4 Buried Secrets (2 page)

Celeste headed for the door. “Then let’s get going … our ghost town awaits us.”

Celeste slid her hand along the smooth polished wood of the wide oak banister as they made their way down the stairway to the hotel foyer. In contrast to their sloppily renovated suite, the main part of the hotel still had most of its original fixtures and was loaded with antique charm.
 

Celeste admired the vintage wall sconces and stained glass window in the foyer below as she navigated the creaky stairs behind Morgan.

 
“I think it’s my turn to drive.” Fiona held her hand out for the keys.

Morgan stopped short in the middle of the stairs almost causing Celeste to collide with her.
 

“No way.” She narrowed her eyes at Fiona. “You drove on the way here from the airport.”

Fiona snatched her hand back. “Fine, but I get to drive on the way back.” She tossed her red curls and hurried down the stairs two at a time.

Morgan looked at Celeste who shrugged. The two sisters had started fighting over who would drive as soon as they saw the white Cadillac Escalade Luke had rented for them while they were here in Nevada. Celeste could have cared less. She was happy to be a passenger and have time to gaze out over the desert landscape as they drove the ten minutes it took to get to the ghost town.

“Oh, I was looking for you guys earlier!”
 

Celeste turned to see Dixie Sumner, the owner of the hotel smiling out at them from the formal dining room where they’d enjoyed a delicious home-style dinner the night before.

“Oh?” Celeste raised a brow at Dixie as she stepped off the last stair.

“Yes.” Dixie came out into the foyer wiping her hands on a towel she had hanging over her shoulder. “I have some treats for your cat—turkey giblets.”

“Yech.” Fiona made a face.

Dixie’s cobalt blue eyes crinkled at the edges as she laughed. “Yeah, they are pretty gross, but cats love them. I cooked up some turkeys this morning and saved them for her in the fridge. Just pop into the kitchen and ask the chef, Dave, for them whenever you want.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Morgan said.
 

“That was really nice of you,” Celeste added.

“Oh, well, I’m an animal lover and I heard her meowing up there while you were all out this morning so I figured some treats might keep her happy.”

“Oh I hope that’s not a problem. She didn’t bother any of the guests, did she?” Celeste felt a tug at her heart. She hoped no one had complained about the cat.

“Oh pfft.” Dixie waved her hand in the air. “She’s not a problem. Besides, in case you guys haven’t noticed, there aren’t many people here to complain.”

“I had noticed that,” Morgan said. “Is it the off season?”

Dixie’s smile faltered. “Well, that and Sheriff Kane seems hell-bent on doing whatever he can to make sure I go out of business.”

“Is that the sheriff here? Why would he want you to go out of business?” Fiona asked.

“I have no idea.” Dixie brushed a strand of gray streaked ash-blond hair out of her face. Celeste noticed her hands were red and rough—working hands. She felt a sudden twinge of compassion for the woman. From what Celeste could tell the pretty, middle-aged hotel owner worked hard for what she had. Why would the Sheriff want to close her down?

 
“But anyway, that’s not anything for you guys to worry about.” Dixie’s face brightened. “Where are you headed off to today?”

“We’re heading into the ghost town—Dead Water.” Celeste saw a cloud pass over Dixie’s face as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing. That place creeps me out.” Dixie laughed nervously. “I’ve heard some strange things down there … especially near the old mines.” Dixie slapped the towel back over her shoulder and started off toward the dining room. “You gals be careful out there, rumor is that place is haunted.”
 

“That’s exactly why we’re going there,” Celeste said softly as she turned and headed for the car.

***

Celeste stared at the old sign that marked the cutoff for the ghost town. Dead Water—1876. It had been a thriving mining town in the late 1800s but once the gold and silver ran out in the early 1900s the inhabitants started to move on. By the 1930s, the town was abandoned except for a few old miners who hung on, eking out a living from the few nuggets they could persuade the mine to give up.

No one had lived in Dead Water for eighty years or more. The homes around the town had all been reduced to piles of rotted wood decades ago, but some of the buildings on the main street were still partially standing. Like the saloon Celeste had been in that morning.

