CnC 4 A Harvest of Bones (12 page)

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m going to find out anything I can about Sammy.” I opened the new étagère I’d bought to replace the one that had been destroyed in a robbery during the spring. While the insurance had paid off on my losses and I’d managed to replace most of the crystal that had been stolen, my Faberge egg collection was gone forever.

Next to a tiny crystal unicorn that had survived the damage sat an exquisite jade dragon—small enough to fit in my hand.

“O’Brien, you ever getting rid of that thing?” Jimbo gave it a cursory once-over but his gaze didn’t linger. The dragon had been cursed and he’d seen it in action. In fact, the curse had first brought Jimbo into my life.

I shrugged. “I’m thinking of selling it to a museum. I could put the money away for the kids’ college education. I guess I still have it because deep down I keep hoping that one of Daniel’s relatives will surface. I don’t know if I can ever forget his haunted face.”

“Ain’t gonna happen,” Jimbo said. “That family is defunct.”

“He’s right.” Joe peeked over my shoulder. “There’s nobody left to give it to, Em.”

I knew they were right but Daniel had died because of the statue, and I still couldn’t let go of the last residual guilt that lingered like ghosts in the wind. I knew his death hadn’t been my fault, but there was a tiny quiver of doubt still lurking in the recesses of my mind.

However, right now I had more important things to lose sleep over. I reached in and pulled out a crystal ball. A gift from Maeve, the antique orb weighed heavily in my hands. I cradled it, carrying it over to the sofa where I sat cross-legged in the middle. Joe and Jimbo took their respective seats in the rocker and recliner. I motioned for Kip to sit on the floor left of me, and for Randa to sit on my right.

I looked over at Joe and Jimbo, then settled back against the cushions. As I dropped into trance, the room fell away from my consciousness, slowly at first, then faster. I took three deep breaths and, on the third, summoned Samantha’s spirit. “Show me where you are.”

A whisper of energy grazed my cheek, and then another, and I could see a shadowy place, where the moon rose high in the sky, full and round. Trees, barren and black, marched across the horizon in a stark silhouette and crisp autumn leaves dappled the landscape. Cautious, I glanced around, hoping for a landmark, but nothing resonated as familiar. As I tried to decipher what I was seeing, Samantha crept out from beneath a dark patch of shrubbery.

“Sammy! Are you alive?”

She gazed at me with those liquid emerald eyes, and I knew that she lived. She was very much alive and afraid. I called her, gently this time, and she began to make her way in my direction, but a flicker of lights zoomed between us, and another cat—this one ghostly and distant—raced by. Skittish, Samantha whirled around and vanished back into the shadows.

“Sammy! Come here … come to Mama …” I waited, straining to see any movement, to hear any sound. Nothing stirred and I knew I’d lost the connection. Frustrated, I opened my eyes and set the crystal aside.

“Samantha’s alive. I can’t pinpoint her energy in terms of where she’s hiding. But I saw her and she recognized me. She’s afraid, though, and possibly lost.” I took hold of Kip and Randa’s hands and squeezed. “Trust me, we’ll do whatever it takes to find her. I miss her too. For now, you’ll have to go on faith that she’s okay.”

“She didn’t look hurt?” Kip asked, his voice quivering.

“No, honey. She didn’t seem hurt to me.”

Comforted, if only a little, they kissed me and took off upstairs to get ready for bed. I slipped the crystal ball back into the étagère and locked the door.

Jimbo headed into the kitchen. “Hey, how about some of that mint tea you always make for me?” Joe and I were about to follow when we heard him let out a shout. “O’Brien! Get your butt in here!”

We rushed in to find Jimbo’s face plastered to the door window. “What? What is it?”

“There’s some broad out in your backyard in her nightie.”

I motioned for him to step aside and peered out into the darkness, but all I could see was a trail of mist. “Where?”

“She was right there! I saw her in the backyard, near your shed.” Jimbo paled as he leaned against the window, searching frantically. “Where’d she go? I know I saw her! What the hell is going on?”

I patted his arm. “I believe you. Let me go see what I can find out—”

“I’ll go with you,” Joe said. “If somebody’s prowling around out back, I don’t want you out there alone.”

