She hadn’t thought this through. It was three in the morning. Her brother had a spare key, but he’d kill her for leaving the hospital. The bar was closed, and Kent was a hard sleeper the times he wasn’t sleeping at his girlfriend’s house.
“Can you spot me money for a hotel?”
Oscar glanced at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Why leave the hospital where you have a warm bed and food just to go to a hotel with no money?”
“That’s one of those secrets,” she said.
He sighed and put the truck in drive. “I think I can do better than a hotel for the night.” He turned out onto the road. “You now own more property in town.”
“Not yet, I don’t.”
They drove in silence across town where the houses were more spread out, and grew farther and farther apart. This was what she called Country, just on the outskirts of town where fenced-in green fields held herds of cattle and big barns.
There were fewer ghosts, but ghosts none the less. Some dressed in civil war uniforms marching in the distance. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach around her tired, aching bones. Her normal walls to hold out the spirits were weakened, probably thanks to the concussion. With any luck, tonight she’d sleep like the dead. If the dead would just leave her alone long enough.
He turned onto a dirt road that had iron gates sitting wide open. The house in the distance wasn’t quite what she’d expected on a farm, unless that farm was in the 1800’s.
It was the perfect little hiding place for someone like her.
“This is unexpected,” she said.
The large three-story home was in the style she’d only ever seen in houses that were most likely haunted. The front porch looked picturesque, with a couple rocking chairs and one of those old-timey swings. The massive fields and yards were well maintained. A red barn stood in the distance; its doors shut.
“Welcome to your new home,” Oscar said, parking the truck in front of the house. “Don’t let that old swing on the porch fool you. The house only looks like something your great-great grandparents built, but everything inside is up to date and state-of-the art.”
Her shoulders relaxed. Her father wouldn’t find her here, and neither would anyone else. They’d think she was crazy walking into a house probably populated with all kinds of ghosts.
“How much salt do you have?”
“Plenty, but if you desire more, I can get it,” he said. “This land and house go back generations. And legend has it that a witch owed the owner for a rendered service and repaid it by putting a spell around the house,” Oscar said as he parked and stared up at home.
“A witch? And you believe in witches?” She asked.
Oscar opened his door and climbed out. He waited for her to reach the front of the truck before answering. “Some might say, witches, psychics, and others among the occult are cut from the same cloth.”
He knew her secret. It had all been but blurted out in the diner. “Where did you learn that? Do you have witches in your family tree?”
He grinned and opened the door. “No, but it’s my job to know everything about you.”
She laughed and clutched her side. “I can assure you if there are witches in my family tree, I’m unaware of them.”
“Really?” He gestured her inside.
The place was perfect. Plush furnishings filled the living room. A large dining room table that looked as though it could host a large family gathering. The furnishings were nice and big, like everything in the house.
“I can see why Mr. Wilson liked it here,” she whispered.
“Let me show you around.”
He gestured down the hall, and she followed. He slid a set of double doors open, and she grinned to find a vast office and library inside. Books lined the floor-to-ceiling shelves. There was no clutter on dark mahogany desk, and not a speck of dust. There was a couch to sit and read in the corner, and next to that was a smart board.
Her heart momentarily stopped. Ryley’s real family tree was sitting on three pedestals with a picture of Ryley as the main relative.
She stepped closer and spotted her and her brother’s real name from before Witness Protection, and then her father’s. “How did you get this?”
“I put it together. I’m very resourceful in my research. But you have no cause to worry. Your secret life in the Witness Protection is safe with me.”
“What did you do?” Her head spun, her stomach churned. Her whole life on display like this was an assault to her senses. Anyone could find out. Her father could find out!
“Part of my job is research in helping the distributor. In this case, you will be the next.”
“You mean the Farmer?” She asked.
He grinned. “Yes, well. You have much left to see. It’s my job to find any viable threats that could hinder your job and mine. Threats we know about can be handled and dealt with until no threats remain at all.”
She shook her head and pointed to her father’s name. “You don’t know him. If he finds me…”
Her words trailed off.
“He is your concern, which makes him mine,” Oscar said.
“Trust me. You need to forget his name. He’s evil incarnate.”
“If he finds you, we’ll deal with it, as we have for all the generations of our Farmers. Or if you prefer, we can find him and deal with it.”
“And how is that?” she growled.
“It’s late. We can discuss this in detail tomorrow at brunch, and you can enlighten me on what really happened in the bar’s basement.”
Her head pounded like Thor was driving nails. She gestured to the couch. “If it’s okay, I’m just going to lay down here. I don’t even need a pillow.”
“Nonsense,” he said and gestured to the door. “We have plenty of empty rooms to choose from, with beds that are much more comfortable than that couch. Please, if you’ll follow me.”
She followed him out the door and down the hall. He stopped at the door next to the library, “If this isn’t to your liking for the night, there are three more rooms in the back of the house.”
She stepped inside and put her bag of clothes on the floor. “This is perfect. Thank you.”
He gestured to the door. “The bathroom and shower are fully stocked with supplies if you’d like to shower.”
