“Can’t say I have.”
“Good press is expensive.” Hank touched Leslie’s cheek. A little too familiarly, Joe thought, then told himself to shut up. What right did he have, after all? “When you can’t beat trouble, you just have to deal,” he said.
Leslie moved slightly away from him, and Joe could have sworn that her smile was false. “Hopefully, we’re doing the city a favor.”
“And our stockholders, too,” Hank said.
The trailer door opened. “Police escort,” a voice said cheerfully. A known voice.
“Robert!” Leslie said with pleasure.
Robert Adair came up the steps. Leslie gave him a hug, then apologized quickly. “I’ve just smudged you big time,” she said.
“I can live with being smudged by you anytime,” Robert said. “Hey there, Joe. So you two have—”
“Smudged each other already,” Joe interrupted quickly. He didn’t want Hank Smith knowing they had just met, though he wasn’t sure why. Let them all think that he and Leslie had a past history as friends. He could protect her better that way.
Protect her? From what? Where had that thought come from? What implication had there ever been that Leslie might be in danger?
“Let’s get going. There’s a gate in the fence in the back where I can get you out,” Robert told them.
They followed him, and a few minutes later they emerged on the far side of the site. “You both need baths, you know. Otherwise, people will be stopping you in the street and offering you money.”
“You think?” Leslie said. She laughed. “I’ve seen much worse on the streets of New York.”
Robert studied her and rolled his eyes. “Okay, you’ve got a point. But you sure do look like you just climbed out of a hole in the mud.”
“Okay, bath,” Leslie agreed.
“Then dinner,” Robert said.
“Dinner?” Joe cut in.
“Leslie promised to have dinner with me tonight. Want to come along? You can tell me where you’re getting looking for the O’Brien girl.”
Joe shrugged and looked at Leslie. “Deal?” he asked.
“Deal,” she agreed.
She arrived home in time to see Hastings House in action. Melissa was handling tickets. Her smile was radiant when she saw Leslie. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. How’s it going?”
“Great. There are two tours going on now. Just wave to the guides on your way up to your room. Oh, and lock your door. We keep an eye on the tourists, but you never know when someone will go wandering off. By the way…you’re really, uh, dirty.”
“I know. Thanks,” Leslie told her.
Jeff was with a group in the hall, explaining Colonial construction. He got wide-eyed when he saw her, so of course the ten or so people in his group stared at her, too. Jeff just gave her a nod and said, “One of our archaeologists, always busy at work.”
She was grimy enough that she hoped she wouldn’t be recognized from any recent articles or newscasts, and she gave a quick wave before hurrying up the stairs. She passed the second tour group in the upper hallway, where they were hearing about the house’s history as part of the Underground Railroad.
She paused for a minute. She’d been aware of the history of the house for a very long time, but being reminded that it had been part of the Underground Railroad suddenly seemed to be important.
Why?
She realized she was just standing there, filthy. She hurried to her bedroom—locking the door behind her, as Melissa had warned. Then she leaned against it for a moment, staring at the rocker by the hearth. But it was empty.
Had he really been there this morning? Was he haunting Hastings House? Or had she just wished him there, just as she had wished him into her dreams? And had his comments come to her mind because she had actually been talking to the flesh-and-blood Joe, a man who believed that there had been foul play at the house?
“Matt?” she whispered.
But there was no answer. She showered and dressed, whimsically opting for a black velvet sheath that fit the changing weather. By the time she left her room the tours were over and the guides were gone.
Melissa was still there, though, in the small upstairs office, counting receipts and balancing her books. She whistled when Leslie walked by. “That’s a knockout.”
“Thanks.”
“Off to a black-tie event?” Melissa asked.
“No. Dinner with friends.”
“I heard about the crypt you discovered.”
“Fell into.”
Melissa sighed dreamily. “Think I could really volunteer to work with you?”
“You bet. I’ll see to it.”
“Thank you so much.” Melissa frowned even as she spoke.
“What’s the matter?”
“I…I’ve lost a twenty, I think.”
“It’s got to be there somewhere,” Leslie said.
“Yes, but…oh, it’s right here. I swear it wasn’t here a minute ago,” Melissa said, still frowning.
“Maybe something was on top of it.”
Melissa grinned at her. “And maybe the ghosts are helping me out. You think?” she asked wistfully.