That might explain why the Porter family had worked so hard to cover up Everett’s death. Perhaps they thought they could lock up that room and its terrible evil spirit too. If they’d exposed Everett’s murder, then they risked an investigation that might allow the spook to roam freely within their home, and also land them in the pool of suspicion, because who would believe that an evil spirit could kill a person?
Well, other than me, Heath, and Gilley of course.
Still, I believed that the Sandman had used that construction worker to carry out its evil act upon Mike Scoffland, and then it’d used Deputy Cook to try to kill Sheriff Kogan, so whom had it used to kill Everett Sellers?
An involuntary shudder traveled across my shoulders as I was rounding the lake. Something deep down made me feel like that was a question I really didn’t want to have answered.
At least, not until I learned more about the Sandman. Figuring out where he had come from was going to be tricky—all I had for a clue was my mother’s confession that Everett Sellers had been the one to call him forward, and he’d likely used that Ouija board to do it.
So the Ouija board could be the key to figuring all this out. I recalled it in my mind’s eye, such a seemingly beautiful board, hand-painted, well crafted, not at all like those terrible knockoffs sold on toy store shelves.
No, the Ouija board from the playroom had been crafted by a master. Someone who had taken great pains to make it beautiful. So where had it come from? Was the artist’s name scrawled somewhere on the board? And that planchette was a pretty elaborate device as well. Most planchettes were made of wood, but this one looked like it’d been cast in sterling silver, and set with a semiprecious stone.
My pace picked up a little when I considered that, in order to answer the questions about the Ouija board and the planchette, I’d have to retrieve them, which meant I’d have to go back to Porter Manor. I hated the idea of ever setting foot in that place again, but it had to be done and I didn’t see any other way around it. I also shuddered at the idea of having that board and planchette anywhere near me, but then forced myself to acknowledge that if I separated the board from its planchette, perhaps they would both become tame enough to handle.
I just had to hope that I didn’t get attacked while inside the manor trying to retrieve them. I’d take Heath along, of course, but I didn’t want him getting attacked either. Still, I didn’t think I was brave enough to go it alone, and I knew he’d never let me head back there by myself. We’d have to be covered in magnets and ready for anything.
Around the eight-mile mark I realized that I’d probably have to get permission from the sheriff’s department to go back to the manor and retrieve the Ouija set. I almost hoped that Beau said no. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered how he could possibly say yes. The board, after all, was an item found at the crime scene of a murder. No way would he let me back into the manor to take what could be evidence.
So then I debated some more about even asking permission. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, eh? Still, I wondered if I’d have to ask a judge for that forgiveness right before he threw my butt in jail for obstruction. My pace picked up once again while I racked my brain for a solution.
The answer came around mile nine and a half when I concluded, with immense relief, that I held the answer on my person. My phone was filled with crime scene photos, and I’d taken a few of the board itself. I didn’t need to return to the scene to take the board; I merely needed to download the photos from my phone, enlarge the images to hopefully reveal the name of the artist, and do some additional research.
By the time I rounded the final corner to Mrs. G.’s, I was practically sprinting. I felt euphoric from all those glorious endorphins and the fact that I’d managed to figure out a productive direction for our investigation that wouldn’t put me, or Heath, or anyone else, in harm’s way.
All that changed the second I spotted the parked car in Mrs. G.’s driveway.
Coming to a hard stop on the sidewalk, I paused long enough to pant my way into a more regular breathing pattern before heading through the gate and up the steps. As I was about to pull on the handle, it opened on its own, and out stepped Deputy Breslow. “Mary Jane!” he said, looking surprised to see me.
“Beau,” I replied, wiping my wet brow. “Everything okay?”
He looked me up and down—I imagined I was a sweaty mess after ten miles of hard running—and then he said, “You’re just the person I was looking for.”
I fidgeted nervously, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong. At least not yet. “Oh?”
Before he could continue, Heath opened up the door. As typically happened when I had my first glimpse of him during the day, my breath caught. Heath was so incredibly sexy, with his long black hair, dark olive skin, deep brown eyes, masculine features, and gorgeous lean muscle everywhere you could see . . . and a few places you couldn’t.
This morning he wore loose pajama bottoms and lots of sex appeal. It was my favorite look on him actually. “Hey, babe,” he said, taking me in as hungrily as I was taking him in. “I heard you went running.”
“Just got back.”
“How far?”
“A hard ten.”
“Pace?”
I glanced at my sport watch. “Seven thirty-seven.”
Heath raised a hand to high-five me. He’d been the one to get me under an eight-minute mile.
“Excuse me,” Beau said, stepping between our high five, “but can I talk to Mary Jane for a second?”
“I told you already, Beau,” Heath said with an edge to his voice. “We were nowhere near the Porter place last night.”
My brow furrowed. What on earth was this about?
“Well,” Beau said, clearly irritated that Heath had sabotaged his efforts to grill me without giving away details, “like I said to you inside, a black SUV was spotted going off the road last night not a quarter mile from the Porter house around nine p.m. and the license plate matches exactly to the rental you’ve got parked in your driveway.”
