The Presence

  “Not such a hero now, are ye, man?” he demanded.

  MacNiall looked up. “A hero? Always. For a man who believes in his ideals, and does not shift with the winds of fortune, will always be remembered as such.”

  Davis strode closer to him.

  “Do you know how you are about to die?”

  “Aye, that I do.”

  “You will scream with pain, beg for mercy, before I am done. I swear it.”

  He further inflamed his foe’s wrath by smiling. “There is nothing you can do to me now that will cause me to cry out.”

  “Nae?” Grayson said. “Well, then, let me show you what you must see before you even begin to die!”

  13

  By morning, Toni fully intended to talk to Bruce. Despite the fact that she was going to sound crazy, she meant to tell him that she was definitely seeing his ancestor, that a ghost had led her into the woods and was now leading her down to the crypts. But when she awoke, he was already gone.

  David, sipping coffee and reading the paper in the kitchen, told her that he’d gone into town to see Jonathan.

  “You all right?” he asked her.

  “Yes…why?” She glanced at him, helping herself to the coffee.

  “Why?” He shook his head and looked toward the doorway, assuring himself that they were alone. “Because you’re seeing…entities. Ghosts. A disturbing presence, or something.” He cleared his throat. “And Thayer told me that an old woman gave you some kind of look yesterday, and then said something absolutely horrible about you being found in the forest.”

  “She was just an old, superstitious woman,” Toni said.

  David set his paper down and patted the chair next to him. “Sit. Talk to me. So, she didn’t scare you at all, huh?”

  “She put the fear of hell and damnation right into me!” Toni said, laughing. “But only for a minute. She has cataracts, so her eyes were a little…eerie. After she was gone and we talked with her son…well, I was fine. Even stayed in the cemetery by myself.”

  David smiled. She decided not to tell him about her nocturnal trips to visit more grave sites deep in the bowels of the castle. He was too worried about her already.

  “Laird Bruce is certainly in a fine mood, so it seems,” David said.

  “Well, I don’t suppose the old legend had much bearing on his day-to-day life,” Toni said. “But yes, I guess he’s really pleased to find out that his famous ancestor most probably was innocent of the murder of his wife.”

  “And, apparently, we are good for the village.” He was silent for a moment, studying his cup. “You know, I had been afraid that we’d be somewhat ostracized here.”

  “For being American?” Toni said.

  David winced. “No, not exactly. And when I said ‘we,’ I meant Kevin and myself. For being of a different persuasion,” he said lightly. “But people are wonderful. We had a great time in the village yesterday. Certainly, some of the older folks, gents, mainly, looked at us with a great deal of curiosity, but…everyone was curious and intrigued. We’re actually going to get a lot of the locals up to the castle to see what we’re up to, I think.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad.”

  “But we don’t really have a right to the place, so who knows how long Laird MacNiall will let it go on?”

  Toni looked downward. Yes, how long could it go on?

  “Well,” she said, looking up. “In light of Laird MacNiall’s pleasure over the vindication of his ancestor, I’ve thought of a way to change that particular bit of history in our tour.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  She nodded. “We have the great laird ride in just as before. He climbs the stairs to meet Annalise. It’s glorious, a dramatic confrontation. Annalise pleads her innocence, then the two come running down the stairs—just as the bad guy rides in!”

  David arched a brow to her. “Oh, Lord. Don’t make me be the bad guy!”

  She grinned. “No, it has to be Ryan. He’s the only one with a prayer of controlling Wallace when Shaunessy is in the hall.” She frowned suddenly, starting to jump up. “Wallace is…better, right?”

  David nodded. “Sit. Finish your coffee. Wallace is right as rain this morning.”

  She sat. “Well, what do you think?”

  “I like it. And MacNiall will like it. Ryan will love it. He’ll have a chance to play the knight again.”

  She nodded. “I’ve got to run it by the others. And Bruce, of course.”

  Kevin came walking on in.

  “What are you running by the others?”

  With a sigh, she went through her idea again.

