by Gina Wilkins
She had never intended to try to visit them all, but just looking at the pictures and reading the descriptions had given her pleasure. During those years when her only travel had consisted of driving from home to work and back again, she’d escaped into daydreams of wandering around the world, experiencing places and people and foods and customs that she’d only read about in books and magazines.
Now that she had the freedom and finances to actually make some of those daydreams come true, she would be a fool to throw away all her plans just because a good-looking, smooth-talking police chief—who packed pure dynamite in his kisses, by the way—had come to town.
EMILY WAS SUMMONED to her boss’s office again late on Monday afternoon.
Half expecting to see Sam Jennings and the intriguing chief of police again, she walked warily into Marshall Hayes’s office.
To Emily’s relief, Hayes was the only one in the room.
He smiled when she entered. “Hello, Emily.”
She made a show of looking in the corners of the wood-paneled office. “No gendarmes waiting to haul me off to the big house?”
Hayes chuckled in response to her lame attempt at humor. “Actually, it’s the opposite. Chief Davenport just called. He had some news for us concerning his investigation.”
Emily’s heart gave a little flutter—only because she was a bit nervous about the contents of that call, she assured herself. “Was the call about Mr. Jennings’s accusation?”
“Yes. Apparently, Sam Jennings has finally found evidence that Tammy Powell had been bilking him for some time. Several thousand dollars were involved. It’s obvious that she falsified the deposit records to hide her tracks.”
“Does this mean I’ve been completely cleared?” Emily was almost afraid to hope.
Marshall Hayes nodded firmly. “Completely. Not that I ever had any doubt,” he added.
Emily smiled at the kindly man who’d been her employer for so long. “Thank you. Your trust means a great deal to me.”
Embarrassed by the show of emotion, Hayes shrugged. “I thought you would be anxious to know that everything’s been settled and that you have nothing more to worry about.”
“Thank you. It’s a great relief to know that I’m no longer under suspicion.”
He nodded again and returned to his seat behind his desk. “You’ve handled this whole thing very well. The first of next month, I’m giving you a raise. It’s time for you to have one, anyway. You’re a valuable asset to our team.”
Feeling just a bit guilty, Emily held onto her smile. She hadn’t yet told her employer of her plans to leave Honoria. She had wanted to get the sale of her house fully underway before giving notice at the bank. “That’s very kind of you.”
He gave her a wry smile. “You should get an apology from Sam Jennings, but I wouldn’t advise you to hold your breath.”
“No. I don’t think that would be advisable,” she replied, her tone equally dry.
Hayes pulled a stack of paperwork in front of him. “I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you have things to do.”
As Emily went back to work, it occurred to her that, since the investigation was over, there was no official reason for her to see Wade Davenport again. And she told herself that it was utterly ridiculous to feel even a twinge of disappointment that the embezzlement case was now closed. She should be thrilled that she was no longer a suspect That she was free, once and for all, to leave this town and its convoluted history behind her.
So why was she suddenly feeling a bit depressed?
THE NEXT TIME Wade saw Emily, she had blood dripping from two deep, ugly puncture marks in her neck. Her skin was a ghastly white, with dark purple hollows beneath her eyes. Blood had pooled around the corners of her mouth, and her hair was a tangled mess around her death-mask face.
She had obviously been the victim of a most heinous crime.
“Damn,” Wade said. “I was kinda hopin’ to be the one to take a bite out of your neck.”
He saw a bright pink flush spread beneath her stark white makeup, spoiling the dramatic effect. Her eyes darted from side to side, obviously checking to make sure there had been no eavesdroppers.
It was a week before Halloween, and full dress rehearsal was underway for the Community League’s haunted house. Wade had stopped by on his way home from the office primarily because he’d known she would be there.
He’d missed seeing her. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her during the two weeks that had passed since he had kissed her. He had deliberately stayed away from her after his quick call to her employer to let her know that she had been officially cleared in the Jennings case.
Emily had made it obvious that she had no intention of allowing Wade to change her mind about leaving, and he’d told himself that he had no time to begin something he couldn’t finish. Yet, no matter how many times he tried to convince himself that he should forget about her and get on with his life, he still found himself lying in bed in the middle of the night, reliving those kisses. Wanting to kiss her again.
Wanting more.
“Wade,” she said, both her voice and her smile a bit strained. “What are you doing here?”
“Just thought I’d see how things were coming along.” He glanced around the ticket lobby, which was bustling with ghoulish characters and people in work clothes carrying hammers and paintbrushes for last-minute touch-ups to the scenery. Someone was shouting directions, but no one seemed to be listening. “A bit hectic, isn’t it?”
“Things always are, at this stage.” She ran her hands down the sides of her floating white dress, which was dotted with make-believe blood from her fake injuries. Wade found it very interesting that she was still so skittish around him. Maybe she couldn’t forget their kisses, either.
“Grand opening is tomorrow night?”
She nodded. “Yes. At seven.”
“I’ll have to bring Clay.”
She looked doubtful.
