A Haunted Twist of Fate

by Stacey Coverstone

  “Yes,” she answered with sincerity. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here for you if you need me.” She walked Dawn to the door.

  “Thank you, Shay. You made me feel a whole lot better.” Dawn gave her a big hug and then waved goodbye. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

  Shay returned the wave and closed the door. She’d heard her cell phone ring as Dawn was leaving, so she jogged upstairs and saw that she had a voice message from Colt. They’d kissed goodnight last night, and he’d told her he’d help gather more information about Alicia Averill, but nothing had been resolved as to whether they were going to pursue a real relationship or not.

  When she called him back, it went straight to his voice mail. She left a message. “Looks like we’re playing phone tag. It’s your turn.”

  She rinsed the coffee pot while thinking about the things she’d told Dawn about having a baby and raising a child. She herself had been lucky, having been blessed with loving parents. They’d instilled in her good values and self-worth, and given her the building blocks for one day being a successful mother. But she feared the lies and injustice she’d suffered at the hands of both Gary and Tom might have jaded her. A woman couldn’t be a wife if she didn’t trust her husband.

  Her stomach flipped when she considered the possibility of sharing a life with Colt. He’d told her he’d fallen in love, but where did marriage and family fit into that? Did he want children? She’d never want to have to talk a man into having kids. And she certainly had no intention of pushing a man into marriage.

  Shay sighed. He’d already told her he wanted nothing permanent. Permanent, to her, meant forever—a marriage, a home, and eventually a family. If they couldn’t even agree on the kind of relationship each wanted, it was doomed before it had barely begun.

  Forty

  Colt and Shay finally caught up with each other on the phone later in the day. He sat in his truck outside the Buckhorn now watching the sun melt behind the hills, preparing himself to break the news to her.

  Terry McGinty had phoned him back in the early afternoon. After processing the information given to him by the detective via his aunt, Colt had called Shay and asked if he could come over tonight. She’d hesitantly agreed. He hadn’t mentioned why, and she hadn’t asked.

  They hadn’t talked much last night, like he’d hoped. She’d apologized for blowing him off, but she hadn’t reciprocated his feelings in words. Maybe she’d been hurt so badly in the past that she couldn’t recover. Hearing she’d been engaged twice had given him second thoughts and added to his confusion. Maybe she wasn’t the marrying kind after all. Or maybe she simply wasn’t interested in marrying him. If that were the case, he’d turn her loose and move on. After all, he wasn’t getting any younger. There were other fish in the sea, if he wanted to fish.

  Hell. He didn’t really mean that. Something implied Shay could be the real thing, but how had she managed to come close to the altar with not one, but two, other men? That didn’t bode well for him. She’d mentioned betrayal, but perhaps she’d been more to blame than she wanted to admit.

  Despite the mixed-up way he felt, he thought it his obligation as a friend to tell her what he’d found out. He slammed the truck door shut and sauntered to the saloon. She opened the front door before he’d even knocked, and his heart jumped in his chest, the way it always did when he saw her. It didn’t matter whether she was dressed in a sexy outfit or in casual jeans and a t-shirt, like she was now. Every time he laid eyes on her, he wanted to plant a big kiss on her. Tantalizing smells drifted out from the kitchen, and he noticed she had on quilted oven mitts.

  “Something smells good.”

  “It’s a casserole my mom used to make. Have you eaten yet? You can join me, if you’re hungry.”

  “Well…”

  “Come on in. Take a load off.” She escorted him to the bar and then entered the kitchen, squeaked open the oven door, and returned carrying the hot dish. A bowl of salad was already on the counter. She set two plates down. “Do you want a beer?”

  He scooted his stool up to the bar and was suddenly famished. A little surprised at her light and welcoming mood, he was equally pleased that she appeared happy. “Think I’ll have iced tea tonight, if you have it.”

  When she sat two glasses and the tea pitcher on the bar, he filled their glasses and they began to eat.

  “Thanks for supper. It’s delicious.”

