Liam shouted the officer’s name. “Ricky!”
There was no answer. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, however, he saw him on the floor, caught in the glow of light from his own fallen flashlight.
“Ricky!”
He rushed over to the man. Hunching down, he called for backup and an ambulance. He instantly checked for Ricky’s pulse, and was relieved to find that it was beating steadily.
Ricky groaned, and moved.
“Lie still. Where are you hurt? What happened?”
There was no sign of blood anywhere near Ricky.
As Liam spoke, Ricky opened his eyes, staring at Liam for a moment and then jerking around in panic. He stared across the room in the darkness. Liam aimed his flashlight beam in the area that seemed to be causing Ricky so much fear.
His light fell upon a suit of armor.
Ricky let out a scream, trying to choke it back.
“Ricky,” Liam said evenly, “it’s a suit of armor. Probably real, historic and worth a mint.”
“It moved!” Ricky declared.
Liam walked toward the armor. It was just that. Metal. It was buckled together by leather straps that had been made to replace the originals. They were probably period, but not historic.
The metal display stand was not on rollers. It hadn’t moved.
Liam turned to look at Ricky. He was rubbing the back of his head. It appeared that the man had seen the armor and backed himself into the edge of one of the display cases on the other side of the room.
“I swear to you, it moved!” Ricky told him.
He’d called for an ambulance. Even as Ricky stood, rubbing his head, and Liam checked all around the suit of armor, they heard the sound of a siren. Help was on its way.
Ricky winced, looking sheepish. “It moved. I’m telling you, it moved.”
“It’s dark down here, and you’ve heard all kinds of rumors about this place,” Liam said. He sighed, shaking his head. “Or maybe it did move, Ricky. Maybe a trespasser was in here, hiding behind the suit of armor, and when you knocked yourself out, he got away.”
Ricky’s mouth fell open. He was young, twenty-five years old. He was a good officer. Strong, usually sane and courteous. He could break up a barroom brawl like no other.
He protested weakly. “No…no, I would have seen a person.” He cleared his throat. “Oh, Lord, Lieutenant Beckett, please…maybe we could not mention this?” he asked hopefully.
Liam was irritated; he might have just lost his chance of finding whoever had broken in. But he said, “I’m not going to say anything—hell, I don’t want half the idiots in this city starting all kinds of rumors about haunted houses and animated suits of armor. Let the paramedics check you out. Just say you crashed into the display shelf, and that’s what I’ll say, too. It’s the truth.”
He walked out. The paramedics were exiting their ambulance with their cases in their hands.
“It’s a knock on the head, self-inflicted,” Liam said. “I think he’s fine, but check him out, please.”
The paramedics nodded and headed for the house. A patrol car came sliding up to park beside the rescue vehicle. He sent the two officers inside, telling them to secure the residence before they left.
He stepped down to the lawn and looked back at the house. He felt the presence behind him and didn’t turn.
“Did you see anything?” he asked softly.
“No, I was with you,” Bartholomew said.
“Well, what do you think?”
“I don’t like the place, if that’s what you mean.”
“Is there anything in it? Anyone?”
“I sense—something,” Bartholomew said.
“I’m telling you, this has to do with something human,” Liam said flatly. “Maybe. I’m human,” Bartholomew protested.
“You’re a ghost.”
“But I was human. Evil isn’t…it isn’t necessarily human.”
Liam groaned softly. “We both know that human beings are the ones who carry out physical cruelty and injury to one another.”
“Well, we don’t actually know everything,” Bartholomew said.
“If I were going to be hounded by a ghost,” Liam said, “you’d think it would be one who knew a little more about eternity.”
“There’s no one in the house now,” Bartholomew told him indignantly. “No one who isn’t supposed to be there. No one human.”
“Someone else was in that house tonight,” Liam said with certainty.
“I think so, too,” Bartholomew said.
“And now?”
“Whatever is in there isn’t human,” Bartholomew said quietly. “So, what now?”