“Oh?”
“Trace evidence. You’ve heard the old theory that you take something and you leave something everywhere you go. They’ll find some evidence that will pin the killer,” Sloan explained. The theory was solid; it didn’t always work. Fingerprints could belong where they were found, and dozens upon dozens of prints could be lifted from any one place. DNA was great—as long as you had a sample for comparison. Legally obtained, of course.
“So, let’s get you a beer,” Sloan said.
“If you’re buying, I’ll have a bourbon,” Henri said. “No ice. My usual.”
Sloan waved a hand to order as Logan asked Henri where to find the restrooms. Henri gave him directions.
As Liz brought Henri his drink, Sloan saw that Logan had casually slipped his hand around the beer glass Cy had left on the bar.
“So, Sloan,” Henri said, “today seems to be going fine. The actors are working. The theater is open!”
“It’s a great day...so far,” Sloan agreed pleasantly. He watched Valerie glide around the room. When he saw Logan on his way back, he nodded toward the glass she’d just placed on the bar. Logan nodded in return.
Henri sipped his drink.
*
The spirit of Trey Hardy had disappeared when Jane and Kelsey entered the Old Jail.
Mike Addison was behind the sheriff’s desk, giving directions to a couple who wanted to ride out and see the old cemetery. His “concierge,” a woman of about twenty, was serving complimentary wine to guests in the old gun room, along with nachos and cheese.
When the couple moved on, Jane approached him and introduced Kelsey, then asked for the key to her room.
“Calling it a night, Agent Everett? It’s still early.”
“I’m just showing Kelsey what a wonderful bed-and-breakfast you have,” Jane told him.
Mike beamed. “I do love it,” he said with enthusiasm. “Silverfest days are great. Halloween is great. But sometimes...well, Lily is off the beaten track. So if you want to go on any travel sites and rave about the place, I’d be very grateful! Oh, and, ladies, it’s wine and snacks time in the gun room.”
“Thanks, but we’re going to my cell for a few minutes. Then we’ll head back out, of course. We’ll probably catch the show tonight.”
“Are you in it tonight?” Mike asked her. “I saw you outside when Brian Highsmith grabbed you and dragged you into the action. You’d think—especially as an actor—that he wouldn’t be so obvious in his attempts to accost a pretty woman. I had half a mind to walk up and say something to him!”
She kept forgetting she was wearing the Sage costume. It was almost unnerving, since she spent most of her days in very practical business suits. But she’d learned to move easily in the Victorian attire and forgot about it...until she walked in front of a mirror.
“I’m not in the show. I’ve enjoyed playing Sage out in the streets, but their show’s already cast—hero and heroine, vamp and villain. And don’t worry about me, Mike. I can handle myself very well.”
“I saw that,” he said with a wink. He smiled at Kelsey. “Welcome!”
They exchanged a few words, then she and Jane passed through the barred wooden door that led to the cells.
“What are we doing?” Kelsey asked her quietly as Jane fit her cell-block key into the room door.
“I saw Trey Hardy. Did you?”
“No, I didn’t. But he’s supposed to haunt the street and the jail, right?”
“Yes. I didn’t get a chance to tell you—Sage wrote his name on the mirror in my room. She doesn’t seem to speak, but she likes to write in the mist on a mirror. Oh, and she throws a mean hairbrush, too.”
They entered the Trey Hardy cell. The room had been updated effectively. The door made it feel like a jail cell, but the beds were plush, and the television stand looked new but was Victorian in style, as were the dresser and bedside tables. A wardrobe doubled as a closet in back. There wasn’t much extra space around the furniture, but then the Old Jail hadn’t originally been designed to offer luxury suites.
Jane stood in the bedroom, certain that the ghost had beckoned her here, and yet she didn’t see him now.
“So, are you really sleeping here?” Kelsey asked. “You have the Sage McCormick room, as well. Are you planning on spending part of the night there? Did you want one of us in here with you—or do you think that will hinder Trey’s appearance?”
“I hadn’t planned anything. I just saw the writing on the mirror and found out that the couple who were supposed to be here had left,” Jane said. “So I took the room.”
“Well, the question is, who knows more about what’s going on? Sage or Trey Hardy.” Kelsey lay on the bed and closed her eyes. “I’m feeling a bit of jet lag,” she murmured apologetically.