Seeing Darkness

by Heather Graham

  But the hatred in the woman’s eyes was immobilizing. Did she not know her husband was a killer? Or did she not care? Were her garden parties and clubs more important than anything else? Or, more likely, was the prospect of being the wife of a US senator the most important thing?

  “I don’t know your husband, Mrs. Westerly,” Kylie said. “And I could hardly be any threat to him. I wasn’t anywhere near the cemetery where Annie Hampton was murdered.” She started to walk out, but turned back. “I would think about it, though, Mrs. Westerly. Annie died a horrible death. I hear that killing gets easier and easier—once you’ve done it once.”

  “This is Salem,” Sandra said. “It’s hell on witches, even if they’re modern-day bitches. They’re known to meet with very bad ends here.”

  “As I said, Mrs. Westerly, I don’t even know your husband. But you do. That’s what you need to be thinking about.”

  Kylie turned for the door. Apparently, Sandra Westerly did fly at her—but too late. She heard a thud against the door as it closed behind her.

  She hurried back to the bar. Jon was standing, looking anxious. He couldn’t know what had happened, but maybe she had been gone too long.

  “I was about to burst in there,” he told her. “Did she speak to you? I saw Sandra walk in after you, and I was wishing to hell we’d brought Devin with us. I’d have gone inside in another sixty seconds.” He studied her face. “Something did happen.”

  Kylie shrugged, not wanting to make more of the situation than it had been. “She accosted me, said it was all my fault.”

  “I guess a fair amount of people did see your reaction to the news about the murder that night. And to Michael Westerly. So, yes, talk could go around. Just as it apparently went around about Jimmy and Marla gossiping about Westerly having an affair with Annie.” He shook his head. “I keep thinking we should be safe with him in Boston tomorrow, at least during his speech. Boston is too close to feel great about anything, but I’ve spoken with Jackson—he’ll have an agent in Boston keeping tabs on the senator.”

  “That should make you relax,” she said, “for a bit.”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Why the no?”

  “Because he has alibis for when the other murders occurred. Film footage of speeches, events. So, someone might well be killing for him, or else he knew confidential information about the other murders and was able to copy them completely. It would be strange if he was best friends or partners with a sadistic killer, but stranger things have happened. And maybe not so strange, since he was able to commit such a brutal murder himself.” Jon hesitated. “I was thinking we should go back to the cemetery again tomorrow—the one where Annie was killed.”

  She couldn’t help the chill that ran up her spine; she hoped she kept the eerie fear from showing. “You think I might be able to find out even more?” she asked.

  “I think the crime scene people are good at what they do, but we have to have missed something,” he said. “There has to be some strand of evidence against him somewhere. That was a bloody murder. How did he manage to stab her so many times, and then appear again elsewhere without any trace of blood? He had to have stripped in the cemetery or his car, with clean clothing stashed somewhere.”

  He shook his head. “We’re at a dead end at the moment. I believe he killed Annie because news of their affair was going to get out. Maybe she was going to call his wife. Maybe his wife knew and wanted it stopped. From everything we’ve heard about her, Annie was a sweet and giving person. I don’t have the impression Sandra Westerly is sweet or giving in any way.”

  “But she’ll stand by her man,” Kylie said.

  “Exactly,” Jon murmured softly. His attention turned toward the door.

  Carl Fisher had just come in. It was his usual time, about forty-five minutes before one of his tours. He paused to chat with people on his way up to the bar, smiling and handing out postcards that advertised his tours.

  He was good at what he did, Kylie thought. His was a no-pressure sell. “Charming,” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “The kind of man who could get his victims into a cemetery would be charming. Someone who could make a woman think he meant nothing but kindness. Or genuine interest. Even if the other victims were kind of down-and-out... I mean, addiction makes people wary, but if you met someone handsome and charming who seems benign...”

  “He’s coming this way. And he’s someone who does travel. We’ve been looking into him as well as others, but not that closely,” Jon said lowly. “In fact, Matt mentioned that they did some of the same shows which would mean the same cities. Maybe Angela can find something deeper down than what we’ve discovered about him so far.”

  Kylie suddenly felt bad. She liked Carl. He gave a great ghost tour.

  And he was charming.

  Carl came up to them, wearing his frock coat and tall hat and wielding a gentleman’s walking stick. He appeared truly pleased to see them. He nodded to Jon and looked at Kylie.

  “Nice to see you still here,” he said. “You guys have almost become regulars.”

  “There are a lot of the same people here all of the time,” Jon agreed.

  Carl nodded, then grew serious. “I heard you rescued a man—the guy who crashed into the hotel. He’s in here often. Jimmy Marino, right? Nice guy. I do hope he’s doing well. We all love him and Marla. She’s a sweetie. It’s adorable. A December-December romance! I really hope the old guy is going to make it. They are nice people.”

  “You saw him in here before the accident?” Jon asked.

  Carl nodded. “Yep. He was with a group of guys.” He waved a hand indicating the back tables where Sandra Westerly was holding court with her club. “Let’s see... Yep. The same people are around here a lot. Sandra Westerly was here that night, the bartenders, of course—good to see that Matt’s back! Oh, yeah, a few of my other guides who hang out kind of like I do, and Dr. Sayers. One day, I’m going to do that regression thing. For fun. I don’t believe in it.”

