Harrison Investigations 1 Haunted (34 page)

"Good idea, right? Miss Dey, you go right ahead and order your
coffee. When I get to the house, I'll call."

He started toward the door. The bar phone began to ring. Sim
picked it up. "Hello...yes?" He held the receiver away from his
mouth. "Hey! Mr. Harrison. You don't need to go anywhere. He's got
her. Matt's got her. She fell into a grave, can you imagine
that?"

He was answered by silence. And in the bar, one by one, they all
looked at one another.

Darcy ran the water in her shower, feeling like an idiot. She'd
almost cringed when he turned to her, but he hadn't even glanced at
her then. "Can't believe this-I forgot to call and tell them that
I'd found you. You're really all right? Feels like I'm always
saying that to you, Darcy. It's why you shouldn't be here," he
added somewhat harshly. "Grab a shower. Then, if you want, we'll
drive on over to the Wayside Inn. I'm sure the others have finished
their meals by now, but I don't know what we've got around here
right now, and since you're the lost lamb at the moment, the
others are going to want to see you. I'll be in my room. I think I
could use a shower and change, too."

So Matt was gone.

No violence, and no passion, either.

And now, out of the hole, away from the terror, she was at a
complete loss. Had she been pushed, or had it been the wind?

She dumped her clothes straight into the garbage-the summer silk
black tank and skirt were never going to be the same again. She
thought she'd hate the outfit the rest of her life anyway, always
associating it with an afternoon in an open grave. Before hopping
beneath the shower spray, she opened the medicine chest and downed
several ibuprofen tablets, anxious to avoid the headache that
threatened.

A shower had never felt so good. She had the water steaming, the
pressure hard, and she stayed far longer than she should have. But
she emerged mudless, hair squeaky-clean, and feeling far stronger
than she had when she had first emerged from the pit.

The rain had turned the warmth of the day into a coolness
that didn't quite fit with the Virginia summer and she had been
chilled to the bone. She found a light knit sweater and jeans, and
dressed quickly.

She paused for a moment, wondering if the ghost was being
recessive, hiding, but watching. She felt as if the room were warm,
not at all cold. If the ghost was there, and watching, it was with
sympathy, and no other emotion.

She exited her room just as Matt left his.

"Ready? We don't have to rush. If anyone wants to move on, they
can. Your hair is still wet."

"It's all right. It will dry."

He nodded, and lifted an arm, indicating that she should precede
him down the stairs. She was irritated to realize that she was
afraid to do so.

She hurried down each step, anxious to keep a distance from him.
When he opened the front door, they saw that the rain had stopped
completely. But evening was there, and the darkness seemed more
ominous than ever.

Matt didn't seem to notice. He walked ahead of her, and opened
the passenger's seat door of his car. She slid in.

He didn't speak on the drive to the Wayside Inn. But she caught
him glancing at her frequently.

"What wrong with you?" he asked her.

"Nothing. Really. I was pretty shaken up, of course. No one
likes to fall into an open grave. And, of course, I was soaked. But
now...I'm fine."

He didn't reply, but she knew he was still watching her, as if
not believing a word she'd said. But they reached the Wayside Inn,
and she jumped out of the passenger's seat before he could walk
around. Darcy hurried toward the door and was startled when it was
flung open.

Clint was the first one out, reaching her, picking her up,
swinging her around, and looking at her anxiously.

"Poor baby! We all walked off and left you in a grave!'' he
said, dismayed.

"Clint, you can set me down. I'm fine. Just fine."

"Darcy!" Adam was the next one out. He didn't lift her, and she
offered him a warm hug before he could crush her.

"I'm fine. Thank God Matt came to get me out. Otherwise,
I'd still be there, screaming."

"Matt! Good going. But how did you find her?" Carter asked,
bursting out the door behind Adam.

"Hardly brilliant police work," Matt said dryly. "We'd left her
in a churchyard. I went back to it."

"Naturally!" Penny said, poking her head out of the door.
"Darcy, dear, I ordered you a hamburger along with a new one for
Matt. I hope that's okay. I mean, you've been with us long enough
for me to know that a ghost buster isn't necessarily a vegetarian.
Why one would assume such a thing anyway... never mind. Is a
hamburger all right?"