“Oh, yes. I’d like,” she said, and headed in that direction.
“I’ll bring in some spare clothes and lay them on the bed.” He picked up the plastic bag. “I’ll have these laundered for you by morning.”
She stopped just at the bathroom door. “Is your job to take care of the Farmer?”
“No.” He smiled. “My job is to help distribute, but I was once like you and needed a stranger’s help. This is me, helping you with a small act of kindness. I have no doubt you’ll pay it forward one day and carry on the tradition, regardless if you carry on Wilson’s legacy.”
Oscar went toward the door.
“Hey Oscar, can I give you a piece of advice?”
He paused with a hand on the doorknob. “Certainly.”
“Never bet on me. That way, you won’t be disappointed.”
“Let me return the favor with a piece of advice of my own,” Oscar said and smiled. “The sins of our fathers are not ours to shoulder alone. They mold us and make us into who we are but how we respond is our own choice. Choose wisely, Ryley St. James. Future lives and those that are haunting us are counting on it.”
He shut the door, leaving her to stare at the spot he’d just been. She’d never made good decisions before. If people were counting on her, things were all downhill from here.
Chapter 24
Nothing was what it seemed. The inviting bed and events of the evening promised a good night’s sleep. Nightmares plagued her dreams. Her memories taking on a new shape. An unseen threat hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike.
Sleeping in a stranger’s house always set her on edge. What sleep she had managed hadn’t kept her out long. She’d
showered last night and stepped out to find folded clothes waiting for her on the bed. On the nightstand, a bottle of aspirin and a tall glass of water waited.
She’d taken it and been thankful for Oscar’s foresight. Maybe he did know everything. She dialed Kent’s number.
His voice was groggy and scratchy.
“Hey, it’s Ryley, I need you to meet me at the bar in an hour. My house and car keys are inside in my bag.”
“Okay,” he grumbled short on words.
“Thanks. Oh, and I’ll probably need the night off, so can you find someone to cover my shift?”
“You owe me,” he said.
“Actually, I almost killed myself getting you alcohol. I’d say we’re even. Thanks, and see you soon.” She hung up.
Kent was like the younger brother she’d never had. He was a good guy and always helped when she needed it. She would have done the same for him.
Ryley slipped out into the hallway again and made her way to the library. It hadn’t been a nightmare. Her picture was on the board, along with every member of her family tree going back several generations.
“You aren’t the first psychic in your family,” Oscar said from the doorway. She turned to find him holding two cups of coffee. He handed her one.
“Every family has secrets, Oscar, including mine. If there were more psychics in our bloodline, my parents didn’t know. They never told me. I was always the outcast.”
“I had to dig deep to find your secrets, Ryley. Your father’s mother was gifted with the added sight, as were her sisters and the women before her. Your mother’s side was rather interesting, too. She left home at the age of sixteen in love with your father and running from her fate.”
“And what fate is that?” Ryley asked.
“She comes from a long line of witches, and not all of them are the good kind.”
“Bad witches on my mother’s side? You must have that mistaken for my dad’s relatives.” She sighed.
“They weren’t all bad. But there were a few white witches that would put Glenda to shame.”
Ryley sipped her coffee and stared at the names attached to her father’s. “A long line of witches and psychics. If he knew he never mentioned it. But he once told me he should have killed me when he had the chance.”
“Yes, well. His chance has come and gone, regardless of what rock he crawls out from under.”
She grinned. “You didn’t find his location in your research, did you?”
“Not yet, but I will,” Oscar said, and his eyes flashed with challenge.
“I’ve tried for years. Don’t sweat it if you can’t. He’s a master at staying off the grid. Years of practice hiding from the wrong people helped him hone that craft.”
“Yes, well. I’m aware of what put you into the witness protection system.” Oscar gestured to the door. “Now, I have food waiting. Let’s eat while we talk, and then I’ll return you to the bar to meet with the other bartender.”
“How could you possibly know I’m meeting him?”
Oscar shrugged. “You need your things, correct? That’s the logical conclusion.”
Ryley followed Oscar through the large house and into a dining room where the table was set for two. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table for Ryley before taking the seat next to her.
Within seconds, platters were being brought in as if on cue, filled with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and everything in between.
“Uh, hello. Where did you guys come from?” Ryley asked, staring at the strangers.
They smiled and nodded but didn’t reply.
“They show up and cook all meals. Morning, noon, and night.”
Ryley lifted a brow. “Unable to run a microwave?”
Oscar grinned. “Just one of the many perks living on the farm.”
Her stomach grumbled and turned, so she took a biscuit, bypassing the other things. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I could have grabbed something after picking up my car.”
“No trouble.” He reassured her and tossed her the newspaper. “I understand you weren’t ready to commit yesterday, but you might want to reconsider now. We can offer you privacy.”
On the front page of the newspaper was a picture of Ryley along with the headline Psychic Swindles Dying Man.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Ryley snatched the paper and read the byline beneath.