  “Dr. Sayers is here tonight?” Kylie asked.

  Carl pointed. The doctor was at the high bar where Kylie and her friends had been sitting the night after the ghost tour. He was with a young woman and another couple.

  As if he had somehow heard Carl’s words, Sayers looked over at them. He offered a smile and a nod, and apparently excused himself to come over and greet them.

  “Hello, Carl—Jon and Kylie!”

  “Hey,” Carl said in response. “I was just telling them... One day, I’m making an appointment with you.”

  Dr. Sayers laughed. “For psychiatric help? Carl, based on your apparel, I think you do your own regression in your mind.”

  “I think I’m just fine as far as psychiatry goes,” Carl said. “But some people believe you’re the real deal.”

  “Let’s hope so, or they wouldn’t come,” Dr. Sayers said. “But I don’t guarantee good experiences. Ask Kylie here. She had a bit of a bumpy time.”

  “Strange regression,” she agreed quietly.

  “Oh, I’m willing to take a chance,” Carl said. “It all goes into history and mystery, right? It might make me an even better guide. Hey, you can ask Kylie—I’m a great guide!”

  “I’m sure you are,” Dr. Sayers said.

  “He’s a great guide,” Kylie said.

  “And what do you think, Mr. Dickson?” Dr. Sayers asked.

  “I haven’t had the chance to take the tour, but if Kylie says he gives a great tour, I believe that he must.”

  “He really loves and knows the city’s history—all of it, not just the witch trials,” Kylie said.

  “Which is good. Salem has been filled with all kinds of characters through the years,” Jon noted.

  “Hey, Doctor.” Carl lowered his voice. “Have you ever regressed the ice queen over there?” He inclined his head toward S
andra Westerly’s table.

  Dr. Sayers grinned. “Ice queen? Not a good description for a politician’s wife.”

  Carl shrugged. “She had plenty of smiles for the TV cameras. But I heard her husband took off for this leg of his campaign without her. Think there might be troubled waters there, Doc?”

  “Either that, or she just didn’t feel like the drive to Boston. Who knows?” Dr. Sayers shrugged. “Anyway, that’s between them. Doesn’t matter to me. He wouldn’t be my choice for any office, so whatever he’s up to wouldn’t sway my vote.”

  “What do you think?” Carl asked, turning to Kylie and Jon.

  “I think I’m a resident of Virginia,” Jon said, “and we have enough going on with local politics to last a lifetime.”

  “New York resident at the moment,” Kylie said.

  “So, Carl, what do you think of him?” Jon asked.

  Carl laughed and looked a little uncomfortable. “I think she’s an ice queen, like I said. And he’s very smooth. But there’s something about him... Oh, well, it’s time I get back out on the street. People will start grouping up and I need to be there. Photo ops for my group, you know?”

  He grinned and left them, pausing just a second to tell Cindy to hold his tab—he’d be back after his tour.

  “They say he’s one of the best in the city,” Dr. Sayers noted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m on a first date. I should get back if I’m hoping there’s a second.”

  “Probably,” Jon said. “By the way, thanks for all the help you’ve given us.”

  Dr. Sayers grinned. “If I was any help to you, I’m truly glad.”

  Jon nodded to him. When the doctor had returned to his group, Kylie murmured, “What now?”

  “Bed.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I think we’re done here for the night. I say we call it quits and start fresh in the morning.”

  “And you want to go back to the cemetery,” Kylie said.

  “Something has to have been overlooked,” Jon said. “We need a piece of solid evidence. At least something that would allow for a search warrant. We’re dealing with a public figure who has hoodwinked tens of thousands of people. If we’re not careful, he’ll get away with it. Worse, he’ll turn his supposed persecution into something he can use in his career. Our case must be real and solid. Now, you don’t have to go this time. You can stay at the hospital with Rocky and Devin to be safe.”

  “What about Rocky and Devin? Can they just stay there all this time? Won’t they need a break? Showers, changes of clothing—”

  “We’ll see to it they get a break. I believe Jackson is going to come up. The possibilities here call for a stronger Krewe presence.”

  She smiled grimly. “I want to go with you.”

  “You’re not frightened anymore?”

  “Oh, hell yes. But as I’ve said, I don’t want to be frightened all my life. And I’m not worried about going to the cemetery with you.”

  Jon lowered his head and she wondered if he appreciated her words or doubted them.

  Whatever his thoughts, she knew her own. From their strange meeting through the intense hours they had spent together, she’d come to admire him tremendously.

  As she and her friends had all noted from the beginning, Jon was a compelling man. Awkwardly, she realized she’d been attracted from the first time she’d opened her eyes in his arms. Furious and terrified—but attracted, which seemed at odds. Or maybe the feeling had grown. She knew his face fascinated her. It was a combination of a certain matured ruggedness and classical strength. And now...

  Would it be so bad? Was it wrong? In the world they lived in, was stealing a few moments of simple longing and pleasure a bad thing?

  It would be—if he wasn’t attracted to her in the least and she made an absolute fool of herself.

