Haunted

  Darcy was spellbound. She had never imagined what such a battle must have been like. Within minutes, the powder produced by the cannons and guns filled the air. Officers roared out commands from both sides of the field. The cavalry came in first, and it was an incredible show, horses rearing, swords flying. Men advanced, went down, retreated.

  She saw Matt, riding with his sword swirling in the black-misted air, all but standing in his saddle. A pang touched her heart.

  He disappeared into the field of black powder.

  Foot soldiers advanced behind the cavalry. From the hillock where Clint and Carter had left her, Darcy was in perfect position, and she was enthralled.

  Suddenly she felt an odd sense of real pain and nostalgia sweep over her. She closed her eyes, and the shouting seemed to change.

  She opened her eyes to true horror.

  There were twice as many men on the field. And there were no spectators. Broken, bleeding, riddled with bullets, soldiers in blue and in gray lay littering the field. A horse whinnied in terror and went down. Bullets flew hard and furious…she heard the whap of one as it struck the tree near her.

  Darcy had closed her eyes…and opened them to a vision of what had once been real. It was appalling, horrifying. Northern soldiers and Southern soldiers, praying to the same God, dying…praying that they headed for the same heaven. For a moment, the image, and the pain it awakened, was almost unbearable.

  At her side, she heard a whining sound. She shook her head and blinked.

  And she was drawn back to the present.

  She heard the crowd yelling in appreciation. Oola pawed her, huge brown eyes wide with distress as they fell upon Darcy.

  “It’s okay, girl,” she said, hugging the dog. “I’m back.”

  Suddenly, Oola barked excitedly. Darcy looked back to see a soldier emerging from the powder that now seemed to blanket the entire scene.

  “Darcy?”

  “Clint!”

  She rose, dusting her hands on her skirt. “That was truly magnificent. So sad, of course, but it’s true, the reenactment really makes you appreciate what it must have been like.”

  He grinned at her. “Hey, Matt is off the field, too. Let’s mount up, and we’ll find him.”

  “Where’s your horse?”

  Clint sighed. “I told you, I had to go down at the first volley. My horse is with the Yankees now.” He grinned. “We’ll get him back later. My buddy, Aaron Swenson got to capture him. I’ll hop up with you on Nellie for now, if it’s all right.”

  “Of course, it’s all right,” Darcy said.

  She mounted first. Clint leapt up ably behind her. Oola stared at them, barking furiously.

  “Oola, what is the matter with you?” Darcy said. “Clint, which way?”

  “That way,” he said, and pointed ahead.

  “Are you sure? Isn’t that back toward the house, through the fields?”

  “You’re disoriented, Darcy. It’s the powder. Trust me, I know where I’m going.”

  He’d had a hell of a good time, Matt had to admit. Riding off the field in triumph, laughing with James Arnold, head of one of the Union companies, he congratulated his friend on the excellent fake sword fight they had waged, and their speed and prowess in getting off the field.

  “Hey, Matt, never give it up!” James told him, giving him a thumbs-up sign as they left the field.

  Matt nodded and grinned, then realized that his cell phone was ringing.

  “Hey, did you guys have those back then?” James teased.

  “Hell, no. We’d have won the war if we’d had ’em,” Matt said. “Sheriffs have to carry them,” he said in something of an apology.

  He urged his horse a distance from the field as he punched in to answer.

  “Hello? Matt Stone.”

  “Matt! Jesus! I’ve been trying to get you for hours.”

  “Randy?” Matt said, his muscles tensing instantly at his friend’s tone. “You found the bones?”

  “No, but I found something else.”

  “What?”

  “You know you asked me about missing persons?”

  “Yep.”

  “There are at least five women last seen in or around your area who’ve been reported missing.”

  A strange freeze settled over Matt.

  “I can change and get right up there.”