Heath glared at Beau, but I knew there was no way to hide it. The tires on the SUV were covered in mud from the ditch I’d landed in, and of course the tread marks would match if they did a comparison.
I waved two fingers in the air. “That was me.”
Heath’s brow shot up. “You went to the Porter house?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I was heading home from Daddy’s, and, I don’t know, I kinda got turned around. My mind was on other things last night, and somehow I ended up near Porter Manor.”
“Were you drinking, Mary Jane?” Beau asked, and I swore I heard a note of apology in his voice.
I nearly laughed. “No, Beau. I’d had nothing but tea while I was at Daddy’s, and I ended up in that ditch because something darted out from the side of the road and I swerved to avoid it.”
“Ah,” Beau said, and I was surprised to see that he seemed relieved by my explanation. “Lots of deer in that area.”
I nodded because there was no way I was going to explain what’d really happened.
“So is that it?” I asked. “You were just checking up to make sure we weren’t back over there? ’Cause you don’t have to worry. We’re not going anywhere near that place if we don’t have to.”
Beau pulled off his brimmed hat and began to slide the rim through his fingers. “See, that’s just the thing, Mary Jane.”
Heath crossed his arms and spread his legs, setting his mouth in a firm scowl. I had a feeling I’d missed a small argument between the two while I was out.
“What’s just the thing?” I said.
Beau pulled his gaze from his hat and eyed me squarely. “I need your help.”
I squinted at him. “With what?”
“The body’s missing.”
A cool mo
rning breeze stirred the leaves on the trees overhead and I shivered. I’d completely cooled down by now and was still soaked from my run. “What body?”
“The young boy in the hidden playroom.”
I looked at Heath and he shrugged his shoulders. Then I looked back at Beau to see if maybe he was kidding. His expression said he wasn’t. “How could it be missing?”
“Matt, Roy, and me went back there this morning to get the boy’s body, and when we went inside to the playroom, the body was gone.”
I shook my head. “But . . . how could it be gone?”
“Somebody stole it,” Beau said.
My jaw dropped. “It was stolen? Why would anybody steal an old skeleton from a haunted house?” Even saying it out loud, it sounded absurd.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Beau said.
“You know who it could be,” Heath said, rubbing his chin.
“Who?” Beau and I both asked.
“The killer.”
I felt another chill and shuddered violently. “You cold?” Heath asked.
“I’m okay.”
He turned around and went inside and I focused on Breslow. “I have no idea what happened to the boy’s remains, Beau.”
“Okay, but, see, here’s the thing, Mary Jane. As you can probably tell, I’m a little over my head in this. Normally I’d turn this over to the state police, but I went to see Kogan this morning and he doesn’t want them coming in here and taking over. He was planning on running for mayor next year, and he’s all worried about the bad press. It’ll make him look extra good, though, if he gets to claim that he ran the investigation from his hospital bed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, so, what’d he tell you to do?”
Heath came back out of the house again and wrapped his big sweatshirt around my shoulders. I looped an arm through his and squeezed it. Such a thoughtful man I had.
“Kogan wants me to deputize the two of you and ask you to help us out on the investigation.”
I let out a small laugh. “He wants you to what?”
“Ask you for help.”
“Would we get to wear a badge?” Heath asked, and I couldn’t tell if he was making a joke or not.
“Well, no,” Beau said, looking uncomfortable. “But I’d let people know you were working for us, and I’d be with you at all points along the way.”
“How much does it pay?” Heath asked next, and that seemed to stump Beau.
“Uh . . . well, I think Sheriff Kogan was hoping that you’d volunteer your services and in return he’d be most appreciative.”
Heath cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “Gratitude doesn’t pay my cable bill, Beau.”
The deputy nodded and twirled his hat a few more times, and that’s when I stepped in. “Listen,” I said, “before we agree to anything, I need to know why you’re asking for our help. I mean, we don’t know the first thing about investigating a murder.” This wasn’t exactly true, but I wasn’t in the mood to add Solve Murder to my list of things to do when at the top of that list I already had Kick Evil Spirit’s Ass.
“Like I said, I’d be right there with you two,” Beau said. “Sort of directing things.”
“But don’t you already have several other deputies to assist you on this?” I pressed.
Beau sighed heavily. “Mary Jane, nobody—and I mean nobody—at the station knows how to deal with all this occult stuff. I mean, Cook is still unconscious and they had to sedate Cisco with enough drugs to put an elephant to sleep, and none of the docs know why those two went nuts. On top of all that, I now have a dangerous haunted crime scene I haven’t thoroughly investigated, a missing body, and another body in the morgue that I’m scared to death is some kind of zombie just waiting to come alive again and show up on my doorstep ready to eat my brains.”
I couldn’t help it; I gave in to a small smile. “Scoffland’s no zombie, Beau,” I told him. But that was all the reassurance I could offer. The rest of what he’d said remained both troublesome and true.
“Yeah, well, I’m still not gonna rest easy until whatever is going on gets figured out. And we’ve all heard about you, Mary Jane. I even watched one of your shows last night on demand. You’ve dealt with this kind of thing before. I mean, I haven’t slept a wink and it wasn’t just from what happened yesterday—your show could scare the warts off a toad.”
