Tossing her cigarette, Roo fixed Miranda with a level stare. “He definitely had something on her. Otherwise, she would have fought back. And whatever he threatened her with must have been pretty bad if she thought dying was better.”
“Blackmail,” Gage insisted. “Any ideas why?”
Frustrated, Miranda shook her head, but before she could answer, a horn honked from the curb.
“Hey!” Parker leaned out the passenger side of Etienne’s truck. “Don’t y’all have enough sense to come in out of the rain?”
Peering over his shoulder, Ashley waved at them. “Come on! Let’s go to The Tavern!”
“We’ll ride in the back!” Roo yelled.
Grumbling, Gage ushered the girls ahead of him. While Parker helped Miranda into the front seat, Gage boosted Roo onto the truck bed and climbed in after her. There weren’t any close parking spaces when they got to the restaurant. By the time they made a mad dash for the door, the rest of them were as wet and bedraggled as Roo and Gage. They found a large table in the back—and their waitress, who spoke Cajun to Etienne, took their orders, then brought a roll of paper towels so they could all clean themselves up.
“Did Miranda tell you?” Flipping her bangs from her eyes, Roo stared at Etienne. He immediately looked suspicious.
“Tell me what?”
“I can’t believe she didn’t tell you, riding over here.”
"Tell me what?”
“I thought girls told you everything. You must be losing some of that charm.”
Before Etienne could manage a comeback, Miranda held up her hands for quiet. “I was waiting for all of us to be together.”
Seeing she had everyone’s undivided attention, she recounted her whole experience again, as well as her discussion with Roo and Gage. It didn’t take long for a ripple of expectation to travel around the table—to everyone but Parker. He shook his head in disgust but stayed quiet.
“So Ellena’s life for his mercy,” Etienne mused. “That was Travis’s exchange?”
“He said ‘my mercy for your betrayal.’” Miranda knew the words by heart.
“Yeah, well, it musta been a pretty big betrayal if he thought poisoning her was merciful.”
Thoughtfully, Gage leaned forward. “We know Travis was an officer—both from Miranda’s vision and from the picture in the museum. And we also know from the picture that he and Nathan probably knew each other.”
“Nathan was holding those horses,” Ashley recalled. “Only . . . soldiers didn’t ride horses, did they? Soldiers walked.”
“But officers rode horses. So maybe—”
“He could have been in charge of them, right? Like a . . . some kind of vet? Or . . . or maybe he was like their horse trainer? Or a horse assistant?”
“Aide-de-camp?” Roo shrugged. “What if he was Travis’s aide-de-camp? ”
“Aid the what?”
“Aide-de-camp. It’s like a personal assistant.”
“Isn’t that what I just said?” Confusion wrinkled Ashley’s brow.
“If Nathan was Travis’s aide-de-camp, he must have had special privileges,” Gage pointed out. “A position like that meant lots of comforts a regular soldier wouldn’t have. And he probably wouldn’t have been sent to the front lines.”
“Which makes it less likely he was killed in battle.” Glancing at Parker, Roo couldn’t help sounding smug. “And which also supports Miranda’s theory about his being tortured and shot.”
Though Parker rolled his eyes, Etienne nodded agreement. “Look, he’d probably have known a lot about Travis, yeah? Seen a lotta things going on . . . heard a lotta things being talked about—by Travis and the other officers.”
“Official correspondence.” Solemnly, Gage ran through the possibilities. “Battle plans. War strategies. All kinds of classified information.”
As the food arrived, there was an impatient time-out. After mustard, ketchup, and hot sauce were hurriedly passed around, drinks refilled, and the first few satisfied bites taken, the group’s discussion resumed in earnest.
“If Travis had access to classified information, maybe that’s how he found out something about Ellena.” Miranda’s voice tightened with excitement. “And it was something so awful, something she felt so threatened by, she was willing to kill herself over it.”
Parker shot each of the girls a mock scowl. “Women. What can I say? They can’t be trusted. They end up breaking your heart. All of them are traitors.”
“Oh my God,” Miranda mumbled. “Parker . . . oh my God . . .”
