by Debra Glass
He went on, his drawl thick and sweet. “You cannot imagine what my existence is like.”
“I don’t want to.” Why wouldn’t he let her go?
A self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I would never presume to weary you with the details of it but there are things I can see that I could not when I was living. Things I can hear. And there is a…a power…around you, a glow. I’m not certain of its significance but it’s the same as your sister’s.”
“You’re wrong.”
His gaze scanned something above her head. She’d heard her sister discuss auras but she’d never seen one herself. Is that what he saw?
He leaned in even closer, his face only inches from her own. “No, Jillian. It is the same. I see it. And you two are apparently the only ones who can see or hear me.” His fingers trailed down her neck. Her heart skipped a beat. This time, it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he was the ghost of a man who’d been dead for one hundred and fifty years. She chanced a glance into his eyes.
“I can also see that whoever attacked your sister—intends to kill you too.”
Jillian froze. Her confused mind tried to comprehend what he was saying. “You’re lying.”
“I have no reason to lie to you.” His voice was but a whisper.
Who would want her dead? And he’d used the word too. Did that mean Amy was already dead?
“How can you see that?”
His eyes darkened. He was grim. “I see shadows around you. Dark things with red eyes. Bad things.”
Jillian swallowed. The evil beings from her nightmare surfaced in her mind.
“You’ve seen them too, haven’t you?”
Impatience set her nerves on fire. “Yes. Yes, I’ve seen them.”
He drew in a slow soft breath. “I couldn’t save your sister from harm but I can keep you safe from the soul collectors—if you will allow it.”
Her lips parted to ask him what a soul collector was but he silenced her with a finger to her mouth. “Will you?” His own masculine taste fused with the metallic tang of gunpowder.
She nodded uncertainly.
“Close your eyes.” His drawl was low but Jillian could not mistake the implied command. Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks.
“Do you see your sister?” His lips brushed her ear.
Jillian sucked in a breath. Her whole body tensed. “No.”
“Look harder.”
She squeezed her eyelids tighter and tried to forget the too-intimate proximity of this ghost. Was he telling her she could see her sister? That she could find her this way? She knew it was possible.
And then like a movie playing in her head, she saw her.
Chapter Three
Duct tape covered Amy’s mouth. Her arms were bound behind her back. Her honey blonde hair was strewn across her tearstained face. Jillian’s perception panned back. Damp, dark earth. An air tube. A cemetery. Amy had been buried alive! A whimper escaped Jillian’s throat. Something above her caught her attention. The shadow beings. They were coming for her. And she knew they came because she had opened up to their world. They would always come. Every time she attempted to use her psychic ability they would come. She screamed and suddenly, the ghost was there in front of her, fighting them, driving them away…
Jillian’s eyes snapped open and her gaze slammed into the ghost’s. She was trembling. The crazy images were still swirling in her head, the foremost, the ghost fighting the creatures to protect her.
“Where’s your sister?” he asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.
“She’s been buried alive.”
But as she searched the ghost’s gray eyes her thoughts were still fixed on how he’d fought off the things he’d called soul collectors. He was her only hope in finding Amy. She had to have his protection in order to use her ability. “I’ve got to find her. I’ve got to find her now. Can you help me?”
Something bleak and hopeless sparked in his gaze but he gave her a nod. “And then will you help me?”
Jillian searched his eyes. Something sincere lurked in the dove gray depths. He could help her. He would help her. She inhaled. She had to do this. She had to use her psychic ability to find her sister. She was certain of it now. She didn’t know how she knew. It was just a feeling. A knowing. It was something she had not felt since she’d turned her back on her ability.
It was a psychic hit.
But how could she ever muster the strength to do it? To reenter the netherworld where the line between the dead and the living was indistinguishable? And although she was certain the ghost would keep the evil beings at bay while she used her ability to find her sister, she turned her head away from him and shut her eyes tightly. “I’ll help you find the Light. Just let me go. Please.”
The sudden absence of his unyielding body against hers left her with a strange indefinable feeling inside. Stunned, she sank down the wall until her backside found the carpeted floor.
Something touched her hand and she jolted, only to discover it was Boo’s little black wet nose. Still clutching the bronze button, she gathered the dog into her arms and squeezed her.
She had to remain coherent. This could all be solved logically. But the ghost’s gray gaze and lazy drawl lingered in the forefront of her mind. She had seen what had happened to Amy. But the ghost had seen something in Jillian’s own aura. A warning.
She opened her palm and stared at the button. What was it about the thing that tied the ghost to it? What had Amy known? And how was the ghost linked to her disappearance?
Every second was crucial. She had to get up. She had to shake off her fear of ghosts and call him back. And she had to accept her repressed psychic ability. Not only was Amy’s life at stake, hers was as well.
Clutching Boo, she pushed herself up and dropped the button back into her pocket. On shaky legs, she rushed toward the front door.
When she flung it open, a scream tore from her throat.
There, fixed to the red paint with silver duct tape, was a hank of Amy’s long blonde hair.
