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“Absolutely not.” Mum argued with Spencer in the corner of the room, but their voice kept rising, enough for Kit to hear. “We know where the necklace might be, and we’re taking that information to Ian.”
“The bloody bastard could be gone by the time we tell Ian, and he gathers his men to head over.”
“I’m not putting Kit in—”
“He has already left,” the ghost said. She appeared next to Kit, but he’d felt her there already, like a cold breath on his neck. She had only told him her name, Josephine Cameron, and that the necklace belonged to her. “He means to destroy my beautiful necklace, split the emeralds up and sell them. If he manages to do so before the curse catches up to him.”
“Curse?” Kit kept his voice low, turning to her. “What curse?”
She smiled at him, a smile that had cold fingers sliding down his spine. “No man will possess the Pharaoh’s Eye, without it costing him all that he is. My husband did not believe in the curse, and it took his life.”
“Who has it? Did you recognize him?”
“I never saw the coward’s face, but even if I had, I may not have recognized him. I have been dead far too long, young Kit. Even the last of my youngest contemporaries are long gone.” Josephine drifted closer, and he hunched his shoulders, wishing he hadn’t left his heavy wool coat in the cloakroom downstairs. “I can tell you this: he seems to believe the necklace is his, by right of birth. Only a Cameron woman can truly inherit the Pharaoh’s Eye. If you wait long enough, the curse will take care of him.”
Horror shot through him.
“We can’t—” Kit cut himself off when both Mum and Spencer turned to stare at him.
“Can’t what, Kit?” Mum looked concerned, frown lines appearing between her eyes. They only showed up when Dad overtaxed himself. Now Kit had become a burden. He never should have told her— “Kit.”
“Uh—we can’t let him get away?”
“We can, if it means keeping you safe. The police will catch him when he tries to sell the necklace.” Mum headed over to him, rubbing her arms. “It got cold in here. The sun must be...” Her voice faded, and Kit knew she understood why it was cold in this part of the room. “Is the ghost—here?”
Kit swallowed and nodded. “Josephine said he’s planning to break up the necklace, so he can sell the emeralds separately.”
Mum stilled, her eyes wide. “How did you know it was an emerald necklace?”
“She described it to me.”
Spencer joined them, his face serious. “What’s her full name, sport?” He tried to make his voice light, but Kit saw the concern—and the fear—in his eyes.
“Josephine Cameron.”
Mum gasped, gripping Spencer’s hand. “He really sees her, Spence.”
“Of course, I do.” Kit was offended that Mum thought he’d lie about seeing a bloody ghost. “How do you know who she is, Mum?”
“I—we—”
“The summer your mum and I met,” Spencer said, squeezing Mum’s hand, “we found the necklace in a graveyard. It’s a local legend, Mrs. Cameron haunting where her house used to stand. We—helped catch the thief who tried to steal it.”
Kit’s mouth dropped open as he stared at his mum. “Weren’t you ten when you met Spencer?”
“I—that has nothing to do with this.” She pulled out of Spencer’s grip and crossed her arms. “We tell Ian where the thief is, and that’s the end of it.”
“He isn’t there any longer.” Kit glanced at Josephine, who nodded.
“Tell them he has left Holmestead and is at a place called Blakeney Manor.”
“What?” That was Mum’s family estate, now a tourist attraction. Part of it had been turned into a bed and breakfast last year.
“Kit—what’s wrong?” Mum looked scared. She didn’t get scared.
“She said—the thief is at Blakeney Manor.”
***
Maggie wanted to call Mr. Barnes, the proprietor of the newly opened bed and breakfast, warn him that one of his guests could be a thief. Spencer talked her out of it as they sped toward the manor.
“He’ll alert the thief, Mags, and we’ll lose him again before we even get there.”
“We’re not going near him, Spencer Knight.” Maggie smacked his arm, forgetting until after she did it that Kit was in the back watching and listening. “This ghost is going to identify him, then we’re going to call Ian. Got it?”
“Her name is Josephine, Mum, not this ghost.”
“Is she—here?”
“Not at the moment.” Kit sounded offended for her.
Maggie wanted to smile, but she was too worried to do more than nod at him. “Can she appear at the manor?”
“If the necklace is there,” Spencer said, his focus on the narrow road. “You already know that, Mags, from dealing with Anthea.”
