The Presence Part 38

Bruce saw them and headed toward the table.

"Hi!" she murmured, trying to sound casual.

"h.e.l.lo," he said, and looked to the couple across from her. "I saw you two last night, right?"

"Yes. Strange, isn't it?" Toni said cheerfully. "Matt and Darcy Stone, this is the real Laird MacNiall. Bruce, Matt and Darcy."

"Nice to meet you. Our constable, Jonathan Tavish," Bruce said, and Jonathan, too, exchanged pleasantries.

"Did you know one another in the States?" Jonathan asked. To Toni's ears, he sounded suspicious.

"Toni didn't remember until I talked to her last night," Darcy said easily. "Mart's family home is in northern Virginia, so we often go into D.C. for the theater. We were there for one of Toni's performances of Queen Varina. We're staying in this delightful village for a few weeks, so, naturally, I begged her to join us for lunch."

There wasn't a lie in her words. Toni admired her smooth narration.

"Ah, so you're joining us in the village for a wee bit?" Jonathan said, pleased.

"It's gorgeous," Matt said.

"We've rented the Cameron cottage," Darcy told him.

"Well, we'll let you get back to your meal," Bruce said.

"Join us," Matt suggested.

"We've a bit of business," Jonathan said, "so we'll be beggin' out, if you don't mind. Another time?"

"Certainly," Darcy said politely.

"Seems the castle is bringing in the lunchtime rush," Bruce murmured.

Toni twisted in her seat. She was surprised to see Thayer just a booth away, lunching with Lizzie and Trish. And three booths back, Kevin, David, Ryan and Gina were biting into what looked like servings of lamb.

"See? It's all good for business," Jonathan told Bruce.

"Apparently," Bruce said pleasantly. "Well, excuse us, then. We'll say a quick h.e.l.lo to the others and have lunch, as well."

With a wave, he turned. The barmaid apparently knew both him and Jonathan well, for she jovially told them that their "usual" booth was available.

"Hail, hail, yes, the gang is all here!" Toni murmured as he moved away.

"Great," Matt said. "I'm anxious to talk to them all. So is Darcy, right?"

"Oh, yes," Darcy said. "Definitely."

Bruce let it go for the evening, and all through that night's performance.

But after he'd stabled Shaunessy, he went upstairs, built a fire and sat before it--waiting.

In time, Toni came into the room.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

He turned to her politely. "Friends from the States, eh?"

"Yes," she said carefully. "Well, acquaintances, you know."

"You called a psychic?"

"What?" He could see her mind racing as she tried to figure out how he could possibly know.

"Small place," he told her, deciding to spare her and cut to the chase. "Jonathan looked them up."

"Jonathan looked them up?"

"Pa.s.sports," he reminded her. "You are all visitors in a foreign land," he reminded her. "And with computers these days.. .well, it can be quite easy to find out almost anything."

"I didn't call a psychic and ask her to come," Toni said.

"You didn't?"

"Well, I called her. Actually, I didn't call her, I called a friend. And--"

"Planning on adding tarot readings to the tour?" he demanded. She was floundering. She had done it.

"You're being sarcastic and--and horrible!" she told him. She was staring at him wide-eyed--caught, one might say. And yet those sapphire eyes accused him. She was still Annalise, dressed in the ancient white gown. A flicker of something pa.s.sed through him then. She must actually be a lot like Annalise was, slim, blond hair cascading down her back, those eyes....

He brushed away the thought, angry again that she was so convinced there had to be a ghost. The d.a.m.ned place wasn't haunted. Although he was glad his ancestor had been vindicated--and he didn't mind a good historical place--he sure as h.e.l.l didn't want the family home to be ridiculed, chronicled on Ripley's Believe It Or Not or a novelty in a ghost segment of the Travel Channel.

"This is still my property, my home," he said icily. "And I don't want a seance here, or a woman reading a crystal ball, or anyone making light of the history of my home. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I understand," she said. "Don't worry. And don't blame the others. I'll see to it that neither Darcy nor her husband ever darken your door again. Frankly, they're here to help. But then, you don't need any help, do you? After all, you were a great cop. You've got a friend who's a constable, and another who is a detective. So, what the h.e.l.l, you would never need the help of anyone who might in the least tamper with the great dignity of the place! I understand. But if you had even begun to understand me, and taken the slightest chance of believing something that I said, we wouldn't be having this conversation now. But like I said, there's nothing to worry about. I'll never mention the word ghost to you again, or your ancestors, as matter of fact h.e.l.l, do what you want with the remains of Annalise! Sell them to a museum, indulge posterity, whatever. You've no right to be angry with me because you really don't understand anything at all!"

"They were here, weren't they?" he asked.

"Yes. But I didn't ask anyone to come here. In fact, I specifically asked that she not. We all know that we've kept this going by your great bounty alone," she said, and there was definite sarcasm in her tone. "I don't know why I'm bothering. Obviously, you don't believe anything that I'm saying."

"Should I believe you?" he asked. "On what basis? I mean, do we really even know one another?"

She stiffened. "I thought I knew you," she said.

"And I thought I could trust you."

"Trust me? You know you can trust me! And if you were willing to take the least chance on me--and yourself!--you'd give me the benefit of the doubt. Apparently there have been times in your life when some kind of a sixth sense kicked in. That's why you were such a great cop."

"What?"

"Are you afraid to admit there just might be something in the world beyond what you can see?"

He was going to get angry. He was going to deny her words again. And yet...

Dammit. He didn't want to remember what it had been like when it had seemed that he had entered the mind of another man. A killer.

