Heather Graham - Ghost Shadow

If a little strange! She had almost appeared to be in some kind of a trance when she had walked out so suddenly.

Katie frowned, listening, and turned toward the doors. David realized there was some kind of disturbance going on in the street.

David didn’t say anything-he gave her a glance that told her he would check it out. He walked to the door. There was a bar fight going on. Pete Dryer was there, a big man, holding the battling drunks apart from one another. He saw David. “Get the little one, running down the street, David!”

David went after the man. He looked to be about twenty-one or twenty-two, and it wasn’t any problem getting him-he ducked and shrank, putting his hands up. “Hey, you got me, you got me, don’t hurt me!”

“I’m not going to hurt you. The cop down the street wants to talk to you, that’s all,” David said. “Turn around, and head on back.”

The kid did so. He looked younger, and terrified.

Two bigger fellows had been cowed. They stood on either side of Pete. “All right, what the hell is going on here?” Pete demanded.

“That little shit robbed me!” one fellow said.

“That’s my brother. He didn’t rob you,” the other big guy said.

Pete looked at the kid. “Did you rob him?”

“Hell, no! That stripper came out and started busing him all up-I didn’t take anything from him. Check my pockets!” the younger kid said.

Pete arched a brow. The kid pulled out his pockets. He had only his own wallet, which contained his ID. He was Lewis Agaro, age twenty-one, and he had ten bucks, an ATM card and one credit card, in his name.

“What are you three doing together?” Pete asked.

“We’re not together. That thug just suddenly started going after my little brother!” one man said explosively.

“Hey, sorry, man! So, now, come on, let’s go after the stripper!” the other man said.

“What stripper?” Pete asked.

“Well, what the hell, she’s gone now, what do you think?” the apparent robbery victim asked.

“All right, we’ll take a report from the robbery victim-the two of you need to get to your rooms for tonight, cause no more trouble, or I’ll see that you’re locked up for your vacation, and you’re not going to find any margaritas or hurricanes or any other such concoction when you’re in my custody!”

Pete looked at David. “Hell, I’m not even on duty!” he moaned. “I was going to join you guys for a drink. I got a car coming. I think I know which lovely little stripper is at her pocket-picking again. I’ll have to find her.”

David grinned. “Tomorrow, Pete,” he said. He had come halfway down the street. When he turned around and went back into the bar, Katie was gone.

He caught Clarinda by the arm, his touch far more forceful than he had intended. “Where’s Katie?”

“Gone, she went on home.”

There must have been a look of alarm on his face.

“I tell her all the time not to go alone!” Clarinda said.

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” David said. “Which way does she go?”

“Down Simonton,” Clarinda said. “Make her call me!”

David turned and headed out, running around the corner to the back. Almost two blocks ahead, he could see Katie.

Between them, he could see Sam Barnard. His heart leapt to his throat. Sam had to be watching out for her.

Why was Sam following her late at night, though?

“Katie!” He shouted her name.

Both Katie and Sam stopped, and turned back. Katie seemed surprised to see him; so did Sam.

“Sam, where are you heading?” he asked, moving up.

“My B and B is down the street,” Sam said. He blushed. “I’m staying at Artist House. We don’t have a place anymore.”

“Oh, well, it’s a beautiful place,” David said. They walked together on down to Katie where she waited.

“A couple of drunks got rowdy?” she asked.

“Yeah, Pete was there.”

She laughed. “Pete doesn’t have to deal with the drunks much these days. He must have been ticked that they acted up right in front of him.”

“Yep,” David said.

“Hey, a cop is a cop,” Sam said. He stood awkwardly for a moment. “Well, good night. See you all. Tomorrow, I imagine. Hey, Katie, you got your act up tomorrow night, too, right?”

“Sunday, yes,” she said. “Good night, Sam.”

Sam walked on. The streets were quiet. Katie waited, looking at David. “I was trying to walk you home,” he told her.

She smiled. “That’s nice.”

“Let me see you in.”

“Okay.”

They walked in silence for a minute. They reached her house and she opened the door. She seemed to hesitate, as if she was about to ask him in, but wasn’t sure.

He waited.

She didn’t.

“Thank you,” she said.

He nodded. “Well, keep your door locked, all right?” he asked.

Her smile deepened. In the muted light her eyes were truly a crystal that seemed hypnotic. He reminded himself that she was Sean’s little sister.

But Sean’s little sister had grown up.

“Well, good night,” he told her.

“Good night.”

She closed the door; he heard her lock it. He turned and walked slowly back to the Beckett house.

He paused on the street. He loved the house but tonight, it seemed cold, empty and forlorn.

And down the street, he could see the museum. He wasn’t given to anything illogical, but it seemed that night that the museum had a life of its own. It looked large in the shadows, dark and evil.

Irritated, he let himself into the house he now owned. He went to bed, and lay awake a long time, staring up at the ceiling.

Katie was exhausted, but the events of the past few days seemed to rush through her mind. She was restless, jumping at sounds. But then she grew angry with herself; she wasn’t easily scared. For God’s sake, it wasn’t as if she thought there was a ghost in her closet.

There might be a ghost in her closet, but if there was, she wasn’t afraid of it! Ghosts reached out. They needed help. They weren’t evil puffs of air or mist or…whatever. They were lost, and frequently, in pain.

She wondered then if there were evil ghosts. In her experience, no. For her, they were a part of life-just like allergies were to some people. Sometimes startling and annoying, and sometimes, like Bartholomew, they just seemed to hang around endlessly.

She was fond of Bartholomew. And he actually made her feel safe. In his odd, ghostly way, he was a very good friend. He was fond of her, as well.

She thought about David, and what he believed-that surely there was nothing in the world beyond the obvious. David wouldn’t be a big believer in ghosts.

She tried counting sheep. That was ridiculous. She looked at the clock. It was 4:00 a.m. She prayed for sleep.

At last, she drifted off, and then fell deeply asleep. She woke slowly in the morning, feeling the coolness of her sheets, hearing the hum of the air conditioner. Her drapes were closed, but the sun was filtering into her room. It was day; she had rested. And she felt good.

She stretched, and then rolled over, cuddling her pillow, wanting just a few more minutes in bed.

She froze.

Despite herself, she screamed.

She wasn’t alone in bed. The woman she had seen on Duval was there, lying next to her, staring into her eyes.

The woman was dead.

Her eyes were wide open, huge and blue, and staring sightlessly.

She was a ghost, of course…

The ghost of Tanya Barnard.

No matter where he went, no matter the project, David preferred staying close to the sea.

Actually, one thing that he had missed about home was the guarantee that the water was going to be temperate and beautiful. Sure, in the middle of winter even the Atlantic and the Gulf could be cold. But usually, nine months out of the year at least, the water was beautiful.