Harrison Investigations 1 Haunted (35 page)

She looked at the table quickly, took aim, and missed her shot.
Matt walked past her with his cue. He made his shot, but didn't ask
a question. He cleaned the table, and set down bis cue.

"Last question. So that's it. You think that I killed my wife.
You think that the ghost is Lavinia-
that I strangled
her in the Lee Room?''

Darcy opened her mouth, and closed it. "I...no, not really. I
just thought that I should make sure. Matt...did you...did you push
me into that grave today?"

"What?"

"You keep saying that!" she told him, irritated. "I asked
you-did you push me in that grave today?"

"No. No, a thousand times no. And why the hell didn't you tell
me you were pushed into it?" he demanded.

Her eyes fell. "Because I don't know that I was pushed."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It could have been the wind, it could have been a hand."

"Darcy, that's ridiculous."

"No, it's not. The rain had started. The wind was howling.
I was running, not watching where I was going, and suddenly, I was
toppling into the grave."

He walked around to where she stood, crossed his arms over his
chest, and leaned against the table. "Great. You think that I would
push you into a grave, and that I killed my ex-wife."

"No...not really."

"But the suspicions rose in your mind?''

"A little."

"Want me to call you a cab?"

"What?"

"I think that we actually both hear each other just fine. I
said, do you want me to call you a cab. Meaning, are you afraid to
drive back with me."

She shook her head, swallowing hard. "No."

"Are you afraid of me?" he demanded.

Again, his eyes seemed very dark, very intense. She shook her
head. "No."

A small smile crooked his lips. "But you think that if you
weren't somewhat taken with me, you would be. You don't want to be
a fool, right?"

"I'm not afraid of you, Matt."

"Hm," he murmured, still watching her. "The suspicions
tore at the back of your mind, but they were just teasers,
huh?"

"More or less."

"Come on, then. Let's see if we make home."

He took her cue from her hands and set it on the table.

"Mae!" he called out.

"I know!" she shouted back. "Bill you!"

"Thanks, good night!"

Every once in a while, the very idea that Darcy had even so much
as an inkling that he might have actually
killed
Lavinia
made Matt so mad that he was tempted to stop the car, get out of
it, and slam a fist into the windshield.

Somehow, he refrained.

He had the feeling that she wanted to speak, but she didn't.

Not until they reached the house.

"We're here," he said.

She nodded, still not making a move for the door.

"Whatever it is, say it, Darcy?"

"How did you find me?" she asked, and it wasn't an accusation,
but a question.

A little voice whispered in my ear.

He couldn't say it. He just couldn't.

"Darcy, you weren't with us, and the last place we saw you was
the churchyard. You have to admit yourself, it was the obvious
place to look."

"I guess...but you found the freshly dug grave-even with the
tree over it."

"You shouted out. I heard you."

She nodded, then flashed him a sudden smile. "Sure."

He shook his head. "Darcy, that was no great mystery."

"Right. I agree," she told him. She was still smiling.

"Darcy, don't go getting weird ideas that you don't share with
me. Why on earth would you suddenly have a suspicion that I had
killed Lavinia?''

"I don't know."

"She left here alive and well."

"Wasn't she supposed to do some kind of a fund-raiser or
something at Melody House, even after you two divorced?"
Darcy asked.

He sighed, and looked at his hands. "Darcy, it's really so
cut-and-dried it's boring. We met, we were attracted, whirlwind, we
got married. She thought that I was ready to enter her world. Here
I was, the heir to a small Virginian dynasty, founding fathers, all
that rot. She thought that she could turn me into what she wanted.
I had mistakenly believed that she was done with party after
party, and so on. We argued like cats and dogs, and then I knew I'd
made the biggest mistake in the world. She'd thought she'd get me
into politics, with my heritage and the house, and being a cop and
a sheriff. At this particular phase of my life, my interest is
here. Keeping the place afloat, taking the town into the future. My
fund-raisers are for this place, and then civic-we need money to
keep the kids off drugs, even here, and for awareness, and
everything else that society faces. We were finally amicable, both
realizing that we'd made a mistake, seeing what we wanted to see in
one another, and not what was really there. But I really don't hate
her anymore. I feel rather ambivalent toward her. That's all. Hunt
her down, if you feel the need."