Morgan parked at the end of what was left of Main Street. Buildings in various states of disrepair dotted both sides of the street. The saloon, a country store, the front facade of what must have been a hotel. At one end was what was left of the Sheriff’s office and jail, which stood next to the remains of the bank and the two remaining walls of the brick vault.

The girls got out and stood in the middle of the town. In the distance, Celeste could see the hills that housed the mines. The landscape was flat with humps of sand here and there, which she assumed were the remnants of old buildings. Other than the three girls, the place was deserted … unless there were ghosts.

Celeste turned to Morgan. “Are you getting any vibes or anything?”

Morgan scrunched up her face in concentration. She usually got a “feeling” about certain situations and over the past summer, the sisters had learned to trust those feelings. She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Where did you see that ghost of the sheriff?” Fiona asked. “Maybe if we go there we’ll see him and can ask more questions.”

“In the saloon.” Celeste pointed to one of the few buildings that still had all four walls and a roof. The front of the building had a rectangular portion in the middle that was taller and Celeste could still see remnants of the old saloon sign. Boards lay scattered in front where there was once a wooden porch. A few turned wooden posts that originally held a balcony over the porch still stood, but the balcony was long gone.

Celeste could picture swinging saloon doors in the wide opening at the front as they walked toward it. Stepping inside, the room looked exactly as she had left it.

The floorboards creaked and sagged alarmingly as the girls walked further into the large room. Celeste squinted, waiting for her eyes to get used to the dim light.
 

“Grandma and Deke were over at the bar.” She pointed toward the end of the room where half of a bar remained.
 

“Grandma was at the bar?” Fiona asked.

“Yep. She had on a saloon girl dress, too.” Celeste felt her lips curl in a smile. Grandma’s ghost was full of entertaining surprises. “And she slugged down some whiskey from a shot glass … or at least I think it was whiskey.”

Morgan snorted. “Grandma? I can’t picture her doing that.”

“I think she was bringing the ghost to me,” Celeste said. “She said he was stuck in 1878 and she wasn’t even sure he knew he
was
a ghost. Maybe she had to dress the part to get him to talk.”

“Or maybe she just thought it would be fun,” Fiona added.

Celeste laughed. “Probably. But she’s not here now and neither is Deke.”

Morgan turned around, looking at the room. “This place is pretty cool though. I’m surprised it’s held up so well.”
 

“I wish the second floor was still intact.” Fiona looked up at the large holes in the ceiling where one could see up to the trussed roof. Celeste followed her gaze, angling her head to the right so she could see the old wallpaper hanging from one of the few walls left standing.

“I wonder what was up there … was this a brothel too?” Morgan asked.

Celeste shrugged. “Weren’t they all?”

Fiona crossed to the opposite corner where the top of a stairway hung from the second floor. The bottom half of the stairs had fallen down and lay in pieces on the floor, but the top six steps had remained attached to the wall and hung there as if suspended in air.
 

Fiona picked up an ornately carved mahogany post. “These stairs must have been really nice back in the day.”

Celeste was about to answer when a swirly mist on the top stair caught her attention.
 

Was that a ghost?

She grabbed Morgan’s arm. “I think I see a ghost.” Celeste stared at the stairs as the misty figure descended. The ghost wasn’t taking shape very well and Celeste could only see a slight image, but it appeared to be a woman with a long swirly dress.

Fiona and Morgan couldn’t see the ghost, but they followed Celeste’s eyes to the stairs.
 

“Hello?” Celeste ventured.

The ghost hesitated, turned in Celeste’s direction for a second, and then continued toward the saloon door.
 

“That was a different ghost … a woman,” Celeste whispered. “I don’t think she heard me—she went out to the street.”

“Well, let’s follow her,” Fiona said and led the way out the door. Once outside, Celeste looked up and down the street, squinting against the harsh glare of the sun.
 

“She’s at the end, walking toward the hills.” Celeste took off after the ghost with Morgan and Fiona following.
 

“Hello … excuse me.” Celeste tried to contact the ghost again but she was ignored. The ghost glided up a small hill and disappeared into an area sectioned off by a low, black iron fence … a graveyard.
 

