Ghost Shadow

“He knew the island like the back of his hand. Knew all the legends. He admits that he saw Tanya the night that she was killed. He admits that they argued. He told me that he was angry with her for acting like a flirt-a tramp. And maybe it even went deeper. Damn it! If we’d just found Da

“All right, so what do I do? Well, I’ll give your reasoning to the team, of course,” Liam said. “But there’s the thing-we still don’t have a shred of physical evidence.”

“I know. And I’m not certain. I think I will be-if I just get through those books,” David said. “Maybe, by the time we get there, Katie will have found something. Maybe she’s already found something,” he said. He pulled out his phone and called Katie’s cell. It went directly to voice mail. He swore softly.

“What?”

“She’s either talking, or she never charged her battery,” David said.

He was already dialing again.

“Sean?” Liam asked.

David nodded. But Sean’s phone rang and rang-and went to voice mail.

“Hurry,” David told Liam.

“Hell, this isn’t a sci-fi car, even if I have a siren!” Liam said. “I can’t fly over those other cars.”

“Put the siren on, do your best. Hey, have someone get over to Katie’s house, and to my place, Liam. Please. Have them do it now.”

There were figures tussling on the floor. Sean. And someone else. Someone else big and brawny, rolling with Sean. She heard a whack-a fist co

Robert the Doll stood in place, looking at her with his ugly face and beady eyes. She looked beyond him to the small-scale model of Artist House.

“Bastard! Asshole!” Sean raged. “The cops are on the way, you idiot!”

For a moment, one of the shadow figures rose high above the other. He turned blindly, heading toward the archway that lead to the next exhibit.

“Hey!” Sean roared, making it to his feet. Ahead of him, as if he had hit a wall that wasn’t there, the big shadow figure suddenly fell back to the ground.

“Sean, stop it, let him go!” Katie cried.

The figure crawled to its feet, then doubled over and came at Sean like a bull. Katie heard the sickening thud as they met. Her brother went down with the lug on top of him. Katie found a piece of wood that had been used to construct the miniature of Artist House.

She wrenched it free, and brought it down with all her strength on the back of the man on top of her brother.

He bellowed in pain, rose and staggered toward her.

She held the wood, and whacked him again, as hard as she could, across the shoulder.

Sean was up, hurrying toward her.

Light suddenly flickered in from a car passing by on the street.

It was Sam. Sam Barnard. And he was stumbling toward her now with the ceaseless drive of a zombie, his face frozen into a mask of anger.

“Stop!”

Sam lunged for her. She tried to back up; she crashed against the Artist House miniature and fell flat back on the floor.

Sam came down on her.

She screamed.

Robert the Doll looked down at her with malign eyes.

Sean was on top of Sam next, dragging him off her. He straddled over Sam, punched him, and punched him again.

“Stop!” Sam screamed. “Stop!”

“You murdering bastard!” Sean raged.

“No, no, no! I didn’t murder anyone,” Sam said. “I swear, I swear. I just came here…because I had to come here. Tanya was killed. That whore was killed. And now Da

“Right. You were just sneaking around in here,” Sean said.

“You’re breaking my ribs, Sean, please, get up,” Sam said.

“No. The cops are coming, right, Katie?”

“Yes,” she said. She didn’t really know if they were coming or not. She was struggling up from the broken pieces of the Artist House.

Pete would come. For the moment, though, they were in the house, alone, with Sam. And she didn’t know for the life of her if he was telling the truth or not!

“I’ll help you up,” Bartholomew said. “Hey, did you like that stop? Did you see it? Don’t tell me you didn’t see it. I stopped him like a brick wall.”

“I saw it,” she assured Bartholomew. He had extended his hand. She took it, not expecting much real help. But she could feel him-she could actually feel him, as she got to her feet.

“What’s she doing, who’s she talking to?” Sam cried out, as if he were in mortal terror.

“My sister talks to ghosts,” Sean said, eyes widening, waving his arms in the air. “And guess what, asshole? The ghosts aren’t saying good things about you.”

“What?” Sam cried.

“The spirits are assembling!” Sean said.

“Sean!” Katie protested, stu

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Sam swore. “Yeah, all right, I broke in here, but I just needed to see the place. I needed to see the place again where my sister died.”

There was something forming in the shadows behind Sam and her brother. The two were still talking, but Katie didn’t hear them.

It was Da

Da

The hanging tree.

They heard the door open.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Pete Dryer demanded in his husky, authoritative voice.

“Thank God!” Sean breathed. “Pete, we found this bastard lurking around in here,” Sean said.

“Is that a fact?” Pete demanded. “What are you, some kind of a sicko? You killed your own sister, and now you’re back at the scene of the crime?”

“No!” Sam cried out. “Get this jerk off me, for God’s sake.”

Sean stood. Pete pulled out his cuffs. “Time to pay the piper, you little snot-nose creep!” Pete said.

Pete was here. It was all under control.

“Whether he killed anyone or not, Pete, he was breaking and entering here,” Katie said.

“Oh, what, it’s your place because you’re sleeping with Beckett?” Sam demanded. “That asshole-my sister dies over him and he’s still out there poking everything in a skirt!”

Katie ignored him. “I have to run upstairs for just a minute. It’s important. Pete, you’ve got Sam, right? Sean, you can fill Pete in? I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t give them a chance to answer. Da

“I’m calling it in,” Pete said, “but I’ll drag the little goon in myself. Tell me exactly what happened, Sean.”

“Katie, what the hell…?” Sean demanded angrily.

“I’ll be right back down!” she swore.

She wasn’t afraid. Her brother was there, and Pete had Sam Barnard-he’d be cuffed any minute, and safe.

She came out upstairs. The auxiliary lights had come on, giving her a footpath to follow. In the very strange orange-and-purple light that filtered in from the sky of the dying day, figures rose all around her. Pirates, smugglers, scalawags. Navy men and soldiers, Union soldiers, Confederate soldiers. They posed, ready to speak, ready to move.