Читать книгу Unhallowed Ground - Heather Graham, Heather Graham - Страница 9

“Man, that was really creepy,” Caroline said, walking along Avila Street. She shuddered and moved closer to Will. It was strange. She had known Will most of her life. They had fought and teased one another as kids. They had become friends as adults. They had shared their trials and tribulations with other members of the opposite sex with one another.

Then…

They’d been together one night—at Hunky Harry’s, as a matter of fact—and in the middle of laughing at something together, they had looked at each other and their laughter had stopped. And now…well, it wasn’t as if they’d gone insane or anything, but they were both carefully negotiating the transition from friends to the realization that they wanted to be much more.

Will set an arm around her shoulders. “Leave it to Sarah. And what happened earlier today, that was pretty damn creepy, too.”

“Yeah, tell us about it. Who is this Caleb guy, anyway?” Barry asked, strolling up alongside Will.

“Hey, wait! What about me?” Renee demanded, pushing forward.

“What are you trying to do? Block the whole sidewalk?” Caroline complained.

But they all wanted to hear what Will had to say, so they crowded together and walked along in an awkward group, trying to hear him clearly.

“I think the guy is some kind of corpse magnet,” Will said. “We were looking for that missing girl, Winona Hart, and Lieutenant Jamison said Anderson had to be on the dive team. He didn’t explain why, just said the mayor had told him to extend every courtesy to the guy and let him work with us. He has connections in Washington. Some hotshot sent him down here. I have to tell you, we were ticked at first. But the thing is, in the last year, we’ve dived that area a dozen times, and no one ever found that car. But—he found it as easy as if he had a map. Now that’s creepy.”

“So who was the guy he found?” Renee asked.

“Frederick J. Russell, a banker from Jacksonville,” Will said. “He was reported missing about twelve months ago.”

“So what happened to him? How’d he end up in the water?” Renee asked.

Will sighed, shaking his head as he looked at her. “He was still in his car, so they figure he just drove too fast and wound up in the water. Not too hard to figure out.”

“Hey,” Renee protested. “Was he drunk? Had he been suicidal? Maybe someone was after him or something.”

“She’s right,” Caroline pointed out. “What does the coroner say? Maybe someone shot him and that’s why he drove off the road.”

“There’s no coroner’s report yet,” Will admitted, sounding slightly embarrassed, Caroline thought. “Who knows? He might have been drunk, though I don’t know if they’ll be able to figure that out this late in the game. The body…well, if you ask me, it was a lot creepier than anything in Sarah’s house. Let’s just say that on land, we eat the fish. But if you die in the water, the fish eat you.”

“Oh, Lord!” Caroline exclaimed. “I was going to order fish….”

“It’s not going to be the same fish that ate the corpse,” Barry said.

“And how do you know?” Caroline demanded.

“Good question,” Barry admitted. “Cheeseburger for me.”

“Getting back to Anderson, the guy is a little scary. I mean, he’s okay. I like him,” Will said. “But…he’s been here a day and he already found a body we missed for a year. And then all those bones are found at Sarah’s place and he just happens to show up? It’s pretty weird, don’t you think?”

Caroline moved even closer, and he hugged her more tightly to him.

“I don’t think it’s his fault that the bones showed up in Sarah’s walls,” Renee reminded him. “I mean, those skeletons have been there forever. Anyway, you said you liked the guy.”

“I do,” Will said.

“I sure liked him,” Caroline offered.

“Oh, yeah?” Will said teasingly. “You just think he’s hot.”

Caroline laughed. “He is hot. But you’re the only sizzling hunk of man flesh I’m interested in, mister. I’m thinking about Sarah.”

“Sarah?” Will echoed.

“Of course Sarah,” Caroline said.

“I’m not too sure about that. I mean, we really don’t know anything about him,” Will said.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea at all,” Barry agreed. “We’re going to have to check him out if we’re thinking about hooking him up with Sarah.”

Renee giggled. “What’s the matter with you guys? Sarah is an adult, and she’s not going to ask us who she can and can’t date!”

“Besides, she knows him at least as well as we do, even if they just met today,” Will said.

“Well, I think he’s a corpse magnet, and I don’t like it,” Barry said flatly.

They all stopped and stared at him. “Hey, we have to look out for our girl, right?” he asked defensively.