Traitor.
It was only a word . . . but suddenly she knew.
“Parker, you are brilliant!”
Parker lifted clasped hands toward heaven. “It’s a miracle! Somebody who finally recognizes my genius!”
“She was a spy!” Straightening in her seat, Miranda gripped the edge of the table, her eyes going wide. “Don’t you see? That’s why she drank the poison—she knew that if she didn’t, she’d be hanged. Ellena Rose—Miss Ellena—she was a Yankee spy.”
26
IT WAS AS IF ALL THE PUZZLE PIECES WERE NEARLY IN place. As though the whole picture were finally coming into focus, with details vivid and intact. As the noise of The Tavern continued around her, Miranda felt a swift and sudden detachment. In the space of a heartbeat, time stopped and slammed her into the past, where scenes and people and conversations raged like a hurricane through her senses. Nathan... Ellena Rose ... Travis Fontaine —lives intertwined and shattered and forgotten . . .
Until here . . . until now . . .
Until Grandpa and me.
“That’s got to be right,” she heard Roo mumble. “Once they discovered she was a spy, she’d have been executed.”
“And think of her career.” Ashley sighed. “The scandal.”
Etienne’s tone was humorless. “Hell, in this town, the locals mighta strung her up. Me, I’d have taken that poison, too.”
The mood around the table had gone somber, as though none of them really wanted to admit Miss Ellena’s guilt. Even Parker seemed to be considering Miranda’s theory.
Leaning back in his chair, Etienne stroked his fingers along his chin. “She coulda gotten secrets from anybody. Or passed secrets to anybody. Especially if she was somebody’s mistress.”
“Or many somebodys’ mistress.” Parker chuckled.
“It would have been so easy for her—men would have told her anything. They’d have given up secret information just like that.” Snapping her fingers, Ashley coolly confronted Parker’s indignation.
“Come on, give us guys a little credit. Why would any high-ranking officer share classified information with his little groupie, huh?”
“Because those high-ranking officers were men.” Roo’s stare was as condescending as her tone. “And men only think with their—”
“Downstairs brain,” Ashley finished.
While the guys conceded with slight embarrassment, Roo and Miranda laughed. “Good one, Ash.”
“Everything we know—or think we know—about Ellena Rose fits the spy profile.” Etienne tried to steer the conversation back again. “Remember the part about her crossing enemy lines— how she never had any problems? And how she loved traveling through the South?”
“She probably had contacts all over the place,” Gage reasoned. “Nobody would ever have suspected her.”
“And even if they did, nobody else woulda believed it.”
“Till Travis Fontaine.” Reaching across Gage, Roo traded her empty glass for his half-full one. Gage stared into the empty glass and frowned.
“So Travis must have been one of her informants, except he didn’t know it.” Miranda picked up the probable scenario. “And when he found out, he felt betrayed for himself and the Confederate army.”
“And he wouldn’t have had a choice, really.” Gage’s expression was troubled. “He knew he’d have to turn her in. He knew she’d have to be executed . . .”
Nodding at Gage, Ashley lowe
red her voice. “So he gave Ellena the choice.”
“Some choice.” Parker grinned. “Either I kill you, or you kill you.”
Despite Parker’s twisted attempt at humor, a heavy silence settled over the group.
At last Etienne cleared his throat. “So Travis, I guess he musta loved her, yeah? To give her a way out like that?”
“I can’t even imagine.” Ashley fixed Etienne with a sorrowful gaze. “The fear she would have felt . . . the shame and humiliation—”
“But he let her die with some dignity. You gotta give him that.”
“And then he burned down the opera house,” Miranda whispered. “He burned down the Rose.”
Ashley’s eyes misted over. “Both Roses. He destroyed both Roses.”
For a long moment, they all seemed lost in their own thoughts. Then Parker spoke up.
“Yeah.” Tilting his chair back, he winked at Gage and Etienne. “That’s the way to a girl’s heart, all right. Give her poison, then burn down her house.”
Roo’s stare was openly curious. “Tell us the truth, Parker. Are you really just a changeling in human form?”