  “I appreciate the compliment. I like to cook. My mom taught me. After being on the road for so long, I’m glad to be getting back to it.”

  After a few moments of awkward silence, Colt said, “You’re probably wondering why I wanted to see you.”

  She smiled. “I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.”

  There was no point in wasting time with small talk. He sat down his fork and looked her in the eye. “I called the Chicago police department today to speak to Chief McGinty. I wanted to see if he could fill in some of the loose holes regarding Frank’s daughter.”

  The disappointment in her face was understated, but not lost on him. Apparently she thought he’d come over to discuss something else.

  “Did you speak to him?” she asked, noticeably distracted.

  “No. He died ten years back. But his nephew, Terry, is a detective and we had an interesting conversation.”

  “What did he say?”

  Colt’s throat felt raw. He took a long swig of tea and then filled her in on their discussion, up to the part that had to do with the mysterious good citizens who’d paid for Alicia’s funeral.

  “Don’t keep me waiting,” Shay urged. She’d pushed her plate back and leaned toward him, now rapt with attention. “What did McGinty’s widow tell her nephew about them?”

  Colt exhaled deeply. “Their names were Alex and Grace Brennan.” He watched her face pale and placed his hand over hers. “Were Alex and Grace your parents, Shay?”

  “Yes, but, I don’t understand. Are you saying my parents were the anonymous patrons all those years? They’re the ones who arranged funerals for people who were homeless or alone in the world? Including Alicia Averill? Even though she had a family?” she added quickly.

  “Yes. According to the chief’s widow, they’ve done that sort of thing for over thirty years. Terry McGinty told me his aunt was certain of their identity because your dad and her husband had been friends. They’d known each other since they were boys in school together.”

  Shay shook her head. “How could that be? I’ve never heard of Trevor McGinty until today when we read the letter from him to Frank. Maybe the woman was mistaken about the friendship. Or the name.”

  “Maybe,” Colt said, knowing there was no mistake. He could see in Shay’s expression that she had doubts about the information.

  “I can understand my mom and dad doing that sort of thing—paying for someone’s funeral who couldn’t afford it. They gave to several charities and donated money to the hospital, library, and other non-profit organizations. But why would they keep that a secret from me? That would be a service to be proud of.”

  Colt wanted to assure her there was probably nothing surreptitious about what her parents had done. “Giving to charities is one thing,” he suggested, “but picking out headstones and paying for funerals…well, that’s very personal. I can see why they wouldn’t have wanted to advertise their involvement. Although their generosity was commendable, they probably wanted to keep their actions quiet to avoid embarrassment for anyone, just in case a family member or friend stepped forward later. Like Frank and Bonnie. Besides, maybe they thought it wasn’t classy to toot their own horn.”

  She nodded in agreement. “You’re probably right. But it’s still a very strange coincidence that my parents were connected to Alicia Averill in 1977. Now, here I am in South Dakota, discussing details of Alicia’s life with her father.”

  That was the part that bothered Colt, too, but he refrained from expressing his thoughts out loud.

  Shay was quiet while they finished
their meal. He knew she probably had more questions, and he wished he had answers for her that made sense. There were none at the moment, but he had a feeling they’d only touched the surface.

  “Who was the one person closest to your parents?” he asked, helping her clear the bar once they’d ended the meal.

  “That would be their attorney, Lee Stansbury. He and Dad were college roommates. He handled all their business and personal affairs from the time they were married.”

  “You know this guy, right?”

  “Of course I do. Lee is my godfather.”

  “Great. Tomorrow, you’re going to call your godfather and ask him to fill you in on Alicia Averill. If you have to, play the sympathy card. He won’t hold out on his goddaughter, will he?”

  She didn’t know. “What kinds of questions should I ask?”

  “Whatever will get him to tell you the truth about whether your folks knew Alicia, or if this is all just a big twist of fate.”

