Haunted (27 page)

Darcy's muscles were tensed like bowstrings. A sheen of perspiration had broken out on her face. She tossed on the bed, hands going to her throat.

Clint rushed into the room. “You've got to stop this!” he told Adam.

“Here, here, here…” Darcy murmured.

The door slammed inward with force. Adam saw that Matt Stone had arrived on the scene.

“What in hell is going on here?” he demanded.

A sudden breeze blew and the balcony doors flew inward. Distracted, Adam looked toward the balcony. He heard something scrape against the wall, just beyond the doors.

“Here, here, with us, run…go, no, no, there's no help, I have no help, alone, oh, please if you could hear me, if you could just hear me…help!”

Darcy screamed, clawing at her throat.

“Stop it!” Matt snapped.

Darcy was contorted, her back arched. For a moment, it appeared that she had been dragged straight upward, almost off the bed.

“Stop!” Matt shouted with thunder in his voice.

Darcy started to let out the terrible choking sound they had heard the night before. Her face was growing more and more flushed, beginning to resemble the red of a boiled lobster.

“Redhead!” Adam said.

She didn't respond. It seemed as if there were a rope, suspended from the ceiling, drawing her ever upward.

“Here, he's here! Are you blind!” she garbled out.

Here?
Adam thought.
Was that it? Both specters lived on in this room, with the poor girl reliving her own death every time she tried to cry out for help?

“Here!” Darcy shouted, then began choking.

They heard her breath, rasping, ridiculously loud in the room. Shorter, shorter…she ceased to fight, her body was falling….

As if she were dying.

“Jesus, stop this, stop it instantly!” Matt said.

The sound continued.

“Adam!” Matt shouted.

“Redhead!” Adam stated loudly.

Darcy fell back on the bed like a rag doll, every bit of tension eased from her body, the color fading as quickly as it had come.

Her eyes didn't open.

Matt pushed his way over to the bed, slipped his arms around Darcy, dragging her up.

She lolled, still like a doll…broken.

He pressed his fingers against her throat, feeling for a pulse.

“Darcy!”

She began to blink, then stared at him blankly, not even aware of the way he held her.

“Darcy!”

“Yes!”

He was shaking. “Darcy, are you all right?”

“Fine, I'm fine!”

His eyes had been filled with anxiety and fear. They seemed to take on a clouded edge. He swore angrily, still shaking, set her down, and strode from the room.

As the others watched him leave, Adam became aware again of a scraping sound against the outer wall.

P
enny and Clint were staring at her, Darcy realized, as Matt Stone left the room. Adam could bring her out of a state of trance quickly and completely, but that time, she had felt a little disoriented, the more so because it seemed that she had opened her eyes to see Matt staring down at her like a raging bull. The force of his emotion sent a sinking sensation throughout her, then a rise of anger. She didn't know what had happened, but it must have been something that clearly demonstrated there was something beyond their known world. Matt simply didn't want that to be the truth, and so he continued to deny it, no matter what he saw or heard.

Darcy looked to Adam, but he was the one person in the room not paying any attention to her. Adam was heading out the balcony doors.

“Darcy?” Clint said hesitantly. “Good God, Darcy! Do you feel faint, ill? Should we call a doctor? Do you need something?”

“I'm fine,” she assured him. “I'm really, truly, honestly fine. If there's any sense of danger, Adam gets me out of a trance. And once I'm out of it…I'm fine. Please believe me.”

Clint kept staring at her, but then nodded slowly. “What…what happened?” He asked.

“I don't know,” she told him.

“You don't know anything?”

“I'm afraid not. Did we learn anything?” she asked anxiously.

“I…don't think we learned anything more,” Clint said, looking at Penny.

“It was like last night,” Penny said. She added softly, “Very scary. You're…not scared now?”

Darcy shook her head. “I'm sorry. I must have been very deeply under. I don't remember anything. I was listening to Adam…and then looking into Matt's eyes.”

She was surprised by the look of anger that flashed across Clint's face then, and she thought it was for her. But it wasn't. “I'm sorry that Matt can be such a jerk,” he said. “But, hey, that's his problem.” He walked forward into the room, offering her a hand. She accepted it, rising. “I think we should get out of here. How about it?”

