Кей Хупер - Whisper of Evil

As offhandedly as possible, Justin said, "It may fit, but it's just another theory and it doesn't help us a damned bit as far as I can see. We're still no closer to being able to either I.D. this guy or predict his next move or his next victim."

"But you think he's not done," Ethan said.

"I think it would be a mistake for us to assume that. Because even if his personal hit list had only four names on it, the truth is, he's getting away with murder — so far, at least. And whatever his reasons were for starting all this, success can only encourage him. If he's bent on punishing the wicked, the fact that we haven't been able to stop him is bound to encourage him to keep right on doing it. He might even decide he's been chosen by God to do just that. And we all know that if you look for wickedness, even in a nice little town like Silence, you're bound to find it."

"Shit," Ethan said. He sighed. "Okay, people — whether Caldwell's murder is part of the rest or not is something we need to know, and pronto. Find out."

Carefully neutral, Justin said, "It might be a good idea to talk to his widow. I know the timing's lousy, but —"

The sheriff swore again, but under his breath. "Do it. Talk to anybody you need to talk to, but find the truth."

"No matter what that is?" Justin asked.

"No matter what."

"You see what I mean?" Shelby indicated the photo she'd just placed on the butcher-block table in Nell's kitchen. "I got a couple of other shots of you, but this was the only one where something I couldn't explain showed up. Definitely what I'd call weird."

Nell bent over the picture, frowning. The word she would have picked to describe it was unsettling . To see herself walking down the courthouse steps, completely unaware of the shadow looming over her… She felt a little chill crawl slowly up her spine. The sense she'd had of being watched was beginning to feel like a lot more than nerves at being back home again.

She said, "And there's nothing you can find to account for it? It isn't just a shadow of something, some object, outside the frame, or a problem with the lens, or —"

Shelby shook her head, bright-eyed. "Nope. I've considered every possibility that might account for it, and none of them fits. That shadow was not visible to the naked eye — only the eye of the camera. And it is definitely there. So unless you believe in ghosts… Do you, by the way?"

Nell smiled slightly without looking up. "As a matter of fact, I do. But according to everything I've heard on the subject, it's rare to find photographic evidence of a ghost outside in the open. Not unheard of, mind you, but rare."

"The scale's wrong too," Shelby said. "I mean, if we're talking the ghost of your average human being. My estimate is that the shadow is about seven feet tall. Or long. Whatever."

Nell traced that threatening shape with a finger, then sat back with a sigh, trying not to make it obvious that the slow chill was leaving icy tracks up and down her spine as if it meant to stay awhile. "And it's on the negative too?"

"Yeah." Shelby sipped her coffee, watching the other woman with those bright, speculative eyes. "This happened to be the only shot I took of you yesterday, so I have no way of knowing if the shadow was… following you around. Like Max was."

"Max I can handle," Nell said lightly.

"Can you?"

"You don't think so?"

Slowly now, Shelby said, "I think you and Max have a lot of history between you. And probably quite a few unanswered questions. But, Nell, what can be excused, even forgiven, of a seventeen-year-old girl isn't so easy to overlook in a woman pushing thirty. And Max isn't twenty-two anymore, forced by a very young girlfriend and her… unusual family to keep his distance and maybe not ask too many questions."

More briskly, Shelby added, "Of course, there were things he had to ask when you ran off. And since you weren't around for him to ask… From what I heard, he confronted your father that night. Did you know?"

"No." Nell refused to ask for more information about that, and a part of her hoped Shelby wouldn't offer it. But that was hardly Shelby's style.

"Max has never been one to complain publicly or tell his business to other people, we both know that. So everything I heard was second- or third-hand. But my own father told my mother that Adam Gallagher bragged about how he'd kicked Max Tanner down his front steps. Literally."

Nell winced.

Watching her, Shelby said, "My own feeling is that Max wouldn't have fought back, not against your father, not if he couldn't be sure what had made you run away like that. He might have a hell of a temper, but Max doesn't strike out blindly. Maybe he even thought it was his fault, that he'd done something to drive you away. I know your father always claimed he didn't know why you'd run and blamed Max for it."

"It wasn't Max."

"No. I never thought it was. But some did, Nell. There were lots of theories, everything from date rape or an unplanned pregnancy to the idea that you found yourself caught between two domineering men and couldn't take it anymore."

Rather than answer the implied question of what had actually happened, Nell merely said, "It sounds like Max has… every right to be bitter."

"Yeah. But there he is." Shelby tapped the photograph with a finger, smiling faintly. "Couple of days after you're back in town, he's following you, maybe even watching over you. I guess he's the forgiving sort."

Again, Nell didn't answer the implied question of why Max might believe she could be in any kind of danger. "I guess he is. Or maybe he just wants a few answers."

"Maybe. And maybe you can handle him — at least this time around. But I'd be careful if I were you, Nell. Like I said, he isn't twenty-two anymore. And whatever he was twelve years ago, I don't think he's a man to be left behind now."

"He never was," Nell murmured. "Some things stay with you no matter how far you run." Before Shelby could pounce on that, she added in a stronger voice, "So maybe this… shadow… is following me, or maybe I just happened to pass by it yesterday. An old courthouse like this one is at least as likely as any other old building to house ghosts, I'd say."

"And the jail used to be in the basement," Shelby reminded her, accepting the change of subject without a blink. "I seem to recall at least one old story about an unjustly accused man committing suicide there. Aren't wrongful deaths supposed to be more likely to — inspire? create? — spirits?"

Nell dredged through the bits of knowledge and information her mind had absorbed in recent years. "Wrongful deaths. Sudden or violent deaths. Or people with some kind of unfinished work they desperately want to complete. At least, I think those are the most likely candidates to stay and make their presence felt rather than move on."

Shelby pursed her lips thoughtfully. "So this is just a ghost hanging around the courthouse, is that what we're saying?"

"Could be."

"Mmm. And are ghosts like that prone to loom over passersby in a threatening manner?"

"I'm not an expert, Shelby."

"Aren't you?"

"No."

"You don't have a crystal ball?"

"I'm afraid not."

"No tarot cards?"

Beginning to smile, Nell answered, "Sorry."

"Well," Shelby said in mock disgust, "of all the disappointments. And here I was expecting wild and mystical things of our returning witch."

"Yeah, Max told me that was the general attitude."

Shelby grinned at her. "Don't tell me you thought this town might have changed. Oh, no. Still narrow-minded and frightened of anything perceived to be too different, that's Silence. Or most of Silence, anyway."

"I'm surprised you choose to stay here," Nell offered.

"Are you? It's not so surprising, really. I'm perceived to be different — but not too different to present a threat. I like it here, all things considered." She cocked her head to one side like an inquisitive bird. "What about you? Any yearnings to stay put now that you're back home?"