Unhallowed Ground (Harrison Investigation #7)

Unhallowed Ground (Harrison Investigation #7) Page 39

Ignoring the fact that only a few minutes ago she’d contemplated running away to the Bahamas herself, she said, “I’m okay. Really. Anyway…” She blushed, then went on. “Caleb’s staying with me.”

“And I’m supposed to find that reassuring? We don’t know enough about that guy yet,” Will said.

She smiled. She loved her cousin and was grateful for his protective nature, but she knew in her heart that this time there was no need for it. “I know everything I need to know,” she said. “I met Adam Harrison in Virginia, and anyone working for him is by definition aboveboard. And just so you know, I know everything I need to about Caleb.”

“Oh, really?” Caroline said, shifting around to her other side. “What do you really know? That he looks good in boxers. Or naked? You can’t let yourself be blinded by the physical thing, Sarah. I know I wanted you to start dating again, and I even kind of pushed you two together, but…”

“Would you two have some faith in me?” Sarah demanded. “I’m fine, and so is Caleb. I’m worried about you, Caroline. Will, you need to stay close to her. She’s a beautiful blonde, and both the missing women were—are—blondes, too.”

She stopped speaking when she saw Caleb returning to the table. Whatever he had heard during his phone call had made him thoughtful. He sat down, then said, “I think I need to call it a night. Sarah, you ready?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m all set,” she said, then frowned. Barry was coming back, weaving between tables, and he was alone. “Where’s Renee?”

“With friends,” he said, sliding into his chair, sounding disgusted.

“We all have friends,” Will offered.

“She left me in the middle of the dance floor,” Barry said.

“We were going to take off,” Sarah told him. “But if you need me to stay…Are you all right?”

He looked startled; then he smiled. “Of course I’m all right. I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. I’m just aggravated, not suicidal. Go ahead. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“We’ll hang out for a few more minutes,” Caroline said, looking at Will. “That way you won’t have to sit here alone.”

Barry smiled again, shaking his head. “You’re all free to go. Honestly. I have been in a bar by myself before.”

Sarah took him at his word and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then told him to tell Renee good-night when she returned.

Will and Caroline left with them, but at the plaza, they split up to walk their separate ways.

Caleb glanced at her. “You’re sure you want to stay in the house? The carriage house is just fine, you know.”

“I want to stay in the house,” she told him firmly.

“What really happened today?” he asked her.

“I honestly don’t know. I thought I saw him again—your ancestor,” she admitted, glancing at him sideways.

He frowned. “Please tell me that my ancestor didn’t lock you in the basement.”

“No, he helped me out of it. Or I hallucinated he helped me out of it, because thinking he was really there…that’s ridiculous.”

“The front door was unlocked when I got there—and so was the basement door,” Caleb said.

“Do you think someone might have been trying to scare me, locking me down there?” she asked, perplexed. “Tomorrow I need to get all my keys back.”

“It’s not just a matter of getting your keys back,” he said. “Tomorrow, you’re getting a locksmith out there to change the locks.”

She nodded. “That’s not a bad idea,” she admitted, then asked, “Who was that on the phone?”

“Floby,” he told her.

“Floby?” she echoed, surprised. “What’s up?”

“He found traces of a hallucinogen in the dead woman’s system.”

“She was on LSD?”

“He’s not sure what. He doesn’t have all the results in yet. I’ll head over to see him in the morning,” Caleb said, his tone thoughtful.

“I found out something interesting recently, too,” Sarah said. “This same scenario occurred before—years ago, during the Civil War. A bunch of women disappeared, and people assumed they’d been murdered, though only a few bodies were ever found. And I read two memoirs that talked about it—one written by a woman who moved down here after the Yankees occupied the city in 1862, the other one a journal kept by Nellie Brennan, the daughter of Leo Brennan, the man who forced MacTavish out and kept running the mortuary business. The first woman saw the body of a dead girl in a coffin. She said that the corpse was so white it was as if all her blood had been drained. Brennan caught her and a friend staring at the girl, and threatened them with a shotgun the next time they ventured onto his property. Nellie said that her father was furious when a Sergeant Lee brought a corpse to the house. She snuck out and looked at it, and it sounded as if that woman had been drained of blood, too, though maybe that was because her whole body looked as if wild animals had been feeding on it. The sergeant wanted her father to cover up the fact that the woman had been murdered. In both cases, the cause of death was listed as being run down by a carriage.”

