The Vision (29 page)

remarkable find.”

“Great news.”

“And today?” Sheridan asked.

“Nothing.”

“Ah, well, you’ll be back out tomorrow.”

“Yep.” He hung up.

By the time he reached his cottage, Genevieve was gone. He showered and changed for

the night.

It was already getting dark by the time he neared the tiki bar. Jack was playing chess with

Alex, while Lizzie and Zach looked on.

Victor had stepped away and was on the phone.

Genevieve was sitting beside Bethany, with Adam on her one side, Audrey next to him.

Nikki and Brent were at the table, as well.

“Thor,” Audrey said, and he thought it was almost as if she were announcing his arrival.

Silence fell, and the others looked up.

“We were about to order burgers,” Brent said. “You in?”

Thor nodded, then sat down next to Brent. “So where do you come from?”

“New Orleans.”

“Lots of reefs around there,” Thor murmured dryly.

Brent smiled slowly, using his thumb to rub the condensation off his bottle of beer. “Not

everyone lives where they dive, you know.”

“True. What kind of Indian comes from New Orleans?”

He knew Genevieve was frowning. He was certain the question was rude.

“If you’re asking my background, it’s Dakota. Irish mom,” Brent said.

Nikki was staring at him icily. “I’m straight from New Orleans,” she told him. “I was a

Du Monde. Would you like to see our passports?”

He shook his head. “I’m sure every document you possess is in perfect order,” he said

softly.

Brent started to rise; Adam lifted a hand.

Genevieve wasn’t about to be stopped by Adam. “I’d forgotten what an asshole Mr.

Thompson could be. Excuse me, will you? I have a phone call to make.”

She walked away. He watched her with concern, fingers tensing on the arms of his chair.

He should have been more careful. But he just couldn’t shake the idea that he was being

played.

It was either that or he’d had breakfast with a ghost.

He stared at the remaining group. Bethany and Audrey were both staring at him, wide-

eyed. Adam was wearing a tired but accepting smile.

“Attack me, if you want, Mr. Thompson. Not my employees,” Adam said, then looked

around at the group. “My associates and I work in the field of the unusual, the

unexplainable—the otherworldly, if you will.” He turned his attention fully upon Brent

then. “You see ghosts, right?”

“Yes,” Brent said flatly.

“And when did that start?”

“When I was a kid.”

“And you?” he asked, zeroing in on Nikki.

“I’ve always sensed them. Since a particular incident, I’ve been able to communicate

with them, as well.”

Thor shook his head apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m looking for

facts, that’s all,” he said softly.

“You’re looking for a black-and-white world. Something you can control,” Adam said.

“That’s not reality.”

“What’s reality is the body of a woman that was discovered on the beach,” Thor said.

Audrey frowned. “But, Thor, I don’t see how her death can relate to the dive. Or to any of

us. She was a prostitute. Prostitutes never know the men they pick up.”

“Do any of us really know anyone?” Nikki asked softly.

“Do you want a drink?” Brent asked. “I was going to go up to the bar, order our burgers,

just put them on the tab. I can get you a beer while I’m there.”

Thor had to admit he liked the guy. He had acted like a jerk, but it would be worse if he

was taken for a ride by these people.

“Yeah, I’ll have a beer, thanks.”

He kept an eye on Genevieve, who wasn’t far away; she was on her cell, speaking

intently.

To whom?

He realized that Nikki Blackhawk was staring at him, smiling.

He arched a brow to her.

She laughed softly. “You really are a good guy.”

He lifted a hand, puzzled.

“You’re watching out all the time,” she said. “You’ll be great—once you learn what to

watch out for.”

“And that would be?”

“We all learn as we go.”

Bethany drew his attention before he had a chance to ask Nikki what she mant. “Thor, did

you hear anything more about the little box? Was it silver? Was it filled with gold or

emeralds and rubies—”

“Letters,” he said.

“Letters?” Bethany said with disappointment.

“Letters?” Audrey was intrigued.

