“They’re all such nice people,” Genie told Dallas as he drove. “When Jonah told me we were having a young actor, I was not pleased—especially when he was booking three rooms for himself, his media person or whatever and his agent. I mean, I watch TV. Actors can be all worried about people getting in their space, but from the shows I’ve seen, the managers and agents and all are worse. Demanding. But I was wrong. Carl is just as nice as can be—he stops on the streets and signs autographs when people ask him. He’s just kind and good with people all the time, and while I’d never heard of him, Sydney assures me he’s really famous. And Claire actually picks up after herself, and Murray is quieter, but he’s fine, too.”
“So, you’ve enjoyed having them there,” Dallas said.
“Oh, yes.”
“And what about the Knox family?”
“Oh, they’re nice. Granger is always worried about his daughter, his daughter is always trying to do something on her own and Janet is just fine. They’re fine—they’re just like the usual guests, you know.” She paused and turned and grinned at him. “And you’re really okay, too, by the way.”
“Thanks.” He drove in silence for a minute and then asked, “What about Shelley? How do you like having her out?”
“Shelley... Well, she’s...Shelley. She’s been coming around as long as I can remember. Jedidiah used to just sigh when she came out with things like, ‘Oh, Trinity, you poor sweetie, I feel you...oh, yes, I feel you and your pain!’ She’s very dramatic and likes to play the part. But hey, it’s her living. She’s just a little over-the-top for me. I think she irritates Kristi though. I mean, Kristi is Kristi—she’s just nice to everyone and didn’t want to upset the cart after Jedidiah died. I mean, we all kind of waited—Sydney, Jonah and me. We didn’t know if she’d want to clean house and start over, but she was so sweet, said she needed all of us. She wanted to keep working on her own business... With us still at the house, she could. But she pitches in, and once she told me she never understood why anyone would fix what wasn’t broken. And the thing is with Shelley, well, I don’t think Kristi would hurt her by bringing in someone else after all these years, but she is absolutely convinced that the story that was told by the Union colonel is true—and that Monty was a murderer. That bothers Kristi—always has.”
“Does Kristi say something every time?”
“Oh, yeah. But it doesn’t stop Shelley, she just sighs and tries to be comforting, you know? Man, but tonight was something different!” Genie shivered. “Now I will be looking over my shoulder—afraid of faces in the window! Oh, that’s my place—right there.”
Dallas pulled the car over to the curb and went around to open Genie’s door. He walked her up the path to her house and waited for her to open her door.
“My, my, son, you are a gentleman,” Genie said.
“Do my best,” he said. And then he added, “You make sure you lock your door, and be careful, okay?”
“Sure, but I’ll be okay. I don’t hang around Johnson Square, and I’ve never been over to the Murphy place!” She shivered. “Creepy place.”
“You don’t like the Murphy house?”
Genie was thoughtful for a minute. “Strange. I used to love it. But...a while back. I mean, before Ian even died...there was something. Seemed like it was suddenly a dark place, a scary place. I enjoyed when Ian came over to our place. He was a cool guy, friendly, sweet, picked up, helped out...such a shame about him. He and Jedidiah—they were such good friends.”
“So—just one day, his house started to bother you?”
“Like night coming,” she said. “You know, it goes from bright, to soft colors in the sky, to dusty colors, and darker bit by bit. It was like that.” She sighed. “Guess he found out about the cancer maybe about two years ago. Maybe that was it. Or, maybe, just the bad stuff happening around it.” She shrugged. “That’s an interesting thought, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
She paused, looking up at the sky. “The moon really is so beautiful tonight. But I’ll bet you it isn’t bringing that glorious light all the way down to the Murphy place. You mark my words—that house will still look like it’s all covered in darkness.”
“Maybe, but...if Murphy was such a good guy, his house can’t have...well, I guess, after tonight, I’d say it couldn’t have any kind of an evil spirit attached to it.”
“Doesn’t have to be Murphy, and may not be evil, just...well, it scares me. And I’m real glad I wasn’t having to wait for the bus tonight, so thank you again for the ride!”
“Not a problem.”
She was closing the door and he’d started to turn away, but she suddenly opened the door again and called him back. “Mr. Wicker?”
“Please, just call me Dallas.”
“Dallas... I, well, I know you and Kristi... I mean, it’s fine. Better than fine...it’s great. But... I’m worried about her, so tonight...especially tonight...watch out for her, will you? I mean, being at that séance... It was creepy! And I’m scared for what she saw. And kind of scared ’cause of the moon. Silly, huh?”
“Not much is silly—not in my mind. I will watch out for her,” he promised.
