“Very funny. I was walking down the street, and…I know this sounds crazy, but I saw lights. And then I woke up in the hospital. I’m really lucky. I don’t even have a concussion,” Renee said.
“Are you sure you were attacked?” Sarah asked. “I mean…it sounds as if you might have just passed out. The bandage is on your forehead. Maybe you just crashed forward.”
“The doctor said she was struck with a heavy object—like a big flashlight,” Barry said. “That’s why they called the cops. Tim Jamison took the case, and then he called me right after he got there.”
“I know this will sound crazy, and I admit I was loaded, but…” Renee hesitated, staring at Sarah.
“Tell her,” Barry said.
“Tell me what?”
“All right, I didn’t say this to the police, because they just would’ve said I was crazy, but…someone was there. A car pulled up. I remember hearing it, but I didn’t see anyone get out. And then, I could swear I saw Caleb Anderson all dressed up in some kind of costume, heading straight for me. And that’s all I remember,” Renee said miserably.
Sarah was silent, stunned. Had Renee also seen the ghost of Cato MacTavish?
“Caleb was with me,” she said.
Barry cleared his throat. “You’re not just saying that, right?” he asked her.
“No, I swear to you, he was with me. But, Renee, you should have told the police the truth.”
“I wanted to talk to you first,” Renee said. “I mean, you’re seeing him and all, so I…” She trailed off.
But Sarah was barely listening. Caleb had been with her all through the night, until he had awakened to follow a ghost—Cato’s ghost—up to her attic.
What the hell had Cato been up to last night? And if he was innocent, as he claimed and her reading seemed to prove, why would he have harmed Renee? Or had he been the one to save her by scaring the killer away?
“It’s frightening, whatever you saw,” Sarah said. “No matter what, you can’t be alone anymore. Promise?”
“I promise,” Renee assured her, then said, “You need to be careful, too, you know. I don’t care what anyone says, I think someone locked you in your basement. Maybe they just wanted to scare you—or maybe you weren’t supposed to get out.”
Before he could leave the station and head for Renee’s place, Caleb heard his name called.
“Mr. Anderson?”
He stopped and turned, and saw a uniformed officer standing nearby, a young man with dark close-cropped hair, dark eyes, bronze skin and square cheekbones.
Native American?
Caleb strode toward him.
The man spoke quickly. “Officer Jim Tiger,” he offered, shaking Caleb’s hand. “Can you meet me around the corner at the Coquina Café? I can’t talk here,” he said.
“I’ll see you there,” Caleb said.
By the time Caleb had ordered two cups of coffee, Officer Tiger arrived. He accepted one of the cups, saying, “Thanks. The stuff at the station tastes like dishwater. Come on out the back. There’s a terrace, and no one will see us there.”
As Caleb followed him out, Tiger kept speaking. “Look, I’m not trying to be disloyal or anything, but I’m worried about Jamison. The mayor is down his throat, so he’s getting desperate. And the thing is…he hasn’t been himself lately. If you ask me, he’s grasping at straws. I don’t think we should have called the Frederick Russell case an accidental death as quickly as we did. And now he’s accusing you of chasing old legends, while he thinks we have a vengeful Indian on the warpath.”
“Are you a Seminole?”
“Miccosukee, from way down south. We’re a separate tribe, but back in the day, we were all lumped together as Seminole. We have a black drink ceremony, too, though, and that’s what’s getting to me here. Jamison is way off base on this. He’s ranting on about the fact that the woman you found on the beach had been drugged. And because of the yaupon holly in her blood, he’s decided it’s a vendetta. That’s just crazy.” He hesitated for a second. “Look, I love my job. I love St. Augustine. I even think the world of Jamison—most of the time. But he’s taking the wrong road on this one. I just…well, I’m just hoping you’ll keep looking in a different direction, because I’m telling you, this has nothing to do with the Seminole. Trust me,” he said, “we were warriors once, and we fought desperately to stay alive and stay here, where we’d had our home forever. But we didn’t drain anyone’s blood, and we didn’t run around drugging people.”
“Thanks for coming to me with this,” Caleb told him. “Is there anything else I might not know?”
“Yaupon holly. It’s not a sedative. In fact, it tends to make a person more alert. It can cause delusions in sufficient quantity.” He laughed. “The black drink is like…like a night out with your frat brothers. You go a little crazy, but you don’t start killing people and draining their blood.”