“We’re praying not,” Meg said.
Melody shivered visibly. “That case is on the news constantly. They’re always warning us not to be alone, to be careful. I mean, we’re pretty remote here, in comparison to DC and Richmond, but still...”
“It never hurts to be vigilant,” Matt said. “Be extra careful.”
He’d been thinking that Meg might not be paranoid—that maybe a black sedan was following her. And if so...
Was it someone from Walker’s office, afraid they might find Lara? Or was it someone who knew they were also on the trail of a killer?
“Trust me. I’m a coward. I’m making Billy walk me home—I live two blocks from here!—every night,” Melody told them. She shivered again and said, “Well, we’re glad to meet you and glad to have the FBI here, Agent Bosworth.” She turned to Meg. “Are you really going to take the ghost tour? You could give it in your sleep.”
“But it’s fun to go,” Meg said. “Years ago, when I was very young, it was led by a wonderful woman named Shirley Dougherty. She also wrote the book about the tales. I think back then it was called Harpers Ferry Myths and Legends. Anytime I went on a ghost tour after that, the guides had high standards to live up to. Shirley would be in period dress, holding her lantern. She taught history—and then told us what people claimed to have experienced that had to do with that history. She was the best.”
“And,” Matt added, “you could go on her ghost tour on Saturday night and find her saying the Rosary at the Catholic church the next morning.”
Meg grinned. “You went on her tour.”
“I did. I agree—she was the best. I heard she died in 2011.”
“Yes,” Melody said. “And we still miss her.”
Matt tried to pay the check, but Melody informed them that the manager had insisted she wasn’t to let them do so. Everyone was so thrilled with Meg’s graduation and her being there.
They thanked Melody, and Killer licked her fingers and wagged his tail in appreciation, because Melody had seen to it that he’d gotten some scraps of beef.
They walked downhill to the meeting point. Jenny, the guide that night, also greeted Meg with a hug and seemed pleased to meet Matt. “You being here makes me a little nervous,” she told Meg. “Makes me feel I’d better get it right!”
“You always have everything right,” Meg assured her.
Matt tried to pay for the tour, but Jenny, too, refused to accept any money.
There were few places in the world quite like Harpers Ferry. Darkness had settled over the valleys between the mountains like a cloak. Historic buildings crouched together, and while there were night-lights along the historic trails, the atmosphere seemed to whisper of the past, of ghosts.
Jenny started by pointing out Harper House, explaining that in 1747 Robert Harper had come to the beautiful spot that had then been known as “the hole.” An architect and millwright, he’d fallen in love with the place where the Shenandoah and Potomac rivers met, where water was such a tremendous power. He’d purchased the land from a man who had squatter’s rights—Peter Stephens, who was running a ferry—under Lord Fairfax, and from Lord Fairfax himself. And thus, Harpers Ferry was born.
Jefferson would call it one of the most beautiful spots on earth; Washington would arrive and assess the potential.
It would become an effective place for munitions and, later, a battleground that was fiercely contested in the Civil War.
“And now...” Jenny told the tour that people often saw Mrs. Harper in the windows. Harper had died before the house was finished; he’d asked his wife to look after their gold, and it was assumed that when she died, she remained behind to keep vigil over it.
The John Brown Raid was next on the agenda. But while Jenny talked about John Brown and told everyone about his desire to begin a slave revolt, Matt noted a boy of about ten hovering on the outskirts of the group of twelve.
“Dangerfield Newby, one of Brown’s men, was the first to be killed in the action. Sadly, by friendly fire from Brown’s own party. His was a sorry tale. His white father had freed him, but when he’d tried to buy his wife and children from a slave-owner, he was told—as soon as he’d earned the required money—that the price had gone up. Angry and desperate, he’d joined with John Brown. The people here, terrified of a slave revolt, had torn the poor man’s body to shreds and fed it to the hogs, which is why we still have Hog Alley.”
As Jenny talked, going on to tell the crowd how the ghost of Dangerfield Newby was often seen on a foggy night, Matt noticed that the boy was watching Meg.
The boy seemed determined to come around and reach her.
Matt shifted his own position. The kid wasn’t trying to interrupt the guide and he didn’t seem to intend any harm.