“Okay, I’ll ask around and see what I can find out about him,” Will promised. “And we’ll all try to get to know him—if he hangs around.”

“He seems like a decent guy. I hope he does hang around,” Caroline said.

“There you go again—you think he’s hot,” Will said, grinning.

“He’s an inferno,” she agreed. “And I’d really love a drink. Let’s hope we can get a table.” She shivered suddenly and looked at Will. “You know, with all this, we’re forgetting that a girl from here and now is still missing.”

“Well, your stud is on the case,” Will said. “Maybe he’ll find her.”

“Yeah, and hopefully alive,” Barry noted glumly.

“He’s actually here looking for a girl who disappeared a year ago,” Will said. “Her case was in the papers again today. The cops are wondering if there’s a connection between the two cases.”

“I saw the papers. I even showed the article to Sarah,” Caroline told him.

A horse-drawn carriage full of tourists clip-clopped by on the street. “A young woman committed suicide in that hotel, on the top floor,” the guide was telling his passengers. “They say her ghost still visits the room every new moon.”

They all went still as the carriage passed, their gazes turning involuntarily toward the top floor of the hotel.

“I need a drink now,” Renee announced, and hurried on ahead of them to Hunky Harry’s, just a couple of doors away.

Caroline found herself standing alone on the sidewalk for a moment as the others passed her and went inside. She suddenly felt a chill, and she realized that a frisson of fear was sweeping through her.

She’d lived here her entire life. She knew practically every restaurant owner, bartender and shopkeeper in the city. She knew the people who worked in the hotels and museums, and owned the local B&Bs.

And she was suddenly afraid.

Something new had come to the city.

Or maybe something old, very old—and very evil—had been awakened.

Caleb caught up to Sarah McKinley, who was staring at him with suspicion. Even so, she was a beautiful woman.

At that moment, she reminded him of a small but ferocious terrier.

He stopped walking and stood dead still on the sidewalk, staring at her in return.

“Were you speaking to me? If so, no, I’m not following you. I’m headed to my B and B,” he told her.

She blinked. A flush rose to her cheeks, and she winced. “Sorry. But…” She continued to stare at him suspiciously. “Where are you staying?”

“Roberta’s Tropic Breeze, over on Avila,” he said.

She closed her eyes, bit her lip lightly and let out a sigh.

“You’re kidding? Are you saying that’s where you’re staying, too?” he asked.

“Bertie is an old friend,” she told him. “There are dozens of B and Bs in this city,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re staying at the same one I am.”

“Hey, I made my reservation before I left home,” he told her. “I was definitely there first. And why are you staying there, anyway? You must have tons of friends in town.”

“Precisely,” she said.

He laughed. “Sorry, but I’m not checking out. I’d be delighted to help you with that bag, though.”

“I’m perfectly capable of dealing with my own suitcase.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second.”

She stared at him for a long moment.

“Okay, I won’t help you with your bag. Nice seeing you.”

She seemed to realize that she was being rude for no real reason and let out another sigh. “Sorry. Yes, thanks, I’d love the help.”

He lowered his head, whispering, though there was no need. “It’s okay—all the people who want to talk to you are still over on your street, staring at your house.”

“Yeah?” she said, her voice skeptical. “I took one step outside and everyone thought that I had all the answers since it’s my house. I have no clue as to how those bodies ended up in my walls.”

“It was a mortuary. The answer should be easy enough to find,” he told her, then looked at her quizzically, taking the bag as they walked. “You’re a historian, right?”

“Yes. I have my master’s degree in American history.”

“You must find this fascinating.”

“I would—if it wasn’t my house we’re talking about. I dreamed about buying that place when I was a kid. I love everything about it. Now I own it, but they have to hack into all the walls, and God knows when I’ll get back in,” she said.

“Oh, it won’t be that long,” he offered.

She glared at him. “Have you seen how the cops, not to mention all the experts, work?”

He laughed. “Okay, then think of it this way. Most people have a ghoulish streak. The value of your property is going to soar. People will be clamoring to take it off your hands.”

“But I don’t want to sell!” she protested. And then they were approaching Bertie’s place.

Caleb saw Roberta Larsen standing anxiously on the porch, and she hurried down the steps as soon as she saw them, too.