She smiled, and then closed and locked her door. “All in!” she called to him, waving through the door’s small window.
“Thanks. Good night.”
In his car, he put a call through to Detective Joe Dunhill, and put him on speaker so that he could get going back to McLane House.
Dunhill answered, sounding anxious, as if hoping Dallas had something solid.
“I think Eliza Malone is dead—and her body is either hidden somewhere in or around the Murphy house, or the McLane place.”
“What makes you think that?”
Dallas hesitated. “Gut feeling—and I’m here because of your gut feeling, so don’t go knocking it.”
“Okay...you want me to start digging around the Murphy house? Come on, you know that isn’t legal, and we can’t just go blindly poking around. We can’t even get a search warrant for ‘somewhere around one of these places.’ Oh!” he said suddenly, groaning. “Your séance!”
“You know all about the séance already?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s all over the internet already—Carl Brentwood or one of his people posted a teaser for it, and there’s a backup to the teaser—Carl talking for just a minute directly to the camera as they’re setting up the room, with a promise more will be coming by midnight—witching hour, as he said.”
“That’s just great. The area will be thronging with his fans, people trying to get close to him. And fans can be crazy.”
“Everyone already knows he’s in town.”
“So now they know where he’s staying. They could swarm the area—which will make it hard to figure out who is doing what.”
“You think that—you think that more is going to happen?” Dunhill asked.
Dallas was silent, and then said, “Theory. Ian Murphy was connected to all of this, and I think it’s because of something he knew. Maybe he didn’t even know what he had could be dangerous, and he was quick to share it with others. Eliza Malone was the first. Then, for some reason, it all stopped for two years. Then started up again—Ian and Lachlan Plant died just two days apart, right?”
“Right—and Simon Drake disappeared two weeks later. But Ian was dead by the time Simon Drake disappeared.”
“That suggests Ian Murphy had no idea of what he had or knew. The killer—or killers—could feel that the information might be coming to light again. Wait, actually, all this may help. With all the excitement over Brentwood’s video, you can get police protection of some kind, at least, over to the McLane house.”
“Sure, I can have a patrol car go by. Listen, we’ve had good police work in the Historic District from the get-go.”
“I’m not saying you don’t have good cops—I’m saying this killer is good.”
“All right. I’ll get someone watching the house.”
Dallas wondered for a moment if that would help—Monty and Justin were watching over the house. Then again, no one else saw them, and they wouldn’t be a deterrent if someone came around feeling homicidal.
The thought suddenly made him anxious to get back—Kristi and Jonah were alone at the house. He didn’t suspect Jonah of being a killer, but then, who in the house might be? He’d been driving in that direction and he was almost in front of the house—but he wanted to get in.
“Get me some cops to watch over things. I’ll get back to you in the morning. I have my people checking backgrounds on the employees and guests at McLane House. Maybe I’ll have something by then—at least, a direction.”
“All right,” Dunhill told him. After a moment, he added, “And thanks. For, uh, being here.”
“You really have to thank Adam Harrison.”
“I do. And on that ‘gut’ thing—trust me. I get it.”
“Talk to you in the morning.”
Dallas hung up; he was almost at the house.
He parked the car. Anxious as he was to get to Kristi, he paused, and looked far across the square.
The moon that night was a majestic, glowing silver orb.
But maybe Genie had a point.
Maybe it was just the direction the moon shone, maybe it was geography, the size of Johnson Square, the shadows created by such a fantastic glowing orb in the sky.
But he couldn’t help but feel it; Genie had been right. Not even the glow in the sky seemed to touch the strange darkness that lurked around the distant corner and seeped onto the street, settling right around the Murphy house.
Being in the room was becoming torture. Kristi just kept seeing the face.
And then she heard the sound. As if someone was in the hallway.
As if they stood outside her door.
She could almost feel breathing...
Silly—it was probably Dallas. He’d come back, but now was afraid to wake her if she’d finally gone to sleep.
She waited a few minutes, and then gave up, flying to her door and out into the hallway and over to Dallas’s door. She knocked and whispered his name.
“Dallas?”
There was no answer.
She knocked harder and tried the door, but it was locked. She had a skeleton key, of course, but it was downstairs. And she didn’t need the key—if he was there, he would have answered.
She didn’t want to go back to her room—at first, she’d wanted nothing except to escape. But now, she was very weary of her own company. And all that raced through her mind.
Maybe Jonah would still be awake, watching sports, or reading, or even puttering around the house.
