The Abandoned (4 page)

“No problem.”

She retreated all the way back to the steps. He peered at her curiously through the mist, but made no attempt to approach her. “Are you okay? You seem a little…disoriented.” To put it mildly.

She struggled into the pajama top, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I got here. So help me God, if you drugged me—”

“
Drugged you
?” This just kept getting better and better. “Until a few minutes ago, I’d never even laid eyes on you.”

“Then how did I get here?”

“You tell me.” Her accusations offended him, but she looked so lost and vulnerable, he couldn’t help feeling protective of her. Outwardly, she appeared fine. He didn’t detect any blood or bruises, but something had obviously happened to her. “You don’t remember anything?”

“It’s all so hazy.” She touched a hand to her forehead. “I remember going to bed and then I had the strangest dream.”

“Dream?” He latched on to the first thing that made sense. “Maybe you were sleepwalking.”

“I’ve never done that in my life.”

“First time for everything. Do you live nearby? In one of the dorms maybe?”

She didn’t answer.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said. “If I’d wanted to hurt you, I could have already done so by now.”

Her chin came up. “You could have tried.”

He had to admire her pluck. “You’re free to leave,” he said, waving an arm toward the path. “I won’t try to stop you. But just so you know, you’re safer here with me than you are out there alone in the dark. Especially if you don’t know where you’re going.”

“I know where I’m going.” A slight tremor in her voice belied her defiance.

“Well, good. If you’ll wait until I gather up my equipment, I’ll give you a lift. If not…be careful out there.”

Ree knew that she should leave, but instead she lingered, inexplicably drawn to a total stranger. He was slim and attractive with an alternative edge to his demeanor and style that made her wonder if he was a musician, the kind one might see in some cool but slightly decadent after-hours club. Not someone she’d expect to find hanging out in an abandoned graveyard.

She had no reason in the world to trust him, especially considering her state of undress when she’d…awakened, for lack of a better term. But she wasn’t without memories, though hazy they might still be. She’d kissed him. He may have responded—that part was a little sketchy—but she was pretty sure she’d been the instigator. Which wasn’t like her. She was hardly a shrinking violet but she wasn’t exactly aggressive, either. Certainly not with a stranger she’d just met in a graveyard. It was all just so odd. She’d felt
compelled
to kiss him, as if she had no will of her own. As if she were merely a puppet in someone else’s dream.

She was fully conscious now, completely in control of her faculties, and nothing still made sense. The whole night was beginning to seem like a waking nightmare.

“So do you want a ride or not?” he queried.

An alarm sounded in her head, but so faintly Ree could easily ignore it. “Yes, a ride would be nice. I live a few blocks north of here. Just at the edge of campus.”

“You’re a student then?”

“I’m working on my master’s thesis, but I also volunteer at the Milton H. Farrante Psychiatric Hospital.”

She could almost hear the wheels turning inside his head. Disoriented girl alone in an old graveyard…

“I’m a psych major,” she added.

“Ah.” He made it sound as if that explained everything. “Do you have a name?”

“Ree Hutchins.”

“I’m Hayden Priest. Recent law school graduate and soon-to-be attorney when and if I pass the South Carolina bar.” He took a few tentative steps toward her. When she didn’t retreat, he offered his hand and she reluctantly shook it. A surge of electricity shot up her arm and she felt a little light-headed from the contact. Embarrassed, she dropped his hand and clutched the front of her top, which she’d buttoned all the way up to her neck. It was a little late for modesty, though, seeing as how he’d already seen her half naked. Ree actually caught herself wondering about the impression she’d made on him.
Idiot.

His eyes glinted in the moonlight. “Still don’t trust me?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Then why had she told him her name and where she worked? Why not just give him a handwritten invitation to stalk her? At least she’d had the good sense to be vague about where she lived. Not that it would matter if she accepted a ride and/or he turned out to be a serial killer.

She glanced around the old cemetery. Where the mist thinned, she could see stone faces glowing in the moonlight. All those sightless eyes unnerved her.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” she asked with a shiver.