  “No need. I can fax you this stuff. But get this—none of them were really from the area. Just passing through. But this one, Susan Howell, twenty-six, five-five, one-hundred-twenty pounds. Professional girl, no family, last seen at the gas station right by the highway exit to Stoneyville. Here’s another. Catherine Angsley, last seen at the drugstore on the town line. She came from Stamford, Connecticut, folks deceased, another professional, a biochemist, made good money, and was reported missing months after that incident by a grandmother, who has since passed away. Then there’s—”

  “Stop!” Matt said. “Give me the names again!”

  “Susan Howell, Catherine Angsley. There’s a Tammy Silvera—hey, have you ever heard of these women?”

  “Yes,” Matt said dully. “They dated a friend of the family. A man named Carter Sutton.” He looked anxiously around the field. He could see nothing but powder. Darcy had left the house that day with Carter and Clint. He hadn’t seen any of them since, except for Clint, when he lay on the ground after the first volley.

  “Randy, I’ve got to go. We need APBs out on Carter Sutton, right away. I’ve got to find him. I need you to get to my own men for me—I’ve got to get searching through this crowd.”

  He rang off, not waiting for Randy’s reply; he knew the man would take it from there.

  Right then, he felt a sense of sheer panic.

  Carter had dated the women, yes. Didn’t mean that Carter had made them disappear.

  Clint, and Carter. They both went through women with total nonchalance.

  He felt ill, thinking that Darcy still might be with either of them.

  Activity was spinning around him. Where the hell were they?

  This way.

  He almost fell off his horse. The whisper again. He looked toward the trees. Nothing.

  This way!

  The whisper, urgent, fierce.

  He started to ride.

  “Wait a minute—maybe I am going the wrong way,” Clint said. “I don’t believe this! I’m disoriented myself. Hang on a minute.”

  Clint dismounted and disappeared into the smoke. Darcy waited. At her side, Oola began growling.

  “What is it, girl?”

  A moment later, a man emerged from the trees. But it wasn’t Clint. It was Carter.

  “Hey, lady! You’re going the wrong way!” he called cheerfully.

  Oola growled again.

  “Shush, girl! It’s only Carter. Where’s Clint?”

  “I was riding his horse. I gave it back to him. Let me mount up and show you the right way to go.”

  “Come on up.”

  “Turn her around,” Carter said. She did so, and they started to trot.

  “My God, that smoke carries!” Darcy said.

  “I know. It’s blinding, right.”

  “Big time!”

  “Hey, pull up ahead for a minute, will you?”

  “Sure.” Darcy frowned, trying to see clearly. They had come to the area where the bridge spanned the rushing stream. “Why are we here?”

  “Sorry, it’s on the way back to the house. We’re meeting up there. But I had to run over and do duty on the bridge after the first engagement. I lost a glove. Do you mind? It will only take a minute for me to feel around for it.” Carter smiled at her, and slipped from the horse’s back. “Hey! How about giving me a hand. It will go faster.”

  “Sure.”

  Carter helped her down.

  “Go on. Let me just tether Nellie to this tree.”

  Nonchalantly, Carter started toward the bridge. Darcy tethered Nellie to a branch, then turned back. To her amazement, Oola started to growl a
gain and went rushing toward the bridge. She heard the dog yelp.

  “Oola! Carter, what happened?”

  Halfway to the bridge, she came to a sudden halt. She could see Carter, standing there, waiting for her.

  She could also see a strange white form through the mist.

  “Darcy? What are you waiting for?”

  “What happened to the dog?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she stepped on a sharp stone or something.”

  Darcy didn’t move. The white mist was next to Carter. She couldn’t believe that he didn’t see it, especially against the smoky tinge the day had taken on.

  “Darcy, what on earth is the matter with you?”

  “The ghost is there, Carter. Right next to you,” she said.

  He jumped, staring around. But he still didn’t see. He turned back to Darcy, his eyes narrowing. “Come here, Darcy.”

  “Not on your life, Carter.”

  But she wasn’t prepared. He ran like a bat out of hell, so suddenly and swiftly that she had barely screamed and turned to run before he was on top of her, grappling her to the ground. “You’re going over the bridge, Darcy. This time, you’re going over. I meant business at the cemetery—but again, I thought you’d be smart enough to get away from here. No, not you. So…before you find the bones again, Darcy, you’ve got to have a real fall.”