She shook her head. "I didn't mean to pry so much... sorry, yes.
Maybe I did."

The front door to the house opened while they were still sitting
there. Penny came out on the porch. "Matt? Everything all right?
There's a phone call for you on the main line. Jason Johnstone.
Should I tell him to call back?"

"No, we're coming in," Matt called.

Darcy quickly exited her door, asking Penny where Adam was as
she walked by her into the house. Matt followed more slowly,
telling Penny he'd pick up the line in his upstairs office.

Darcy had disappeared by the time he reached the
second-floor landing. He walked into his own room, to the
desk in the office area of the suite, and punched in the line on
the phone.

"Jason, hi, Matt. Sorry to have kept you waiting."

"That's all right. I could have called back. I just wanted to
let you know that I did write up what happened today. But I think
you'll like it."

Matt inhaled on a deep breath. ' 'Look, Jason, I know I have a
chip on my shoulder about the whole ghost thing. But I mean it-you
are a journalist, and a good one. Don't let me influence what you
write."

On the other end of the line, Jason laughed. ' 'Matt,
honestly, I wrote what I saw. I think you'll be fine with it.
The only thing is, of course, Max Aubry will see it, and write what
he wants to the following day. We are at rival papers."

"Doesn't matter, Jason. Don't worry about it."

"I thought you should be forewarned."

"Thanks."

"I'll see you at the reenactment."

"I'll be working."

"They're not making you play your famous ancestor?"

"Can't. I'm still the sheriff here."

"Great. I'll see you, then."

"Thanks, Jason."

As he hung up, he thought he heard another click that preceded
his own.

He frowned. Who the hell would be listening in on his
conversations?

And
why?

* * *

Darcy dropped by Adam's room and was dismayed to find him
sneezing. Since he had been old for a parent when Josh had been
born, she feared for his health now that he was twenty-five years
older.

"You caught a cold today!" she said.

"Never mind me," he said, waving a hand in the air. "What on
earth happened to you in that cemetery today?''

"Believe it or not, I really don't know."

"How can you not know?" he asked.

"Because it was pouring, and the wind was howling as if a sudden
hurricane had popped up. It was really strong, and you know it.
What I said in the Wayside Inn this afternoon was the truth, the
whole truth. I was running to jump a wall and get to the cars, and
suddenly I was in the hole."

"So the wind blew you in?"

"Maybe," she said.

"You were pushed?"

"I might have been, but I really don't know."

He sneezed again.

"Adam, you're getting sick."

He shook his head, but he looked worn and tired as well.

"I've taken some cold stuff, and I'm going straight to bed," he
told her. "I was just waiting up for you to come in."

She smiled. "I swear to you that I'm just fine. But I am worried
about you."

He shook his head. "There was that incident in the
library. And now this. I don't like any of it, Darcy. We've
had problematic ghosts before, but...there's something here that's
just not right."

She shrugged. ' 'Adam, did you ever meet Lavinia
Harper?"

"Once or twice. Why?"

"Just curious, I suppose."

"Ah, the ex-wife. Rich, stunning, always throwing parties
for some cause or another, but underneath it all, not a truly
generous or nice woman," Adam said.

"But a living one, right?"

He frowned. "You're suggesting she might be dead?"

"No," she said quickly. Too quickly. "I mean...Matt is truly a
decent guy. Hardheaded and heavy-handed at times, but ethical, I
would swear. Still..."

"You think your ghost might be his murdered wife?" Adam sounded
very skeptical.

"No. I really don't think that. But I don't want to be an idiot,
either. People say she was supposed to show up here...but that no
one heard from her."

"I see what you mean. And very difficult when you're so
infatuated with Matt," Adam said flatly.