Wade lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t think that’s a good idea?”
“It’s going to be pretty scary. Do you think Clay’s old enough to handle it?”
“Well...” Wade looked around at the townspeople dressed up so gruesomely. “I thought he would understand that the characters are just people in costume.”
“They look that way now, but when the lighting is turned down and the scary music and sound effects begin, and everyone is screaming and wailing for atmosphere, it can get pretty intense. I’ve seen adults come out of these things shaken. And when my cousin took her twins through a haunted house when they were about Clay’s age, she said she had to deal with nightmares for weeks. Of course, you know your son better than I do.”
“And you know this haunted house better than I do,” he returned. “I didn’t realize it was going to be so scary.”
“It’s designed primarily for teenagers. Some smaller kids will go through, but I think you should be prepared for what to expect if you decide to bring Clay.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Okay, everyone, places!” the woman directing the cast shouted through cupped hands. “We’re going to have a dry run. Chief Davenport, would you like to be our first victim...er, guest?”
Wade grinned. “Sure. That sounds like fun.”
Emily murmured something he didn’t quite catch and ran off to take her place with the others.
It turned out that Wade was one of five test guests, as the director, whose name Wade thought was Tressie something-or-other, referred to them. The other four were teenagers, who were introduced to Wade as Jessica, Shelly, Scott and Adam. The girls giggled and the boys postured while Tressie, who would be serving as their guide through the haunted house, gave them what she explained would be the standard entrance spiel.
“Please don’t touch any of the characters,” she said. “They will get dose to you, but they won’t touch you. We have to say that,” she murmured to Wade, “because sometimes the macho guys going through actua
lly punch the performers. Can you believe it?”
“If that should happen, give my office a call,” he replied firmly, hating the thought of Emily being hurt just because she’d tried to raise money for charity.
Tressie nodded and returned to her monologue. “No smoking is allowed inside the building. Please stay with the group. It will be dark inside and you could be injured if you wander off the designated pathway. If you need assistance during the tour, feel free to speak to Mary, your back guide,” she pointed to a shy-looking young woman who blushed when everyone looked at her. “Mostly, we want you to have a good time...and be scared out of your socks,” she added with a grin. “Any questions before we begin? No? Okay, then it’s time to enter the Trail of Terror.”
From hidden speakers, eerie music suddenly began to play, underscored by creepy sound effects such as creaking doors, howling dogs, crazed laughter, and shivery screams. Wade noted that one of the girls—Jessica, he thought—looked suddenly nervous. He smiled reassuringly when she took a step closer to him.
“I’ve never been to one of these things,” she confided in a whisper.
“It should be fun,” he replied. “You probably know nearly everyone inside.”
“Yes,” she agreed doubtfully. “But they look different in that weird makeup.”
“You’ll be fine,” Wade promised.
“You ain’t scared, are you, Jessica?” Scott taunted, holding his shoulders back to prove that haunted houses were nothing to him. “This is sissy stuff. Grown-ups in Halloween costumes.”
“I’m not scared,” Jessica insisted, lifting her chin. “I’ve just never been to one before.”
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Tressie swept an arm dramatically toward the entrance. “Shall we begin?”
The group passed through a doorway covered in strips of hanging black gauze, leaving the dimly lighted lobby area behind to step into total darkness. They immediately bumped into each other, causing the teens to gasp and giggle. The guide instructed them to place their right hands on the wall to keep them on track as they moved slowly forward.
One of the girls squealed after taking only a few steps. “E-e-w-w,” she said. “There’s something gross on the wall.”
A moment later Wade’s fingers brushed something furry and rather sticky that had apparently been glued to the wall. He grinned. That was clever.
They passed several gory, strangely illuminated scenes. The undead rose from open coffins, werewolves howled at the tour group, mad scientists conducted gruesome experiments on bloody body parts—which, on closer inspection, appeared to be professional stage props—and Dr. Frankenstein tried to animate his creature with jolts of flickering blue light The girls screamed when half human, half animal creatures resembling those on Dr. Moreau’s island dashed toward them, stopped only inches away by the chains on their legs.
The boys teased the girls mercilessly about being scared, only to jump half a foot each when several particularly nasty looking creatures rose unexpectedly from piles of hay to make menacing looking grabs for the boys. Jessica and Shelly hooted. Wade couldn’t help chuckling.
Looked like the Community League had a winner on their hands, he thought
And then he saw Emily.
An oily-haired vampire leaned over her, his gleaming fangs poised to sink yet again into her already bleeding neck. Emily was draped back over his arm, her tangled curls tumbling behind her, her slender body outlined by the clinging white dress she wore. She played her part to the hilt. She looked genuinely terrified, her blue eyes wide with feigned anguish.
Wade found it ruefully amusing that his first instinct was to rush to her rescue. He had to push his hands into his pockets to keep them from reaching out toward the guy who held her.
Suddenly he felt as foolish as the giggling teenagers surrounding him.
The vampire looked up at them, eyes glowing red in the eerie light, fangs gleaming. “Get out,” he hissed, obviously enraged by the interruption of his feast. “Go away!”
