Harrison Investigations 1 Haunted (41 page)

It wasn't Darcy.

"Clint!" He set his fingers against his cousin's throat. There
was a pulse. Clint groaned, turning. There was a massive lump on
bis temple. He stared up at Matt with dazed eyes. "Matt."

"What happened?"

"I don't know...I was lost. Then someone hit me. I saw the butt
of an Enfield rifle come out of the smoke... and that was it."

"Where's Darcy?"

"She was with me. I was going to bring her to meet you at the
far field...I was disoriented, tried to figure out which way I was
going...I'm seeing black spots, Matt. I thought my whole skull was
crushed."

Matt turned back to Lavinia, drawing his phone from the
historically incorrect pocket in his captain's coat. He threw the
phone to her.

"Get help. And stay with Clint!" he told her.

"Matt, you don't understand, I need to come with you-" she
said.

"Get off the horse and stay with Clint!" he commanded.

Lavinia went white. Matt leapt back on Vernon, and kneed the
horse, the feeling of urgency now tearing into him. And the
voice...

This way, hurry, this way, ride hard, hurry....

Carter held Darcy's ankle and was crawling forward with a deadly
urgency, using her legs as a line to come closer.

Darcy kicked out furiously, trying to loosen his grasp.

"Killing me isn't going to help you!" she cried out. "Don't you
see, they'll know, they'll all know!"

"You're going over the bridge, Darcy. You'll have fallen.
Everyone knows you're accident prone."

"No, Carter! They'll find the bones. They'll identify the body,
don't you see, it's over! Carter, I don't know what she knew, or
what she saw, or what she wrote that so incensed you...but it
didn't matter, did it? You'd already decided you were going
to
kill her. Who was she? The woman you supposedly loved
so much?"

His eye was already beginning to swell. He looked
horrible. Blood matted his beard; she had managed a few good
strikes.

But his hands still had a strength like steel in them.

"Carter! I've scratched you. Your flesh is beneath my
nails."

His hand moved; he got a solid grip on her calf, his face taut,
muscles clenched, jaw in a grim and lethal line.

"The skeleton in the smokehouse, Darcy? She was Susan
Howell. And what was she writing? She was going to tell Matt that
I'd been having an affair with his wife-and more, of course. She
was going to suggest that he look into my past. There were a few
before her, you see. Catherine Angsley. Catherine didn't have
to die, but she had loaned me some money, and then the little bitch
got all furious and wanted it back when I didn't have it. But
they'll never find her. She's deep in the Blue Ridge. They'll never
find the others, either. I never should have brought any of them to
Melody House, but you see, the old man had died, Matt was busy with
his work and the fact that his marriage was falling apart...and
that night, there was no one at Melody House. No one. Susan had
gone there because I'd taken her there before, and because she
wanted to feel that she had a right to be in the house. She was
really not a nice person, Darcy. And you know, she was buried in
that smokehouse for years...years! No one would have found her. But
now, you have."

He got a fierce hold on her thigh. She struggled to sit, nails
clawing at his flesh. He roared like a wounded animal, but
didn't let go. Holding on to her despite the violence of her
fight, he dragged himself to his feet, still clutching her.
Dragging her.

"Carter, you're ill! You need help."

"Bull!" He went still for a minute, ready to laugh despite
the circumstances. ' 'I knew what I was doing every step of the
way. There's nothing wrong with me. Hell, I have a mind and a will
of steel. No one has ever so much as suspected me."

He had her against the rail. He tried to lift her but she fought
too hard. Still, he had stamina. Little by little, he was pressing
her back. Darcy could hear the water rushing over the boulders and
stones below. Far below.

"Josh! Help me!" she cried out.

It gave him a start. He paused, if only for a second, looking
around.

"Who the hell is Josh?"

"A ghost."

"A ghost! You're calling on a ghost? Shit, Darcy!" He laughed
again, maintaining his hold. She struggled, getting a grip on his
beard, pulling hard. He reached down to his calf, pressing his body
against hers so that he didn't lose his hold. A second later, he'd
drawn a Bowie knife from the sheath at his ankle and pressed it
against her throat.

"You're going over, Darcy," he said flatly.

