Was the girl already dead?
There was no way to know. Not until he discovered the truth of where she had gone, and why.
Alone in the night, he swore out loud, drove around the block and parked again.
In front of Hastings House.
Where he spent the night, dozing in his car.
8
M att didn’t come to her that night.
Leslie lay awake for a long time, waiting, yearning for him to appear in the flesh.
Then she punched her pillows and made herself go to sleep, willing him into her dreams. But she woke early, all too aware that there had been no Matt—not even dreams of Matt—during the night. She rose, running her fingers through the tangles in her hair, and looked around.
“Please,” she whispered. “I know you’re here. Please…you have to let me see you.”
Silence was her only answer.
Even though it was ridiculously early, she knew she wasn’t going back to sleep, so she showered and dressed for the day, then went downstairs to make the coffee. It was when she was pouring water into the pot that she saw something with her peripheral vision. She held still for a moment, until she realized that the pot had overflowed and the water was running over her hands. She turned it off and looked toward the hearth.
Where she saw a woman apparently stirring something in a large pot hung over a ghostly fire.
Leslie remained silent, watching. The woman was young, pretty, wearing a mobcap over her soft blond hair.
After a long moment, Leslie spoke to her. “Please, don’t leave,” she said softly.
The woman froze; Leslie was sure she was about to fade away to nothing.
“Please,” Leslie said very softly. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
The woman began to fade, then became more visible again.
“I was betrayed,” she said. Her eyes became great pools of tears. “By one I trusted. One I loved,” she whispered.
Suddenly she spasmed, arching slightly backward, then slumped forward and faded away completely.
Leslie inhaled, staring for a very long timeat the spot where the woman had stood. But the woman was gone, and she knew it. Still, she felt a sense of elation. The apparition had not just appeared; it had spoken to her.
She turned, newly invigorated and wide awake, and finished making the coffee. A few minutes later, she heard a noise at the front door and Melissa came in. “You’re up early.”
“And you’re at work early,” Leslie replied.
Melissa nodded. “I have some paperwork to finish. I can’t stop thinking about last night, though. I’m sure this house is haunted. I think a ghost put that missing money back on the table for me.”
“Who knows?” Leslie said thoughtfully, then frowned suddenly. “Melissa, how long have you worked here?”
“Well, I was hired right before they had that party to open the place, but then they had to close it for a while because…well, you know.”
“So what happened then?” Leslie asked.
“Greta—she insists we call her Greta—said she was sorry, but the society couldn’t afford to keep us on while the house was being repaired, so I told her I’d just take a temporary job and come back here once it opened again. I love this house. I would never give up an opportunity to work here. And now that I know it’s haunted…”
“Maybe.”
Melissa pointed a finger at her. “You know it is.”
“I do?”
Melissa gave her a smile as if to say it was okay that she was trying to pull the wool over her eyes. “You know it’s haunted. You’re special.”
Leslie felt uneasy, as if she belonged in some carnival freak show. “Melissa…”
“If you see a ghost, you’ll let me know, right?” Melissa implored.
“Sure. If we’re standing here and a ghost appears, I’ll let you know. And you let me know, too, right?”
“There was one here yesterday. That’s why the books balanced.”
“So we have a ghost who used to be a CPA, huh?”
Melissa frowned and looked hurt.
“I’m just teasing you,” Leslie said quickly. “Who’s to say a ghost didn’t help you, right?” Leslie said, then went on to say, “If you still want to help with the dig, I’ll arrange for you to come help on Saturday, how’s that?”
Melissa looked as if she were experiencing pure rapture for the first time in her life.
“Great,” Leslie said. “I’m going to head over there now.”
“This early?”
“I like to get to the site ahead of the crowd.”
Melissa nodded sagely. “Better for getting vibes, right?”
“Better for working.”
“I brought doughnuts—you want one?”
“I’d love one, thank you.”
“Actually, I keep eggs and bread and sandwich stuff in the fridge, too. You can help yourself.”
