The Hidden

Charles was down on the ground, searching under the table.

Clark began tapping the walls, while Gigi remained in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. “Is this going to go on long? I’d like a drink now, please.”

“I don’t know,” Trisha said, looking at Jane. “Would that change things?”

“Yes, it will put some real spirits into play,” Gigi said drily. “Honestly.”

“This is interesting,” her husband told her. “It’s not as if we had anything else to do.”

“I’ll get my own drink,” Gigi said.

“I’ll get it and I’ll join you,” Linda told her. They headed into the kitchen together.

“What should we do?” Scarlet whispered to Diego.

“Just sit here and watch,” he said, smiling. He indicated a big upholstered chair in the corner of the room.

Daniel was sitting there, studying his nails thoughtfully, as if he was just waiting to see what would happen next, too. He saw Scarlet looking at him and grinned.

She wanted to ask him if he’d seen Cassandra again, but since he was across the room, she didn’t.

His wry smile, however, made her realize that he was plotting what he was going to do next.

“What do you really think we’ll get out of this?” she said quietly to Diego. “Will Daniel spur someone into a confession? Could that really happen?”

“It could, but there’s no guarantee. Maybe nothing at all will happen. My guess is that the killer is feeling pretty safe, since he always wears a burlap bag when he commits his crimes. I don’t think he expected any real ghosts. So assuming he’s here and believes a ghost is, too, he’s probably somewhat unnerved but not terrified. Because the ghosts didn’t see him, either. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jane waited patiently. In a few minutes the group tired of looking for wires and other tricks. One by one, everyone—even Gigi—came back to the table and sat down again. Linda reclaimed her post in the doorway. Ben turned off the lights, and everyone joined hands again.

“Communication is the key,” Jane said quietly. “If there’s someone out there in pain or in trouble, someone who wishes to be known, we’re here to help you. Please, join us, communicate with us and let us help you as you can help us.”

Daniel stepped up between Gwen and Charles and waved a hand through the air. Gwen jumped; the candles flickered.

“Stop that,” Gwen whispered heatedly to Charles.

“I didn’t do anything,” he protested.

“Shush,” Terry admonished them.

“I sense that someone’s here,” Jane said. “Were you murdered on this mountain? One rap for yes, two for no.”

Daniel reached over to rap on the table, then suddenly stopped, his hand stopped in midair.

A single rap shook the table. Everyone—including Scarlet—jumped.

Even Jane seemed startled. Then she turned to stare past Charles and asked, “Were you murdered on this mountain?”

A second rap slammed down hard on the table, and Scarlet turned, then barely stopped herself from gasping aloud.

Jane had summoned the ghost of Nathan Kendall himself.

He looked like the statue come to life. In fact, he almost could have been a statue, he looked so solid and real.

The candles flickered violently. Nathan stood stock-still, looking solemnly over the group gathered at the table, before smiling at Scarlet.

She heard something like a hoarse rustling, and then the rustling became a voice.

“Mur...dered.”

“No,” Gwen whispered. Then, voice rising, she screamed, “No, no, no!”

Scarlet realized that the other woman was able to hear Nathan, too.

“Murderer...among you,” Nathan said, his voice harsh and unearthly.

“Do you know who murdered you?” Jane asked.

The wind blew from out of nowhere; the curtains rustled. The candles flickered, and two went out.

Another sharp rap sounded at the table.

The wind blew again, and the rest of the candles went out.

“Scarlet...”