“Really? Is there a way I can read those memoirs?” Caleb asked her.

“I still have the first one, but the other is one of the library’s newest acquisitions, so they won’t let it out. But you can go to the library and read it.”

“Maybe,” he said contemplatively. “There are certainly correlations between the past and the present that are…extraordinary,” he said. “You know about the historical Martha Tyler, right?”

“If what Nellie wrote was true, she was horrible. She threatened Nellie. She told her that she could wind up like the dead woman.”

“And a woman who called herself Martha Tyler but wasn’t the real woman by that name was at the beach when Winona Hart disappeared,” Caleb said.

He looked as if he was going to say more. When he didn’t, Sarah demanded, “What? Caleb, I’m a part of this. If someone is repeating the past and these disappearances have something to do with my house, then I’m in it as deep as you can get. You have to tell me what you know.”

He paused, then studied her. “She was drained of blood,” he said at last. “The woman I found on the beach—she’d been drained of blood.”

Sarah paled, then pulled herself together and said, “We need to see Mr. Griffin again. His daughter disappeared, too. It was years later, but maybe history just keeps in repeating itself. He wants to help, and it’s possible he knows something, that his memory will trigger something…. Maybe we can even help him by finding out what happened to his daughter.”

They had reached the house and paused to look up at the facade. They had left the lights on, and now the place looked beautiful and inviting.

“You’re sure you want to sleep here?” he asked.

“You do have a gun, right?” she asked him.

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I want to sleep here. I’m not afraid of ghosts, and I have you to protect me from the living.”

They went in, careful to make sure that the door was locked behind them. Caleb wasn’t content with the fact that he’d secured the house earlier. He went back through and checked everything again, including the chair by the basement door, which was still securely in place.

When he was done, she looked at him teasingly, then raced up the stairs. He followed, and after that they gave themselves up to learning about each other, just exploring, savoring their freedom to discover. Clothing went flying, and there was laughter and breathlessness….

It was explosive; it was sweet; it was magic.

Touching his flesh, feeling the flex and fire of his muscles, Sarah thought it was like falling in love again, something she had almost forgotten, almost given up on.

They were fervent, urgent, but not frantic. There was something about being together…. What they shared wasn’t superficial, not something destined to end quickly, and they both felt confident about that.

When Sarah slept, she did so feeling more secure than she had in all her life. She didn’t fear the darkness, didn’t fear ghosts, and in his arms, she also had no fear of the living.

She was awakened suddenly by his abrupt movement. She blinked, then jackknifed into a sitting position, wondering what had happened, fear seeping into her blood.

“Caleb, what is it?” she whispered.

He was sitting up himself, staring toward the foot of the bed.

Suddenly he rose, as if he hadn’t heard her.

As if she didn’t exist at all.

13

“C aleb?”

He heard Sarah call his name, but it seemed to come from a distant place, or maybe he was only hearing it in his mind.

He opened his eyes…

And saw himself.

No, not himself. His double. That other Caleb was standing at the foot of the bed, his hair longer than Caleb’s own, and he was wearing a gaudily plumed hat. He had a moustache and goatee, and long sideburns. He was handsomely dressed in Victorian attire, silk waistcoat, tailored overcoat and white shirt.

And his expression was grave.

Help me.

Caleb stared, sure that he was dreaming, yet he couldn’t shake the dream.

Help me, please. And help yourself. I know what happened to her, and who did it. I loved her, and it wasn’t me.

As he continued to stare, the apparition beckoned to him.

Please.

Caleb rose slowly, still staring at the man who was—and yet was not—himself.

Cato MacTavish. He was staring at Cato MacTavish.

At last, certain that he had Caleb’s attention, Cato turned and walked from the room.

Unable to help himself, Caleb followed.

They left the bedroom and walked along the hallway to the small, narrow staircase that led up to the attic.