“Go out? The two of us?” she said. She really didn't remember anything, and yet she was still a little slow as she made the transition back into the world of the living. Hypnotism was very different. Sometimes, she knew snatches of what happened, as if she had been a distant observer. Sometimes, as on this occasion, she had no recollection at all of anything that had gone on.

He smiled. “Not a date—you'd turn me down. I mean, I think we should go out. You, me, Adam, Penny, Carter, if we can find him. Clara, if she's around, even old Sam. Anyone we can round up. We need to get out of this house for a while.”

Adam walked back in from the balcony, wearing a frown of deep introspection.

“Adam?” Darcy said.

“Yes, what?” he said, as if startled by being drawn from thought.

“Would you like to go out?” Darcy said.

“Out where?” Adam asked.

“Anywhere away from the house. Heck, even the Wayside Inn,” Clint said.

“It'll be fun,” Penny said, but didn't sound entirely certain.

Adam smiled. “Sure.”

“I'll see who I can round up. We'll meet downstairs in ten minutes?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Adam said.

Penny and Clint turned to leave them. When they were gone, Darcy walked to the door, closed it, and turned to Adam.

“Well?”

He grimaced. “We're close.”

“Is it Arabella?”

“I don't think so,” he said slowly.

Darcy frowned. “Then…?”

“I don't know. But I agree with what you've been feeling, that we're very close, that the ghost is afraid, so afraid that she can't quite tell us what she is so desperate to say. We have to figure it out.”

“But it seems that we're hitting a wall at the same place every time,” Darcy said. “And I'm afraid that I'm going to be thrown out of here any minute now.”

Adam waved a hand in the air. “Matt would never force you to leave.”

“You haven't seen the way he looks at me.”

“I know Matt.”

Darcy arched a brow.

“Scared ghost—scared sheriff,” Adam said, shrugging.

“Neither makes much sense, does it?”

“When you're dealing with matters of life and death, faith and belief, things don't have to make sense, Darcy. You know that.”

“Maybe we're letting this all go too easily. They're gone now. You should hypnotize me again, we should pursue this with greater intensity—”

“Darcy, no. Whether you want to admit it or not, there's too much stress in what we do to repeat it with that kind of frequency. And I'm not sure we could make contact again. Spirits seem to possess only so much energy themselves. Clint has the
right idea. Let's get out, do something. Are you ready? Do you want to change or anything?”

She grinned. She was in jeans and a tank top. “For the Wayside Inn? No, I think I'm formal enough.”

He offered her his arm and started for the door.

“Adam,” Darcy said suddenly.

“What?”

“What were you doing out on the balcony?”

“Oh…nothing. Looking around.”

“Why?”

“I thought I heard something out there, while you were under. But when I went out, there was nothing, no one. Must have been birds, or a squirrel or something. Heck, maybe the old place even has a rat population.”

“Charming thought,” Darcy said.

“Hm. I was just thinking. What do they do in these old places when they have rats?”

“Traps,” Darcy said. “Or exterminators. Or maybe even they bring in a cat.”

“Cat! Precisely.”

“Then…”

“Oh, I'm just thinking out loud at the moment,” he said. “Come on, I'm anxious to see this Wayside Inn, the heart of society in Stoneyville!”

As it turned out, Clint's idea was not a bad one.

Matt had disappeared, but Clara Issy had been folding sheets in the laundry room and Carter had been working on his real estate papers in the stables; both were eager to spend some time out. Even Sam, the caretaker, joined them. Adam and Clara did the driving, since she was heading on home after and Adam never drank alcohol. Whether Darcy wanted one or not, he was determined that she had a drink—a big one.

When they arrived, the Wayside Inn was jumping. A band was playing a cross between rock and country and there were
a number of pool players in action. Mae and a few younger barmaids were bustling about. Carter instantly challenged Darcy to a game of pool. She imagined that he was certain he could best her in a matter of minutes, but he was to be sadly mistaken. She could play the game with a decent skill.

David Jenner was playing at one of the tables when they arrived, and Delilah Dey was there as well, sitting at the bar. Since Carter had challenged Darcy, but David had possession of the table, Darcy suggested she partner up with David. That way, Carter could ask Delilah to be his partner.

Delilah was very pretty, and certainly, she was intelligent and savvy regarding Stoneyville.

But she was no pool player.