She had no idea where Monty and Justin had gotten to, and assumed they had gone back to the courtyard, watching, as they had been doing the past few nights. If nothing else, she could go outside and wait with them.
She smiled to herself. She now needed human contact—whether the person was alive or dead.
The hallway felt exceptionally empty; her steps seemed loud as she hurried down the stairs.
The back parlor was empty; Jonah had apparently gone to bed.
She looked in the front, but there was no one there, and when she checked the kitchen, she saw they had cleaned up well—it was sparkling and ready for the next morning. She headed back out to the rear parlor, and then to the back door, looking out through the window.
Moonlight showed the trees and the tables, more brightly than usual, and yet, by that new light, enhanced shadows seemed to be everywhere, and nothing was clear.
For a moment, her limbs seemed to freeze.
There was someone out there.
A large man was at one of the courtyard tables; he seemed engrossed in something he was reading on his phone. She could see nothing of his features.
But he saw her, and he stood, pocketing his phone, and stared at her.
Then, he started walking toward her. Engulfed in the darkness, he seemed to be something incredibly evil, made of shadow.
She started to back away, and then a gasped scream escaped her, for she backed into someone warm and very solid, and hands came down upon her shoulders.
Before she could really scream, she heard Jonah’s voice at her ear, which immediately made her feel as if she had truly become a paranoid idiot.
“Granger Knox...sitting out in the courtyard all by himself. Couldn’t spend one evening listening to music with his wife and daughter.”
“Shush,” she warned. “He’s coming this way.”
“And I’m out of here!” Jonah said, turning away. She heard his footsteps on the stairs; he was hurrying on up to his own room.
Kristi opened the door and went out. “Hey,” she said to him. “I didn’t mean to bother you. You’re fine out here in the courtyard.”
“Ah, Kristi, it’s you!” He waved.
Outside, with her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, she could see him far more clearly. He pulled out a chair for her.
She wondered if she would have been less unnerved by him or more so if she had seen his face clearly in the moonlight at first—he had the look of an old pit bull, face wrinkled and worn with the years, jowls long and hanging.
“Miss Stewart—thought you were headed up for some sleep,” he said. “But, well, it’s lovely out here. Quiet. Join me?”
She smiled and accepted the chair.
“I couldn’t sleep. But I thought you had headed down to the riverfront.”
“Just not in the mood, I guess. I almost went,” he said. “Wait, I did get to the riverfront, but didn’t feel like going to a club.” He grimaced. “My poor daughter and sweet little Sydney were both a bit brokenhearted, I think. People recognized Carl Brentwood on the street, and he wound up being charming for some time with his fans—and then he slipped away in a car that Claire Danson somehow conjured. He didn’t make it to the bar. Still, the rest went on! I told them not to worry about me—I was just going to walk back here.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Saw someone behind you in the house—it gave me a fright. I was going to run in and come to your rescue—and then I saw it was just Jonah.”
“Yes, it was Jonah. But thank you—for intending to come to my rescue!”
“Of course!”
“So, you were just sitting out here.”
He smiled at her and patted his pocket. “Books on a phone—imagine that, huh? I download stuff and I can read anywhere, anytime. Pretty cool, huh?”
“I agree. What are you reading?”
He grinned. “Savannah history, of course.”
“Anything good?”
He shrugged. “I was reading about the surrender of Savannah... Well, I can’t tell you anything—you’re the expert.”
“I’m not a historian,” she said. “I just grew up here. And I really do love the city, so I take an interest. I mean, things aren’t all just perfect or anything—we have ugly bits of history, too.”
“Like here—at McLane House.”
She was silent.
“Ah, Kristi, naturally, you have to believe the best of your ancestor. I was trying to see if there was some way to help you out with your theory, but...didn’t find anything, other than the fact Monty McLane definitely had the opportunity to get home, and that... Look, a lot of men would kill their wives before accepting they might have an affair with another man. And that is the way the story goes—unless you have tangible historical proof?”
“I’m afraid I do not.”
“Well, there you go, there you have it—and it makes for such a great story, huh? Heck, I’m in construction—don’t really know anything about this kind of thing, and I was completely wowed tonight!”
She smiled weakly.
“I’m surprised you hire Shelley as your medium,” he told her.
“Oh? Why?”
He hesitated, looking out back, toward the monuments. “Well, she says it’s just sad—she never wants to argue with you, because she understands. But she’s convinced Monty is a murderer. Oh, she’s also convinced Trinity is here—she just has to do the right thing to find her, hit the right night, touch the spirits correctly or some other kind of mumbo jumbo.”
Kristi kept her smile plastered in place. “Well, Shelley just believes and feels what she...what she believes and feels!”