  He looked up then, right into her gaze, and she didn’t know exactly how she knew, but there was something deep in his ice-blue eyes, maybe, or his manner.

  But she knew.

  He’d been thinking the same thing.

  It wasn’t her usual behavior, but her eyes held his, and she spoke very quietly.

  “Well, then, let’s go to bed.”

  * * *

  Jon wasn’t sure if he decided they should just head down the street to his office space because he didn’t want to return to Devin’s and run into Auntie Mina or any other possible ghostly presence, or if it was just the fact the office was very close.

  And the moment seemed to demand immediate attention.

  Her simple words created an amazing hunger in him. Maybe it was natural instinct, or a fascination with the woman he had come to know.

  But even then, he steeled himself from stupidity; as soon as they were inside, he locked the door. He laid his Glock and holster within easy reach of the bed, and then turned back to the woman who had so enchanted him.

  She stood before him, smiling, a slightly rueful smile, and he returned it, pulling her into his arms. Logic went out of his thoughts. She felt like sweet, molten fire against him as they frantically shed their clothing, laughing between searing wet kisses as he nearly tripped over his trousers.

  “So much for a smooth striptease,” he murmured.

  “Hey!” she protested, and he realized she’d gotten her shirt stuck coming over her head.

  He helped, the shirt went flying, and they were tangled together again. They stumbled to the bed, getting onto it a bit awkwardly and ungracefully, since his bed was an air mattress on the floor. It didn’t matter in the least. The last of their clothing went, and the feel of that fire of her body against his own was even greater.

  He was captivated by the scent and warmth of her, of the look in her eyes, crystal pools of honesty and sensuality. They locked in a deep kiss again, tongues stroking one another, as if that simple exploration was the greatest and most arousing adventure known to man.

  Her lips moved against his throat and down his chest. He rolled her over to her back, touching her with his lips and tongue. They caressed, ever more intimate, until there could be no more play, and they came together in a moment of searing pleasure, holding tight for seconds that were a beautiful eternity. Then their bodies turned to writhing, arching, twisting, thundering...and soaring. Climax roared within them, explosive and sweet.

  They lay back, exhausted—panting, hearts pounding, still wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Ridiculous as it might have been, he found himself wondering what it would be like to lie so every night, to wake, to laugh...to find time that was really theirs, on an island somewhere, with the sun above them and the sea glistening before them.

  And suddenly he was worried that maybe for her it had been...just sex. The intensity of the situation, a release from fear... Lesser things had brought people together for a moment of pleasure.

  She was curled against him. They didn’t speak for several minutes, just breathing. Then she rose halfway, hands resting on his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  He had to smile. “No, thank you,” he said.

  She smiled. “I mean, I never do things like this... I feel as if I was ridiculously forward, but you didn’t make me feel awkward in any way. I know it’s a little bit crazy. And it’s probably against your rules, but...”

  “There’s something special, something right, about it, though,” he said softly.

  She rested her cheek against his chest once again. He moved his fingers gently through her hair. He decided he’d be honest, too.

  “We could have gone back to Devin’s, you know. You have all your things there now. But once you looked at me, I couldn’t wait that long.”

  She twisted in his arms again, facing him. He loved her eyes and wondered if people fell into whatever this feeling was just because of someone’s eyes.<
br />
  “You know I have absolute faith in you,” she said, “but I’m not sure I’d have been comfortable at Devin’s.”

  “Well, Auntie Mina is a lovely ghost. She was a lovely woman, I’m certain, and is very discreet. She’d never show up where she knew she shouldn’t be.”

  “Well, that is one aspect, but honestly, Devin’s cottage is in the middle of the woods.”

  “You underestimate Poe—that bird is an incredible watchdog. And the cabin is wired for security. It would take a genius to break through Devin’s system.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  He nodded. “Devin once found a body in the woods. That tends to make you want some good security. But she loves the cottage. A good friend in town watches the place for her when she’s gone—and cares for Poe.”

  They were both silent for a few minutes.

  “Kylie,” he began.

  She eased up again, over his chest, her hair teasing his skin. She pressed a finger to his lips and lowered her face to his.

  It would be rude to refuse her kiss...

  Or all else that followed.

  In the end, they slept curled together, flesh to flesh, and bizarrely comfortable.

  It was the best sleep he’d had in forever.

  * * *

  When Kylie woke, Jon was already up, showered, and dressed for the day. He had coffee for her and brought it to her in bed.

  He sat by her side. “I’m sorry—none of your things are here.”

  “You have soap and water, right?”

  “I do.”

  “I should be fine. I’ll be wearing the same clothes, but if I leave off the jacket, maybe no one will notice.”

  “I have spare T-shirts.”

  “Hmm. Might be a bit big, but...do they say FBI?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got a few rock bands. And Star Wars.”

  She smiled. It was nice to realize that he was just a man, with likes and dislikes and a touch of whimsy in him.

  “Oh!” he said suddenly. “I have one that I didn’t realize would shrink so much. Didn’t notice until I got here. It may work for you. I’ll get it. Then, you should shower and dress, and we should get moving. And keep your distance, okay?”