“Look, if I believed all this poison-betrayal crap—which I don’t—but if I did ? I’d be looking at your Gray Soldier guy.”
“Nathan,” Ashley corrected him.
“Whoever. I mean, y’all said yourselves, it all has to be connected, right? So Miss Ellena might have been a spy, but how does that tie in with Nathan’s message and him being tortured and shot?”
As a new thought hit, Miranda put down her fork and tapped Parker lightly on the arm. “Parker, what you just said—”
“Another brilliant revelation, no doubt.” Parker smirked.
“Actually, it was. If Nathan was trying to get a message to Ellena, maybe it was information about the Confederate army. What if he was a spy, too?”
“Ellena’s accomplice?” Roo arched a quizzical brow.
“If he and Ellena were in this together, then it makes sense. He would have been sending her lots of secret messages.”
Leaning toward Miranda, Etienne folded his arms on the tabletop. “Travis, he musta been plenty mad, yeah? When he found out Nathan was a spy? And I’m guessing that’s when he found out about Ellena, too—when he was torturing Nathan.”
“Do you think that’s when Nathan got shot?” Ashley groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Do you think Travis killed him after Nathan told him about Ellena?”
Roo’s shrug could have been either yes or no. “Talk about betrayal—your assistant and your mistress.”
“And I bet they were the two people he trusted most in the whole world.” Pushing back her plate, Ashley gazed morosely at her burger. “I can’t eat any more. This whole thing just gets sadder and sadder.”
Miranda’s glance was sympathetic. "But I still don’t know what Nathan’s message is. Or why he’s still trying to get it to Ellena.”
She’d felt so hopeful while they’d all been talking—so close to solving the mystery, so close to helping Nathan’s restless spirit. But with each step forward, I fall back three.
By the time they were ready to leave, the rain had tapered off to a saunalike drizzle. The group headed for the truck, Parker and Ashley walking ahead, while the other four took their time.
“You know,” Miranda ventured, not sure if it would help or make things more confusing, “I think I’ve figured out where this whole thing with Nathan started.”
She could tell they were intrigued. Repeating the information Aunt Teeta had given her, she told them about her grandfather, the unknown treasure he’d found, and his obsession with it.
“And I think,” she said gently to Etienne, “that might have been what Grandpa was talking about that day . . . when he said he should have told you about it but never did.”
A muscle clenched in Etienne’s jaw. Gage threw him a look, but said nothing.
Pulling another cigarette from her pocket, Roo lit up, turned sideways, and fanned away the smoke. As Etienne reached toward her, she automatically passed the cigarette over to him.
“I believe Grandpa really wanted to help Nathan,” Miranda concluded. “And I believe he tried really hard, as hard as he possibly could.”
“So we’ll keep trying, too,” Gage assured her. “We’ll figure it out.”
Etienne took several long drags on Roo’s cigarette. When he handed it back, his expression was more serious than ever.
“Whatever it was Jonas found, he’d have kept it close. Probably in his room somewhere.”
“And how does that help me?” Miranda made a futile gesture. “There must be a million things in his room.”
“But only one that belongs to Nathan. And only one person who can find it.” Etienne gave her a sidelong glance. “And that’s you, cher.”
27
“CAN YOU COME UP THE BACK WAY?” MIRANDA ASKED.
Etienne had dropped the others off. Now he and Miranda sat in his truck, parked in the driveway of Hayes House. The stress of the evening had eased since they’d left The Tavern, and she leaned back with her eyes closed while Etienne stared silently out the fogged-up windshield.
“Can you?” she asked again. She still hadn’t told him about the attic, about Nathan’s unexpected appearance, or about the connection she’d sensed between Nathan and Hayes House. Several times during dinner, she’d wanted to bring it up, but with so many other things to talk over, she’d decided to put it on hold till a later time. And now’s that time.
“Etienne?”
“We gotta stop meeting like this,” he said, poker-faced. “The neighbors, they’re starting to talk.”
“You’re the one who started it.”
“What, you don’t want me to meet your mama?”