  He held her down. But her fingers were grasping in the dirt. She managed to get a handful. She got a good grip, and threw it in his eyes. His hold on her eased as he shouted in pain, instinctively bringing his hands to his face as he tried to clear his vision.

  Darcy took full advantage. She brought her knee to his groin with all her strength. He howled with pain. She shot to her feet.

  But before she could run, his fingers wound around her ankle, and he jerked her hard, back down to the earth.

  The world spun in black. She felt him picking her up. She knew he meant to take her to the bridge and throw her over. And she would break her neck, or smash her skull, and she would die there, and when they found her…

  Well, it would look as if she had gotten lost in the black powder. Wandered over the bridge, fallen….

  “You killed her, the girl in the smokehouse,” Darcy said, praying her strength would return.

  “Her? Yeah, I killed the girl in the smokehouse.” He looked down at her. “Kind of a sad thing, really. You’re terrific, Darcy. You really are. But you just had to go and find the bones. And open the whole can of worms. I really am sorry, Darcy. But…hopefully,” he said softly, “it will be quick.”

  She had gathered her senses again. The world had ceased to spin.

  She raised her fist with all her strength against his eye. He grunted, doubling in pain, and she raked her nails down his arm, escaping his hold and falling hard to the ground.

  They had come to the bridge.

  And he was scrambling to get ahold of her again.

  19

  Matt raged inwardly at himself for being a fool. Even as he carefully rode Vernon through the crowds of people, he flicked open his phone again and called Thayer. The phone rang and rang. He knew his deputy was in the midst of the throng, and swore, praying that Thayer would hear the call. He had about given up when he heard, “Thayer here.”

  “Thayer, it’s Matt. I can’t explain but get all our men looking for Carter Sutton. Hold him.”

  “Hold Carter? On what charge?”

  “Suspicion of murder.”

  “Murder? Carter?”

  “Damn it, Thayer, just do it. Get him, and hold him. And keep an eye out for Darcy Tremayne.”

  “She murdered someone?”

  “Thayer, I don’t have time. Just do it.”

  “I’m right on it, Matt.”

  He clicked off, swearing that he should be in the midst of so many people. With the exhibition over, they were thronging over the fields.

  Thayer had been alerted; whether his deputy thought he had gone off the deep end or not, he would see that every man they had was looking for Carter. And just because women Carter had dated were missing did not mean that Carter had murdered. But a number of women Carter had dated were missing, and a skeleton had been discovered on property Carter knew like the back of his hand. Then the skeleton had disappeared. And he didn’t know where Carter was, and he didn’t have Darcy. Carter didn’t know that his game might be up anyway, that Matt had asked the FBI to run a check of missing women. In Carter’s mind, Darcy must surely be dangerous. If he had stolen the bones from the morgue, he must be afraid that Darcy could find them again, wherever he had taken them.

  And there was a voice in his head, telling him which way to go. Insane, but hell, everyone had instinct. And instinct was telling him to follow the voice.

  He ignored the sound when he first heard his name called, he was so intent on following his intuition, or the voice.

  Then he realized that it was Adam Harrison, and he pulled in on the reins.

  “Matt, there’s no sign of Darcy,” he said. “Clint went to find her. He’d left her in the rear for a better view. Now Clint hasn’t returned. I’m not Darcy, Matt, but I have one damned bad feeling.”

  “Adam, I have that feeling myself. But don’t worry. I’m going for Darcy.”

  He nudged Vernon and moved on. He had cleared the battlefield when he was blocked again by someone on horseback, hazy in the black smoke, but solidly on the trail.

  “Matt!” she cried.

  Lavinia. On a horse. Lavinia, who hated horses.

  “Lavinia, what the hell are you doing? Get out of my way.”

  “Matt! Please, you have to listen to me,” she said.

  “Not now, Lavinia.”

