Cemetery Tours (38 page)

The fourth time he woke up, she was there, smiling at him, holding his hand, and looking more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen before.

“Hey,” Kate greeted him, blinking back tears.  

He held her gaze for a moment.
  Then he rasped, “And
that
is why I don’t tell people.”  She laughed.  

“I don’t blame you,” she tol
d him.  “How are you feeling?”

Michael had to think about that one.
  “Very medicated...”

“That’s probably a good thing.”
  Kate leaned forward and stroked his hair.  “You saved my life.”  

“Returning the favor,” he whispered.
  Kate’s smile broadened as she kissed him lightly on the cheek.  “So what happened?” 

“Chastity and Beau were both arrested.
  The police are investigating the other murders.  And Luke is getting a
lot
of press coverage.”

“He’s not... I mean...”

“No.  No one’s said a word.”  

Michael heaved a sigh of relief and closed his eyes.
  He felt Kate kiss him once more on the forehead before he drifted back to sleep.

~*~

Michael’s condition continued to improve until, five days later, he was released.  He’d still have to be on pain meds for a while, and his arm would be in a sling for at least six weeks, probably longer, to allow his collar bone to heal, but his doctors were confident he’d make a full recovery and felt no qualms about sending him home.  

Kate had driven up earlier that morning to help him pack the things she’d brought up for him throughout the
week: clothes, books, toiletries.  Then, once all the paperwork was done, they’d make the sixty minute drive back home.     

Throughout the week, they’d somewhat been keeping up with the investigation.
  They learned that Beau Jennings had been a member of Cannon’s old congregation back in Oklahoma.  Everyone thought he’d followed the Cannons to Texas to be with Chastity, but the truth was that he’d been in love with her brother, Simeon.  Chastity had found out about them back in Oklahoma.  Instead of killing Beau, however, she’d managed to guilt him into believing that his sin was to blame for Simeon’s death and that the only way to earn forgiveness was by “living out God’s will.”  To be honest, Michael pitied the guy.       

Meanwhile, Luke’s costars from
Cemetery Tours
had all flown in to lend moral support to their heroic lead investigator.  They’d stopped by to visit Michael in the hospital, though Kate had gotten much more of a kick out of it than he had.  Still, it had been nice of them to make the journey and Michael appreciated their being there.             

Kate’s parents were another matter entirely.
  Although Kate had not been injured, it was impossible to keep something like involvement in an attempted kidnapping and murder a secret, and when Mr. and Mrs. Avery had found out, they’d gone ballistic.  And that was
before
Kate had let it slip that she knew about Trevor.  Although they hadn’t come to yell at him in person, they’d voiced their concern more than a few times to Kate by telephone.  She didn’t tell him everything that they said, but it was enough for Michael to know that if Kate ever wanted to date him again, they would not have her parents’ approval.

By the time they’d almost finished packing, Kate’s cell phone was ringing for the fourth time that day.
  Fortunately, this time it was Gavin.  

While Kate stepped out of the room to talk to her brother, Michael did his best to finish stuffing his suitcase with one good arm.
  It was difficult, but he wanted to be able to do things for himself.  It was bad enough that he wasn’t allowed to drive.  He wasn’t going to have Kate or Gavin or his mother tending to his every need for the next six to twelve weeks.  

“I think you dropped something.”
  The rough voice startled Michael, even though he probably should have been used to people walking in on him after five days in the hospital.  He turned and was surprised to see Trevor standing in the doorway.  Trevor ignored his stunned expression.  “Your shirt?”  

Michael glanced down at the floor and sure enough, one of his shirts had tumbled out of his suitcase and on to the floor.

“Thanks,” he told Trevor as he knelt down to pick it up.  “I didn’t really expect to see you again.”

“I know.
  But it seems that there’s something still holding me here.  And after everything you went through, I realized what it is.”

“What’s that?”
  Michael asked, still a little afraid that Trevor might want to beat him up.  

“I never thanked you for everything you’ve done for her.
  And for me.  I know how easy it would have been for you to let her go on believing I was just some jerk.  To be honest, if our roles were reversed, I’m not sure I would have been able to tell her,” Trevor admitted.  “You’re a good guy, Michael.”

“So are you.”
 

“Well...” he grimaced good-naturedly.
  Michael chuckled.  Trevor’s expression softened.  “You take care of her, alright?” 

“I will,” Michael promised.
 

With one final nod of gratitude and respect, Trevor walked toward the window and looked up at the sun.
 
Then he disappeared in a flash of white and gold light.  

Kate reappeared a few minutes later.
 

“Do you have everything?” she asked.

“I think so,” Michael replied.  

“Are you alright?
  You look a little sad.”

“Just ready to be home,” he told her.

“Me too.  I think I’m ready for things to be back to normal.”  

“Normal.
  What’s that like?”  he asked.  Kate laughed.  

“To be honest, I don’t really know,” she grinned up at him.
  “Guess we’ll have to figure it out.”  

Moments later, a nurse arrived with a wheelchair.
  After assuring her they wouldn’t need assistance, Kate thanked the nurse while Michael took a seat and set his suitcase on top of his lap.  Then, Kate took the handles and pushed him out of the room, through the hallway, and into the elevator.  They rode in a comfortable silence down to the first floor, where Kate pushed his wheelchair through the lobby and all the way to the front entrance.      

More than ready to be back on his feet, Michael stood and stretched while Kate returned the wheelchair to one of the nurses.
  When she came back, she took him by the arm and said, “Do you need me to go and get the car?  I parked in the spot closest to the door.”

