Krewe of Hunters 8 The Uninvited (21 page)

“Yes—I mean, no,” she said. “That was the first of two articles
he wrote. I’d been planning to drive down to see him. He’s a brilliant man. The
first article focused on Bradley. He wrote another on Lucy and her patriot
lover, Stewart Douglas—and that’s gone missing. I remember that he focused on
the Tarleton family and their social situation and standing as the crises came
to a head. It’s assumed that both Bradley and Douglas were killed during the
war—but there’s no proof. They were presumed dead. Neither of them appeared to
claim their property afterward, and because of who he was, it was assumed that
perhaps Bradley’s own men did him in and that’s why there’s no record of it. And
of course hundreds of men died on battlefields and were never identified.”

“I’d like to see that second article,” Tyler said. “Can’t you
just bring it back up online?”

“I’m sure I could.”

“But why would someone take it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. He quotes from letters he has in his own
possession and they make her patriot lover sound like a bit of an ass. Maybe
that’s what someone didn’t want anyone taking seriously?” Allison suggested.

“He’s not even buried here, is he? Stewart Douglas, I mean. Do
you speak about him on the tours?”

“Sometimes. We would’ve spoken about him a lot more if he was
buried here, but he isn’t.”

“Was he supposed to have killed Beast Bradley in
retaliation?”

“We don’t know. I guess that’s one theory. All we know is that
neither of them came home after the Revolution—to Philadelphia or England—so the
assumption is that they were both buried in a mass grave at some battlefield.
Although historians know what happened to a lot of rank-and-file soldiers. Those
two just seem to have disappeared.”

“Have you spoken with this fellow—Martin Standish?”

“I’ve emailed him a few times. He appreciates my interest—he
thinks it’s great that people at the house aren’t just ignoring him. I guess he
tried to make contact years before and he was shut out. I can call him.” She
gave him a puzzled look. “Do you think he can help?”

“Maybe.” Tyler stood, yawning. “Okay, I’ve got to call it
quits. That means you have to call it quits. The rest of the house has called it
quits.”

“I can keep going—”

“No. I want you across the hall. I want to jump out of bed like
a lightning bolt if I hear the slightest sound coming from your room.”

She sighed. “I
am
tired.”

“Then we definitely call it quits. No one’ll be coming up here
until we come back. No one can get in the house without us knowing it. No
one—dead or alive—can move around downstairs without appearing on one of Sean’s
screens. Bed,” he said firmly.

She lowered her head for a moment and then nodded. “Fine.”

He didn’t turn out the attic lights; he wanted anything that
happened up there clearly visible on the screens.

They went downstairs to the second floor.

Julian—or Julian’s spirit—was slumped against the wall by
Allison’s room. For a ghost, he seemed to need his sleep.

“Good night,” Allison whispered to Tyler.

“Good night,” he said. “Leave the door cracked. If anything
happens, scream like a banshee. I’ll be right with you.”

* * *

Men were supposed to have the minds that resided in
gutters, Allison told herself.

But when Tyler had said that one word—bed—
her
mind had immediately leaped to other thoughts.

As she lay down to sleep, she realized that her opinion of him
had changed drastically. When they first met, she’d considered him a tall,
good-looking shyster who was going to turn this house into a gawker’s showcase.
She’d imagined ridiculous lights and people caught in them with wide, reflecting
eyes while they shouted, “Did you hear that?” or, “Yes, there’s a ghost here, I
can feel it....”

But she knew differently now.

Now, he was tall and good-looking and exceedingly…

Attractive. Sensual. Yes, the word
bed
had made her think of quite another way that a bed could be used.

She had to stop thinking like that. He was with five other
agents. He was kind and protective and sincere in his efforts to help her—and be
helped by her.

She wasn’t an object of attraction or sexual interest to
him.

She was a
key.

But she couldn’t stop remembering the way it felt when he
touched her. His hand on hers, electricity shooting through her. There was
something about him….

The machismo of a Texan, a cowboy.

