Thursday, October 17
11:00 P.M.
Jefferson, Texas
BY THE TIME this case was over, Spense figured, he could write a Texas travel guide.
Welcome to Jefferson the sign said.
“You sure we shouldn’t head out to Mrs. Langhorne’s place tonight?” Caity mumbled from her cat curl in the front passenger seat. They’d been on the road all day and half the night, traveling round-trip from Dallas to Austin, and now this side jaunt to Jefferson to interview Dutch’s mother, Yolanda Langhorne.
“She’s my mother’s age. I hate to wake her.”
“I thought you wanted to see for yourself whether Dutch was there. If we wait until morning, we might miss him.”
“If he’s holed up at his mother’s place—which I doubt—he’ll likely still be holed up there in the morning—hence the expression holed up. Although I do want to see whether he’s there or not with my own eyes, the other reason I wanted to make the trip is that we have a much better chance of squeezing information out of Mrs. Langhorne in person than we do over the phone. If Dutch warned her not to talk anyone, we’re going to have to be persuasive. That means I need to be able to charm her a little, and you’ll have to bring out your you-know-you-can-trust-me smile. If we knock on her door at this time of night, we’ll never get anywhere with her.”
Besides, Caity needed sleep. His shoulders tensed. She still hadn’t told him why she’d stayed up until the wee hours with Dutch. Reaching across the console, he grabbed her hand. “Do you want to stay at the historic haunted Excelsior Hotel, the historic haunted Jefferson Hotel, the historic haunted bed-and-breakfast, or the yet-to-be-haunted Bargain Bayou Inn? Free continental breakfast at the Bargain Bayou. It’s your call, baby.”
She straightened in the passenger seat and stretched her arms high over her head. “You’re joking.”
“Not really. Apparently, just about every room at the Excelsior has its own ghost. There’s a headless man, a woman in black with a baby, and get this, Spielberg stayed there. Supposedly he was inspired to write Poltergeist after being awakened by the ghost of a young boy in the Gould room. Across the way at the Jefferson, the stairs squeak, and ghosts pull the guests’ hair and tap on their toes. At the bed-and-breakfast—”
Caity threw back her head, laughing. A beautiful sound he hadn’t heard nearly enough since they’d arrived in Texas and met up with the morosely arrogant Dutch Langhorne. “No. I meant you were joking about the Bargain Bayou Inn. I can’t believe there’s a bayou in Texas.”
“But the ghosts, you believe?”
“I like to keep an open mind when it comes to the paranormal.”
Caity had a way of surprising him. He’d never have suspected that from her. She seemed so grounded in science. “I don’t know about the spirits, but there really are Texas wetlands—the Big Cypress Bayou. I didn’t realize it before, but Yolanda Langhorne’s cabin is very near Caddo Lake State Park.” A place his dad had taken him fishing more than once. “I don’t think we’ll have a chance to see it this trip, but I’d like to take you there someday.” He’d love to watch her face when she saw those giant cypress trees floating in the wetlands and the fish jumping in between. He’d made plenty of memories with his father there, and he’d like to make some new ones with Caity.
As he drove, he watched her from the corner of his eye. Stretching her arms overhead pushed her chest forward, and from his angle he could see the mounds of Caity’s full breasts and the tempting way her nipples jutted against her thin shirt. “You cold?” He’d been running the air conditioner full blast. He switched it off.
“A little. Thanks for noticing.”
“My pleasure.” God, he wanted her. “So what’s the verdict? Headless man, or hair-pulling ghosts?”
“Oh, let’s just hit the Bargain Bayou. I wouldn’t want to stay at a ghost hotel when I’m this tired. I’d probably sleep right through the chains rattling and whatnot. Maybe we really will come back another time, then we can stay somewhere fun.” The hopeful lilt in her voice just about cracked his heart open. She wanted to come back to Jefferson—with him.
“We’ll make it happen. I promise.” He kissed her hand. “Bargain Bayou, here we come.”
“And Spense . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s not waste our money on separate rooms—even if they are a bargain.”
Visions of Caity, stretched out on a bed, jolted his pulse into overdrive. He stepped on the gas—hard.