  “You have to listen to me. I told Carter I wanted to be with Darcy to watch the show. He said sure, then disappeared. And I can’t find her now. Or Carter. Or Clint! Matt, there are a few things that I never told you. And when I was going through the crowd, I saw some guy in blue with Clint’s horse. They’ve all disappeared. Matt, there’s something I never told you—”

  “You’re too late, Lavinia, whatever it is. Get out of my way.” He urged Vernon forward, heedless of her presence there.

  “Wait, Matt!” She grappled for the reins as Vernon forced her horse off the side of the trail. “Please listen to me! I was certain I was wrong, that I had to be wrong…but I’m afraid for Darcy.”

  “Damn it, I’m afraid for her, too! That’s why I’m trying to find her.”

  He went on past her, nudging Vernon into a lope.

  She was following him, swearing as she clung to the saddle.

  “I’m coming with you!” she called out to him.

  “Go back! You’ll slow me down.”

  “No, no…I can keep up.”

  “Do what you want, but stay out of my way.”

  He nudged Vernon into greater speed. Nothing seemed to matter anymore except for the voice in his head, guiding him onward.

  But in the grayness of the day, Vernon suddenly reared. Behind Matt, Lavinia screamed, trying to maintain her seat. Matt controlled his panicked horse, then saw the dark bundle in the road ahead of him. He dismounted quickly, hunkering down, his heart in his throat.

  It wasn’t Darcy.

  “Clint!” He set his fingers against his cousin’s throat. There was a pulse. Clint groaned, turning. There was a massive lump on his temple. He stared up at Matt with dazed eyes. “Matt.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know…I was lost. Then someone hit me. I saw the butt of an Enfield rifle come out of the smoke…and that was it.”

  “Where’s Darcy?”

  “She was with me. I was going to bring her to meet you at the far field…I was disoriented, tried to figure out which way I was going…I’m seeing black spots, Matt. I thought my whole skull was crushed.”

  Matt turned back to Lavinia, drawing his phone from the historically incorrect pocket in his captain’s coat. He threw the phone to her.

  “Get help. And stay w
ith Clint!” he told her.

  “Matt, you don’t understand, I need to come with you—” she said.

  “Get off the horse and stay with Clint!” he commanded.

  Lavinia went white. Matt leapt back on Vernon, and kneed the horse, the feeling of urgency now tearing into him. And the voice…

  This way, hurry, this way, ride hard, hurry….

  Carter held Darcy’s ankle and was crawling forward with a deadly urgency, using her legs as a line to come closer.

  Darcy kicked out furiously, trying to loosen his grasp.

  “Killing me isn’t going to help you!” she cried out. “Don’t you see, they’ll know, they’ll all know!”

  “You’re going over the bridge, Darcy. You’ll have fallen. Everyone knows you’re accident prone.”

  “No, Carter! They’ll find the bones. They’ll identify the body, don’t you see, it’s over! Carter, I don’t know what she knew, or what she saw, or what she wrote that so incensed you…but it didn’t matter, did it? You’d already decided you were going to kill her. Who was she? The woman you supposedly loved so much?”

  His eye was already beginning to swell. He looked horrible. Blood matted his beard; she had managed a few good strikes.

  But his hands still had a strength like steel in them.

  “Carter! I’ve scratched you. Your flesh is beneath my nails.”

  His hand moved; he got a solid grip on her calf, his face taut, muscles clenched, jaw in a grim and lethal line.

  “The skeleton in the smokehouse, Darcy? She was Susan Howell. And what was she writing? She was going to tell Matt that I’d been having an affair with his wife—and more, of course. She was going to suggest that he look into my past. There were a few before her, you see. Catherine Angsley. Catherine didn’t have to die, but she had loaned me some money, and then the little bitch got all furious and wanted it back when I didn’t have it. But they’ll never find her. She’s deep in the Blue Ridge. They’ll never find the others, either. I never should have brought any of them to Melody House, but you see, the old man had died, Matt was busy with his work and the fact that his marriage was falling apart…and that night, there was no one at Melody House. No one. Susan had gone there because I’d taken her there before, and because she wanted to feel that she had a right to be in the house. She was really not a nice person, Darcy. And you know, she was buried in that smokehouse for years…years! No one would have found her. But now, you have.”