Leslie helped herself to a doughnut. “Thanks. I owe you big time.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
She wolfed down the doughnut, finished her coffee and thanked Melissa again. Then she headed out.
She was surprised to see Joe’s car parked across the street. Frowning, she walked over to it. He looked up before she reached him, looking a little dismayed. But he had been sitting there going through files, and he didn’t try to hide them.
“Hi,” she said, her tone turning the simple word into a question.
“Hi,” he said sheepishly.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
He lowered his lashes for a moment, then slid on a pair of dark glasses, effectively shielding whatever thoughts might have been evident in his eyes. He shrugged. “I saw a dark sedan leaving here last night. Just thought I should stick around.”
She smiled slowly, a little irritated, but mostly grateful. “You’ve been here all night?” she asked him. “Thanks. I think. But, come on, you’re a private investigator. How many dark sedans do you think there are in New York?”
“Okay, more than a few. Want a ride to work?”
“A couple of blocks?” she asked.
“Want a walk to work?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He got out of the car. The sun was just beginning to come up over the southern tip of Manhattan. Skyscrapers reached up toward the heavens, bathed in a delicate pink light. There was no hustle and bustle yet. The muted pastels hid the sins of the city, cloaking the trash and decay.
She glanced over at Joe as they walked. He reminded her so much of Matt. She wanted to be close to him. Feel protected by his height and size. Touch his hair, stroke his shoulders.
Because he reminded her of Matt, she told herself. Which was a bad reason.
And it wasn’t fair to him at all. He was a fine man in his own right.
“By the way, I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“I know you lost someone, too. A girl…”
He gazed at her, offered a rueful smile, shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”
“Do you ever really forget?” she asked.
“You don’t forget, but you do go on. You learn to laugh when you remember good things. A certain smile, a way of doing something. Oh, there’s the guilt, too, of course. Why am I alive, when someone who deserved to live so much is gone? I’ve made my peace with the past.” He was silent a minute. “Eventually, you will, too. It’s harder when it’s not the natural order of things, though. I still miss my parents, but they had a great life together. I honestly think my father died of loneliness after he lost my mother, but they were older and it was their time. But when it’s someone young, cheated out of a natural life span, I guess we can’t help but be bitter. But the truth is, long or short, life is a gift, and so long as we’re alive, we need to appreciate that fact.”
She grinned at him. “Trust me, I am grateful to be alive.”
“Then you have to live your life to the fullest. Not just for yourself but for Matt. Follow your dreams. Look to the future.”
She laughed. “Well, for me, that means digging for the past.”
“Absolutely.” He slipped his hand around hers and squeezed it.
A policewoman stationed on the corner near the dig gave them a pleasant nod. Leslie noticed that there was a greater police presence around the entire site than there had been previously. She stopped walking and looked around for a moment. So much that was new had been built on top of so much that was old, so much that was underground. Hastings House had been part of the Underground Railroad. She smiled ruefully to herself. She didn’t know why that thought kept recurring to her. The word underground didn’t always mean literally “under the ground,” she reflected. Sometimes it meant below the scope of authority.
New York was definitely an underground city in every sense of the word.
“Where’s the big excitement?” Joe asked.
“What?”
“You’re staring awful hard at something.”
“Sorry—just looking at the site and the buildings and…Just looking.”
“New York. Gotta love it,” Joe said.
“I do. Look at all the cops. I guess someone decided to step up security,” she said.
“Your little ‘accident’ yesterday turned this into a major find,” Joe reminded her.
At the gate, there were two guards. Leslie started to reach for her identification, but the taller one nodded at her and said, “We all know you, Miss MacIntyre. Come on in.”
“Well, I’ll leave you here,” Joe said.
“And I’ll see you tonight. If you’re awake,” she teased.
“I’ll be awake,” he promised her.
She walked on through the temporary wire gates that allowed entry to the site and carefully made her way through the grid, heading straight for the entry to the crypt.
Glow lights that couldn’t possibly catch fire had been set in two corners of the room. Leslie left them where they were and fumbled in her bag for her flashlight. Turning that on, she looked around.