  “Works for me!” Kevin said. “Want breakfast? What have we got? You know, David, we bought all those supplies yesterday and what we really need is to go grocery shopping for ourselves again.”

  “There’s eggs,” David said. “Plenty of them.”

  “Omelettes, then.”

  “Um, want help?” Toni asked.

  “No!” both of them said in unison.

  “I’m not that bad a cook!” she protested.

  “As long as we’re not getting too elaborate,” David said, “Kevin and I work best alone. Go on out and see old Wallace, why don’t you? Assure yourself that he’s doing all right.”

  “Good idea!” she agreed, and started out.

  The morning was crisp, clear and beautiful. As Toni walked from the castle to the stables, she found herself looking around, hoping that Eban wasn’t about. She hated herself for still feeling so uneasy around the man, but she did. She was always ready to defend him in public. But inside, he made her uneasy.

  She didn’t see Eban as she walked on into the stables, but Shaunessy was gone. Bruce must have taken him. Wallace, however, was in his stall. Standing. He snorted as she walked toward him, and she thought that the horse was glad to see her.

  She patted his nose, looking at his eyes, checking out his length thoroughly. “You’re looking good this morning, fellow!” she told him. “Very good, as a matter of fact.”

  He stuck his head over the stall gate and pressed his nose against her chest, pushing her, as if he were looking for some kind of a handout.

  “No, I didn’t bring anything for you, boy,” she told him, patting the downy nose. “We don’t know what’s making you sick! Maybe you’re allergic to apples or carrots. Hmm. I wonder if that’s possible. I haven’t met this vet of yours yet, but when I do, I’ll have to ask him about that.”

  The horse’s huge brown eyes were on her, as if he really listened. He prodded her chest again with the tip of his soft nose, as if saying that such delights as apples and carrots couldn’t possibly cause a problem.

  “You are such a sweetie!” she told him.

  She was startled when his ears suddenly went back flat. Turning around, she saw nothing. But she couldn’t believe that the horse had suddenly become angry with her!

  Then she heard a noise, a scraping sound from the rafters above her. A tingling of instinctive wariness vibrated throughout her limbs.

  A ladder led up to the rafters. It was between her and the exit to the stables.

  She inhaled deeply. So? Someone was up there. So what? It was probably just Eban, shelving hay, or…doing something.

  The sound stopped, but she was still on edge.

  “Well, Wallace, dear boy, I’m going to leave you to…enjoy your time off, stand around, do whatever horses do in their stalls,” she said aloud. But she didn’t walk out. Instead, she silently slipped the latch and entered the stall, standing by the horse’s side. Still. Waiting.

  At first, there was nothing at all. Then she heard movement above her again. She remained where she was, not breathing. Someone was coming down the ladder. She stayed hiding behind the horse, watching.

  From around Wallace’s flank, she saw a man coming down the ladder. He was in jeans and a casual denim shirt. She saw the back of his head first, his sandy-colored hair.

  Thayer.

  He jumped the last few feet to the ground,
dusted his hands on his jeans and looked around. He seemed to sigh with relief. Then he walked to the stable doors and hesitated, looking out. After a moment, he made a quick exit.

  Toni remained with the horse for a moment, puzzled. Why should Thayer be nervous about being in the stables? He had as much right to come out here as any of them.

  “Good boy,” she murmured, patting Wallace’s neck. She slipped back out of the stall, walked out down the aisle of stalls and found herself looking up the ladder.

  What the hell had he been doing up there?

  She was just about to set a foot on the first rung of the ladder when she was startled by a voice.

  “Eh, he be lookin’ well and fine this mornin’, miss, don’t ye think?”

  She swung around, almost in a panic herself. Eban was just inside the doorway, looking toward Wallace’s stall.

  She swallowed hard, forced a smile. Despite herself, she noted that he blocked the doorway.

  “He looks very good, Eban. Thank you for watching him with such concern. He’s really a wonderful horse.”

  “Aye, that he is,” Eban agreed.

