by Amy Ravenel
“So, this is why you keep staying so late,” a male voice said.
He jumped. Someone knew! He started to turn.
Someone shook Tristan’s shoulder. The vision melted away, and the office returned to normal. Jaime appeared in his line of sight.
“Are you okay?” Concern was written all over her face.
Tristan shook his head. The girl! She was the same one in the picture! He pushed Jaime away and studied the picture on his screen. Her features seemed like they could fit. Was she The White Lady?
“Tristan, what is it?” Jaime grabbed his chin and forced him to see her. “You’re scaring me.”
He pulled away, barely registering her. He thought back to the day he lost control in Kayla and Zack’s apartment, all the visions that assaulted him. There was one of a girl in the woods. One he thought may have come from the ghost. Was it the same girl? Possibly. He gritted his teeth. Why couldn’t he remember?
A hand snapped in front of his eyes. He blinked, his brain sluggishly moving back to the here and now. Jaime’s brown eyes swam into view.
“I knew it,” she said.
Confusion pushed him back to the present time. “What?”
Jaime slid off his desk. “The weird blank stares, you mumbling about random things not in this office. You, sir, have the sight.” She crossed her arm over her chest.
All thoughts of the girl and the ghost flew out of his head. “I’m sorry, what?” It took a moment for his brain to catch up with the conversation. When it did, he started to panic. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jaime’s features brightened. “You know, I feel a lot better now. I was worried you were having a stroke.”
Cool sweat beaded at his brow. “Really, Jaime. I’m not…”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Don’t worry about it. My mom has it, too. She tends to know what you’re going to do before you do it. It can be a little unnerving, but I’m used to it.”
“You don’t think I’m weird?”
Jaime dropped down into the chair across from him. “Well, you are weird, but not because you get visions. You just need to stop zoning out randomly.”
“Believe me. I’m trying.” He let out a breath. “You won’t tell anybody?”
“Who the hell am I going to tell?” She laughed. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. Now.” She scooted forward. “What have you been seeing?”
He told her about the young woman and the affair in the office. He pointed to the picture on the screen. “Her name seems to be Lily Comer, but I have no idea who she had an affair with.”
“Juicy. A mystery. I like it. Where do we start?” She propped her heels on the edge of his desk.
“We?”
“I share this office, too. I’d like to know who had an affair around here. How long ago was it?”
Tristan glanced at the picture again. “I know it was at least twenty years ago. It had to have happened before she went missing.”
Jaime’s mouth fell open. “Missing? This gets better and better.”
An insistent knock rapped at the door. Without waiting for an answer, it creaked open. Dr. Cameron’s well-dressed form stepped through. “Mr. Johnson, Ms. Liu, I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“No, sir. Come in.”
Jaime jumped to her feet. “We’ll talk later,” she said with a wink as she made her way back to her own desk.
Cameron took the seat Jaime vacated. His expression was serious.
“How can I help you, sir?” Tristan gripped the edge of the desk. He wasn’t getting fired, was he? He forced a smile, hoping to ease the situation.
Cameron did not smile back. He fidgeted with his shirtsleeves, his eyes full of worry. He wiped his brow as he shifted his weight. His feet tapped out a rhythm under the desk. Puzzled, Tristan’s smile faded.
“Dr. Cameron, are you okay?” Tristan asked.
The older man took a shaky breath. “Yes. No.” He shook his head. “On Friday night, someone else died in your building, didn’t they? Paul Martin?” Cameron’s voice quivered.
“Yes, sir. Did you know him?” All of Tristan’s worries about his job security melted away.
Cameron wiped at his eyes. “I did, yes. We hadn’t spoken for many years, but he had been a very good friend.” He rubbed his mouth. “Did…anyone…see what happened?”
Tristan opened his mouth and closed it. How could he answer that question? He entertained the idea of telling Cameron the truth. After all, the man did know about The White Lady legend. However, Cameron didn’t believe in it. Tristan settled on the same half-truth he gave the police detectives. “I saw him fall down the stairs when I came home.”
“Oh, God.” Cameron closed his eyes. His face went white as a sheet as he slumped forward. Alarmed, Tristan jumped to his feet.