“Sarah, you poor dear. Come on inside. I’ve got a nice cup of tea ready for you. And of course you’re welcome to a cup, too, Mr. Anderson.” She kept talking as she ushered them up the steps and through the door. “Sarah, you’re right in here, first room behind the parlor. Mr. Anderson, if you’ll just drop that bag in the room for Sarah…? Sarah, come right into the parlor and catch your breath.”

Roberta Larsen was closing in on seventy, but she was still slim and beautiful, wrinkles and all. And she apparently knew Sarah well.

“Yes, ma’am,” Caleb said.

“He’s a Southern boy,” Roberta told Sarah.

“Northern Virginia,” he said.

“You can always tell the true Southern boys. They say ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am,’ Roberta assured Sarah. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Yankees. I just love it when those wonderful northerners come down to visit. But you can always tell a Southern boy.”

Caleb saw that Sarah was trying to hide a grin, and he was glad. She needed to smile. Then he smiled, too. It had been quite a while since anyone had called him a boy.

Roberta’s place was impeccably kept. The furniture was antique and polished to a high shine, and the parlor—where she served cookies, soda, wine and beer in the afternoon—was comfortable as well as beautiful, with coffee tables, plush sofas and wingback chairs, a fireplace, and rows and rows of books. Roberta had a full silver tea service set out on the central coffee table, though they seemed to be the only guests around at the moment, Caleb thought as he went to deposit Sarah’s bag in the first bedroom, as instructed. It was next to his, but her room didn’t have its own access to the outside the way his did, he noticed.

After setting the bag at the foot of the bed, he noted the large window on one wall. He had a feeling she might come and go via that window, if she got the urge to avoid conversation.

He returned to the parlor, where the two women were already seated. Roberta was pouring tea. “I just don’t believe this,” she said to him as he entered. “Or maybe I do. What a crazy day. Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Anderson, it’s not that St. Augustine is crime free. But we’re a tourist town—have been for years. There used to be executions down in the square. The Spanish garroted their condemned in public. These days, though, we pride ourselves on being nice, on doing our best to share our remarkable past without any bloodshed.”

“Bertie,” Sarah said, sipping her tea, “it’s all right. Whatever happened in my house happened a very long time ago, and no one thinks people were murdered and then stuffed in the walls. The general consensus seems to be that the mortuary owner was hiding bodies so he could resell coffins.”

“Yes, but for Gary to have found them today, the same day…Mr. Anderson found that poor drowned man, and with one of our local girls missing…” Roberta’s words trailed off, and she shook her head sadly. “I don’t know whether to be glad or not that they didn’t find the poor woman. And did you know that Mr. Anderson is here because another woman disappeared a year ago? Silly me. You must know that, because obviously you two know one another.”

Sarah stared at him as if curious to see his reaction to that. He shrugged.

The phone rang just then, and Bertie hurried off to answer it.

“Just exactly who do you work for?” Sarah asked him suspiciously.

“An investigations firm,” he said. “Harrison Investigations.”

Her eyes widened with surprise and then she frowned. “You work for…Adam Harrison?”

“Do you know Adam?” he asked. It was his turn to be surprised.

“I’ve met him several times. I worked in Virginia for a while after I got my master’s at William and Mary. I was working on a dig when Adam was called in. It turned out that some local college students were messing around at one of the local historic cemeteries, using light and sound effects to make the place seem haunted. Then I saw him again when one of my coworkers was convinced that a ghost was moving his equipment around. I don’t know what the real situation was, but your boss arranged for a proper funeral and the reinterment of some bones we’d found, and, imagined or not, the problems stopped,” Sarah told him. “So I know the kind of case your firm handles.” She was looking at him differently now.

He had yet to meet anyone who didn’t like, or at least respect, Adam, Caleb thought. And now he had a new in. Miss Sarah McKinley was not going to be so hostile and suspicious now, because he was connected to Adam.

Sarah was frowning again. “But I thought…Adam only investigates when there’s a question of a ghost being involved? Not that I believe in ghosts,” she said firmly.

“Ghosts?” Roberta said, returning from the other room in time to catch the tail end of the conversation. “Well, this is St. Augustine. We’re supposed to be overrun with ghosts. Dozens of locals make their livings off the ghost trade. We would certainly never want to get rid of our ghosts.” She hesitated, eyes narrowing. “Have you ever seen a ghost, Mr. Anderson?”