She cast him a frown.

"You don't believe in him?" Adam asked, a slight smile curving
his lips.

"I do."

"Ah."

"Too much, Adam."

"We'll check into Lavinia's whereabouts," Adam promised her.
"Oh, ye of little faith!"

"I do have faith!" she protested.

"Cover all the bases, Darcy. I'm teasing you. I've always
told you to cover all the bases, right?" Adam said, smiling at
her.

"Adam," she began, then hesitated, and started again. "I've seen
too many women fall...fall in love. And lose their minds and their
senses because of it. I don't want to be an idiot because..." She
shook her head and threw her hands up. "Because I am so
infatuated!"

"Good girl!" he said. Then he sneezed again.

"Get in bed!" she chastised, giving him a kiss on the cheek and
then walking to the door. "Good night!" she called to him.

"Darcy."

"Yes?"

"Don't worry. We'll find Lavinia," he told her. "And Darcy,
you'll get me immediately if you need me!" he commanded. Then he
sneezed again.

"Absolutely," she promised.

In her own room, she paced awhile, wondering if Matt would come
that night.

Probably not. He was offended that she had suspected him of foul
play in the nonappearance of his wife. She started to put on a
T-shirt, then opted for her lacy white gown instead, thinking wryly
that, if she did go down the stairway that night, she could
convince any onlooker that she was the lady in white.

Restless, she watched the late show. But then she fell asleep.
She tried very hard to clear her mind before she did so, since the
day's events had prevented Adam from trying hypnotism again.

The dream came again.

Not the violence of it, or the murder.

Just the woman, a haze of white, staring down at her at first
where she lay in the bed. She heard a single whisper.
"Please!"

Then the woman moved to the door, and slipped through it.

Awake, Darcy rose, and hurried after her.

Once again, she waited on the stairway. Halfway down, she waited
again. Darcy followed. At the front door she hesitated, remembering
all the warnings she had received, and the fear she had felt
herself.

But she wanted so desperately to get at the truth.

There were umbrellas in an old stand near the door. She took
one, then let herself out.

The ghost waited on the porch steps. Then she started moving
again, drifting toward the smokehouse.

Tonight, she went in.

The old building was in sound repair, and from the scent within,
was obviously still used. Darcy opened the door, and stood there,
looking into the darkness.

Great. She had an umbrella. No flashlight.

And still, with only the moonbeams hurtling down for
illumination, Darcy could see the ghost. Standing in the middle of
the small space.

"Please!"
she said again.

A rustling sound came from behind Darcy. She swung around with
her umbrella, ready to strike. She thought that she saw a shadow,
disappearing against the stable wall.

A feeling of cold wrapped around her shoulders and she heard the
whisper again, right against her ear, urgent and quick.
"Please!"

Suddenly, she knew. Exactly what the ghost was trying to say,
and exactly what she wanted. There was an old call bell for the
plantation hands on the porch. Darcy ran like a maniac to clang it,
then raced back to the smokehouse again.

She ignored the darkness, burst into the center of it, and began
to dig, using the point of the umbrella. She'd gotten down no more
than a foot, and was so involved in her task, that she screamed
when she felt hands on her shoulders.

She spun around.

Matt.

' 'What the hell are you doing?'' His words sounded like an
angry growl. She took a step back, aware of his size, and of the
darkness.

But she had rung the bell loudly enough to wake the dead.
Naturally, he was out here. And yet, in the small room, it seemed
that he was staring at her with malignant eyes.

"What's going on?" The shout came from the house. Penny was
running on out. Adam, with a slip cap and robe on, was hurrying
along behind her.

"She's here!" Darcy said. "She's here, I know it!"

By then, Sam Arden, Clint, and Carter had come from the stables.
They were all barefoot, dressed in nothing but hastily thrown-on
jeans.

"What the hell...?" Clint demanded, rubbing his five o'clock
shadow.

Carter stared at the scene. "She thinks she's found something,"
he murmured to Clint. "Hey, should I get a shovel?"