by Jayne Castle
The middle-aged blonde at the front desk spoke up briskly. “Don’t worry, those two aren’t going anywhere.”
“That’s it, then,” Kirk said. “Let’s go.”
The crowd tromped outside. In spite of the fog, Kirk took his sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on with both hands in a cool, deliberate way that looked very familiar. Harry remembered seeing Slade put his shades on with the same kind of move.
Kirk followed the gaggle of volunteers outside. The door closed behind him.
Harry found himself alone with Myrna. She gave him a cool, speculative look.
“Sounds like you and Rachel had quite the adventure last night,” she said.
“Yes,” he said.
“Word is that the two of you had to spend the night in your SUV after the cabin got torched.”
“Wasn’t much choice. Didn’t want to risk trying to drive back to town in that storm.”
“You seem to be making a habit of getting caught in storms with Rachel and then having to spend the night with her.”
“It’s only happened twice,” Harry said.
“Twice in three days.”
“Is this where you give me the lecture on not taking advantage of naïve, unworldly women from an HE community?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Did someone else already give you the talk?”
“Willis did just a few minutes ago. Couple of days ago I got it from those two retired ghost-hunters at the Kane Gallery, and I believe Levenson, the fishmonger, may have said something along the same lines.”
“We look after our own here on Rainshadow.”
“I got that message as well.”
Myrna turned thoughtful. “Did Slade deliver the same message, by any chance?”
“No. Probably didn’t feel it was necessary.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Before he left the island he was pretty focused on meeting Charlotte’s family.”
“I saw enough of Attridge to know that he takes his responsibilities here on Rainshadow seriously. He wouldn’t have hesitated to warn me to stay away from Rachel if he had felt I needed warning.”
Myrna pursed her lips and gave that a moment’s thought. Then she nodded once, satisfied. “Slade’s got good, solid cop intuition. Okay, moving right along, then, Kirk said you wanted to question those two kids we’ve got locked up in back. When do you want to do that?”
“Now. But I want Rachel with me.”
“Why?”
“She suggested it. And since she was there last night when that pair tried to kill us, I think she’s got a right.”
“Good idea,” Myrna said. “Rachel sometimes seems to know things about people.”
“So I hear.” He started to take out his phone and belatedly remembered again that it wasn’t functioning. “I’ll go down to the bookshop and get her.”
“No rush. I’m not going anywhere and neither is that pair back in the cell.”
He started toward the door but stopped halfway across the room. “I’ve got a question for you, Myrna.”
“What?”
“I know people tend to assume that Rachel’s a little naïve in the ways of the world because of her upbringing. I get the part about looking after your own. But I’m starting to think that the level of vigilance here is approaching overkill. Mind telling me why you think Rachel needs so much protection?”
“It’s not like she has any family here to take care of her,” Myrna said. “Now that her aunts have moved away, she’s on her own.”
“I’ll buy that, but only up to a point.” He walked back to the desk and stopped in front of it. “There’s some other reason you’re worried about her, isn’t there?”
Myrna picked up a pen and tapped the point on the desk, her expression troubled. But after a while she got to her feet and went to stand looking out the window at the fountain that stood in the town’s small main square.
“This is Rachel’s business,” she said eventually. “I shouldn’t be talking about it. But under the circumstances, maybe you should know.”
“About what?”
Myrna turned around to face him. “About what happened to Rachel here on the island a while back.”
“You’re talking about the night she spent inside the Preserve?”
Myrna looked surprised. “She told you about it?”
“Yes.”
“About how she can’t remember anything about that whole night?”
“She told me about the amnesia, as well.”
“It was Calvin Dillard who found her. She walked out of the Preserve right near his place. He brought her back into town that morning. She seemed okay except for the amnesia, but everyone thinks she suffered some kind of psychic trauma from the incident.”
“That’s why you feel so protective?”
“Probably.”
Harry lounged against the desk and folded his arms. “Tell me, Myrna, do you have any theories about what happened to Rachel the night she disappeared into the Preserve?”
Myrna hesitated and then shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not the first time someone has managed to blunder through the fence and get inside. But, then, you know that. Until Slade arrived on the island we always had to call Foundation security to conduct a search-and-rescue operation when some drunken boater or drugged-out idiot got through.”
“Yes.”
“The thing is, most of the people who do crash the fence can’t find their own way back out. But Rachel did. Yet she can’t remember anything about the experience.”
“The energy inside the Preserve affects different people in different ways.”
“I’m aware of that,” Myrna said evenly. “I’ve lived here most of my life. I’ve seen the folks your people have rescued from time to time. They’re generally disoriented and usually freaked out of their minds but they don’t have amnesia. They remember being terrified. They recall seeing things. They do not forget the whole experience.”
“So, because Rachel developed amnesia, you and everyone else in town has concluded that she’s emotionally and psychically fragile, is that it?”
“I guess that’s one way to put it,” Myrna admitted. “But there’s another possibility. Maybe what she saw while she was inside was so awful her conscious mind suppressed the memories.”