It was all bunk. s.h.i.+te. In his rational mind, he had to believe that there was reason, and nothing else. He denied himself. No wonder he denied her, too.

"When you choose to," she said coolly, "you'll trust me. Because when you choose to look at the truth, you'll know, beyond all doubt, that you can."

She spun around, leaving him. He heard the bathroom door slam--his side first and then the other. He stared at the fire, still seething--and sorry.

But neither did he want to be a fool. These people had invaded his home...well enough, they'd been taken, he'd understood. But he hadn't thrown them out. Instead, he'd let them work--even when it was beginning to appear that one of their number might be guilty of the fraud from the start. Credit cards had been involved, and they were being tracked now. But in doing background checks, Jonathan had informed him, they had discovered that Thayer Fraser reported a bank card missing just before it had all begun.

"Aye, it could have been stolen," Jonathan had told him. "But don't you think it's rather a coincidence if it was the one used with the Internet providers?"

"Maybe too much of a coincidence," Bruce had told him.

"Meanin'?"

"Could he really be that stupid?" Bruce had asked.

Jonathan had shrugged. "He's a Scotsman, Bruce. And, aye, it might well have been a Scotsman to have way more information on you than anyone else. Bruce, it's lookin' as if someone's really pretended to be you."

"They took my ident.i.ty, but the Internet site was a total setup!"

"Aye."

There were still discoveries to be made. But they would be made.

He sat in front of the fire awhile longer. Jonathan had told him who the people having lunch with Toni that afternoon were. He'd done the research on them himself, and he'd been astonished. Low-key, low profile. Harrison Investigations didn't advertise on television, didn't promise to fix anyone's love life or connect anyone with deceased relatives.

Still, they investigated strange and unusual occurrences, trouble spots. Ghosts. Hauntings. No matter what the h.e.l.l they wanted to call it!

As if they hadn't enough real problems around here! He could be glad that a family mystery was solved, but there was fraud in his own house. A killer, leaving victims in the forest. And the last d.a.m.ned thing he wanted around was a psychic!

He could hardly kick the pair out of the village, but he d.a.m.ned well could make sure that they weren't invited into his home! Yet as he stared at the fire, nothing of logic, truth or the simple fact that he did own the property seemed to mean anything. Her last few words stung. I thought I knew you.

She had been the one angry before, but she had come back. If he just waited...maybe she would come back again. Because she was frightened? he wondered, mocking himself. Ego or not, he couldn't accept that she had come back into the bedroom the night before out of fear.

He could go to her. Actually, he could apologize. Except that he wasn't in the wrong.

The fire continued to crackle. Time pa.s.sed and he was still there, staring at the flames. At last he rose, turned out the lights and went to bed. But he didn't sleep. He realized that he wasn't sleeping because he was waiting. And after a while, he realized that she wasn't coming.

Donning his robe, he went through to the bath. She hadn't locked the door on her side of it. He tapped lightly. There was no answer, so he opened the door and walked over to the foot of the bed.

She slept, her hand curled beneath her chin, hair splayed around her. He wouldn't wake her, he decided. But as he stood there, she suddenly bolted upright, staring at him with alarm.

"It's just me," he said. "Real. In the flesh," he added. She still stared. "Not a ghost," he told her.

She nodded after a minute, still staring at him.

"Do you want to be alone?"

"Is that an apology?"

"Did you apologize last night?"

"Was I wrong last night?"

"Am I really wrong now?"

She looked down for a moment, lashes sweeping her eyes, the fall of her hair concealing her features. "Does it really matter?" she said very softly.

Those words touched him in a way he couldn't quite fathom, and did more than any argument. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"For what?" she asked him, looking up.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I really don't want a psychic here. I hate it when you see those programs with cheap special effects as a handheld camera follows a purported medium around a house. I think we have enough problems here. I'm sorry I spoke the way I did. And I.. .I wish I could believe you. I believe that you believe your dreams are very real."

She rose, brus.h.i.+ng by him, heading for the connecting door. There she paused. "You really do have the better bed," she told him. He followed her.

They were awake another hour. Then, they both slept.

Toni awoke thinking that it had to be very late, or nearly morning. But the room was in deep shadow. The fire had died in the grate and the lights were out, except for one that remained on in the bath.

She felt Bruce's arm around her. But still, she had the feeling that they were not alone.

She looked to the foot of the bed. And he was there. Once again, standing, looking at her, sword hanging from his hand, bloodied. He looked at her, and she knew he wanted her to follow.

At her side, Bruce stirred. "Toni?"

"Yes?"

"Is he here?"

She didn't know if the question was mocking or not. She was staring at the apparition. She told the truth. "Yes."

She heard a soft groan, but he pulled her closer. "Tell him to go away. Tell him that I'm here."

She looked at the apparition. "Go away!" she whispered. Words formed men, unspoken on her lips. Please. I don't know what you want!

He inclined his head, as if bowing to her desires. Then, as she stared at him, he faded until he was nothing more than a shadow in the night. She lay back down, glad, gnawing upon her lip.

There had to be something else that he wanted. ..but what? What the h.e.l.l was it that he wanted?

Toni was determined to find out, whatever it took, wherever it led. She would swallow fear and find out why he kept coming back....

With that settled, she moved in tightly next to Bruce. His breath teased her nape. His hand rested on her midriff. Her back was solidly to his chest, and he gave her tremendous warmth. Like a cascade of warm water, the touch filled her with comfort and ease. She closed her eyes and fell back to sleep. She didn't waken to darkness again.

In the morning, Bruce was up and gone when she awoke.