Bless his protective heart! But Joe wouldn’t be of any help at this point—I was walking into a playground where the rules went far beyond fists and testosterone-laden threats. “Sweetie, this isn’t anything you can protect me from. I know who she is. At least, who she
was
.”

“Does this have anything to do with the spirit that showed up last night?” he asked.

Jimbo perked up. “Spirit? What spirit? You mean I saw a ghost?”

I nodded. “I’ll tell you about it as soon as I come back. I need to go now if I hope to pinpoint anything. While I’m out back, put the kettle on. Joe, you know where the tea is.”

I grabbed a sweater from the back of a chair, and slid on a pair of loafers. Shivering in the chill night air, I headed toward the shed in my backyard. As I neared the building, I could feel a ripple in the air. The trees beyond the shed were barely visible in the black of the night, but I found myself drawn to the giant oak that towered in the corner of my yard, draping over into the lot next door. Pulled like a butterfly toward nectar, I moved forward one step at a time.

Brilliant flashes flickered through my mind. The Will o’ the Wisps? And then they were there, hovering above the fence as if they wanted to cross into my world but couldn’t. They bobbed near the oak, weaving their peculiar dance. As I watched them I could sense something else—
someone
, perhaps? The mist gathered into a whirl-wind, and for a moment, a face was visible in the white tendrils that twisted together. A woman’s voice echoed out of the fog.

“Come back to me—come back. Where are you? I miss you!”

“Brigit? Is that you? Brigit O’Reilly?” I spoke softly, trying to avoid registering any alarm. The scent of fear provoked both wild animals and wild spirits. And then, with a sob as low and quiet as my heartbeat, the mist vanished and the Will o’ the Wisps withdrew behind the fence.

I stared at the retreating lights, buffeted by feelings of bittersweet loss and a wistfulness for something that might have been but now would never be. Everything familiar had been ripped asunder. Tears streaming down my cheeks, I turned and headed for the house, where Joe and Jimbo waited anxiously.

“I was about to come out there when I saw you turn away,” Joe said. “Em, what’s going on?”

I blinked as the light from the kitchen brought me back to reality. Motioning for Joe to pour me a cup of tea, I sat down and absently munched on a cookie. Chocolate was definitely one of the most important food groups and I’d been sorely lacking in that department the past couple of days. I swallowed my Oreo and told Jimbo about the spirit outside of Randa’s room.

“So, is she the woman Jimbo saw out back?” Joe asked.

I nodded. “I think so.” I hustled out to the porch, where I sorted through the pockets of my jacket until I found the picture of Brigit, along with her journal. “Recognize these?”

“Those are from the room—” Joe stopped and took a closer look at the photo. “Was that her?”

“Yeah, and she’s the spirit I saw upstairs, and she was out back just now. And don’t forget the painting in the secret room. Brigit looks just like the woman in the mural.”

“So we’re dealing with the ghost of a young woman from Ireland. She lived in the basement of a prominent family in town and something happened because otherwise—well—her spirit wouldn’t be hanging around, would it?” Joe looked perplexed.

“Not unless it was the only place that ever felt like home to her—then she might return there. But the screams lead me to think otherwise.”

I thumbed through the journal, squinting to read the faded writing. Brigit had possessed a delicate hand, tiny and precise. The entries were meticulously penned, with poetry interspersed throughout the volume. The poems weren’t particularly good; she didn’t really have much talent, but they sounded straight from her heart. Several spoke of a village near the sea, and it was obvious she missed her home. Others, though, were fraught with unfulfilled love.

“She was in love,” I said. “She was in love with someone and afraid it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jimbo grunted. “Don’t even go there, O’Brien. All too familiar.”

I glanced up at him. The big lug was totally smitten with my best friend, and wasn’t afraid to admit it, but I knew he worried about how the relationship was affecting her career. As I flipped through the journal, two folded sheets of paper dropped onto the table. “What’s this?”

I set the book down and gently opened the crinkled onionskin paper. On it, in a firm hand that didn’t match the writing in the journal, was another poem. This one, I recognized.

“
The Lady of Shalott
?” Images of the walls in the secret room flickered through my mind. “I think we’re right about the mural—it refers to the
Lady of Shalott
. With Brigit playing the lead. But who was her Lancelot?”

Joe shook his head. “Someone she left behind in Ireland, perhaps? Maybe she had to leave her boyfriend behind. Maybe he died.”