Sources say self-proclaimed psychic, Ryley St. James, owner and bartender at Shadows Edge has wormed her way into the inheritance of a man she’s never met. Sources say that she must have gotten her hands on the will and knew to show up at the funeral to carry out her plan of stealing the inheritance from a grieving family that includes valuable property. We’ve tried to reach Ms. St. James for a comment but were unsuccessful. This is a developing story with more to come in later editions.
“Their research is impressive. I had to dig deep to find the deed to the bar. Most people believe you’re just the bartender,” Oscar said.
“I’d rather be slinging drinks than doing paperwork,” Ryley said with a shrug.
“And where did the money come from? I couldn’t find a paper trail,” Oscar asked with a raised brow.
“Here and there,” she answered evasively. “Felix is lying. You know damn good and well that I didn’t do what he’s claiming. Well, technically, I did go to the funeral, but it wasn’t for the will. Hell, I didn’t even know the guy had a will, much less his devious plan to leave things to the attendees.”
“I’m aware,” Oscar said. “I already have a call in to the newspaper to recant the details of the story, and Jane Pinkerton will be suing for defamation of character, among other things.” Oscar buttered a biscuit. “Neither of us really liked Felix. Heck, Harlon didn’t either. For all the good that Harlon did for that man, Felix always took, took, took, and never paid it forward.”
“Listen, I appreciated your rescue last night, but I could use a lift back into town to the bar. If you’re too busy…eating, I can call a cab. I just need the address.”
“Of course. Eat first. You’ll need your strength to deal with the idiots that believe the story. It might be wise if you missed work for a day or two.” He glanced at her. “You are the boss. I’m sure you can make that happen.”
“Let’s just hope my father doesn’t see this article. This little write-up could mean the end for me. I see ghosts. I can’t help it, but I do. What you read in my file about the trial wasn’t everything there was to be told. I left out the parts about how my father used me and took me to see one of his criminal mastermind buddies, Eli Floyd, because they knew I could talk to the dead. He killed the man in front of me and wanted me to perform like a monkey in the circus to extract information from a dead man.”
“I don’t understand,” Oscar said, wiping his mouth of crumbs. “They killed a man before they got the information they wanted.”
“It’s a long story. Let’s just say I’m more than just psychic. Under the right circumstances, I have the talent of seeing what the dead want to remain hidden before forcing them into the light.”
“And you kept that part out of your testimony because you didn’t think anyone would believe you?” Oscar asked.
She nodded. “I knew they wouldn’t. Even at a young age, I was a smart girl.”
“You’re expecting your father to blackmail you?” he asked, stabbing a pancake and putting it on his plate. He gestured with his fork to the stack of cakes. “You have time for one.”
She slid one onto her plate and doused it with syrup. “I didn’t think he’d stoop to blackmail considering I didn’t have anything he wanted…until now. That article means he shows up and either kills me or takes whatever I’ve got.”
“Even if he were to tell the papers or authorities what really happened, what makes you think anyone would believe him?”
“That’s not what he’d blackmail me with.” She ignored the acid rising in her stomach.
“Then what? Did you kill a man, and
he help cover it up?”
“No. Well.” She paused. “Yes, sort of. I tried to kill him, but I missed. He was beating my mother and almost killed my brother, and I shot him. Had I known to aim better, I would have killed him dead.” She shook the memories that formed. “That’s why you shouldn’t bet on me. I’d do it again, and the next time I wouldn’t miss.”
Oscar was momentarily silent before his gaze met hers. “Have you seen Mr. Wilson?”
“Yes, he appeared at my home and in my car on the way to Ms. Pinkerton’s office.”
Ryley’s phone vibrated, and she glanced at the screen. It was a message from her brother, demanding she call him back. “Excuse me.”
She typed out a message to her brother she was fine, and she’d seen the paper and that she’d stop by his office later today.
“Everything alright?” Oscar asked, taking the last bite of his pancake.
“My brother saw the paper. He’s worried.”
Oscar nodded. “Well, eat your pancake, and I’ll take you back into town.”
“Thanks for your hospitality, Oscar, but you can see now why I’d taint what you and Mr. Wilson have been doing. I don’t think I’d ever be a good fit.”
“You’re the perfect fit. Everyone has secrets, Ms. St. James. Even old Mr. Wilson and the men that came before him. You’re the perfect replacement to carry on his legacy. Let me feed Ringwald, and we’ll leave.”
“I forgot about the dog. Where is he?”
“He’s in the barn. He’s skittish around newcomers, so it may take some time to warm up to you.”
“Story of my life. People love me or hate me.”
Ryley finished eating, and Oscar took her to the bar. Kent had told her she looked like hell and suggested she take a few days off, and she agreed, only because she had a ghost to track and deal with.
Ryley arrived home, changed, and went in search of answers that a certain PI needed to give her. Quid pro quo. She wasn’t walking away without answers to the sleazy affair pictures he’d taken for both parties. Damn client privacy. She had a vengeful ghost to send into the light.
Grave Wrong (Lost Souls Society Book 1) Page 12