He scratched the back of his arm. “I’m on assignment.”

“What kind of assignment?”

“I’m doing some testing for the Charleston Institute for Parapsychology Studies. Ever hear of it?”

That got Ree’s attention. “You’re a ghost hunter?”

“I prefer paranormal investigator. Ghost hunter is so limiting and I’m not opposed to tracking down vampires and werewolves, or even zombies, if it comes to it.”

A chill crawled up her spine even though she knew he was joking. At least…she hoped he was. “That seems an odd avocation for a lawyer.”

“Soon to be lawyer. The courts are pretty keen on that distinction.”

“So you’re here in the cemetery looking for ghosts?”

“
Listening
for ghosts. There’s a difference.”

“Have you heard anything?” she asked anxiously. “Voices, music…chanting…”

“Chanting?” He moved a step closer. Despite his easy manner, his gaze was extremely potent. “Now that
would
be interesting, but no. I haven’t been able to pick up so much as a whisper. No EVPs, no spikes in the EMF readings, no fluctuations in temperature, nothing on the K-2 meter or Frank’s Box. Nothing, nada, zilch.”

“Then why not give up?”

“Because something is here.” His voice dropped and Ree sensed a tremor of excitement go through him. “Can’t you feel it? It’s like an echo…a vibration…”

Ree felt something when he looked at her like that. “But no ghosts,” she said.

He shrugged.

“Maybe you don’t hear them because they don’t exist.”

“A nonbeliever, I take it.”

“Have you ever seen one?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Heard one?”

“Debatable.”

“And yet you still believe.”

He didn’t say anything to that, but merely gazed down at her. He looked pale and very mysterious in the moonlight. Ree trembled in spite of herself.

“Tell me about your dream,” he finally said.

She really didn’t want to talk about it, especially with him, but the moment he took her arm, she was lost. An odd bond had formed between them, one she still didn’t fully trust. But neither could she ignore it. She dropped down on the steps of the mausoleum beside him, and for some reason, it didn’t seem so strange anymore. He was easy to talk to, a very good listener, and Ree found herself telling him about some of the things she’d experienced since Miss Violet’s death, carefully skirting the blackmail scheme. If that somehow got back to Dr. Farrante, he’d suspect she was the source and she shuddered to think how far he might go to protect his work and his family’s legacy.

“You think Miss Violet’s death somehow triggered the dream?” Hayden asked when she was finished.

“Probably. But she wasn’t the young woman in the blue dress. I’m almost certain of that. I think that woman was her mother, Ilsa. According to the inscription in the book, Ilsa was ten years old in 1915. Violet was well into her eighties when she died, which means she would have been born in the early twenties when Ilsa was a teenager.”

“How do you suppose Violet ended up in the psychiatric hospital?”

“I have no idea. But she was there for years. As long as anyone on staff can remember. I think her confinement was somehow connected to her mother. Something bad happened to Ilsa in this cemetery.”

“You said you heard chanting in your dream. Could you tell what they were saying?”

“Not really. I had the sense that it was some sort of ritual, but it
was
just a dream.”

“And yet here you are.”

Here he was, too. Ree had to wonder about a man who could seem so completely at ease in an abandoned cemetery in the dead of night.

“It’s possible Ilsa is trying to communicate with you,” he said.

“Through my dream?”

“Have you had any other unusual experiences? Cold spots, electrical surges, anything like that?”

Ree thought about the radio playing in her bedroom and the stopped clock beside Violet’s bed. She thought about the frosted windows, the musty smell in her apartment, the sensation of someone behind her. And she drew a shaky breath.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Noted.”

“But…ever since Violet died, I’ve had this sensation of being followed, of needing to glance over my shoulder. And I’ve been hearing this strange song. It’s so haunting. Like a lost memory.”

“Go on.”

“That’s pretty much it. It’s all just my imagination, of course. I’ve been working too hard and I’m under a lot of pressure with my thesis. The mind can play tricks when exhausted.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?”