  He didn’t move from the doorway. If she was going to make an exit, she would have to walk by him.

  “Well, thank you again,” she murmured a bit awkwardly, striding toward the exit. She passed him, painfully aware of his presence. She was afraid that he was going to reach a hand out, stop her.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he caused her to pause with his words.

  “’E’s trying to talk to ye, miss, ye know.”

  She felt almost as if she had been physically gripped. And so she turned back to him.

  “What?”

  “The laird. Not everyone is able t’see him. But ye…y’ve got the way, y’know. The touch.”

  He came closer to her and whispered, “Aye, y’must take care, grave care. Don’t be lettin’ ’em all know it. There’s those out there, always, who would do evil. But the laird…the laird would tell ye things.”

  She felt every hair on her body stand on end. Her smile was about to crack.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said firmly, and turned.

  Her footsteps were slow, but, by the time she neared the castle, she was nearly running.

  As she entered the main hall, Ryan was coming down the stairs. “You went to see Wallace. Isn’t it great, the old boy bounded back like a trooper!”

  “Right. It’s great.”

  She started up the stairs, anxious to hurry past him.

  His hand fell on her arm. He stared at her quizzically. “Where are you going now? Kevin just shouted up to say that breakfast was ready.”

  “I—I just want to wash up,” she said. “I’ll be right back down. Don’t wait for me, though. Everyone just eat, okay?”

  Almost jerking free, she ran past him. She went straight to her room and found her purse. She dumped the contents on the bed, heedless of any mess. She dug into her wallet and found the card she had carried with her always, swearing that she would never use it.

  She looked around, glad to realize that she’d remembered to plug her phone into the wall with the European adaptor on Saturday.

  She punched in the country code for the United States, hesitated, looked at the card and then dialed.

  “I’ve heard about the great discovery old Doc Darrow has made,” Robert said, greeting Bruce as he came into the pub. “Congratulations!”

  Bruce took his friend’s hand and shook it as he slid into the booth. They were in Stirling, on Robert’s suggestion that they meet there.

  “Might be a bit absurd to feel so elated about something so long ago, but…” Bruce said with a shrug. “Sure, I’m happy. It’s a fine thing to discover that your heroic ancestor wasn’t a wife killer.”

  Robert grinned.

  “Why Stirling?” Bruce asked.

  “Didn’t want to make you come to Edinburgh. I had some business here, and I don’t really want our man Jonathan to know that I’m meeting with you so often. Don’t want to step on his toes there, you know? We need too much cooperation.”

  Bruce nodded. “Well, then fine. So?”

  “Want to order first?”

  “Sure,” Bruce said, glancing around with a slightly arched brow. The pub was rather dingy, considering that Stirling offered a lot of really fine establishments. Actually, Bruce considered the city a true gem of the country.

  “They have the most delicious fish and chips in the world here. Full of fat and cholesterol,” Robert said. He grimaced. “Service is slow today. The old fellow who owns the place has lost another waitress. They all quit on him. He’s a bloody bugger, he is. Still, the fish and chips make it worth the wait.”

  “How long a wait?”

  Robert grinned. “Not too long for me. He knows who I am.” To prove his point, he lifted a hand. A fleshy man in an apron made his way over.

  “Aye, then, what’ll it be, Detective Inspector?”

  “Fish and chips for me.” He looked at Bruce.

  “Fish and chips, and a stout,” Bruce said.

  “I’ll be puttin’ a rush on it,” the man said, and he shook his head. “Lasses these days! Dependable as shite!”

  “Lost another one, did you, George?”

  “Came in Sunday mornin’, took off Sunday afternoon, haven’t see the lights o’ her eyes since!” Muttering, he walked away.

  “Someone should just tell him one day that he’s a nasty bastard,” Robert said.

  George came back swiftly, nearly throwing a pint of stout down before Bruce.

  “So?” Bruce said, when he was gone.