A blade in her throat...or boulders crushing her bones. Not much
of a choice. But she could no longer fight him, not with the knife
pressing into her flesh.

"Carter!"

The harsh cry, coming from the trail before the bridge, startled
them both.

Matt burst out of the mist, drawing Vernon to a halt right at
the foot of the bridge, just feet away.

"Carter, let her go. Now."

Carter was dead still for several seconds. Then a feral smile
twisted his lips.

"Come make me, Matt. Be careful, though. You know how good these
Bowie knives are. I can slit her jugular in less than a
second."

His eyes never leaving Carter's, Matt dismounted from Vernon and
strode firmly toward the bridge.

"Stop there, or she's a gusher, I promise," Carter said.

Matt stood motionless, aware of the knife at Darcy's throat. He
didn't look at her, though. He kept his eye contact on
Carter.

"It's over, Carter. The FBI is looking for you."

"They may be looking for me, Matt. But they won't find me. Hey,
we both know this place. Get into the mountains... and we can
disappear for good."

"Carter, if you let Darcy go now, we can work something
out."

"I don't think so, Matt. Actually, this is rather amusing. There
you are, the great Sheriff Stone. The Stone of Stoneyville.
Negotiation, yep, that's one talent you really pride yourself with
having. Talk, stall, talk, stall. And imagine, all this going on
beneath your nose, and you didn't know! You know, once you kill,
you figure out that's it's really pretty easy. Especially when you
get involved with the right people. Women looking for
something they can't have. Like the right guy, true love, support
and warmth and all that crap. Pretty ones, of course. Only problem
is, sometimes, when you think it just might be a go, they turn out
to be bitches, all judgmental, not really what they pretend to be
at all. I'm no maniac, Matt."

Matt put his hands on his hips. "So what, then? Carter? You're
going to kill Darcy in front of me? You make another move,
and you're a dead man as well."

"How you going to manage that, Matt? You've got a rifle there,
but hell, no shot. You're a reenactor today. No real bullets-on
anyone. Too much of a danger to the crowd."

"I'll kill you with my bare hands, Carter," Matt said with low
but vehement sincerity. "I swear it."

"So...we all die. Here and now," Carter said.

"Carter!"

The cry came from a woman. Darcy could barely move her head; she
could almost taste the steel at her throat, but she strained to see
past Matt and was amazed to see Lavinia come running down the
trail. Her beautiful violet eyes were huge; her usually perfect
hair had escaped its Civil War coils and was a tangle around her
face.

"Carter!" she tried again, gasping too hard to speak more.

"Did you know that we had a hot and heavy affair, Matt?" Carter
said casually. "For once, I bested the great sheriff! It was
actually hard not to let you know, but then again, I loved the ease
of hanging around Melody House."

"I don't give a damn if you slept with Lavinia, Carter."

Carter smiled, looking past Matt at Lavinia. "Did you come to
help me, sweetheart? Have you got a gun on you? If so, just go
ahead and shoot the sucker."

That, at last, drew Matt's eyes from Carter. He stared at
Lavinia in amazement and horror.
Had she been in on
it? Had she become so involved with Carter that she had
actually been his accomplice in murder?

And did she have a gun, secreted away in her
volumi
nous skirts?

Lavinia found her voice at last. "Carter, for the love of God,
let her go!" she said.

"Lavinia, you've turned pansy on me. Didn't you want a wild life
of reckless adventure, far more than the sheriff intended to give
you, no matter what his pedigree?"

Darcy could feel the blade, chafing into her flesh. She felt a
thin trickle of blood drip down her neck.

"Carter, let her go," Matt said. "I swear, if you do, you'll get
a trial with the best lawyers. If you hurt her in any way, I'll rip
your throat out with my bare hands, I swear it."

Darcy felt his hand jerk. The blade cut more deeply. She was
certain that she was dead. Matt would avenge her, of that she was
certain, too.

But she would be dead already. A new ghost to haunt the realm of
Melody House.

It was then that the white mist reappeared. It seemed to form at
the base of the bridge, between Matt's position and the place where
Carter had her back arched over the bridge.

"It's Susan!" she cried, "Carter, she's here! It's
Susan."