  Although it was obvious that Shay desperately tried to remain calm, cool and collected, Colt could tell the news came as a terrible shock. He wanted to reach out and hug her, but it didn’t see appropriate. She might think he was taking advantage of her in a moment of weakness. If she wanted comfort, she would ask for it—but she didn’t. Actions spoke louder than words, his mama had taught him.

  “I’d better be going,” he said, walking toward the door and realizing there was no reason to hang around if she didn’t want him there. “Thanks again for supper.”

  “Sure.” Her earlier cheerful mood had gone south.

  Damn. He hated to see her sad. “Call me if you want, after you’ve spoken to the lawyer. I’ll be interested in hearing what he has to say.”

  That seemed to perk her up a bit. “Okay. Thanks for making the call to Chicago today. I appreciate your help.”

  “No problem. I said I would. Goodnight, Shay.”

  Her face fell again. “Goodnight.”

  As he strolled to his truck parked at the curb, he felt her hot gaze on his back. Turning around would only strengthen his desire to kiss her confusion away. And kissing her again was not a good idea. There were only so many cold showers a man could take.

  As he jerked open the truck door, a movement caught in the corner of his eye. Glancing up at Shay’s window, he thought he saw a shimmer of white play across the glass. Then he realized it must have been the streetlight reflecting off the windowpane. Just like before.

  Colt climbed into the truck, wishing he’d never brought Shay the news about her parents. He should have minded his own business. What if she couldn’t handle more secrets, particularly when those secrets involved her own family?

  Forty-One

  It was after nine when Shay rose the next morning. For the first time in a long time, she’d cried herself to sleep last night. Now her eyes were puffy and red, and she felt physically drained.

  Some of the tears had been shed for her parents, and some for the doubt Colt had instilled in her about them. But the majority of tears had been spilled specifically for him.

  Even though he’d kindly offered his assistance in hunting down information about Alicia, it was obvious his feelings for her had cooled. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her goodbye last night. What a fool she’d been to push him away in the first place, and not to tell him how she felt.

  A strange dream about her parents had kept her tossing and turning all night, too. She had to get to the bottom of this before she exploded. She dialed Lee’s number.

  “Lee Stansbury’s office. How may I help you?”

  Shay recognized the voice. “Karen, this is Shay Brennan.”

  “Shay! How nice to hear from you. It’s been a long time. How are you doing?”

  “I’m well, thank you.”

  “Glad to hear it. Where are you now? Lee mentioned you left Chicago and have been doing some traveling.”

  “That’s right. I’m in South Dakota. I’ve been staying in a charming little town for a while now.” She didn’t want her godfather to learn secondhand from his secretary that she’d settled here.

  “I’ve heard of Deadwood, because of the HBO show. Are you anywhere near it?”

  “Not too far. Listen. The strangest thing has happened, Karen. I’ve met a man in this town who has an unusual connection to my parents. I’d like to speak to Lee and see if he knows anything about this family. Is he available?”

  “I believe so. Hold on and I’ll connect you. It’s great talking to you again, Shay.”

  “Same here.” She listened to elevator music while waiting to be connected. When Karen came back on the line, her voice sounded different—nervous and overly apologetic.

  “I’m sorry, Shay. I was mistaken. Lee isn’t in his office. Would you like to leave a message?”

  “When will he be back?”

  “Sorry. I don’t know. Would you like me to put you into his voice mail?”

  “No. When he returns, will you give him my number and ask him to call me as soon as possible? It’s very important that I speak to him.”

  “I’ll be glad to. What’s the number?”

  Shay gave Karen her cell phone number and hung up, while feeling a prickly sensation dance across her neck. Why had Karen sounded odd when she’d returned to the line? Maybe someone had interrupted her and said something rude. Lee had a partner who didn’t censor his thoughts often enough. Oh well. Hopefully Lee would call back soon.

  There was no smell of cigar smoke or any of the other sounds associated with the ghosts this morning as Shay strolled down the stairs. But just because she didn’t sense them didn’t mean they weren’t hanging around.