“Call me Caleb, please,” he told her. What was he supposed to say to that? “I know several people who believe with all their hearts that they’ve seen a ghost or had some kind of paranormal experience,” he said. That was vague enough. But she was still looking at him curiously, and he found himself going on. “Sometimes, when a person has lost a loved one, they’re convinced that they’ve smelled that person’s cologne or heard their footsteps. I had a friend in college who was certain his home was haunted by his grandmother. He swore he could smell her Italian cooking. What has been proven is that some people do have what we call extrasensory perception—you know, when a mother knows that her child has been injured halfway across the world, that kind of thing.” Both Roberta and Sarah were staring at him now. He was beginning to feel as if he’d suddenly grown horns. “Hey, what do I know? We’re all in the dark, guessing about the great beyond. No need to fear, though, Roberta—I certainly wouldn’t want to drive away any of your local ghosts. I say, if they’re bringing in the tourist dollars, more power to them.”

He saw a small smile start to brighten Sarah’s features. Then she said, “Oh!” suddenly, and stood up as if she’d just remembered something. “You’ll have to excuse me, but I have plans I almost forgot all about.” She stared at Caleb again, as if carefully debating something, then apparently made a rather grudging decision to include him. “I’m meeting a few friends, and my cousin Will for drinks and dinner. You’re welcome to join us.”

“I’ll be happy to, if you’re sure you don’t mind,” Caleb told her.

“I just asked you,” Sarah said.

Which didn’t mean she didn’t mind, he thought. Too bad. She had asked, and he was going to take advantage of that to spend some time with a beautiful woman.

“Sure. I haven’t eaten yet. Sounds great,” Caleb said, and stood, too. “I can even protect you from the curiosity seekers on the way,” he said.

“I’m not really the type who needs protection,” she said.

Everyone needs protection, he told her silently. If you had seen half of what I’ve seen in this life…

“You two have a good time,” Roberta said. “I’ll see you both at breakfast.”

They thanked her for the tea and headed for the door. Outside, Caleb asked Sarah if she wanted him to drive.

“We’re only going about four blocks,” she told him. “Unless you can’t walk that far,” she added just a shade too sweetly.

“I should be fine,” he told her. “Where are we going?”

“Hunky Harry’s.”

“There’s really place called Hunky Harry’s?” Caleb asked incredulously. “Is there really a Harry? And is he hunky?” he teased.

“There is a Harry, and he’s been old as long as I can remember, so he’s got to be…really old. And he likes to think he’s hunky. It’s a popular place with locals and tourists alike. So popular that he changes the name periodically, when he gets sick of the crowds.”

“So Harry is a real character.”

She shrugged, walking toward Avenida Menendez. “Maybe you’ll get to see for yourself. He may or may not be around tonight. He comes in when he feels like it. When he does, he cleans tables, washes glasses, even cooks up a few appetizers. Yes, he’s a real character.”

She was keeping a definite distance between them, he noticed. She still didn’t trust him; he wouldn’t be here at all, walking with her, planning to spend time with her friends, if it weren’t for Adam.

“So exactly why are you here in town?” she asked.

“Jennie Lawson,” he said.

She looked at him. “The woman who disappeared last year?”

“Yes. You heard about it, I take it?”

“I wasn’t living back down here then, but Caroline showed me the newspaper this afternoon. Jennie Lawson was mentioned because of Winona Hart, the local girl who just disappeared. The article said they don’t know that she ever got to St. Augustine.”

“I know, but according to her mother, she was heading here.”

“And you think you can find her—here—after all this time?”

“Her mother doesn’t think she’s still alive, but she does think I’ll find out what happened to her, whether she got this far or not.”

“You know, there’s a possibility that…that she wanted to disappear.”

“There’s always that possibility. But…” He left off speaking and shrugged. “What I was saying to Roberta before? I’ve found that to be true. Whether it’s instinct, extrasensory perception or what, I don’t know. But when a mother feels her child is dead, she’s almost always right.”

She stared at him, obviously bothered by his words. “That’s horrible.”

“Of course it is,” he agreed. “Any death is sad.”

“No, I mean your attitude. How are you going to find her if you don’t believe it’s possible that she’s alive? You need to…believe,” she told him.