She hugged her arms around her middle. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Before tonight, you probably thought sleepwalking in an old graveyard pretty unlikely.”

“That’s different.” But an icy finger traced along Ree’s spine. “Do you really think I’m experiencing some sort of paranormal activity?”

He turned to gaze out over the crumbling graveyard. “I think there are a lot of things in this world—and the next—that can’t be explained.”

His tone, more than his words, deepened Ree’s chill. “Supposing I am being haunted. Why me?”

“Could be a simple matter of proximity. The ghost needed a conduit and you were handy. Or…”

She glanced at him. “Or what?”

“There’s a Chinese legend about hungry ghosts. Entities that devour human emotions. Spirits whose sole purpose is to sustain themselves in our realm by feeding on our warmth and energy.”

It disturbed Ree greatly that he didn’t appear to be joking this time. “How do you get rid of them?”

“You don’t. They get rid of you by slowly draining your life force.”

She hugged herself more tightly. “Just so you know…I still don’t believe in ghosts. But if you’re trying to frighten me, you’re doing a damn fine job.”

“Good. Because until you know the kind of entity you’re dealing with, you have to tread carefully. Best-case scenario, this ghost has an agenda. In which case, all you have to do is find out what she wants.”

“As simple as that.”

“Dealing with ghosts is never a simple matter,” he warned. “Rule Number One: hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

“What’s Rule Number Two?”

He hesitated. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“We?”

“I’m a ghost hunter, you’ve got a ghost. Match made in heaven. Or hell, depending.”

Looking back the next morning, Ree could almost believe the episode in the cemetery had been part of her “Ilsa” dream because the alternative was just too distressing. At some point during the night, she’d gotten out of bed, left her apartment wearing nothing but pajamas and trekked all the way across campus and through the woods where she’d somehow scaled the wall of an abandoned cemetery and tried to seduce a complete stranger. She hated to think what could have happened if anyone but Hayden had been in that graveyard.

But he’d been the perfect gentleman. Not only had he seen her home safely, he’d even provided his cell phone number in case she found herself in another compromising situation. He’d been so kind, in fact, that Ree had felt obligated to return the favor. Well…not obligated really. In truth, she’d wanted to make it easy for him to contact her because he was the first guy she’d felt attracted to in ages.

After he’d dropped her off last night, Ree had spent an unseemly amount of time thinking about him. She was at such a critical stage of her thesis that any spare moment of the day or night should have been devoted to her writing. But no. Even though she hadn’t been the slightest bit sleepy, she’d crawled into bed and lain there wondering how old he was, where he came from, if he was in a relationship.

It was almost inconceivable that she could be so obsessed after everything else that had happened to her. And he was a ghost hunter, of all things. Not in a million years would she have imagined herself attracted to someone so alternative. But maybe that was part of the appeal. He was the complete opposite of her.

Ree was still thinking about him as she got ready for class. She had the television turned down low so it was easy to let her mind wander and her thoughts had meandered off into a rather fascinating direction—her and Hayden cocooned in a misty cemetery. Alone and forgotten as if the world outside those walls had simply evaporated. Talk about interesting subtext.

Then, as she stood stuffing a stack of research notes into her messenger bag, a photograph flashed across the screen and she forgot all about Hayden. Gasping, Ree grabbed the remote to turn up the volume.

Jared Tisdale, the man she’d seen coming out of Dr. Farrante’s office, had been found shot to death in his home early that morning. The police had no suspects, no witnesses and no apparent motive.

No suspects…no motive…

Ree dropped heavily onto the sofa. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d overheard Jared Tisdale blackmailing Nicholas Farrante. And now Tisdale was dead.

Don’t jump to conclusions.
The man’s death might not have anything to do with that argument. Tisdale had said he owed a lot of money to some very unsavory people. It wasn’t a huge leap to assume his murder was somehow connected to his gambling debts.

Ree was still trying to convince herself none of this was her concern when the phone rang. She jumped in spite of herself. Normally, she was a calm and levelheaded person, but the news of Tisdale’s death had rattled her.