“I’m no doctor but I have to tell you that the woman who ran out of that burning cabin with me last night didn’t strike me as fragile. A little too soft-hearted, maybe, but not fragile. I’d be glad to have her at my back in a bar fight any day.”
Myrna stared at him, openmouthed.
He opened the door and went out into the foggy street.
Chapter 17
The fog was growing thicker. There were no customers and nothing to indicate that customers might materialize in the near future. Rachel sent Lilly home for the rest of the day and hung the Back in Ten Minutes sign in the window of the bookshop.
She locked the front door and set off along Waterfront Street with Darwina tucked under one arm and a packet of specially blended herbs in her tote. Darwina clutched Amberella and chortled with anticipation. Rachel smiled.
“Everything’s a game to you, isn’t it? Just walking down the street is a new adventure.”
Darwina chortled again.
“You could give lessons in living in the moment to folks back home in the Community,” Rachel said.
It was a short but eerie trek to Looking Glass Antiques. In the pooling fog, Shadow Bay looked like a ghost town locked in another dimension. Lights glowed dimly in a few store windows, but most of the businesses were closed. Her fellow shopkeepers had, by and large, concluded that it was not worth opening for trade today. They were right, Rachel thought. She hadn’t made a single sale.
The sidewalks were empty. Ferry and float plane service to the island had been cancelled due to the weather. The upshot was that there were no day-trippers to browse the offerings in the darkened windows. Visitors staying at the local B&Bs and the crowd of people attending the Refle
ctions seminar out at the lodge had wisely decided to remain indoors and sip hot chocolate by a cozy fire.
The memory of the ghostly flicker of awareness that had flashed across her senses when she had picked up the teacup still nagged at her. There was something she needed to remember, and soon.
She opened the door of Looking Glass and stepped inside. The bell over the entrance chimed. Her senses tingled. Darwina made excited little noises.
“I know what you mean,” Rachel said.
Charlotte specialized in antiques with a paranormal provenance. The atmosphere was saturated with the energy that leaked out of the old objects displayed for sale. Entering Looking Glass was like walking through a summer shower of effervescent rain.
Darwina wriggled impatiently, demanding to be set free. Rachel put her down on the hardwood floor.
“Okay, but don’t get into trouble,” Rachel said. “A lot of the stuff in here is seriously valuable.”
Darwina ignored her and promptly fluttered out of sight with Amberella, chattering excitedly. She vanished behind a display of First Generation toys.
Rachel looked at the sales counter. There was no one behind it.
“Jasper?” she called.
“Be right with you, Rachel.”
The voice was deep and gruff, perfectly suited to the big, broad-shouldered, bearded man who emerged from the back room. Jasper Gilbert was a retired ghost hunter who had moved to Rainshadow Island with his life partner, Fletcher Kane, several years ago. Jasper was an artist with a talent for riveting landscapes. His work hung on the walls of the Kane Gallery across the street.
Although both men had worked as Guildmen down in the catacombs, they were very different in many ways. While Jasper was big and burly, Fletcher was elegant, lean, silver-haired, and sophisticated, everything one expected from a successful art gallery proprietor. The couple was a fine example of successful matchmaking, Rachel thought, and living proof that opposites really did attract.
Visitors to the island were frequently intrigued by Jasper’s color-drenched scenes of the island. He had a true talent for capturing the essence of the eerie atmosphere that had always clung to Rainshadow.
Recently, however, his pictures had undergone an ominous change. Rachel had watched with deepening concern as his paintings had become darker and edgier. She knew she was not the only one who had noticed the transformation. Slade and Charlotte had both commented on it.
Collectors from off-island did not appear to be aware of the subtle shift, but Rachel had seen several of the local residents pause for a long time in front of the windows of the gallery whenever a new painting by Jasper was put on display. When the viewers moved on, they often wore troubled expressions.
The pictures of the familiar local landmarks—the harbor, the picturesque, weather-beaten shops and the waterfront—were still rendered in Jasper’s distinctive brushstrokes. The palette was still rich and deep. But the pictures had acquired a new, unsettling sense of atmosphere that put Rachel in mind of the feeling she got just before one of the fierce thunderstorms struck. Lately Jasper’s paintings stirred the hair on the back of her neck.
“Heard you were out at the old gatekeeper’s cabin with Sebastian when those two kids firebombed the place last night.” Jasper went behind the sales counter and regarded her with concern. “You okay?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Must have been damn scary. Like running into a monster ghost down in the tunnels.”
“I would not want to repeat the experience,” she said. “But I’m fine, Jasper, honest.”
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m fussing, aren’t I?”
“It’s nice of you and everyone else to be so concerned about me but, yes, you are fussing unnecessarily.”
“We all worry about you.”
“I know you do but there’s no need,” Rachel said. “Harry took care of things last night. He is in the security business, after all.”
“Heard that, too. Everyone is saying that he knew how to handle himself when the ghost-shit came down.” Jasper winced. “Sorry about the language.”
