He hesitated. “Look, when you came into the bar last night, you were already upset, because of Mr. Griffin showing up at your house. I think he said more to you than you shared with the others. Want to tell me now?”
She sat down again, deflated, staring at the floor. “I have to admit, he looks kind of scary, very old and very skinny. He talked about the history of the house, and he kept saying it was evil. That part’s crazy, but I have to admit, he had the history right. Before the Civil War, the house was owned by a family called MacTavish, and the father was a mortician. The son, Cato, went off to fight when the war started. He came back wounded, only to find that his father was dead and his fiancée had disappeared right after he left. Then other young women started disappearing. He ended up being accused of murder, so he just took off, abandoning the house. His housekeeper—who supposedly practiced voodoo and magic—left right after he did. A man named Brennan had been living here with Cato, learning the mortician’s trade, and he ended up buying the house for back taxes after the war. The Brennans hung on to it for generations, and then—like I was saying last night—Mr. Griffin’s daughter disappeared on her way to meet a friend here back in the nineteen-twenties. Cary said a bunch of girls disappeared at the same time. Anyway, Mr. Griffin is convinced the house itself is evil. I think he heard about the bones being discovered, and now he believes that people’s souls have been caught here.” She hesitated. “He thinks I can communicate with them, and that I have to talk to them and find out…something, or else women will keep disappearing and…dying.”
“Wow. He laid a lot on you,” Caleb said.
“I don’t believe in ghosts, or that a house can be evil,” she told him.
“I don’t believe it, either. But I believe that human beings are capable of some pretty hideous things, and that madmen can walk around looking like saints. And if there’s a legend that goes with the house, some bastard may find it useful in carrying out his own crimes.” He lifted her chin, looking into her eyes. “Look, Sarah, you don’t have to believe in ghosts to have been subconsciously influenced by what Mr. Griffin said. You had a dream, and I was the last person you saw before you went to sleep, so…”
“So…” she repeated softly, staring at him. “So where did the mud come from?”
“We tracked it in somehow.”
She stood. “I’ve got to call the museum and leave a message. Caroline’s parents suggested that I take a few days off, and I’m going to. I want to look at the historical records and whatever newspaper files I can find. I want to see what went on in the house over the years. So you can go on to the police station without me.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Caleb asked her.
“I’ll be fine. So go do whatever you have to do,” Sarah said.
“I’m going to help hunt for Winona Hart,” he said.
“What about Jennie Lawson?” she asked.
“Jennie was here. I found someone who saw her. She wanted to go on the spookiest ghost tours she could find.” He hesitated. “When I showed her picture around yesterday, a lot of people thought I was showing them a picture of Winona Hart, so logic says that the same person snatched both girls. If we can find Winona, I’ll find out the truth about Jennie.”
“Do you think Winona might still be alive?” Sarah asked. “She hasn’t been missing that long.”
“We can hope. But I want to get moving quickly. That means a trip to the station to tell Tim Jamison what I learned yesterday and find out everything the police have on Winona, and then I need to follow up on every last person who was near her and every possible clue.”
“I hope you can find them both. Alive.”
He nodded. “I hope so, too.”
“You don’t think it’s possible, though, do you?”
He shrugged. “I saw Jennie’s mother. She said she knows that her daughter is gone. And Jennie was a good kid. She wouldn’t have just disappeared. She wouldn’t have run away with a man. So…quite frankly, it doesn’t look good. But people need closure. They need to bury their dead, and they need to grieve.” He stepped toward the door. “Maybe I should walk you wherever you’re going.”
She smiled. “Thanks. But it’s broad daylight now. Someone will be by to get into the house soon—Floby left me a note that they still had some things to do. And I can walk to the library on my own when it opens. It’s a whole three blocks away—maybe.”
He paused at the door, looking back at her. “You believe me, don’t you?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Yes, it’s just that…it was so real.” It took her a minute but she finally gave up. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “I’m sorry about your room and your stuff. I can go clean up if you want, since you’ll be busy.”
He shook his head. “No, that’s all right. I can manage. But, by the way…”
“By the way…what?”
He grinned. “If you ever show up at my room again, it had better be for sex.”
She flushed, and her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.
He let himself out.