“I need to do everything in my power—whether she’s alive or dead—that’s what matters,” he said.

She shook her head in disgust.

“All right,” he said, “you tell me. What about the local girl? What’s your feeling about her? Did she just run away? Is she trying to punish her parents? What do you believe?”

She kept shaking her head, pulling ahead of him a little. “No. But things…happen. Maybe she’s hurt somewhere. And that’s why it matters that people move quickly.”

“Jennie disappeared a year ago,” he reminded her.

“Maybe she has amnesia. Stranger things have happened,” she assured him.

“I will find her. Alive or dead, I will find out what happened to her,” he said flatly.

She fell silent for a few seconds, then, changing the subject, said, “You met Will Perkins this morning.”

“Yes. Why?”

“He’s my cousin.”

“Cool.”

She was walking very quickly now, as if she were uncomfortable with him. “There’s the restaurant,” she said.

Avenida Menendez fronted the water. From where they stood, he could see the massive fortification of Ft. Marion, gleaming in the moonlight in all its historic glory. Horse-drawn carriages lined the opposite side of the street. Groups of tourists were walking around, some couples holding hands or arm in arm. There were several hotels nearby, and numerous restaurants. The downtown historic area was small, the streets busy with car traffic along with all the pedestrians. He saw tables in front of a café and bar. The neon sign, adorned with palm fronds and plastic alligators, advertised Hunky Harry’s.

She preceded him, winding her way through the outside tables and walking straight to a table at the rear. He eyed the single empty chair as he recognized Will, Caroline and the other two docents from the museum, Renee Otten and Barry Travis.

“Hey!” Will saw him and stood, grinning. “Nice that you came along.” He set an arm around Sarah’s shoulders, drawing her against him to give her a rub on the head. They were obviously close. They resembled one another, too, with the same shade of hair and eyes, so much alike, yet Will was as completely masculine as Sarah was feminine.

“Sarah invited me along. I hope that’s all right,” Caleb said, after greeting everyone.

“It’s great!” Renee said enthusiastically.

“I’m impressed you got Sarah here. I thought for sure she’d blow us off tonight,” Caroline said.

“Here we go, another chair,” Barry offered, pulling one over from another table.

“Thanks,” Caleb said, taking the seat.

Everyone started talking at once, stepping on each other’s words, and he tried to keep up the chatter until a waitress came and took their orders. He opted for the fish of the day and wondered why the others all gave him funny looks.

As soon as the waitress left, the conversation turned to the skeletons in Sarah’s house.

“How long do you think it will take them to remove them all?” Renee asked.

“It can take months—years, even—at some sites,” Barry said glumly.

Sarah glared at him.

“Sorry,” Barry said.

“You don’t have to let it take months,” Caleb said to Sarah.

They all stared at him. “You have training in the field, too, so you can call the shots. So far, you’ve done all the right things, brought in the authorities and the experts. Now you can take control. You know the right people, so keep the process moving. Whatever crime took place, it was over a hundred years ago. You can see to it that everything is done right, that people are respectful of both the bodies and the historical record. And then you can let the forensic anthropologists have their day once the bodies are out of your house.”

Sarah stared at him and nodded slowly. “I…guess so.”

Caroline tossed her hair back. “Don’t just guess. Caleb is right. Take control.”

“It’s true. This is the kind of work I was doing in Virginia, but I certainly wasn’t in charge. In a lot of ways, historians are really just record keepers, secretaries for the past. Once the bodies are removed and the remains dated…come to think of it, it will be intriguing to research the situation. And it is my house, damn it!” She slammed a fist on the table and grinned. “If there’s investigating to be done, there’s no reason why I can’t do it.”

“And Caleb there can help you, I bet,” Barry said.

His words were followed by a moment of silence as everyone stared at Caleb.

“Well, you’re an investigator, right?” Barry asked.

“Yes, I’m an investigator,” Caleb agreed.

“Yes, but I’m a historian,” Sarah said. “And the bodies in my house are over a hundred years old. It’s not a police matter, because there’s no one left alive to arrest. It’s all a matter for the historians now,” Sarah said, then stood, as if agitated. “Excuse me, I’m just going to say hello to a friend at the bar.”

Caleb noted that no one standing at the bar seemed the least bit interested in their little group.