  “Actually, I didn’t dig up much. It’s rather the coincidence of things that made me call you so quickly,” Robert explained. “First, our Glasgow fellow, Thayer Fraser. The man has a record.”

  “Anything serious?”

  “Some busts for drugs when he was young. Clean slate for the last several years. Played with a band, the Kinked Kilts, and his last gig was at a piano bar.”

  “As he said,” Bruce murmured.

  “He worked some shady places,” Robert said. “Suspect, but not criminal.”

  “That’s all on the man?”

  “Aye, so far.”

  “And the others?”

  “What I’ve gotten in from checking legally accessible records is rather strange. Apparently they’re all exactly what they appear to be. I’ve found the college records from NYU, and some references to work. Not one of the Americans has a police record of any kind. But, as a point of interest, two of them are natural computer whizzes.”

  “Lucky for them,” Bruce said. “Which two? And why is that important?”

  “Well, we’re following two mysteries here, wouldn’t you say? For them to have gotten the permits and licenses they have, there had to be some truth to their rental agreements. That means that someone did have a hell of a lot on you, such as information regarding your actual title, your numbers in our old British society…information that only you, as an individual, should have had. A crack computer hacker can get all kinds of information on someone, which is why identity theft is getting to be such an issue these days.”

  “So, in other words, you’re telling me that one of them might have known about me, gotten into my records, faked being me and rented the castle to them?” Bruce asked.

  “Well, it’s a possibility.”

  Bruce shook his head. “But whoever did must have known that I’d eventually show up.”

  “Right. But if the person had done it just to get money out of the others and knew how to make the computer site disappear…well, what would he, or she, care at that point?”

  “What about Thayer Fraser?”

  “So far,” Robert said, “I only know that he has one hell of a Web page—oh, and that he’s big into computer gaming. Medieval game playing on line, you know, the kind that goes on forever and forever, with one guy at a computer in Glasgow playing with someone in London, New York, Moscow…or maybe just
in Stirling.”

  Bruce nodded, taking in the information. “Still, none of the Americans has a criminal record. That is a piece of good news.”

  Robert parted his folded hands, refolded them. “Aye, sure. But then there’s this, as well. And…this probably doesn’t mean a thing. I just found it interesting.”

  “What?” Bruce said.

  “Well, there’s a strange time line here. It has to be a coincidence, I imagine.”

  “What?” Bruce said, exasperated. Robert didn’t often beat around the bush.

  “Helen MacDougal disappeared from Glasgow on June third, a year ago.”

  “And I found her on August thirtieth, in the water,” Bruce said, frowning.

  “Mary Granger disappeared November eleventh, last year.”

  Bruce’s brows furrowed to a deeper degree. “Aye, Eban found her in early January. In worse shape.”

  “January tenth, to be precise.”

  “Robert, what are you getting at?”

  “Annie O’Hara disappeared, we think, just a week or more ago.”

  “Aye…so? Are we goin’ somewhere here, Robert? If so, I don’t see where,” Bruce told him.

  “You know hotels ask for passports when you check in,” Robert said.

  “Aye, of course.”

  “Well, your friends—Toni, the Brownes, Kevin and David, at least—were in a hotel in Glasgow, June of last year.”

  Bruce frowned. “They’ve said they’ve vacationed here, many times.”

  Robert nodded and drew out a folder by his side, flipping a page. “November last, Mary Granger disappeared from Stirling.”

  “And you’re going to tell me my friends were in Stirling?”

  “No. Glasgow.”

  He accepted that, frowning. “And two weeks ago?”

  “They were back in Edinburgh, making the arrangements for licenses and the like.”

  Bruce shook his head. “Robert, if you’re trying to draw a connection here—”

  “I’m not. I’m just letting you know what I found out. And the coincidence regarding the dates just happened before my eyes. I’d be remiss not to mention it to you.”

  “Aye, you’re right, but—” Bruce shook his head. “Think about them, one by one. Toni? A murderess of prostitutes? Kevin and David—they don’t fit the pro file at all. Gina and Ryan? Frankly, I just don’t see it.”