I smelled roses, pungent enough that if I closed my eyes, I could have imagined I was standing in the rose garden in May. I stepped into the hallway, feeling the now-familiar sensation of my bare feet pressing against a loose button. I stooped to pick it up, pausing as I looked down the hallway at the night-light’s reflection on a dozen more buttons lined up in a row like stepping-stones.
Being careful to avoid treading on them, I followed them down the hallway to where they stopped, directly in front of Nola’s open bedroom door. My chest tightened as I peered inside. The bed was empty, her covers pulled to the floor. I knelt to peer beneath the bed, alarmed to see that Porgy and Bess were gone, too.
Turning back to the doorway, I caught a glimpse of an unusual object on the nightstand, a black and ominous shadow in the shape of a small coffin. I gave an involuntary shudder as I moved past it, quickly crossing the hallway and then shivering in the chill of the old house as I descended the stairs.
The telltale jingle of collars from the front parlor guided me in that direction. I stopped abruptly, nearly colliding with a hard and naked chest that smelled like Jack. He placed his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me toward the clock.
In the glow of the pale predawn light through the windows, I spotted Porgy and Bess first. They were rolling around on the floor in their usual puppy play, but there was something different about it. Something odd. I squinted in the dim light, eventually realizing that there were three dogs. I recalled leaving General Lee snoring on my bed upstairs, so I squinted harder, trying to determine where the interloper had come from. I hoped against hope that it wasn’t Rebecca’s dog, Pucci, knowing that would mean Rebecca couldn’t be far away.
Goose bumps rippled my skin. I stepped closer to Jack for his body warmth, then followed his gaze toward Nola. She stood in front of the clock, her hands on her hips, her head tilted as if in question.
“Nola?” Jack said softly. “Is everything all right?”
A puff of condensation rose from his mouth when he spoke, confirming that we were definitely not alone. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, my eyes failing to find anything lurking in the dark corners.
“She brought me here,” Nola whispered back.
“?‘She’?” Jack asked.
“The girl. The one with the melted face. She came back.”
I shivered, then gave a casual glance behind us. “I can’t see her.”
Nola shook her head without turning around. “Her mama said not to let anyone see her face.”
I shared a quick look with Jack. “Because of her burns?”
Nola shrugged. “She didn’t say. She brought her dog this time.”
Porgy and Bess bounded in front of us, only the muted outline of a tail of the third dog still visible.
“His name is Otis.”
Jack and I stepped forward to stand on either side of Nola. “You can hear her?” I whispered.
Nola nodded. “Well, sort of. It’s like . . . talking in a dream. You don’t see the lips move or anything, but you hear the words inside your head, you know?”
“Yes, I do,” I said. “She must be a very strong spirit to be able to communicate with you. Most people who aren’t . . . sensitive . . . usually can’t hear them, which is why there are so many ghost sightings but rarely stories of the ghosts actually speaking.”
“Beau uses EVP recorders with his investigations. Maybe I should ask him.”
“No,” Jack and I said simultaneously.
“Do you even know what an EVP recorder is?” I asked him.
“No. But I don’t think Nola needs to be asking Beau about it. He rides a motorcycle. She doesn’t need to be asking Beau about anything.”
“Didn’t you have a motorcycle in your distant youth?”
“Yep.”
I let that pass for now, saving it for a longer conversation later. “?‘EVP’ means ‘electronic voice phenomenon.’ For ghost hunters who need help communicating with spirits. Basically, for amateurs.” I returned my attention to Nola. “Did she tell you what her name is?”
Nola shook her head. “No. She just said that she doesn’t like the bad man.” She let out a heavy sigh, finally turning to face us. “Why do you think she brought me down here?”
I opened the glass door covering the clockface as if I could find the answer there. It looked the same as it had the first day I’d seen it, when visiting Nevin Vanderhorst. “I don’t know. We recovered all of the diamonds. Believe me—we went through every part of this clock, so we’d know if we’d missed anything. It’s just a clock now.”
“Hmm.” Nola frowned. “Remember how the first time I saw the girl I said that I thought she was trying to warn me? I’ve just been staring at the clock, trying to figure it out. She left as soon as Dad entered the room.”
“Sorry,” Jack said. “Maybe she’ll give us another chance. Right now why don’t you take the dogs back upstairs and try to get a little more sleep? Tomorrow’s a school day. Or should I say today is a school day?”
Nola answered with a wide yawn. “Sure. But if you see her, please tell her to stop putting the Frozen Charlotte in my room. It’s creepy.”
We watched as she picked up the two small dogs and left the room; then Jack and I listened to her tread up the creaking stairs.
“I wonder what that was all about,” I said, turning to look at Jack.
He had an odd expression on his face.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. It’s just . . .” He brushed his hands over his cheeks, the raspy sound of his palms against his unshaven beard like a haunting memory.
“It’s just what?”
“I’d forgotten what you look like first thing in the morning. With your hair like that. And your face . . .”
I didn’t move as he lifted his hand and stroked the side of my face. “I’ve missed it,” he said.
“Me, too.”
He dropped his hand and we stared at each other in the growing light, listening to the incessant ticking of the clock, daring each other to make the first move.