He stayed at the table with the others. It never hurt to know as many locals as he could. It wasn’t likely that this foursome could help him find Jennie Lawson, but they might know someone or something about the area that could be pertinent at some point.

And Sarah’s house…well, he had to admit it fascinated him. Historian or not, he was drawn to it, and when he got a feeling like that, it almost always meant something.

“She’s touchy tonight,” Will said, apologizing for Sarah.

“I would be, too,” Caroline said defensively.

“It will better once those bodies are out of her house,” Renee said.

“Seriously,” Barry said. “She just found out she’s been sleeping with a bunch of bodies. You talk about a haunted house…Their spirits are probably all running around screaming, ‘Let me out, let me out!’”

“Oh, Barry,” Renee protested, giggling.

“So tell us about yourself,” Caroline said, inching her chair closer to Caleb’s. “You met Will today, right? Diving? And you found a body in a submerged car. Did he drive off the road?”

“I found the body, and it’s in very bad condition. The medical examiner is on it now. As to how he ended up in the water, I’ll leave it to the police to figure that out,” Caleb said.

“There were no bullet holes in the car or anything like that?” Renee asked, intrigued.

“Not that I saw, but then again, I wasn’t looking for any. The police have custody of the car now, as well, and they’ll find out what happened,” Caleb said.

“So Will says you’re here to find a girl—but not our missing girl?” Barry asked, perplexed.

“Right,” Caleb agreed. “You probably read about the case at the time. Her name wa—Her name is Jennie Lawson, and she disappeared a year ago on her way here. But of course I’ll share whatever information I discover with the local police, because it could help with the search for Winona Hart. They might have been abducted by the same person.”

“Maybe they both ran off to join a cult,” Renee said. “That kind of thing happens, you know.”

“It does, but usually someone who knows the person is aware that they’re dissatisfied with their lives, or that they’ve fallen under the influence of some sect,” Caleb explained.

“But the cases might not be related at all,” Barry speculated.

“That’s true, too.”

“So where do you start?” Caroline asked him.

“Well, theoretically, you start with the person’s last known whereabouts,” Caleb said.

“But this girl you’re looking for…the paper said no one even knows what she did after her plane landed in Jacksonville. She just disappeared,” Barry said.

“She picked up a rental car,” Caleb said.

“But after all this time…that car couldn’t possibly yield any clues,” Will said.

“You’d be surprised,” Caleb said. “Trace evidence can survive an awful lot. But it’s a moot point—unless we find the car. It disappeared, too.”

Just then the waitress arrived with their meals, and Caleb thought his fish—which no one else had ordered, he noticed—was delicious. Despite the arrival of their food, Sarah remained at the bar, chatting with the bartender.

The others asked him more questions as they ate; he answered some and deftly sidestepped others.

Finally he managed to turn the conversation away from himself and learned that Will had grown up in St. Augustine, as had Caroline. Renee had been there about seven years, having fallen in love with the city while attending college over in Gainesville. Barry was the latecomer. He’d done historical tours in Chicago, his hometown, and Charleston, before seeing an ad for docents for the museum.

“I love it here,” he told Caleb. “It gets chilly enough in winter for me to feel like there’s been a change of season, but we pretty much never get snow, and even then, it’s just a few flakes that melt on contact. It’s a big deal when it happens, though, it’s so rare. And because we’re on the water, even summer is usually cool enough, better than a lot of other places. So I’m staying here for sure.”

“Seems like a pretty laid-back town,” Caleb said.

“Hey,” Caroline protested. “We have plenty of nightlife. And if it’s not exciting enough for you here, pop back onto the highway. In twenty minutes you’re on the outskirts of Jacksonville. A few hours in the other direction and you’re in Orlando, surrounded by theme parks.”

“So where is home to you, Caleb?” Renee asked, breaking in before Caroline’s lecture really got going.

“Virginia,” Caleb said.

“So is this your first trip to St. Augustine?” Caroline asked, and he thought she seemed a little bit suspicious, even slightly troubled.

“Yes,” he assured her.

“Hmm.”

“Why?” he asked her.

“I don’t know. I could just swear I’d met you, or at least seen you, somewhere before, that’s all.”

“Who knows? Maybe in another life,” Will said, and yawned. “I’ve got work tomorrow, gang. I’ve got to get going.”