"Bull-!" he began. But his eyes widened suddenly. Darcy didn't
know what anyone else saw; she wasn't certain what she saw
herself. But the mist moved, and Carter froze, as if paralyzed with
disbelief and horror.

"It's Susan, and she's come to avenge her own death!" Darcy
breathed.

Carter jerked, his grip barely slackening.

Matt chose that moment to lunge across the few feet separating
them, and tackle Carter.

The impetus of his force, knocking Carter flat, and
sending the knife flying, also sent Darcy flying. Her body
twisted. Face forward, she went more than halfway over the railing.
Grasping madly, she got a handhold on a support beam, just
before the bulk of her body slipped. She held on desperately, aware
of the rushing sound of water beneath her.

She heard the brutality of the fight going on above her, but she
could only pray that Matt was winning. She was losing her grip.

"Josh!" she whispered softly.

She felt warmth, and knew he was there. Felt as if some of the
weight was eased from her hands. And still...

"Darcy!"

Lavinia was looking over the railing at her, then lay flat on
the ground, seizing hold of her hands through the rails. "I
can't...I can't...get you up!" Lavinia cried with dismay.
"I'm going to lose you."

Darcy felt her hands slipping. She saw Lavinia's fingers, losing
their grip.

She smiled at the woman so feverishly trying to save her. "It's
all right," she said softly. "It's all right...."

It wasn't all right. She didn't want to die. Even if she did
know that there was an afterlife, that Josh would be there.

"Lavinia, hold on, hold on a moment longer."

Matt. He straddled the railing, balancing precariously himself.
He reached down, catching hold of her arms above the wrists, and he
squared his shoulders, and pulled. She cried out, the pain in her
arms threatening dislocation.

But she was hiked over the railing. They fell to the bridge
together. Gasping, she opened her eyes to see his. They both stared
blankly at one another, hearing the sounds of Lavinia, as she
sobbed with relief. She saw Carter's body, prone, just feet
away.

"Is he...dead?" Darcy managed to whisper.

"I didn't kill him," Matt said. "Come on, Darcy, let me get you
up." He came to his feet, muddied, his uniform torn and battered,
his face bruised. He reached a hand down to her, drawing her up
close to him.

A sudden roar proved the truth of the fact that he hadn't killed
Carter. The man was up; he had apparently been gathering his
strength for one last surge of fury.

"Move!"

Matt shoved Darcy, and she went ricocheting along the bridge. He
ducked himself as Carter raced forward, his knife in his hand once
again.

But Darcy was gone, and Matt's sudden movement tripped up
Carter, sending him flying against the bridge railing. He teetered
precariously.

The white mist appeared again.

Carter let out a cry of horror. Surrounded by the mist, he went
over.

They heard of the sound of his last terrified, strangled scream.
And then the sound of his body, hitting the rocks below.

The reenactment that late June day would be remembered for
the events that followed as much as for the battle itself.

Darcy's first concern, after they had looked over the bridge and
ascertained that Carter was, indeed, dead, had been Oola. The dog
had tried to defend her, and Darcy was afraid that Carter had given
her a blow that had killed her. But when they found the dog against
one of the ornamental pillars on the other side of the
bridge, she was still breathing. Adam, following behind Matt and
Lavinia, had arrived them, with a host of officers behind him, and
so, Oola had been quickly rushed to the vet. Thayer had called to
say that the dog had suffered a concussion, but would be all
right.

Agents from the FBI, as well as local and state police, scoured
the area. Darcy found herself questioned for hours, since her
honest answers seemed to dumbfound many people.

Luckily, Randy Newton was in charge of the investigation
from the government's side, and he, at last, said that they had
enough information from her, there was nothing more she could
explain to them on how she had first discovered the skeleton in the
smokehouse.

It was an interesting investigation, Randy told her, somewhat
amused. They had a confessed killer, but he was dead, so the only
people who had heard his confession were her, Matt, and
Lavinia.

Darcy deeply pitied Lavinia that day, because she had to explain
that years ago, she had thought little of it when he had told her
that Susan Howell would no longer be in his life. When her marriage
to Matt had been fraying, she admitted, she'd thought an affair
with Carter would be revenge against Matt, a foolish thing, and she
thought that she and Carter had both tacitly agreed that they would
never speak about it.