It was Heath’s turn to chuckle. We Southerners took pride in our toad metaphors. Beau wasn’t trying to be funny, however. He still looked totally stressed-out. “You gotta help us out here, guys. Please? I’m beggin’ here.”
I frowned. The more I tried to skirt the edges of this thing, the more I got sucked down into the center of the storm. Beau read my hesitation and his shoulders sagged. I held up a finger to let him know I hadn’t made up my mind yet and turned to Heath. He shrugged but added a nod. “I’m in if you are. I mean, as long as they’re willing to pay us.” For added measure he eyed Beau again and said, “It’s only fair, Deputy. You get paid, we get paid.”
“I’ll make that happen,” he promised, looking hopeful. “So you’ll do it?”
It was my turn to sigh. “Oh, fine.” My conscience wasn’t going to allow me to just let Beau head back to Porter Manor and keep on investigating blindly. It was far too dangerous. Plus, I reasoned that by helping him, we’d be helping ourselves to find out the source of the Sandman and figure out a way to shut his ass down.
“Oh, thank you, guys!” Beau gushed, pulling me back from my thoughts. “Thank you. Now, I don’t mean to rush y’all, but I think we should get started right away.”
I made a point to look down at myself. “Can I shower first?”
“Uh, sure! Sorry. Yeah. I’ll just head to the car and talk to the sheriff and see if I can’t get you guys on the payroll.”
With that, he was hustling to his car and Heath and I were left to consider what we’d just agreed to. “Aren’t you glad I talked you into coming down here?” I said, swinging his arm.
He lowered his lids, shook his head, and tried hard to stifle a laugh. “Trouble just has a way of finding you, doesn’t it?”
“How do you know it’s me? Maybe trouble’s been looking for you and I’m just your plucky sidekick.”
“Seems to me you were getting into trouble like this even before we met,” Heath replied, sweeping me into a hug.
“Ah. Yeah. That’s right. Okay, so you’re the plucky sidekick.”
He chuckled and gave me a sweet kiss. “Need help in that shower?”
“We can’t!” I whispered. “Mrs. G. and Gil are inside.”
“We can be quiet,” Heath said, pressing himself against me and sliding his lips down to nibble my neck.
Behind us the door opened and I heard Gilley say, “Oh, jeez, you guys! Can you keep your hands off each other for two seconds? Seriously, you two are worse than a pair of oversexed rabbits.”
Heath let his forehead fall to my shoulder. He then sighed. I was right there with him. “Morning, Gil,” I said, waving over Heath’s shoulder.
He frowned at me. For the record, Gilley had a knack for walking in on Heath and me at the most inopportune times. Mostly because he thought knocking was something you did as you opened the door.
“I heard Beau was back,” he said, shoveling the remains of a muffin into his mouth. “What’s he want?”
Heath let go of me and muttered, “I’ll bring you some coffee, Em.” I noticed that he maybe shut the door a little more firmly than usual.
“What’s his problem?” Gil said, looking toward the door.
“He’s worried the Kardashians aren’t getting enough exposure.”
Gil lowered his lids and pursed his lips at me before waving a hand in my direction. “Sweaty just isn’t your color, sugar.”
I rolled my eyes and
pointed to the deputy still in his car talking on the phone. “Beau came by to recruit us for the murder investigation.”
Gilley squinted hard at me. “He came by to what with who for what, now?”
I knew he’d heard me and I was itching for a shower, so, rather than elaborate, all I said was, “Yes.” Then I began moving toward the door.
Gilley stepped in front of me. “Wait. Hold on there. Recruit you how, M.J.?”
I sighed again, trying to put on my patience hat. “He wants to deputize us and have us work with him on the investigation of the second body we found at Porter Manor yesterday.”
“He wants to deputize us?”
“Sorry. Not ‘us’ as in you, ‘us’ as in Heath and me.”
Gilley’s squint narrowed just a tad more. “Is that legal?”
“Is what legal?”
“Him deputizing you guys. I mean, don’t you have to go through some sort of training or sheriff’s academy or something?”
“I guess not. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to take a shower.”
But Gil wasn’t budging. “Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “Why can’t I get deputized?”
My brow lifted. “You want to get involved in this investigation? This investigation that involves whatever spook is haunting the Porter mansion and may be responsible for the murder of that young boy and that construction owner?”
“Well, no,” Gil admitted. “But I would like a badge.”
“We don’t get badges.”
“A star to pin to my shirt?”
“Nope.”
“A certificate?”
“Sorry, pal. We’re deputies in name only.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“It means we get to tell people we’re deputies, but we can’t prove it unless they call the sheriff’s department and they confirm it.”
“Hey,” I heard behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Beau there. “So, it’s all set. Sheriff Kogan has authorized a temporary salary for you and Heath. It’s equal to first-year cadet pay, which isn’t a lot, but it’s something. Oh, and when we stop by the station, I’ll give you some temporary badges to carry in case anybody wants to see proof you’re legit.”