“Sheridan is pleased,” he said. As he spoke, Brent returned and handed him a cold beer.

He nodded his thanks. “I was just saying that the box Genevieve dug out a day ago

contains letters.”

“Oh?” Brent was intrigued. “Were they badly damaged?”

“They were packaged in a pig’s bladder,” Thor said.

“Ugh,” Audrey murmured.

“Hey, pig’s bladders and other organs were the first condoms, too,” Nikki offered

cheerfully.

“Okay, that is gross,” Bethany said.

“Imagine, though,” Audrey offered, “if you were a working girl back then.”

“I thank God for my century,” Bethany said.

Genevieve was back. She was behind him, but Thor knew she was there without looking.

“Speaking of centuries,” Audrey said thoughtfully, “do you think ghosts from one

century might hang around with ghosts from another? I mean, suppose you died in the

1700s and you met a ghost who died in the 1800s. Or last week, for that matter. What

would you have to talk about? Are there ghosts who are stronger than other ghosts? Are

there rules? Is there a way to learn how to be a ghost?”

Brent lowered his head, smiling. “A lot of it goes to simple belief,” he said. “Most of the world’s peoples hold some form of belief. Most religions find counterparts in one

another, no matter how far apart they seem to be. Some worship one god, some worship

several. But most believe human beings are something more than flesh and blood. That

there is an energy within us, our spirit. It makes me me, and you you, more so than any

compilation of DNA. The general belief is that flesh and blood dies—earth to earth, ashes

to ashes—but the spirit, or soul, moves on. It’s generally accepted that ghosts are spirits

who, for whatever reason, have not moved on.”

“The way you explain it,” Genevieve said, “things make sense.”

Thor was startled to feel a stab of jealousy. Well, sorry, I’m not a ghost hunter, he

thought, and realized he was almost bitter.

He wasn’t accustomed to feeling like this. And he didn’t like it. He gritted his teeth, fully aware that the power to change was his, and his alone.

But what change was he supposed to make?

“Do I think they communicate?” Brent asked Audrey. “Sometimes. Is there a book of

rules? Probably not. Is there more in the world than science has yet explained? Definitely.

Will we ever have all the answers? Probably not. Faith is as important to life as bald

facts.”

“Do you know what I’m thinking?” Audrey said suddenly, excitedly, looking at

Genevieve. “I think your ghosts might be from different times. I mean, if you had a

woman who was murdered by pirates, I think she’d be too afraid of them to get anywhere

near them. Maybe she’s from a different time, and she’s protecting you from the pirates.

What do you think?”

Genevieve groaned. “I think we need to stop talking about ghosts,” she said firmly.

“Hamburgers!” Victor announced suddenly.

The chess game had ended, and the players and their team cheerleaders came over to join

them.

Thor rose. “Let’s push the tables together,” he suggested.

He looked at Genevieve, wondering who she had called. She glanced over and saw the

obvious question in his eyes. She flushed. “I called Marshall’s cell and left a message.

I’m really getting worried,” she said.

“I’ve tried him a half-dozen times, too,” Victor told her.

“Looks like he doesn’t want to be found,” Alex said.

“It’s time the police looked into it,” Thor said.

“They are looking into it,” Genevieve told them, reaching for the ketchup. She paused,

realizing everyone at the table was looking at her expectantly.

“I spoke with Jay, too,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing. “He’s called some friends up in Miami. The call from Marshall came from a hotel on the beach, but Marshall was

never registered there. I told him I’d fill out a missing persons report tomorrow. If

Marshall didn’t want us hounding him, he should have had the sense to make sure

someone knew what was up!”

Thor wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he was certain Genevieve had called Jay about

something more than Marshall’s disappearance.

“They’ll find Marshall, don’t you worry,” Jack assured Genevieve. “And don’t you

worry,” he told Thor. “We’ll find plenty more at the bottom of the sea.”

After that, the conversation stayed well away from ghosts. And it seemed that everyone

was eager to call it a night. The diving had been exhausting, and they had another full day

ahead of them.