There was no sign of a signature, and no way of telling who had copied out the famous ode to unrequited love. I felt the same wave of sadness I had out back. I quickly replaced the poem in the journal, setting it aside.

“Tomorrow I’m calling Harlow,” I said. “If anybody can find out about the Brunswicks for us, she can.” My other best friend, Harl, was the doyenne of the social circles in Chiqetaw. “Until then … I just don’t know.”

Jimbo glanced at the clock. “I need to get a move on. Anna will be off work in an hour and I want to have dinner waiting for her.”

“Your special fried chicken?” I asked with a grin. The biker was an excellent cook, only one of his many surprises.

He leaned down and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. “Just don’t let those critters out there get you, woman. Anna would never forgive me.” With a wave at Joe, he headed out the kitchen door and I watched through the window as he hightailed it around the side of the house to the driveway, where he hopped on his chopper and revved out onto the street.

Joe and I locked up, armed the security system, and headed upstairs. I peeked in on Kip; he was sleeping like a baby, but when I opened Randa’s door, she was sitting by her window, staring out forlornly onto the roof. I slid down beside her on the floor.

“What’s the matter, honey? Sad because it’s too cold to stargaze tonight?” She always grew irritable in the autumn and winter when the rains impeded her access to the skies.

She bit her lip and hung her head. “No, not really.”

I leaned closer. “Is it about Samantha?”

She nodded briefly. “Yeah, and Gunner’s folks. I talked to him today. I called to tell him I’m sorry.”

“How are they doing?” I encircled her shoulders with my arm and she rested her head against me.

“They’re holding on—it’s too early to tell, but they haven’t gotten any worse. Gunner is really upset. Tomorrow I’d like to drop by his aunt’s after school. Is that okay? He won’t be back in class for a few days.”

My selfish little girl was thinking about someone else for a change, and I was more than happy to see the compassionate side of her rear its pretty head. “I think that’s a great idea. Remind me to give you some money and you can take a bouquet with you.” I noticed the notebook in her lap. “Homework? I thought you finished it on Friday night.”

Blushing brightly, she hugged the paper to her chest. “I did. This … is something else.”

Though I knew I should keep my mouth shut—when I was a teen, I’d hated it when my parents intruded on my privacy—I made a tactical error. “So what is it?”

Randa pulled away. “
Muu-ther!
Do you have to know everything going on in my head? You’re such a snoop sometimes!”

Yep, the old Randa was still lingering behind the sweetheart. I gave her a long look. “It’s quite all right if you tell me something is personal. I’m willing to accept a reasonable request for privacy. But I am your mother and you
will
show me respect. You know the rules. That tone of voice and your snotty attitude are totally unacceptable, Miss.”

She stared at me for a moment, then shrugged and hung her head. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, handing over the pages. “I’m just trying to write something.”

I held the notebook in my hand, not looking at it. “Then that’s all you needed to say.”

She forced a tiny smile. “Thanks, Mom. I’m just writing some poetry. I got inspired tonight and everything seems so out of place … it seemed like a good idea.”

Poetry? Miranda? My Randa wouldn’t write a grocery list unless I forced the issue. I silently handed the notebook back to her without reading a word. “Go to bed now, baby. It’s been a long day for all of us. And be sure to remind me about the money for flowers before you leave for school.”

As I made my way to the bedroom, everything felt like it was shifting and changing. As the signs in the mountain passes warned, Unstable Footing, Watch Out for Rolling Rocks. I couldn’t help but wonder where the next bend in the road would take us.

 

 

MONDAY MORNING BROUGHT with it no sign of Samantha, but instead, a flurry of fog and forecasts for increased cloudiness and probable showers. Joe headed out to talk to his lawyer and, after giving Randa fifteen dollars for flowers, I shooed the kids off to school and called Murray, who promised to come over for lunch.

After I brewed my quad-shot espresso mocha, I put in a call to Harlow. We hadn’t spent much time together since she’d had her baby. James arrived home from a long job overseas in late August, just in time to greet his new daughter, Eileen Eugenia Rainmark. Harlow had her hands full with reunions and learning to be a mother and figuring out how she was going to handle the shifts her life had taken. Until this summer, she had been focused on physical fitness, charity work, and using her status as an ex-supermodel to further her causes.