"Lovely, Penny, thank you," Darcy said.

"And we've nice hot coffee on the table for you already!"
Mae called loudly from within.

"Bless you!" Darcy shouted back.

Clint held the door open. Carter ushered her on through. Mae
caught her, hugged her, and Mrs. O'Hara came up to her as well,
eyes huge. "Poor, poor, dear! You are accident prone, Darcy. But I
hope you don't think that it's Stoneyville. We're really a
wonderful little place. I'd never want you to go away thinking
otherwise."

"Great!" Clint teased, grabbing Darcy's hand and leading
her to her place at the table. "Don't be fooled. They all thought
you'd gone over to the enemy. Okay, so maybe I did, too."

"The enemy?" she said.

Clint made a face. "Max Aubry."

"Of course, I didn't go off with Max Aubry."

' 'Did you tell him that you were a psychic, and that you can
talk to ghosts?" Penny asked anxiously.

"No," Darcy said. She was aware of Matt watching her, arms
crossed over his chest. "I explained to Mr. Aubry that our firm
worked through solid research, and that was that."

"Clint! This is horrible. We're worried about what poor Darcy
might have said, when she just spent an hour in a grave," Penny
protested.

"I would have died," Delilah said. "I would have flat-out died
of the fear. But then, you are you, and I imagine that you just
told the bones or ghosts what they could do with themselves!"

"No," Darcy said pleasantly. "I was frightened. Truly
frightened. It was an eerie experience-even for me."

"Let's hope you don't catch your death of cold!" Mae piped in.
"Drink up that coffee, it's nice and warm. Soup! You should have
some soup. And I made chicken noodle from scratch. Sim! Get a bowl
of that chicken noodle for Darcy."

"I could go for a bowl myself," Matt said. "Sim, would you
mind?"

Carter left Delilah's side long enough to grab the chair next to
Darcy's. He touched her cheek. "Thank God!" he said softly. He
shook his head, amazed, looking at Matt. "She was inside the grave!
And you still found her."

"Inside, covered by the old oak. It went down, lightning,"
Matt said. He looked at Darcy. "She's a fighter. She was still
screaming. She was easy to find."

"Hey, why didn't you call someone?" Clint asked.

"The cell phone is dead."

"Better a phone, than a person!" Mae said cheerfully.

"Of course." Darcy laughed.

"You're really not hurt?" Clint asked.

"I'm really not hurt," Darcy said.

Clint offered her an ironic half smile. "Hm. Well, I will
say-you are accident prone. But thankfully, you bounce right
back."

"Thankfully," she agreed.

Delilah sighed. "You're certainly much braver than I. And I was
under the belief that I was a highly competent woman!"

"I'm sure you are," Darcy murmured.

"But, at least, you did have to be dragged from the grave,"
Delilah said.

"Couldn't get out myself," Darcy told her.

"But you tried hard, huh?" Clint said, picking up her hand.
"Look at what you did to your palms."

She gently extricated her hand. "Naturally, I tried."

"We'll get some aloe on those palms," Penny said firmly.

"They'll be fine," Darcy said.

Sim brought them bowls of soup. They smelled
wonderful.

"Oh, my, what a story!" Delilah said. "Thank the Lord that Max
Aubry isn't here now. Can you imagine his headline? 'Psychic
thrown in a grave at ceremony for skull she discovered!'"

"You're right, Delilah, let's be glad he isn't here," Matt
agreed, obviously irritated.

"I'm here," Jason Johnstone said, "but don't worry, Matt. I have
no intention of writing up the incident."

' 'Actually, why not? It is news,'' Mae commented. Matt glared
at her. ' 'But then again, the ceremony was so beautiful.
That's what should be in the news."

Matt looked at Jason. "Hey, write what you see as the truth," he
told him.

Delilah let out a long sigh. "Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have
to get home. Make some of the calls I should have made during the
day. I'm actually not my own boss, not the way Matt is."

"I'll be going in, too, tonight, Delilah," he informed her.

She smiled at Carter. "Thanks for the escort through the
graveyard. I admit, any time I was in that place on my own, even
for just a few minutes, I felt creepy."