The teenagers complied hastily, hurrying toward the next exhibit. Wade lingered just long enough to look at Emily with a raised eyebrow, causing her to ruin the effect of her scene by breaking into a sudden smile. Pleased with himself, he moved on.
“THE POLICE CHIEF’S got his eye on you, Emily,” Bob, the evil vampire, teased as soon as the tour group was out of hearing. “I think he wants you.”
Blushing, Emily disentangled herself from Bob’s arms. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she chided the computer programmer she’d known since they’d both been in Mrs. Burton’s kindergarten class. “Chief Davenport and I hardly know each other.”
“He knows you well enough to have a thing for you,” Bob retorted. “I thought he was going to go for my throat when he saw me pretending to attack you.”
Emily reminded herself that Bob had always been an inveterate tease, that he enjoyed watching people squirm. She really shouldn’t give him that satisfaction, she thought, but...
“Weren’t we supposed to meet everyone else in the lobby when our scene was completed?” she asked, firmly changing the subject.
“Yeah. We’re all going out for pizza. Hey, you want me to ask the chief if he wants to join us? I’ll be real subtle about it. He’ll never know it’s a fix-up for you and him.”
Bob was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. Even if she wanted to be “fixed up” with Wade—which she assuredly did not—she wouldn’t want Bob having anything to do with it.
She spoke coolly, determined to squelch this before it went any further. “I’m sure Wade is anxious to get home to his son. And I have things I have to do at home this evening. I won’t be able to join you for the pizza party.”
“No, really, Emily. He seems like a nice guy. He’s available. There aren’t a whole lot of single men our age in Honoria, especially now that Carl Evans and I have both gotten paired off. You ought to think about it.”
“Bob, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own social life,” she replied stiffly. “Please don’t say anything more about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to join the others in the lobby.”
She stalked away from him without another word, easily negotiating the dark corridors that led back to the lobby. She’d been through them enough to know her way by now.
She wondered why on earth everyone in town suddenly seemed to have decided that she and Wade belonged together.
They couldn’t be more wrong, of course.
8
NOVEMBER SWEPT into Honoria with a line of thunder-storms that rattled windows, battered the remaining leaves off the trees, and drove the townspeople indoors for hot drinks and long evenings of television and conversation. The haunted house had been a great success, but a thoroughly exhausting one. Emily was relieved that it was over, though she’d had a great time scaring most of the teenagers and many of the adults of the surrounding communities.
Wade’s offer on Emily’s house had been made and accepted. Once his loan had been approved and all the formalities of transferring property from one owner to another had been completed, the house and land would belong to him. Emily thought it should all be finalized by the end of the month. He’d leased his current house through the end of the year, so she had until then to move out.
It gave her a funny feeling to realize that by January, she would basically be homeless.
She reminded herself yet again that this had been her choice.
By the third wet, stormy day in a row—a Thursday—tempers in town began to fray. Emily noticed it at the bank, where her customers with their frizzy, damp hair and water-spotted clothes demonstrated considerably less patience than usual. She had to make a special effort to maintain her own, and she felt that her smile grew increasingly strained as the day went on. She was relieved when the workday ended and she was free to go home.
She had driven all of three blocks when she remembered that she had used the last scrap of her last bar of soap that morning in the shower. She groaned, and wo
ndered half-seriously for a moment if she could just use dishwashing detergent in the morning. Which only reminded her that she was out of that, too.
She sighed. “Looks like I’m going to have to get wet,” she muttered, and pulled into the crowded parking lot of the town’s sole discount store. After circling futilely in search of a parking space dose to the door, she parked some distance away, pulling an umbrella from the back seat. The rain was coming down in torrents, and she didn’t expect the umbrella to accomplish much, but it was better than nothing.
She dashed through the downpour, protecting her head as much as possible, ruefully aware that the hems of her dark slacks were getting soaked. Cold water seeped through the thin leather of her shoes, chilling her from the toes up. What a rotten afternoon, she thought morosely.
She made her selections quickly, gathering only what she needed for the next day, since she didn’t want to carry too much through the rain. And then she rounded the end of an aisle and nearly ran smack into Sam Jennings, whom she hadn’t seen since he’d made his accusations several weeks earlier.
Jennings stepped back quickly to keep her from barreling into him. “Hey, watch where you’re going.”
Emily had thrown out a hand to steady herself against him, clutching automatically at his arm. Her heavy gold bracelet clinked as she quickly drew away, not wanting to touch him any more than necessary. The sound drew his attention and his scowl deepened. Emily couldn’t imagine why the sight of her bracelet always seemed to enrage him.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Jennings,” she said, making an effort to be cordial. “I didn’t see you.”
“Hmmph.”
She supposed that was as close as he would come to accepting her apology.
“Excuse me.” She stepped sideways to move around him.
“I hear you and the police chief are seeing a lot of each other these days. Guess I know now why he was so anxious to clear you of any involvement in the theft of my money.”
