When she knew she was going to die.
He’d been worried at first. She carried a gun. She had training. Thing was, nobody would suspect him. No one was ever on guard.
Except she was mostly with the other agent, the big-ass experienced one.
Slash smiled. There could be a way. If only Bosworth could die, too. It all had to look right, though.
That’s what it was all about. Optics. An accident could always happen. A fatal accident. But first...the girl.
Slash watched. She seemed to be talking to the air now, too.
They were both bat-shit crazy.
They thought they talked to the dead.
Slash almost laughed aloud. And then he sobered. He stepped back behind a memorial obelisk and frowned, startled by how scared he suddenly felt. What if...?
What if there was the slightest possibility that they did talk to the dead?
He needed to get rid of them, just in case.
Because...
What if?
8
Meg was quiet, watching Matt Bosworth as they left Hollywood Cemetery. She was pleased by his words.
Lara hadn’t been there; maybe that meant she wasn’t dead.
Then again, cemeteries were filled with the earthly remains of the dead, yet one didn’t see many ghosts there.
They’d seen Leticia Clark, though. She was one of those tragic women who’d lost her husband to the Civil War. Henry Clark had been killed at Cold Harbor, but Leticia hadn’t died until 1931. She’d mourned him all those years, never remarrying.
In death, she mourned at his grave—as she had in life.
“Think we talked her into moving on?” Meg asked. She was still a little surprised to hear herself saying the words.
She was even more surprised that she’d seen him walk past her to speak to the widow, and that he’d seen Leticia before she had. It was frankly somewhat difficult to accept that his “talent” might exceed hers. She’d thought herself so special, and hadn’t realized, despite everything she knew about the Krewe, others might have a depth of vision she did not.
Matt glanced over at her and shrugged. He didn’t seem at all fazed that they’d both spoken with a woman who had died in the 1930s about a Confederate soldier who’d died in the 1860s.
“I hope so,” Matt said.
“Then again,” Meg went on, “do we really know what we’re talking them into doing?”
“I believe it’s right to go on,” he said, smiling at her. “We know that ghosts exist, therefore we know there’s more than what we usually see, feel, taste, hear and touch. If that’s so, and if there’s that beautiful light we’ve heard about...then moving on is exactly what should happen.” He paused. “Though I have seen something different.”
“What’s that?”
“Darkness, horrible darkness that can eclipse the dead. Not fire and brimstone—just darkness. I’ve tried to study different beliefs across the world, a natural outcome of our special talents, perhaps. Maybe there’s a place souls go to get cleansed, the purgatory many Christians believe in. Maybe there is a fire-and-brimstone hell. Or hell could be simply an absence of God. Of light, and decency. We don’t know—at least, I don’t.” He gave her another quick smile. “And until they move on, the dead don’t know, either. So, there you are.”
“I’ve never seen that darkness you’re talking about. Just the light,” Meg said. “The light people see in near-death experiences. The light they walk into that leads to peace. Or heaven...”
Her phone suddenly rang in her pocket; she almost jumped, but grabbed it from her pocket.
The number was Nancy Cooper’s. Meg’s heart began to beat too fast.
“Meg, are you still in Richmond?” she asked.
“Yes, about to pull out. We’re at Hollywood Cemetery. Why? Did you hear from Lara?” Meg asked anxiously.
“No, I’m sorry. Did you...see her? Anywhere?”
“No.”
“That’s a relief. And I’m positive Lara’s still alive.”
“We won’t stop looking,” Meg said.
Matt whispered, “What is it? Any news?”
“No,” Meg said, shaking her head. She covered the mouthpiece. “I’m not sure.”
“Nancy,” she said, speaking into the phone again. “Is anything wrong?”
“I hate to trouble you—but yes.”
“What?” Meg could feel her heart beating even more frantically.
Should she be on this case? Hell, yes. She had to be on this case.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Kelly,” Nancy said.
For a moment, Meg went blank. Oh, Kelly—Killer!
“What’s the matter?”
“He’s been sitting by the door, crying and then howling, since you left. I’d do anything to help, and I’ll deal with this, but...that poor little dog. My heart is breaking for him. He was fine with me while you were in the house, but now...” Meg looked over at Matt, afraid to say anything.
“That’s okay,” she said automatically. What was she going to do? Matt was going to tell her she’d made a huge mistake and that Nancy was just going to have to keep the dog—no matter how much he howled and cried.