“No need to apologize. Why do I have to keep telling people that just because I was raised HE, it doesn’t follow that I’ll faint if I hear a little bad language?”
Jasper gave her an appraising look. “So you and Sebastian ended up spending another night together.”
“Uh-huh.”
“In a car.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Seems to be happening regularly.”
“This was the first time we had to spend the night in a car.” Rachel smiled. “No need to get out the shotgun.”
Jasper narrowed his eyes. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. I appreciate your concern but I promise you there is nothing to be concerned about.”
There was a small, muffled clink from somewhere inside the shop.
“Oops,” Rachel said. “I think that might have been Darwina.”
Jasper quartered the shop with slightly scrunched up eyes. “I see her. She’s on that old dressing table playing with one of the perfume bottles. Better grab her before she gets carried away. Charlotte says some of those bottles are worth a lot of money.”
“Perfume?” Rachel started toward the dressing table. “You are such a girly girl, Darwina.”
Darwina chortled, put down the bottle she had selected, and scampered out of sight under an old sofa. Rachel abandoned the attempt to distract her and went back to the counter.
Jasper snorted. “From a dust bunny’s point of view, this shop is probably just one big toy store filled with bright, shiny objects.”
Rachel heard a repetitive creaking sound and turned quickly.
“She found the old rocking horse.” Jasper angled his chin toward a dark corner of the shop.
Rachel started cautiously through the crowded space.
“Darwina? Where are you?”
The creaking continued, louder and faster. It was accompanied by a great deal of excited chortling.
Rachel rounded a dressing table decorated with intricate inlays of wood and amber and saw the rocking horse. It was exquisitely detailed right down to the elegant bridle and reins. The eyes were made of carved green amber. Darwina was in the saddle with Amberella, bouncing back and forth to keep the rocking action going.
“Stop,” Rachel yelped. “That rocking horse is probably worth a fortune.”
She rushed forward and scooped Darwina off the toy.
Darwina protested vigorously and scrambled free. She bounded down to the floor and disappeared once more, this time behind a red velvet sofa that looked like it had once graced the reception room of a really tacky pre–Era of Discord brothel.
“Cripes,” Rachel said. “I’d better get her out of here fast.”
“Let her go,” Jasper said. “I doubt she’ll do any real harm. She just wants to play. But remind me to check all six paws when the two of you leave to make sure she doesn’t take off with anything.”
“Probably a wise precaution.”
“Where’s Sebastian?”
“He’s at the police station making arrangements to question the arsonists. I’m going to help him with the interrogation.”
“Yeah?” Jasper scowled “How?”
“By analyzing the kids’ auras when he talks to them. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to see something in their energy fields that will explain why they can’t recall what happened last night.”
“They’re faking. I heard they were locked up most of the night in the woodshed. They had plenty of time to work out a story.”
“I’m not so sure,” Rachel said. “If you will recall, I’m something of an expert on amnesia.”
“I know, but those two young thugs didn’t come out of the Preserve the way you did, so they wouldn’t have been hit with the energy inside.”
“I realize that, but that storm was very violent last night. There was a lot of psi in the atmosphere and a lot of it was unusually hot.”
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“Probably because the cabin is, or rather, was, close to the fence.”
“It wasn’t just the energy from the Preserve affecting things,” Rachel said. “There were psi currents in the fire that destroyed the cabin. Harry thinks some kind of cutting-edge para-technology was involved.”
“Huh.” Jasper scowled. “Someone went after you and Sebastian with a firebomb that used a high-tech para-accelerant?”
“That’s what it looked like and also what it felt like. A lot of the fire was burning with ultralight.”
Jasper’s scowl turned grimly thoughtful. “Does it strike you as passing strange that you happened to be at Sebastian’s place last night when someone tried to take him out in the middle of the storm?”
Rachel shivered. “I know where you’re going with this, and while we in the HE community don’t think much of coincidence we also don’t think it’s smart to leap to conclusions until all of the evidence is available. My theory is that I’ve got a stalker who is angry because he thinks I’m involved with Harry. I think he sent someone to murder Harry not realizing that I would also be on the scene.”
Jasper shook his head. “This is getting complicated, but I truly do believe that what happened last night is all about the Preserve. Got to be. I’ve been sensing some bad energy coming down for months, Rachel. It’s the same feeling I used to get in the old days when I worked the tunnels with Fletch just before we ran into a really nasty ghost.”
“I don’t doubt your intuition.” She opened her senses a little. The whispery threads of purple and yellow energy in Jasper’s aura told her all she needed to know. “Another dream about the Preserve last night?”
Jasper exhaled heavily and folded his arms on the counter. “Yeah. The dreams are getting worse.”
“Mine, too.” Rachel put the package that she had brought with her on the counter. “I made up another batch of your aura-tea for you.”
“Thanks.” Jasper picked up the package. “I finished off the last of the old batch this morning. I needed it after last night’s dream.”