“It’s not that—”
“I promise she’ll like me. Your aunt Teeta, she likes me.”
“My aunt Teeta loves you. She thinks you’re wonderful.”
“See. What’d I tell you?”
“She also thinks Gage is adorable.”
“What can I say? Gage is adorable.”
Miranda had to laugh. “Look, if we go in the front, they’ll both want to fuss over you, and we won’t have any privacy, and I can’t mention ghosts and weird things in front of them.”
“You know, cher, I’ve had a lotta girls talk me into their bedrooms, but this is the first time I’ve heard that excuse.”
“This is not that kind of invitation. Understand?”
Etienne gave her a solemn stare. He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Okay. Since you twisted my arm—I’ll come up the back.”
Miranda thought maybe this time he might actually smile. But like all the times before, only a fleeting hint of amusement touched his lips.
“Fifteen minutes,” she said, climbing out.
“At least. I gotta park my truck somewhere else. And walk all the way back. And sneak all the way in. Secret rendezvous, you know . . . they take time.”
Laughing again, Miranda left him and went inside. To her relief, only Aunt Teeta was up, and she was on her way to bed.
“Your mama was exhausted,” Aunt Teeta explained. “Bless her heart, I don’t know how she’s lasted this long. I told her I’d wait up for you. And I did, and here you are, and now I’m going to tuck myself in. I’ll see you in the morning!”
“Aunt Teeta?”
“What, darlin’?”
“Did Mom sleep in her bedroom tonight?”
Aunt Teeta gave a wink. “She sure did. And that’s a real good sign!”
Gratefully, Miranda hurried up to her room, shocked to find Etienne already waiting for her.
“Hey,” he greeted her. “What took you so long?”
“You’re impossible.” While he stretched out on his side across the end of the bed, she grabbed her favorite pillow and scooted back in her corner against the wall.
“So what’s the big mystery?” Etienne focused on her face. “And don’t tell me we’re gonna be looking
through your grand-père’s room tonight for that little treasure.”
“I think Nathan has some special connection to this house. To the treasure, yes, but also to this house.”
Etienne’s dark eyes narrowed. “What kinda connection?”
While he listened attentively, she told him about the boardinghouse and barn; she reminded him of the old photograph of Hayes House, of Nathan with the horses, of local families taking in visitors.
“Suppose Nathan took care of Travis’s horse and boarded it here. And suppose Ellena stayed here on some of her visits. Maybe this is where the two of them first met. Maybe this was even where they traded information. Probably no one would have suspected them.”
Leaning back, Etienne propped himself on his elbows. “So now you gonna be exploring all through the house and all over the yard, trying to come up with clues?”
Miranda couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe. I still can’t figure out what that stupid watch chain has to do with everything.”
“Don’t be trying so hard.”
Giving a long, languid stretch, he folded his arms beneath his head. His T-shirt had slipped higher, exposing part of his stomach. His jeans had slipped lower, his skin smooth and tan. Miranda looked quickly away.
“Now see?” Etienne scolded. “You’re getting yourself all tense, all worked up. And you’re never gonna find answers that way. So what’d I tell you?”
“You said . . .” She tried to concentrate. She watched him sit up, move closer.
“You said . . . just surrender to it.”
“That’s right,” he murmured. “That’s all you gotta do.”
Very slowly, he leaned toward her. He took her face between his hands. His lips were gentle, but his kiss was firm—she melted beneath it as he pressed her tight against his chest. His lips traced a shivery path to her neck and lingered at the base of her throat. His hands slid to her shoulders and down her body, an embrace both relentless and tender—burning where it touched, but never forcing, never intrusive. He whispered to her in his secret language . . . their lips locked in a kiss . . .
“Miranda?” Aunt Teeta called softly.
Miranda’s cry was instantly muffled beneath Etienne’s lips. Shocked, she stared at him, even as he pulled away from her, snapped off the light, and slipped out of sight beneath the covers. After a second’s hesitation, Miranda slid in beside him and yanked the bedspread up to her chin.
Walk of the Spirits Page 20