The graveyard was small with only twenty or thirty graves. Some had plain markers and some had fancy headstones. Celeste shivered as she glanced at one of the stones—a child’s grave with an angel carved in the flat piece of slate that bore the child’s name and age. She watched as the ghost floated slowly past the graves toward the back of the cemetery.

The area in back was flat with no tombstones. The sand was dotted with patches of grass and scrub. The ghost stopped at the very back and knelt down. Celeste could see the corner of some sort of plaque buried in the sand.
 

Was it a grave?

Celeste’s heart tugged as she approached. The ghost was weeping soundlessly.
 

“Can I help you?” Celeste asked.

The ghost turned her face slowly toward Celeste. She was starting to take form now and Celeste could see she was a young woman in her twenties. Pretty. Long curls piled up on top of her head. She opened her mouth and one word came out.

“Vindication.”

Icy fingers ran up Celeste’s spine just before a white blur streaked between her legs and landed right on top of the grave.

“Belladonna!” Morgan gasped.

The cat landed in front of the ghost who shrank back and began to fade away.
 

“Wait … vindication for what?” Celeste pleaded … but the ghost had vanished.
 

Belladonna blinked at the sisters then turned and starting digging in the sand.

“Belladonna, stop that!” Morgan said and turned to Celeste and Fiona. “How did she get out here?”

Celeste stared at the cat.
How
did
she get out here and how did she even know where they were?
“Beats me. She seems to have a way of finding us.”

Morgan shivered and rubbed her hands on her bare arms. “That’s too strange. I hope we can get her in the car easily because I don’t think I want to hang around here.”

“Are you getting a vibe?” Celeste asked.

 
“Yeah. I feel … unsettled. Like something bad happened here … or is going to happen.” Morgan shrugged. “I can’t tell which.”

“Well, whatever it is, it might have something to do with love.” Fiona held out her wrist and Celeste raised her eyebrows at the pink stone glowing brightly on her sister’s bracelet.
 

“That’s rose quartz,” Fiona said. “The gemstone of love.”

Celeste frowned at the spot where the ghost had been. “Well, maybe our ghost was in love.”

“Maybe.” Morgan bent down to scoop up Belladonna.

“But what does that have to do with finding this cache of gold?” Fiona asked as they started back toward the car.

 
Celeste pressed her lips together. “I guess that’s
what we need to find out.”

Jolene Blackmoore closed the laptop, a satisfied smile lighting her face as she congratulated herself on digging up a good lead on Shorty Hanson … too bad no one was around to share it with.

She frowned into the silence of the empty suite. Her sisters were back in Dead Water, Luke was in town and Jake was trying to find out whatever he could about the treasure, which meant all the cars were gone. The clock said it was past noon and luckily there was a nice little bar connected to the hotel. And, since bartenders usually knew everything, she could do a little extra detective work of her own.

She pulled worn, brown leather cowboy boots over her jeans and threw on an orange t-shirt then headed down the stairs and out the door. The entrance to the bar was on the other side of the hotel and she took a deep breath of fresh air as her boots scuffed across the dirt and gravel parking lot. The hotel room was air-conditioned but she found it a bit stuffy and kind of chilly. The desert sun felt good streaming down on her so she took her time walking to the bar.
 

Pulling the door to the bar open, she stood just inside the dimly lit room. The room was small, cozy almost. Tables and chairs sat against the walls, all of them empty except for one in the back where a thirty-something couple was engaged in intense conversation. In front of her, a long polished wooden bar beckoned. A white haired man sat on a stool at one end. Jolene slid into a seat three stools down from him.

The bartender looked to be in his late twenties. Tanned, tall and handsome, he flashed a lopsided smile at Jolene and she felt a prickle of interest.
 

“Hi, I’m Kyle, What can I get‘cha?”
 

“What do you have on tap?” Jolene tilted her chin toward the metal handle of the beer tap dispenser feeling slightly disappointed he hadn’t asked for id. Having just turned twenty-one, it was still fun for her to produce her license to prove it.