She didn’t have to hold her false smile for long; the back door opened. In her present mood, she jumped.
“It’s just Mr. Wicker,” Granger told her. “You’re nervous?” he asked.
“I guess I am. Dallas, thank you for taking Genie home.”
“Pleasure,” he told her. To Granger he said, “Out enjoying the nice night, are you? You didn’t enjoy the band?”
“Too many people for me,” Granger said with a shrug.
Kristi yawned. “Well, lovely as this may be... I think that I will turn in for the night!”
She turned, touching Dallas’s arm as she slipped by him.
In the house, she all but ran up the stairs, refusing to even glance at the portraits.
In her room, she paced nervously.
It seemed like forever...
It was a matter of minutes before she heard a soft tap at the door.
She hurried to the door, and then thought to ask softly first, “Dallas?”
“It’s me.” She threw open the door, ready to throw herself into his arms. She managed to hold herself back, and also tried to appear as if she hadn’t been crawling out of her own skin since he had left her.
She stepped back, allowing him to come in.
“Did anything...happen?” she asked him. “Did you learn anything?” she added anxiously.
“Kristi, I just gave Genie a ride home.”
“Right.”
He stepped forward, slipping his arms around her and pulling her tightly to him.
He kissed her lips. Gently. Then he looked into her eyes.
“I spoke with Joe Dunhill, and there will be extra police presence around the area tonight.”
She frowned. “Now? But I’m telling you, Eliza Malone is already dead. And, if the same person or people took Simon Drake, then...”
“And if someone else stumbles upon whatever caused disappearances and deaths, that person could be in danger, too.”
“But we have to find Eliza.”
“Kristi, it’s illegal—even for the FBI—to blindly dig up property.”
“But I own this property—we can dig it up all we want.”
He smiled. “We can get some equipment out here. Geophysical tools, like ground-penetrating radar, that kind of thing.”
“Well...can we start?”
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
“Kristi, I have to get the equipment out here. I can get that tomorrow. I’ve talked with my tech and research people, and we’ll have a better picture of the people involved. And, as you’ve said—we can start here. In the morning.”
He pulled her close again, smoothing down her hair.
“But how do you stand it?” she whispered. “We—we know she’s out there.”
“We stand it,” he said softly, “because we all do this pretty much every day, and we learn that you have to sleep and live and eat and...” He lifted her chin and smiled at her. “Make love.”
She smiled back. “I’m just so on edge, so nervous.”
“I can try very hard to help you relax,” he said sincerely.
She had to smile in return, and when his mouth touched hers again, she matched him with some very hot, deep and wet kisses in return. His lips traveled down her throat, and she stepped back, sliding her fingers beneath his jacket to ease it from his body. He caught it, and then stepped back to slide his holster and gun from the small of his back, then set them down with the jacket. He looked at her again with a broad smile. He kicked off one shoe and then the other and she laughed, and she was back in his arms, struggling to kiss and touch and remove clothing all at once.
The clothing quickly wound up strewn about the room; she realized the drapes were open because the moonlight, silver and glowing, fell upon them as they stood there, and she paused to run her hands over the sleekness of his body before moving to close the drapes. Her window looked over the courtyard, not the street—thankfully!—but they had left Granger Knox out there, and her ghosts were, in a way, parental, and she certainly had no intention of entertaining anyone with a show. She glanced out, and saw nothing but that glorious moon glow, and then quickly pulled the drapes across the window. She started to turn back to him, but he was already behind her, the fullness of his body flush against hers, and he pulled her back to him before spinning her around and finding her mouth again. They stumbled to the bed, fell upon it, and the breathless kissing all over each other’s bodies continued, and Kristi marveled that the man could make such a tender caress out of his movement one moment and such an urgent and intimate touch out of the next. She thought that she’d never imagined anyone so amazing, in bed and out, and then she wasn’t thinking at all anymore because his lips were moving over her body, moving downward, and sensation was ripping through her at a frantic pace.
Little shivers of ecstasy spilled through her as he drew up over her again, whispering, “How am I doing?”
“What?”
“As a distraction...how am I doing?”
She caught his face between her hands and pulled her to him, and she knew he was quite certain she would whisper something tender or sensual or...
“Do shut up, Mr. Wicker,” she murmured, and kissed him. Then they were entwined together, he was within her, and she could whisper breathlessly that he was doing quite well.
The whole world was receding, and, wait, he had actually become the world.
Later, when they lay together, still entwined, she wasn’t anxious anymore.
Morning would come.
It would, in fact, she thought, come way too soon.