“Right—sorry. I’m just,” she lowered her voice. “I’m scared, Spence. I don’t want Kit part of this.”
“We’ll keep him safe.” He glanced over at her. “If Kit sees Mrs. Cameron, then we’ll know the necklace is there, and we can call in the troops. No need for Kit to get involved at all—he can sit it out in Mr. Barnes’ kitchen, eating cookies.”
“Okay.”
Maggie reached back and took Kit’s hand, squeezing for a few seconds before she let go.
A serious boy sat in the back seat now, no longer young, but still not old enough for her to trust herself to let him run free. What happened to the little boy who followed after her and Martin, constantly asking questions about everything that came into his head? She stared out the window, mourning what she knew she’d never have again.
“Mum?” Kit’s hand closed over her shoulder. “I’m not grown up and gone yet.”
“I’m aware of that. I just—I’m not ready for you to deal with something that would be hard for an adult.”
“I’ve been seeing ghosts all my life. It’s not something I have to deal with.”
Maggie turned in the seat so she could look at him. “How long have you been able to hear them?”
He hesitated before he answered. “Since I fell. Stop staring at me like I’m about to sprout a second pair of ears. I never told you or Dad because there was nothing you could do. They don’t really bother me. Much,” he muttered.
“How many have you talked to?”
“A few,” he mumbled, staring at his hands. “I never felt threatened by them, Mum. Just annoyed at times, when they wouldn’t stop pestering me.”
“Oh, Kit. I really wish you would have told us. Your dad spent his life dealing with ghosts, and could have given you some advice.”
“I guess—you’re going to tell him now.”
“No, my dear son. You are going to tell him.”
“Oh.”
Maggie bit back a smile at the glum look on his face. “We can tell him together. He’s probably going to be thrilled, and only mad that you didn’t share with him sooner.”
“He can’t see them anymore, can he?”
“No, sweetheart.” Maggie’s heart ached, again, for the loss. Except for Anthea, Martin hadn’t seen a ghost since speaking with his mother, while he was dying in a storage room in the museum—
She cut off the thought and closed her eyes. He didn’t die, and losing that ability seemed to ease some of the grief for his mother. Probably since he wouldn’t be able to see her again.
“Mum?”
“Okay, Kit.” She forced a smile she hoped looked genuine and turned around.
Blakeney Manor stood near the edge of the cliffs, proud and elegant in the rough landscape. Maggie had poured her heart and her money into the restoration. Kit had been born in one of the upstairs bedrooms—completely unplanned, but a story he loved to tell.
He started bouncing on the back seat as they approached. “Can we see my birth room, Mum? It isn’t part of the bed and breakfast, is it?”
“Yes, and no.” His enthusiasm had her smiling—a real smile this time. It faded with her next words. “Let’s see what happens with the proprietor, and take it from there.”
He settled right away. “All right.”
She hated that she had subdued his excitement at visiting the manor. But if the thief was here, she planned on dragging him out of there faster than he could protest.
***
Kit tensed when they walked into the manor, waiting to feel the cold brush of air, or see Josephine floating in the foyer.
It was ghost free.
He let out a relieved breath and turned to Mum. “She’s not here.”
“Good.” Mum looked as relieved as he felt. “Let’s go see Mr. Barnes.”
They headed down a long hallway, leading to a secondary lounge. This lounge had its own entrance, for guests of the small bed and breakfast. Mum had also added a small but well-equipped chef’s kitchen, and a private bedroom and sitting room for the proprietor.
She pointed to the lounge. “Wait there for us.”
He let out an impatient sigh, but he nodded. Arguing would only earn him extra chores when they returned home.
After Mum and Spencer headed down the hall to the kitchen, he wandered the lounge. It was long, running the length of this part of the manor, with chairs in groupings, and small tables displaying antiques from the main house.
No one sat in any of the chairs, but he spotted a cup and saucer on a small side table, heat curling above the cup. Someone had been here, and left their still hot tea; Kit could smell the bergamot that told him it was Earl Grey.
Maybe once they finished talking to Mr. Barnes, he could talk Mum into staying long enough for a cup...
His thought faded when he saw the glove on the arm of the chair. A single black glove.
Swallowing, he moved closer, and his heart skipped at sight of the B, stitched on the cuff.
“It’s the same glove,” he whispered. “Mum—I have to warn Mum—”
He spun toward the entryway—and straight into the barrel of a gun.