* * * * *
Jillian still had not put Boo down when Theo wheeled his blue and white police cruiser into Amy’s driveway. Breathless, she met him as he opened his car door. “There, on the front door…” She swiped at tears with her free hand. “Amy’s hair. Oh God, Theo. I was in the house when…”
Theo enveloped her in a one-armed hug while his gaze scanned the area. “The others are on their way. We’re going to dust the area for prints. This may be a good thing, Jillian. This time, he may have left us a clue.”
Jillian sniffed. She had to pull herself together but the horrifying sight of her sister’s hair taped to the door after her creepy encounter with the ghost had left her in a state of shock.
A cold, drizzling rain had started to fall but Jillian had not gone back inside the house. Her clothes were drenched. Her crocodile shoes were scratched and muddy. Boo trembled in her arms.
“Come inside,” Theo coaxed.
Shaking, Jillian allowed him to lead her back into the house. She deliberately kept her gaze away from the lock of hair but then the sight of the Ouija board and card table sparked new horrors in her as he guided her to the crimson velvet sofa. Boo jumped down and darted into the kitchen.
“I think she’s been buried alive. Why would someone do this?” she asked. “Why would someone take Amy?” Her gaze searched Theo’s.
“What makes you think that?”
Jillian froze. She couldn’t tell Theo what happened. He’d never believe her. “I don’t know. I just do. I think she’s in a cemetery. There’s an air tube…”
He sighed. “Jillian, it was a mistake to call you in on this case.”
Jillian racked her brain. She had to stay close. She had to stay involved. Theo couldn’t take her off. She was panicking and on the verge of being out of control. Breathe. Breathe. “What if we bring my partner in?”
“Lynn?”
Jillian nodded. Lynn Bowers wou
ld be close enough to keep her informed but distanced enough to profile the perp.
Theo appeared to be thinking it over. Some semblance of composure returned. She took another large gulp of air and blew it out slowly.
He scratched his bald head. “I don’t know, Jill. She’s never worked with us before.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s not qualified,” she argued.
“I don’t know. Howard Walters is our backup guy.”
She was at the end of her rope. She had to confess about encountering the ghost. “Theo, I can do this. I have information that might help. And I’m comfortable with Lynn.” She continued, forcing herself to slow down, to sound like the professional she was. “I have a witness to Amy’s abduction.”
Deep furrows creased his brow. “A witness?”
She nodded. “Yes. He’s not a…conventional witness. But he did see what happened.”
Theo looked skeptical.
Jillian produced the button from her pocket.
His mouth fell open. “That’s evidence.” He pointed at the button. “Jillian, tell me you did not take evidence from a crime scene!”
She stammered. “I…I… You don’t understand.”
His hands found his hips. “I can’t believe this! Why would you hinder an investigation by taking evidence? You know better than this.” He glanced out the gauzy drapes, watching as police cars began pulling up. “Did anyone else see you take this?”
She shook her head. “No. Wait. Let me explain.”
His eyes got big. “You better start fast.”
“I think this button may have belonged to a Civil War soldier. Amy was…well…” This was going to sound ridiculous and Jillian knew it. “She was sending him to the Light. It’s a thing she does and—”
“I know what it is. I’ve seen Ghost Whisperer.” His tone was derisive.
“When I was looking at the evidence earlier, I picked up this button and all these crazy images started coming to me. It was like I was inside Amy’s body.”
Theo’s raised eyebrow sparked desperation. Jillian jabbered on, her words fast and clipped. “I could see her hands. Her clothes. It was her, Theo. I know it. And I…I could see a man. A Civil War soldier. And…”
Theo looked as if he were trying to absorb it. “Are you telling me some kook dressed up like a soldier kidnapped your sister?”
“No. No. The soldier was…is…a ghost.”
Theo stared.
Jillian’s fingernails dug into the velvet. “He witnessed the abduction. He told me.”
“He told you?”
“I know how crazy this sounds. But you, yourself, told me I had a sixth sense. Well it’s true. I do. I just…I just haven’t…used it in a long, long time. I’m not comfortable with it the way Amy is. But I did see Amy. She’s buried somewhere…”
Theo snorted. “I said you were a good profiler. I didn’t mean for you to go goofy on me.”
“Please. You of all people have got to believe me. I talked to the ghost. Right here. Right there at that table.” She pointed.
He shot a wary glance at the Ouija board. “With that thing?” He pointed at it.
Jillian shook her head. “No. He was here. He sat in that chair and told me what he had seen.”
“A Civil War soldier?” He was clearly skeptical.
She stood and paced, her heels sounding on the wood floor. “I know it’s crazy. I know it is.” She looked at the button in her hand. “He told me he saw someone hit Amy on the head and drag her away. He told me he tried to warn her. And then I…I saw her myself—well, in my head—in a grave. The ghost said he’d help me find her.”
“This ghost told you that?”
She nodded.
“Where is he now?” He looked around.
“I don’t know.” God, he thought she was crazy. And the more Jillian talked, the crazier it sounded to her.
Theo took a deep breath and then blew it out slowly. “Do you want to know what I think? I think I made a mistake in calling you. I think the strain of this is too much for you. And I think if it were anybody but me, Jillian Drew, the finger would start pointing to you.”
“Me?” Jillian was incredulous.