Except he wasn’t like that. Well, he was a Texan, but he didn’t
seem to think a man had his place and a woman had hers. He was just strong by
nature—and he was there whenever she felt confused or vulnerable.

Transference. That was it. He was her rock through all of this.
She wasn’t
really
attracted; she was just leaning on
him. That wasn’t true. Yes, it was. She was leaning on him.

But she
liked
him. And she hadn’t
trusted herself since she’d ended it with Peter Aubrey. She’d understood that
Peter had loved her, but he was an addict and he wasn’t going to change for her
or
for himself. What she’d done was right, and
she could only hope that Peter would live long enough to find his way.

So, yes, this stirring was fantastic. This longing, this…

Bed.

She found herself imagining him naked. His body was long, sleek
and hard—she knew that. He was probably beautiful when he was naked.

She groaned, tossing in bed. This was ridiculous. She’d been
better off when she’d considered him a ghost-busting sexist.

She had to sleep. She had to stop her mind from going in this
direction. She had to remember that Sarah Vining was dead. Dead. Someone was
killing people, and they were here to figure out why.

She closed her eyes and prayed for sleep.

Eventually, it came.

She didn’t dream in the night; she awoke suddenly. When she
did, she saw someone at the foot of the bed.

She would have screamed except that the scream died in her
throat, and while she was gasping for breath, she saw that it was the woman
who’d appeared on Sean’s footage the night before.

Lucy Tarleton.

A woman she resembled to an uncanny degree.

Fear nearly strangled her.

The ghost of a friend slept outside her door, and she had
spoken to the corpse of another that afternoon. There was no reason to feel such
terror at this point, especially since she was certain the woman had not come to
hurt her.

Lucy raised a finger to her lips. She looked around as if
afraid she’d be seen. She walked out of the room, then returned, hovering by the
doorframe and beckoning to Allison.

Again, as it had earlier that day, Allison’s terror
receded.

She reminded herself of what she’d determined earlier—she
wasn’t going to live in fear. Whatever this was, she was seeing it through.

She rose from her bed, letting the spirit know that she meant
to follow. As she trailed behind Lucy, the ghost began moving more swiftly.
Allison was halfway down the stairs before she heard Tyler calling her.

She paused but didn’t stop. Tyler would follow her; she didn’t
want to lose the ghost.

Lucy swept down the stairs and turned into the central hallway,
heading for the door. When Allison reached it, Tyler was right behind her.

“Allison!”

“It’s Lucy. She just went through the door,” Allison explained.
“I have to get out there. I have to see where she’s leading me.”

Tyler didn’t question her. He keyed in the number on the alarm
and opened the door.

They both stepped out.

Lucy was mounting Firewalker, the great black horse. The dog,
Robert, was barking and running around excitedly. Firewalker reared up, and Lucy
spoke affectionately to the dog, ordering him back to the house.

The dog obeyed, but stood by the house barking.

Then Lucy leaned forward, speaking to the horse and nudging him
with her heels.

The horse broke into a canter.

And Firewalker and Lucy raced into the night.

Allison felt Tyler’s hands on her shoulders. “Did you see
that?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“What does it mean?” Allison asked. It was chilly outside; she
was dressed in a blue flannel nightshirt. Behind her, Tyler wore nothing but
pajama pants. He had to be cold, but it seemed that he came closer to warm her.
She felt the length of his body.

It was distracting.

Even more distracting than a ghost who’d come to her bedroom
and lured her down the stairs.

“When did you see her? How did you see her?” Tyler asked.

“I woke up. She was at the foot of my bed. She wanted me to
follow her,” Allison said.

What she wanted was to lean back in his arms. She wanted to
trust him. She wanted to forget everything that was going on and even herself—to
relish the feel of him and forget the world and indulge in nothing but sexual
passion and pure carnal pleasure.

She heard him swallow behind her. He stepped back.

Had he been thinking along the same lines?

“She wanted you to follow her, and she came out here—and
mounted her horse and rode away,” he mused. “She still wants you to follow,” he
said after a moment.

Allison struggled to keep her thoughts where they should
be.