Darcy had thought that she might be somewhat distracted from the afternoon events, but she wasn't. She sank three balls on the break, and within a matter of minutes, she and David emerged the winners.

“My turn!” Clint challenged.

“Who's partnering who?” Carter asked.

“One on one. Darcy and me,” Clint said.

An “Ooooh!” went out through the bar.

Darcy laughed, feeling her competitive spirit rising.

“What's the bet?” she asked.

“Winner takes all, of course,” Clint said.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Let me think,” Clint said, then brightened. “I know. You and me. Dinner—somewhere other than here. And a movie.”

“Go for it, Darcy!” Adam told her.

“I can beat you, you know,” she told Clint.

“Maybe. And then maybe, hey, the South shall rise again!” Clint teased. “What can you lose? A night out.”

“That's if I lose?” she said, laughing.

“If you win, you get to pay,” Clint told her.

She grinned, and bent down to slide her cue.

This time, the game was tough, and it seemed that it went on and on. The entire bar seemed to tune in, and even the musicians went on break to make comments, call out encouragements, and monitor the game.

Darcy was caught up in the contest, enjoying the challenge. Clint was good, very good. When she took the first game, he called for two out of three.

She lost the second.

They started the third.

Clint made a shot which left her with a dangerous play. Her only shot would set her dangerously close to the eight ball. As she walked around the table judging angles and distances, she became aware of the sensation of being watched.

It was strangely familiar, and yet…

Not at all unearthly.

Of course, she was being watched. Everyone in the bar was watching her.

And still…such a strange feeling.

She hesitated, straightened, and looked around.

She was startled to see Matt at the bar. But he was the only one in the room
not
watching her. He was on a stool between Adam and Penny, talking to Mae, who was behind the counter.

She gave herself a shake, unnerved by both the sensation, and the fact that Matt was there.

“Ms. Tremayne…?” Clint prodded, grinning.

“You think you've got me, don't you?” she said.

“I think you're in a tough spot,” he said.

“Check—but not checkmate,” she told him.

She would not let Matt ruin the good time she'd been having here tonight. Very carefully, she gave her attention to the game, focusing.

She made the shot, setting up the eight ball so that she could easily call the side pocket. A second later, she sank it as well, and victory was hers.

Her effort was met with thunderous applause, and a round of congratulations from the friendly folk around her. She smiled, and saw that Adam was watching from the bar, and that he seemed very pleased to see her having a good time.

Matt still hadn't glanced her way.

Clint set his cue down and walked away, but came right back, bearing two beers, one for her, one for himself. He clicked his bottle to hers. “I concede. With tremendous graciousness, of course.”

“Thanks.”

They both leaned against the table. He looked at her, smiling ruefully, shaking his head. “So you can play pool, too. Who would have known?”

“My dad liked pool,” she told him.

“I'm supposed to be pretty good, you know,” Clint said. He leaned closer to her suddenly. “Don't look now, but Carter is putting the moves on Delilah at last.”

“Good for him,” Darcy said.

“Not a bad match,” Clint mused. “He prefers to hang around Melody House, but Carter's quite a mogul. He needs to clean up a few of his holdings, but, hey, he has invested in a number of good land and property deals. And there's the young councilwoman. Should work out well, don't you think?”

Darcy nodding, sipping her beer, studying Clint. “What do you want out of life, Clint?”

He laughed suddenly. “Am I nothing more than a sad reprobate, living off the largesse of my far more responsible family member?” he said.

“I did not ask a question anything like that!” she protested.

“I've actually been working very hard on a project that should come through at any time,” he told her. “But don't give me away, huh?”

“I can't give you away. I don't know anything about it,” Darcy told him.

“Hm.” He studied her. “You can't read my mind?”

“No.”

“And…” He hesitated. “You really don't know anything more than what you're saying about the ghost at Melody House.”

“No. I can intuit things, sometimes, but I can't read minds,” she told him.

His grin deepened. “That's good.”

“Why?”

“Because you'd probably want to slap a lot of people a lot of the time, if you knew what they were thinking.”

“In a strange way, I think that's a compliment.”

“It's meant as a compliment—even if a strange one.” He lowered his head to whisper against her ear. “What do you think old Matt is doing here?”

“Having a beer.”

“I don't think he can let you out of his sight.”

“I think he'd be delighted for me to be permanently out of his sight.”