Кей Хупер - Whisper of Evil

"I've thought about it once or twice." Nell shrugged. "But I don't much like knowing I frighten people. Even ignorant people, afraid I'll put a curse on them or something."

"But you are psychic," Shelby said matter-of-factly.

In the same tone, Nell said, "Lots of people are psychic."

"I'm not."

Nell laughed under her breath. "Has it occurred to you that this shadow being visible might have had nothing to do with me and everything to do with you?"

Shelby frowned briefly, then shook her head. "No, because if that were so, I'd have seen something like it show up in my pictures long before now."

"Maybe. But psychic ability isn't always obvious from childhood, you know. Sometimes it… appears… fully blown in adulthood."

"Really?"

"So I've heard."

"Appears out of nowhere?"

Nell hesitated, then said, "Well, there's usually a trigger. A shock or some other kind of trauma."

"I haven't had anything like that," Shelby said, more disappointment than relief evident in her voice. "I've had a pretty boring and uneventful life, on the whole. And since this hasn't happened before, I think we can safely assume this shadow appeared on the picture because you were in it, not because I took it."

Giving in, Nell said, "Well, if we assume that, the question becomes — why? Why did this particular shadow appear in this particular shot on this particular day? Am I being haunted? Because I never have been before. Is it the courthouse being haunted? If that were true, it's at least possible you would have seen a shadow on other pictures before now. You have photographed the courthouse before?"

"Lots of times. With and without people. But I've never gotten a shadow like this one before."

Nell studied the photograph, trying to see some identifiable shape without imposing one created by her uneasy imagination. The shape was vaguely manlike but elongated somehow, distorted. And Shelby was right, it did almost seem to… loom over her.

A charitable soul might say the shadow curved over her almost as though sheltering her.

Nell thought it looked more threatening than protective.

"It gives me a bad feeling," Shelby said.

Hearing the seriousness in that statement and sharing the sentiment, Nell nevertheless said, "A shadow can't hurt me."

"If that's what it is. But there's nothing there to cast a shadow, Nell. Nothing with a physical presence, that is. So maybe it's something else. And maybe it can hurt you." She frowned. "I didn't want to say anything before, but you're looking a little… brittle today."

"I didn't sleep well, that's all."

"Just last night, or since you got home?"

Nell shrugged, the gesture itself an answer.

Grave, Shelby said, "Is that why you believe in ghosts? Because if so, I have a very comfortable guest room you're welcome to."

"No, this house isn't haunted." Nell grimaced slightly. "No footsteps on the stairs or chains rattling in the night or unexplained cold spots. I haven't seen or heard anything — out of the ordinary." She wasn't about to mention the vision of her father here in this room or admit that several times she could have sworn someone had whispered her name; there were no ghosts in this house, she was sure of that.

Besides which, though Shelby had been the closest thing to a female friend she'd had as a kid, her own secretive nature had prevented her from confiding much at all of her life or her abilities, and she wasn't willing to go into any of that now.

Still grave, Shelby said, "Then maybe it's emotional ghosts disturbing your sleep. Coming home after so many years can't be easy."

Nell shied away from the tacit invitation to talk about whatever might be bothering her, wondering grimly if it was the discretion recently learned because of her job or the old reluctance to open up that kept her silent.

Whichever it was, she heard herself say, "I never sleep well the first few nights in a strange bed. It'll pass. And this place really doesn't feel like home, you know. Far as I can tell, Hailey changed just about everything from the rugs to the wallpaper; I don't even recognize half the furniture."

"She liked to shop," Shelby observed with a grin.

"No kidding."

"The word in town was that with only one of his girls left, your father sort of went overboard trying to keep her here. Gave her anything she wanted, pretty much."

Nell could have said that her sister had always been good at turning circumstances to her benefit, but all she said was, "I'm not surprised."

"It seemed to work too. I mean, she seemed pretty happy. Until there were a few whispers about her and Glen Sabella, and the next thing we all knew the two of them ran off."

"Our father was always… very unforgiving. If she had done anything to disappoint him, he wouldn't have hesitated to let her know how he felt about it."

"And disowned her?" Shelby shook her head. "Jeez, talk about being hard-nosed. He didn't disown you, though."

"I didn't run off with another — I didn't run off with a man." Nell saw Shelby's eyes narrow, and added quickly, "Anyway, like I said, this doesn't really feel like home. But I do have a lot on my mind, so it's not surprising I haven't slept well."

Shelby looked at her a moment, then tapped one finger on the photo still lying between them on the table. "And this?"

"I don't know how to explain this," Nell confessed. "Maybe we're both… making too much of it. We may not be able to explain it, but that doesn't mean it isn't… just a shadow."

"And if it's something more?"

"Then I have no idea what that would be. But — I may know someone who could figure it out for us. Do you mind if I keep this?"

"No, of course not. I made myself a print to brood over, but this one's yours." Shelby rummaged in her shoulder bag and produced a manila envelope. "I even brought you the negative. Hey, you will tell me if this expert of yours figures it out, won't you?"

"Sure." Nell slid the photo into the envelope with its negative, her gaze on the other woman. She debated for a silent moment, but since it was something she'd been considering ever since the day she'd arrived and spoken to Shelby, she abruptly decided to follow her instincts. "Shelby… these murders. They interest you, don't they?"

"I've always loved mysteries, you know that." Shelby grinned. "The more murky the better. And this one's about as murky as they come. Why?"

Nell drew a breath and let it out slowly. "Because I have a favor to ask. And a story to tell."

Business was slow on this Friday, so Nate McCurry left his secretary in the office doing paperwork and went off toward town on the pretext of calling on a few customers. What he actually did was stop in at the cafe for a cup of coffee and the opportunity to listen in on the latest about the investigation.

He wasn't the only one doing that either. The place was unusually busy on this weekday morning roughly halfway between the breakfast and lunch rush hours, with most of the customers having coffee like Nate or some sort of light snack they could pretend was brunch.

Other than that, however, nobody was trying to pretend.

"I heard the cops found all kinds of shit George Caldwell had stashed away," one customer announced, sitting at the lunch counter with his back to it so he could see everyone else.

"Like what?" another demanded.

"Porn is what I heard. Really nasty stuff too."

"Naw, I heard it was diamonds."

Somebody laughed, and another man, older and heavyset, said incredulously, "You saying poor oid George was a jewel thief? Setting aside the fact that he was about as light on his feet as I am, I wouldn't say there'd be much to interest a jewel thief around here."

"Plenty of people put their money in gold or jewels, Ben. You might be surprised at just how many."