Genevieve had kept a slight distance between them. He didn’t press her, just headed to

his cottage on his own, hoping she wasn’t aware that he was watching her through the

window, determined to keep an eye on her.

Still, perhaps absurdly, afraid for her.

As he watched the group at the tiki bar break up, he saw Victor offer to walk Audrey

home. Adam waved to the group. Brent and Nikki went off, hand in hand, to their own

cottage. Zach and Lizzie walked down toward the beach, he noted. Well, if nothing else,

the two of them really seemed to be enjoying their time in the Keys.

At last Genevieve started toward the cottages.

Toward her own? Or his? At first he wasn’t certain.

But then, halfway along the path, he saw her stop. She went very still, chin raised. The

breeze caught the long tendrils of her hair, lifting it. Except for that slight movement, she might have been a statue, an elegant, perfectly formed, alabaster statue, she seemed so

frozen in place.

Then she spun around, looking wildly around her.

She stared first at the trees surrounding the parking lot and cottages. Then she turned and

stared back toward the water.

Once again, she stood still. Then she started walking.

Toward his cottage. Then she wasn’t walking, she was running.

Heedless of being caught spying on her, Thor threw open his door and stepped out onto

the porch. She all but flew into his arms.

“What is it?” he asked anxiously, smoothing back her hair, looking past her into the

night.

She shook her head, staring up at him. “I…I don’t know. Something ridiculous, I

suppose. I just felt that I was being watched. By someone other than you.”

“Sorry.”

“No. Thank you,” she said softly.

“I thought you were angry with me.”

“I am. Furious. I can’t believe how rude you were.”

“I’m sorry. So why did you call Jay?”

She gasped, backing away. “I—I called him about Marshall.”

“You’re lying.”

“All right. I called to tell him I helped Victor get rid of the stinking mannequin.”

He was floored.

“What?”

“He said he didn’t do it to begin with, but that the mannequin wound up in his cottage.

And I believe him. I’ve known Victor all my life. He said they’d ditched the idea. But…”

She paused. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No. I want you to get some sense. So you told all this to Jay, right?”

“Of course! I didn’t want him wasting his time chasing down such a ridiculous case. And

you’re twisting this around. Just because you don’t like Brent Blackhawk, you don’t have

to be so rude to him.”

“I like the guy just fine.”

“Then why be such a jerk?”

“Because I don’t like what’s going on around here.”

“Because you can’t beat up a ghost?” she demanded angrily.

He started to respond just as angrily, then paused. Hell, was that it?

“I’m sorry,” he said coolly. “I’m afraid I don’t believe in ghosts.” Was that the truth? Or

was he afraid of the truth.

Because she was dead right. How the hell did you fight a ghost?

“Then you don’t believe in me,” she said evenly, and started to turn. He was afraid she

intended to leave. He caught her by the shoulders, pulling her around.

“Don’t walk out on me,” he pleaded softly.

“I wasn’t walking out on you,” she replied.

“All right, sorry. You were just so angry—”

“Yeah. So are you. But I wasn’t walking out. You may not believe in me, but I’m sadly under the impression that this is what people call a relationship.”

“Oh, hell! Of course it’s a relationship,” he snapped.

He pulled her into his arms. It was a relationship, all right. Anger just led to kisses that were heated, almost violent. She was just as wild, just as angry. Beautiful. Living

alabaster. She touched him like burning lava, liquid and fluid, erotic and exotic; she

excited and teased him, and finally sated him. When he held her in the end, in bed, he still felt the frustration, the anger, that he didn’t know how to fight what was upsetting her.

Then she curled against him, flesh to flesh, her cheek resting on his chest. He stroked her

hair and lay awake.

Audrey was barely inside the house with her shoes off when the doorbell rang. She let out

a sigh, kicked the shoes aside and headed back.

She threw open the door and saw a familiar face. “Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

He pushed his way in.

“Hey,” she repeated, in irritated protest this time. “What the heck…?”

The door closed.

Her eyes widened. She was still entirely puzzled when he made his move.