're the sheriff and you have a day job, and I'm really, truly,
sorry."

"Matt!" Penny put in.

"We can make a deal. If I come running out again, for any
reason, I'll bow to your decision and get out of the room," Darcy
said. She was pleading with a man who now wore a grim expression on
his face. She hated pleading with him.

She didn't intend to leave the Lee Room, though. Yes, she'd been
scared out of a few years of life, but that might have been the
exact intention of the malignant presence. She had lived with her
gift for a long time. She could still be frightened, but she knew
her own strengths.

She
wouldn't
let it happen again. She wouldn't give way
to the fright.

"Matt," Carter suggested sagely, "you're one stubborn cuss, but
so is Miss Tremayne. If any one of us is going to get back to
sleep, I suggest you let her go back to bed in the Lee Room.
Remember, you're the one who doesn't believe in spooks."

"But I do believe in the ability of man to do evil," Matt said,
staring at Darcy.

"You're right down the hall," she reminded him quietly.
"Actually, the next room, I believe. At least, the office
part of your suite."

"All I need is something to happen to you!" he
muttered.

"Bad for business?" she inquired sharply. "I assure you, I'm not
going to become another ghost of Melody House," she assured him.
"And I'm adult, responsible to myself."

"Yes, bad for business. And not only that, but whether you like
it or not, I am responsible to Adam Harrison for you."

Just how well did he know Adam, Darcy wondered. "Adam sent me,"
she reminded him, outraged. "He knows that I can deal with anything
that happens."

"Um. Deal with it-by being terrorized and terrified?"

"It won't happen again," she repeated stubbornly. She was
disturbed to realize that they had an audience for this
discussion,
and she was beginning to feel as if she were a
child having an argument with an adult.

But apparently, she was winning.

He threw up his hands and turned away. Clint gave her a grin and
a thumbs-up sign. Carter, too, was smiling beneath his beard.
Only Penny looked a little perplexed.

"You are sure you're going to be okay?" Penny asked softly.

"Absolutely," she assured the woman.

"Well, then, I'm going back to bed," Carter said. He gave Darcy
a wink. "I know the room well. It's brick and mortar, and nothing
else."

"Another true disbeliever," Penny muttered.

"Don't worry, ma'am," Clint teased, "You've got a threesome of
Southern gentlemen here, not only offering charm, but all our
valiant resources in whatever way you may need. We'll be happy to
kick ghost butt for you at any time."

Penny let out a sound between a moan and groan. "Get out of
here, go back to the stables and get to bed, both of you. You just
wait until one of the ghosts does decide to make an appearance
before you boys. You'll be sorry then!"

"Oooh!" Carter said.

It looked as if Penny was about to strike him.

"We're going, we're going," Clint said. He turned toward
the stairway, then told Darcy, "Seriously, if Matt doesn't make it
to the rescue quickly enough, all you've got to do is whistle."

"Good night, then," Darcy said, smiling at Penny and eyeing
Matt. "Honestly, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

He nodded, and walked back into his own room.

Penny was left alone to stare at Darcy. "They are real, and I
know it!" Penny told her.

Darcy smiled. ' 'We have to find out just what is going on." She
hesitated. "When the dead become violent or destructive, it's
because they want us to know something."

Penny shivered. "I'm here for you!" she said valiantly. But her
words came with a shiver.

"Honestly, I'm all right," Darcy assured her.

"It's getting worse and worse," Penny said. She glanced at the
closed door to Matt's room. "Maybe he's right. Perhaps you should
sleep somewhere else, and spend time during the day in the Lee
Room."