  Wanting to get Colt off her mind, she decided to call Brenda. She’d meant to get back in touch with her before now, but one thing after another had happened to postpone another meeting. Luckily, Brenda was home when she called. The first thing Shay mentioned was the ring on the chain.

  “You say you found it at the foot of Everett Rawlins’ headstone?” Brenda asked.

  “Yes. I’m sorry I kept it a secret from you. I wasn’t convinced you were legitimate at the time, so I made a snap decision not to mention it right then. I was a skeptic because you’d gotten Callie’s name wrong and then you went into that trance at the graveyard. I wasn’t sure if you were faking. Also…”

  “What?”

  “To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could work with you after you told me of your former relationship with Colt Morgan.”

  Brenda laughed. “I thought maybe that’s why you hadn’t called me back. I’m sorry if I led you to believe there’d been more between us. Nothing happened with Colt and me, but not for my lack of trying. He wouldn’t have me.” She laughed again. “You have my blessing. Based on the auras surrounding both of you, I think you would make a great couple.”

  “Well, thanks.” There was no point in saying more, but it did make Shay feel better to hear Brenda admit she and Colt hadn’t slept together.

  “What changed your mind about me?” Brenda asked.

  “I was impressed when you sensed the ghosts in the saloon, and of course, we both had the experience at the basement door. I almost became a believer when you went straight to Everett’s grave. But the thing that finally convinced me was when you called back that day and told me Callie’s full name. It was at that moment I was sure you do have a gift. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right, Shay. I don’t blame you for testing me. I get that a lot from people. There are a lot of fakes out there, so it’s good to be cautious. The truth is I’ve seen spirits since I was a little girl. They used to scare me so bad. I didn’t understand why I was seeing them when no one else did. It was difficult for me to keep friends when I was in school because I was always worried that if they found out about me, they’d think I was insane, or a witch or something. Which is exactly what happened the couple of times I did share my secret with someone. As a result, I became isolated and shy. It’s tough maintaining relationships when people think you’re nut
s.”

  Colt had been one of those people who’d called Brenda a nut without knowing and understanding what she’d been through her whole life.

  Brenda continued. “It wasn’t until I became an adult that I learned to manage my fears and use my gift for good. I can’t change the way I am or what I see, so now I just try to help those I can, however I can.”

  “Thanks for sharing your story with me,” Shay said. “I’m one of those who need your help. I hope we can be friends when this is over.”

  “I’d like that, too. Tell me what your goals are for this case.”

  “I want to know why Callie has shown herself to me and what kind of help she needs. Second, I need to discover who owned this ring and what it symbolizes. Third, I want to know the identity of the bad ghost—whether it’s Everett or not—and get rid of him. Finally, I’d like for you to cross over the spirits still hanging around the saloon.”

  “That’s a long laundry list,” Brenda said.

  “Are you up to it?”

  “You bet. You name the night. Spirit activity tends to be stronger in dead time.”

  “Dead time?”

  “From midnight on. The spirits prefer coming out in the dark.”

  “Of course they do. I should have known that. I’ve seen enough spooky movies,” Shay chuckled. “What will we need?”

  “Just a couple of small flashlights, which I’ll bring.”

  “You received a psychic message from Everett, guiding you to his grave. Is that always the way it works for you?”

  “Normally I request the spirits to show themselves to me. If they’re cooperative, I see them and can hear them speaking, as if they’re alive and holding a conversation. Sometimes I see visions. The best way I can describe what happens in that case is it’s like a movie running in front of my eyes. I see the spirits acting out an experience they had. I can also feel what they feel when the scene is being played out. Does that make sense?”

  Shay said it did. “I’m not psychic, but Callie has spoken to me. I’ve seen her body as if she was flesh and blood, and her blue eyes. I’ve felt her hands around my neck. And the other ghost felt one hundred percent real when he lifted me in the air and tried to throw me out my bedroom window. Plus, I saw Everett in the graveyard. How do you explain that I’ve been able to see those things? I’m not psychic.”