“Nah.
  It feels good to walk,” Michael told her.  Kate smiled again and together, they walked through the automatic sliding doors and into the fresh summer air.        

“There he is!”

Both Michael and Kate turned in the direction of the shout.  A group of two dozen reporters, photographers, and paparazzi were bearing down on them.  Before either realized what was happening, they were separated by a frenzy of eager news reporters.  Cameras were clicking, flashes were firing, and Michael had about five microphones being shoved into his face at once.    

“Mr. Sinclair, Vince McLaughlin from CNN.
  Would you answer a few questions for me?”

“Michael, Tish Peterson, WFAA.
  Can I talk to you briefly about what happened a few days ago?” 

“Michael, please, just a few questions for CBS.”

There were so many people calling his name that Michael wasn’t sure which way to turn.  Lost in the commotion, he tuned everything out and tried to find a pathway back to Kate.  

“Please, um, I’m sorry.
  No comment,” he told them, but there were so many, he wasn’t sure any of them had actually heard him.   

Above the shouts and confusion, Michael could hear Kate shouting, “Get out of the way!
  Leave him alone!  Michael!”

“Mr. Sinclair, are you and Miss Avery dating?”

“Is that what compelled her and TV personality Luke Rainer to attempt such a daring rescue?” 

“Mr. Sinclair, is there anything you’d like to say to the people who abducted you?”
 

What was with all of this attention?
  Surely there were a lot more interesting things going on in the world.  Things that were actually worth reporting.  But if he was what these people wanted to write about, maybe he should answer a few of their questions.  The sooner he gave them what they wanted, the sooner they would leave, and the sooner he could go home.

“Okay, I’ll answer a few questions,” he announced.
  “Just one at a time, if you can.”

“Mr. Sinclair, Seth Withers, NBC.
  I have just one question,” an enthusiastic young man addressed him.

“Okay.”
 

“Is there any truth to the claim that you can actually see and communicate with the dead?”
 

Oh God
.    

And just like that, the world stopped.
  No one spoke.  No one seemed to breathe.  They all just waited silently and hungrily for his response.

Lie!
  Lie!  Lie!  

Somehow, Michael managed to pick out Kate’s face in the crowd.
  She looked just as pale and bewildered as he felt.  He couldn’t speak.  He couldn’t think.  And with every passing second, his silence all but confirmed the curiosity and disbelief in every reporter’s eyes.

“I... I mean... Um...”

Wrong answer. 

Suddenly, the crowd exploded with more vivacity and persistence than before.
     

“Is it true then, Michael?
  Is Miss Cannon telling the truth?”

“How do they find you?
  How does it work?”    

“Can you actually
see
ghosts, Mr. Sinclair?”  

Michael wanted to run, but for some reason felt rooted to the spot.
  He wanted to deny everything, but couldn’t form the words.  It felt like a nightmare, but try as he might, he couldn’t wake up.  

Dissatisfied with Michael’s lack of response, a few reporters turned to ambush Kate.
 

“Miss Avery, you spoke with us a few days ago.
  Why didn’t you tell us about Mr. Sinclair’s astonishing ability?”

“Did you know your boyfriend had a sixth sense?”

Flabbergasted and overwhelmed, Kate turned wide eyes on Michael.  He wished he could help her, but the reporters who had chosen to stick it out with him were growing even more restless.  They weren’t going away.  There was only one way out.  

“Yes,” he answered.

Time screeched to a halt.    

Deafening silence.
 

All eyes on him.
 

Then the questions began all over again.
   

Nightmare begins now
.

Okay, this could take a while.

First and foremost, I’d like to thank my Lord and Savior for all that He has given me.  

I’d also like to thank...

My mother, Susan, for being an ever abundant source of love, enthusiasm, support, and patience and for her willingness to see me through not four, but six years of expensive higher education only to have me major in the creative arts.  

My father, David, for always encouraging me to pursue my dreams, and for teaching me never to settle.  He acts as my left brain, as I have none, and is always eager to guide, to enlighten, and to sacrifice for his girls.

My sister, KJ, for reading and rereading all hundred and seven versions of this one book.  She is my best friend, my twin soul, and the only person in the world whose opinion I trust 100% of the time, especially when it comes to books.  

My amazing editor, Nancy Lamb, for her wisdom and impeccable grammar skills. 

My teacher and mentor, Steve Lund, for nurturing countless students‘ love of reading, writing, and of course, William Shakespeare.  

My awesome graphic designer, Benjamin Durham, for his time, talent, and eagerness to take on new projects.  

My friend and fellow author, Stephen Harrison, for his guidance, encouragement, and willingness to answer all of my questions about writing and publishing.   

My business advisor, Evan Daniels, for taking the time out of his busy schedule to meet with me and answer all of my questions.

My awesome marketing advisor, Lindsey Edison.  Thank you for your time and wonderful ideas! 

My two best friends in the world, Kat and Jessica.  Kat, you are my favorite twin who is actually not my twin.  Jessica, you are the best travel buddy anyone could ask for!  I love you both more than words can say and I don’t know what I would do without you!

Finally, my favorite paranormal investigators, the Ghost Adventures Crew.  I started watching their show on October 24, 2010, and have been watching ever since.  And no, neither Luke Rainer nor any member of his crew is based off of Zak, Nick or Aaron, but I would be lying if I said they didn’t inspire me.  

JACQUELINE E. SMITH
makes her writing debut with CEMETERY TOURS.  A longtime lover of words, stories, and characters, Jacqueline earned her Master’s Degree in Humanities from the University of Texas at Dallas in 2012.  She lives and writes in Dallas, Texas, but is not-so-secretly hoping for her own private lake house.