“Yes. I mean, look at the facts. First you stole evidence from a crime scene. And then while you’re the only person in this house, in broad daylight someone waltzes up to the front door and tapes a big mess of your sister’s hair to it. It doesn’t look good.”
Jillian opened her mouth and then closed it. She couldn’t think of anything to say. Theo knew her better than that. Her mind fumbled for something—anything—to make him believe her. The idea of Amy in a grave was unthinkable. Outside, an entourage of police cars lined the driveway.
“Give me that button before someone else sees you with it and charges you with a crime.” He snatched it out of her hand before she could protest.
She gasped. “Theo, I need that.”
He shook his head. “I have to turn it over to the crime lab.” He drew a plastic bag out of his pocket and slipped it inside. “Not a word about this to anyone. Understand?”
She took a breath, intent on objecting but he cut her off. “You’ve already contaminated evidence that could be the key to finding your sister. Now pull yourself together and go home. We’ll call you.”
“But…” She watched with utter gut-wrenching dismay as the one thing connecting her to Amy disappeared inside Theo’s pants pocket. She grasped his arm. His gaze fell to her hand and then lifted once more to her eyes. “Theo, promise me you’ll consider asking Lynn to profile.”
“All right.” He gave her a paternal look and then joined the others. “Now, go home.”
Investigators filed in and began scouring Amy’s house for evidence. One studied the sidewalk out front. Another dusted the door for prints. Others searched the house.
Jillian sank back down on the sofa. At least Theo was going to consider bringing her partner in on the case. But what was she going to do without the button? How could she contact the spirit again without it? She’d been stupid to show it to him. Stupid!
She inhaled. There was only one thing to do now. She had to get it back. She had to talk to that ghost again.
* * * * *
Jillian found a Civil War relic shop in nearby Franklin. A bell rang when she opened the door. “Come on in,” a voice called from behind the counter.
Long wooden muskets and rifles with rusty bayonets lined one wall. Tarnished swords lined another. Her ghost had worn a sheathed sword around his waist. Tingles skittered down her spine at the memory of him, so close, touching her. She inhaled. Never in her life had she been so terrified. And she would never revisit the experience but for the fact her sister’s life was in jeopardy.
One glass case was filled with carte de visite photographs, tintypes and daguerreotypes. Jillian scanned them. Many of the men depicted in the photos had the same style of moustache and spade beard as her ghost but as she guessed, none of the photos were actually of him.
Boo curiously poked her little black head out of Jillian’s brown leather Fendi bag.
Dusty old books crowded a shelf near the counter. Heavy, weathered old cannon balls rested on the floor. The whole place smelled old, like a quaint mixture of cedar wood and lemon oil.
“Excuse me?” Jillian said, craning in an attempt to see the man behind the counter.
He stood and laid a well-thumbed biography of Pat Cleburne on the counter. Slightly disheveled, with a gray crew cut, unkempt Vandyke beard and wearing a tattered Radiohead concert T-shirt, he looked out of place in a Civil War relic shop. One of his eyes had been blacked and was shadowed with an angry purple bruise. He looked like a thug. But the fact was not lost on Jillian that she looked even more out of place here.
“Can I help you?” At least he was friendly.
“I’m looking for a button.” She made a circle with her thumb and forefinger. “About this big around with the letters CSA on it.”
“Do you want dug or
non-dug?”
Jillian bit her bottom lip. “I’m not sure.”
“Dug means it was dug up. Out of the ground. Most likely from a battlefield site. Non-dug means it was passed down—or robbed from a grave.” He winked with his good eye. “Those are usually in better condition.”
Robbed from a grave? People actually did that? Jillian shuddered and an ugly image of Amy bound and unconscious intruded into her head. She pushed it away. “I think I’m looking for a dug button.”
“That’ll save you some cash.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a box. Inside, several gilt buttons were displayed on a red velvet cloth. “Most of these were dug right here in Franklin,” he said proudly. Although he had gray hair, he had the enthusiasm of a teenage boy about him.
Jillian searched the box for one like she’d found mixed among the contents of Amy’s purse. There were several. She pointed at one which most resembled the one Theo had taken. “What about that one?”
“These are running around four hundred fifty bucks but I can give you ten percent off if you pay cash.”
She hadn’t thought of that. It would be prudent to pay in cash so there wouldn’t be a paper trail. All she had was her debit card but she didn’t have time to run to the bank. She couldn’t believe she was considering doing something illegal. But exchanging this button for Amy’s was the only way she could get back in contact with the ghost.
“I only have a debit card.” She fished it out of her brown leather wallet and handed it to him.
“That’ll work.” He swiped the card, returned it and began drawing up a handwritten receipt. “What’s your interest in the war between the states?”
She started to tell him that she hadn’t been much of a history student but then thought he might be of help in finding her ghost’s identity. “I…I was at Shy’s Hill earlier.”
“Oh yeah.” The guy’s eyes lit up, giving the black eye an odd, macabre glow. “Battle of Nashville. December 16, 1864.”
“You’re a Civil War buff?” She slipped the debit card back into her wallet.
He scowled. “I’m no buff. I’m Matt Gregory. I’m a military historian.”