"Delilah!" Penny chastised. "It's a beautiful cemetery and
church."

"Sure. Of course. And that's how I always make sure we write it
up when I work with the tourist board! Darcy, I truly hope you
suffer no ill effects. Bye, all!"

"I'll see you to your car," Carter said.

Adam yawned. "Sorry!" he apologized. "It's not the company. But
I'm not a young man. Now that I know Darcy is safe with you, Matt,
I'm heading back for a long, hot bath. Anyone with me?"

Clint nodded, rising. "I guess I should be getting back, too.
Since you're together, of course, and no one is left dining
alone!"

"I've work to do, too," Penny murmured.

"We're fine, right, Darcy?" Matt said.

"Of course," she murmured.

The hamburgers had come. She was famished, she realized.
And once she had eaten, she knew that she would feel much stronger.
And far more sane.

Far less suspicious.

The others left. Even Sim went home. Mae was there to handle the
bar.

As they finished the hamburgers, Darcy and Matt were alone. They
didn't talk, but ate. He consumed his last bite a minute after
Darcy had given up.

He set his napkin on the table, eyeing her. "Let's play
pool."

"Pool?"

"Yeah, come on, since you're a shark. Let's see if you can beat
me."

He rose, catching her hand, dragging her to her feet. "I don't
know if we should play right now," she protested.

"We should definitely play. You keep insisting you're fine, so
let's play."

"All right."

"What's the bet?" he asked, but he wasn't expecting an answer,
nor did he want one. "I know, we'll make it a truth or dare."

"What?"

"When you sink a ball, you ask a question. I'll tell you the
truth. When I sink a ball, you answer a question. And you have to
tell the truth."

"That's ridiculous!" Darcy said.

"Why?" he asked, his eyes dark. "Are you incapable of telling
the truth?"

"No. I've never lied to you."

"I think that you have," he said flatly. He racked the balls,
but then stepped away. "Ladies first."

"I really can play, you know," she told him.

"I believe you."

She was afraid that she'd be uneasy, and off. She wasn't. She
shot a clean break, sinking the three.

"Ask a question," he told her.

She hesitated. "Who wanted the divorce, you or Lavinia?'
'

He arched a brow, as if surprised by her choice of
question. "I filed."

"That didn't really answer the question. Who wanted the
divorce?"

"I did. Shoot." He indicated the table.

She sank another ball.

"Did you ever really love her?"

He shrugged.

"Come on, you called it-truth or dare."

"I was absolutely infatuated with her. Did I really love her? I
don't know. We didn't give ourselves time."

Darcy sank another ball.

"Did you ever hate her?" she asked.

"Yes. Go on, play."

This time, Darcy missed. Matt picked up his cue. It didn't seem
that he even took the time to check his angle; he sank his first
ball with an absolute minimum of effort.

"My turn. You swear that you aren't feigning when you take on
another voice?''

"I swear that I'm not feigning," she said flatly.

"Maybe without even knowing it?"

"Excuse me, I answered the question, shoot!" she said.

He sank another ball. She wasn't even sure he looked at the
table.

' 'Why were you so strange on the porch last night?'' he
demanded.

"Strange?"

"You were afraid of me."

She hesitated. "Yes, because I-I thought that I'd been followed
out."

"Why did you lie?"

"That's another question. Shoot another ball."

He started to protest, then shrugged. Again, his ball seemed to
slide into the pocket effortlessly.

"Why did you lie?" he demanded again.

She shook her head. "I don't know. I supposed I thought that
you'd followed me. Maybe to scare me, or something. I don't really
know."

"That's the truth?" he demanded.

"We are playing truth or dare," she said dryly.

A flicker of something passed through his eyes. To her
amazement, he missed his next shot.

She quickly took up her own cue, and made a shot.

' 'Where is Lavinia now?'' she asked.

He looked puzzled. "How the hell should I know? Maybe Paris,
maybe London. If she's in D.C., I haven't heard about it. Why?"

"It was my question, not yours," she informed him, and made
another shot. She stared at him a long moment.

"Well?'' he said impatiently.

"Did you kill your wife?" she asked quietly.

"What?"

"My question!" she grated.

"No, I didn't kill my wife."