They all rose in unison just as Sarah returned to the table. “Sorry, guys. Al and I just started talking and I lost track. Looks like I missed dinner,” she added, staring at the lasagne congealing on her plate.

“Looks like,” Caroline said. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She started for the door.

“Hey, wait, I’m walking you home,” Will called after her. He gave the others an apologetic look. “She’s a blonde…. I don’t want her out there alone at night.”

“Good call, stick with her,” Sarah told him.

“Don’t go thinking that just because you’re a brunette, that makes you safe,” Will said quietly to Sarah, then gave Caleb a speaking look before racing after Caroline.

“I’ll see Renee home safe and sound,” Barry said cheerfully, and something in the way he looked at her told Caleb that the two had been an item for a long time.

“We might as well head out, too,” Sarah told Caleb when the others were gone.

“What about the check?”

“It’s covered,” she assured him.

“That’s nice, but I pay my own way,” he told her. “Besides, I can expense it.”

“I’m so happy to hear we’re a business expense,” Sarah said.

He let out a sigh of aggravation, staring at her. “What the hell is it with you? You’re the one who invited me here.”

She was quiet for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. Anyway, don’t worry about paying. Al—the bartender—told me that Harry was here earlier, saw us and told our waitress not to give us a check. So we were all Harry’s guests tonight. And I have to show up to work tomorrow morning, too, so I need to get going.”

“Let’s go, then.”

She waved to several people as they left, and a few called out to her in return, but at least no one was asking her about the grisly find in her house.

Even so, he was certain that the whispering would start as soon as they were gone.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. “So what will you be doing tomorrow?” she eventually asked him.

“Heading to Jacksonville,” he said.

She looked over at him. “You think your missing girl is in Jacksonville?”

“No. I think she’s here. And I think Winona Hart is going to be found here, too—eventually. But I want to go to the agency where Jennie rented her car. I would have done that today, but I had the opportunity to go on the dive, and I didn’t want to miss it.”

“There is the possibility that she just drove off into the sunset,” Sarah said.

“No. She didn’t get insurance on the car because her parents had insurance that already covered her. If she’d been planning on just taking off with the car, she’d have bought insurance so that her parents wouldn’t be liable,” he said.

“You overestimate people,” Sarah said. “If she was depressed or upset about something, she wouldn’t have been thinking about insurance.”

“But she wasn’t depressed, and she wasn’t upset.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“I talked to her parents.”

“The parents are often the last to know,” she reminded him.

“Not these parents.”

She was still skeptical, he could see, but he didn’t argue with her.

“Do you really think you can read people that well?” she asked at last.

“Not always, but sometimes? Yes.”

“Some people wear very convincing masks,” Sarah pointed out.

“Very true.”

“So how do you deal with that?” she asked.

“All masks crack with time, or under the right heat,” he said. “So what about you? What will you be doing tomorrow?”

“Oh, I’ll be going to work. I need the money more than ever now,” she said, her tone slightly resentful.

“You’re not going to hang at home, hovering over your property?”

“I’ll let them tramp around a while on their own. Then I’ll get involved,” she said.

They had reached the B&B. Caleb used his key to open the front door instead of going around the side to his private entrance. “Thanks for inviting me tonight,” he said.

“I’m glad you could come,” she answered, but there wasn’t a lot of warmth in her words. They were courteous, spoken by rote.

“Well, have a good day at work tomorrow. And…hey.”

“Hey what?”

“Be careful. Something does seem to be going on around here,” he said.

She smiled. “I’m not a blonde. And I’m sure not about to run out and buy a big bottle of bleach right now.”

“Two blondes have gone missing, true. But that fact might be coincidence. If the two disappearances are connected, the real link might be something else entirely,” Caleb said. “Everyone needs to be careful right now. No one knows yet what links the missing girls.”

She smiled. “I’ll be careful. And I’ll see you at breakfast, anyway.”

“Right.”

She hadn’t headed toward her room yet. The light coming from the parlor was dim, but he could see that she was staring at him closely. “Caroline is convinced that she’s seen you before.”

“Yeah, I know. But I don’t see how. But anything is possible, I guess. Maybe we crossed paths in an airport somewhere.”

She was still staring at him.

“Yes?” he said at last.

“I was just curious,” she said.

“About?”

“When does your mask crack? When do we get to know the real you?”