“I can’t. I don’t have a ghost horse—or any horse—of my own,
and if I did…I don’t know how to ride.”

She turned and saw that he was smiling.

“Where did she go when she left here?” he asked.

“You know where she went—she carried secrets to the patriots at
Valley Forge.”

He nodded. “And where is that writer you’ve been emailing?”

“Valley Forge,” she said, frowning.

“Lucy wants you to go to Valley Forge,” he said.

“Hey, what’s up?” Logan had come down. He was wearing a
robe—and he was armed and ready.

Tyler quickly explained. Logan nodded. “Sounds like a field
trip to me. But it’s three in the morning. I think you should wait until a
normal hour and then go. That is, Allison, if the writer’s willing to see you.
If he’s there. You don’t know, do you, if the man still lives in Valley
Forge?”

“We communicated not long ago. I don’t think he leaves that
often, although he does participate in battle reenactments,” Allison said.

“Call him around nine,” Tyler suggested. “And if he’s
agreeable, we’ll see him tomorrow. And even if he’s not…Lucy wants you to follow
her. She rode to Valley Forge. That’s what we have to do.”

“The two of you can leave tomorrow. Jane can continue working
with the likenesses and Kat will attend the autopsy. We’ll keep working the
records from this angle, and Sean can monitor the house to see what goes on here
in your absence. That is, if you’re willing to do all this, Allison?” Logan
asked.

Road trip! Alone with Tyler.

Not a good idea. But necessary.

She felt strangely weak and strong at the same time.

“Allison?” Tyler prompted her.

She had to force herself not to smile. There was nothing to
smile about. Two people were dead. They were just going on a research
mission.

“Yes, of course,” she said primly. “I’ll do whatever it
takes.”

The rest of the household—including Julian, who managed to look
sleepy even though he was a ghost—had come outside.

Allison noticed that all the other Krewe members were armed.
Everyone moved back into the house and gathered in the entry around the
screens.

“Ally?” Julian sounded concerned.

“I’m fine,” she assured him.

“I didn’t hear you move!” Julian said. “Am I supposed to sleep
like that?”

“Did you love to sleep when you were alive?” Kelsey asked him.
“Did you keep late hours?”

“Yeah, well, I was always burning the candle at both ends,” he
said apologetically.

“I’m fine, really. I followed Lucy of my own accord, and I ran
the way I did because I didn’t want her to disappear,” Allison explained.

“Still, you should have gotten me first,” Tyler said.

“You were right behind me.”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t take off without me.”

“You didn’t bring your gun,” Allison pointed out.

She thought he flushed slightly at that; he should have been
armed.

“That’s why you should get me instead of making me bolt out to
catch up with you,” Tyler grumbled.

“It’s important that none of us go off on our own from now on,”
Logan said firmly.

Jane yawned. “I could use some more sleep. Okay if I go back to
bed?”

Logan nodded. “Go on up.”

“I want to see what we caught on our digital film,” Sean said,
walking over to take his seat by the screens.

He hit some keys on the computer keyboard, and they saw the
film in reverse. Seconds later, it moved forward.

Lucy appeared at the foot of the stairs as she had before. Then
she looked into Angus Tarleton’s study.

She left the study and hurried up the stairs, where she entered
Allison’s room.

She reappeared a moment later.

And then they saw Allison running out and, within a split
second, Tyler bursting out of his room to follow her.

“You do have good hearing,” Allison murmured.

They watched as Lucy, followed by Allison and Tyler, raced to
the back door.

Sean reset the cameras. “The resemblance is really uncanny,” he
commented.

Allison sighed. “I’m not a Tarleton or a Dandridge. My records
prove it. I wasn’t adopted. In fact, my mom had me at the same hospital where
Artie Dixon is now.”

“Yes, of course,” Tyler said thoughtfully.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Logan asked him.

Tyler nodded, studying Allison.

“I
wasn’t
adopted,” she said,
shaking her head. She wasn’t angry, just amused. They were so determined to find
a reason for the resemblance.