Unhallowed Ground

As she stood there, she suddenly felt a strange warmth settling over her.

 

Something—someone—touched her shoulder. She wanted to scream, but she was frozen with fear.

 

She insisted to herself that whatever it was, it wasn’t real.

 

And yet…

 

He was there. A man. Indistinct. Just a product of her imagination, she told herself. She couldn’t possibly be looking at Civil War soldier Cato MacTavish in his cavalry uniform. She couldn’t possibly be feeling his hand on her shoulder as he put his finger to his lips, warning her to silence.

 

He couldn’t be real. She had hit her head in the fall, and now she was seeing things. Or maybe her mind had gone because she was so terrified.

 

He led her forward, still cautioning her to silence, and, inexplicably, she let him. She followed him through the basement to a far corner where a number of old wooden crates had been piled haphazardly.

 

She could have sworn she saw him reach out as if to move one of them.

 

She moved it herself and saw that, behind it, the rest of the crates had been stacked into a series of steps.

 

Keeping her bat firmly grasped in her hand, she crawled up onto the first crate. She could have sworn that Cato gave her a boost.

 

She crawled up on the next crate, and her excitement grew. There was more light here, though it was still pale and dim.

 

She turned when she felt herself being assisted up onto the next crate, and for a moment she saw him.

 

Really saw him.

 

As if he were a man of solid flesh and blood and bone.

 

The sweeping Southern hat, with its huge plume. The handsome dress cavalry jacket. The eyes that were so like Caleb’s.

 

He moved an arm, impatiently, as a whisper seemed to sound in the air. Go. Go quickly.

 

She moved on to the next crate.

 

And then she discovered the source of the light.

 

 

 

Just as he was about to turn the corner to St. George Street, Will suddenly drew back.

 

“What?” Caroline demanded.

 

“Look,” he whispered. “But carefully.”

 

They were behind a string of bushes alongside one of one of the smaller of the old mansions, which had an overgrown lot on the far side of it.

 

A car was parked in front of the lot. Caroline didn’t recognize it, and she didn’t understand why Will was staring at it, and why he was hiding behind the bushes now when he had been so intent earlier on hurrying to Sarah’s house.

 

“Will? What’s going on?”

 

“Shhh. That’s Tim Jamison’s car.”

 

“So? He’s a cop. He can park anywhere he wants. Maybe he’s investigating something,” Caroline said, perplexed.

 

“Caroline, he’s not investigating anything, he’s just sitting in his car,” Will said. “And he’s not alone.”

 

Caroline peeked around the bushes. There were two people in the car. Tim Jamison.

 

And…

 

The other person had long flowing hair. And a feminine profile. And as she watched, the two of them leaned in toward each other and met in a passionate kiss.

 

Caroline let out a loud gasp. Will clasped a hand over her mouth and drew her back into the bushes.

 

She shook free of his grasp and whispered, “Stop it. If Tim wants to have an affair, that’s his own business. We’re on our way to Sarah’s, so come on. I don’t care if they’re going at it like rabbits in there. We have to get to Sarah’s.”

 

As they were whispering in the bushes, she was suddenly aware of headlights as an old Volkswagen Bug pulled up next to them.

 

“Hey!” Renee Otten stuck her head out the passenger window. “Why are you two hiding in the bushes?” she asked, and giggled. “Get a room.”

 

Down the street, the engine of Tim Jamison’s car revved, and the car drove off down the street.

 

“We’re on our way to Sarah’s. She’s not answering her phone,” Will said.

 

“Then quit wasting time skulking around and hop in,” Barry offered, leaning past Renee.

 

“It’s just around the corner—we’ll meet you there,” Will said, then gripped Caroline’s hand and started walking quickly again. Will glanced up at the house by the vacant lot and remembered the last time he and Sarah had been at this very house. They had been wary, and suspicious, seeing the lieutenant’s car.

 

“What?” Caroline asked.

 

“Do you know who lives here?”

 

“No. Do you?”

 

“Sure do. That would be Mr. Terrence Griffin the Third.”

 

 

 

Caleb made it back in record time. Luckily—or possibly dangerously—most people on the highway were doing at least ninety, which made it less obvious that he was pushing the speedometer toward one hundred.

 

He was impatient at every red light he hit as he entered the city.

 

As he neared the streets of Old Town, he decided to pass on checking out Hunky Harry’s or even trying to call Will again.

 

He headed straight for Sarah’s house on St. George.

 

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