“Sir, do I need to call somebody? Get you a glass of water, maybe?” Tristan glanced at Jaime. Her phone was in her hand.
“Do I need to call someone?” she asked.
“No, no. I’ll be all right.” Cameron inhaled deeply, held the breath, and let it go. He took another breath, and another, until he breathed normally. “Paul and I were friends for a long time, ever since high school. We both grew up here in Asheville. We lost touch when I went away to college, but we met up again when I got an assistant professorship here. We were part of a whole group of friends who used to hang out together before most of us got married. I guess his death was more of a shock to me than I thought.” Cameron wiped his face as he leaned against the back of the chair. “Do you know why he was in the building, or how he fell down the stairs?”
“I don’t know.” Tristan hated how smoothly the lie came out. “I heard he was pretty mad about the paranormal investigators.” Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to mention that much.
“Paranormal investigators?” Cameron’s brow wrinkled.
“Investigating The White Lady legend.”
Cameron shook his head. “Possibly. I didn’t think he believed that legend when it started ten years ago.”
Tristan shrugged. “Maybe he did.” He stood, balancing against the desk. “Sir? Did he ever mention anything about seeing a girl from this school? Maybe in secret?”
Cameron’s eyes widened for a second before he chuckled. “Paul Martin? No. He’s been in love with his wife for years. They’ve been together since high school. I can’t imagine him with anyone else. Why?”
“The legend again. The investigators have a theory the ghost was a student who went here twenty years ago, but they haven’t been able to narrow down who she was.” Not bad for a guy who was flying by the seat of his pants.
A strange look came into Cameron’s eyes, but was gone in a second. Tristan wasn’t sure he saw anything. “That silly legend. Getting everyone worked up.”
“Sir, you don’t look so good. You should probably go home and rest.” Tristan wasn’t sure how to comfort the older man. Even though Cameron was his superior, he didn’t know the man that well. Again, he looked to Jaime for an answer. She merely shrugged.
Cameron nodded. “Yes, yes, you’re right. I just…I knew you lived in the building and had lost your friend. I wanted to know if you knew anything.”
Tristan swallowed. The urge to tell him the truth bubbled up. He kept it in check. “I don’t know what the police found out. You might want to ask them.”
The older man straightened, his shoulders back. “Thank you. If you hear anything, will you tell me immediately?”
“Yes, sir.” Tristan didn’t hesitate with his answer. He understood how it felt to lose a friend, especially to lose one the same way. He wanted to find the answers not for himself, but for Dr. Cameron, too.
Appearing steadier, Cameron got to his feet. He shook Tristan’s hand. “Thank you,” he said again. Picking up his briefcase, he continued on his way down the hall.
Tristan sank into his chair. How had everything become so complicated in the past couple of weeks? He had helped bury his best f
riend one day ago. He had witnessed another man’s death, a man who had the same hair color he did. Had The White lady planned to kill him that night, or had Paul been an unexpected opportunity? He ran a hand over his face.
Lily Comer smiled at him from his screen. How did she fit into this? Was she the ghost? Or was she simply an unfortunate girl who was missing?
Another door clicked open. Tristan peered out into the hall to see Dr. Jonas Knight, the professor whose office was located across the hall, step out and freeze when he saw Tristan. He stared for a moment, almost like he expected Tristan to say something. When Tristan didn’t, the skinny man locked his door and scurried down the hall. Tristan shook his head.
He had seen Dr. Knight a couple of times since the first day. The man never said anything. He studied Tristan every once in a while, and the attention would make Tristan’s skin crawl. He couldn’t figure out what Knight found so fascinating.
Tristan checked the clock. He still had twenty minutes before his first class of the day. He waved to Jaime as he walked out of the office. He passed Dr. Smith’s office and stopped. The robust professor had made a point to check in on Tristan every other day when his schedule permitted. When he saw Smith coming, Tristan prepared for at least twenty minutes of his day to disappear. Smith loved to talk. He not only asked about Tristan’s semester and how he was doing after his friend passed away, but he also gossiped about students and fellow professors alike. It was never mean-spirited, only a few tidbits here and there. If anyone knew anything about an affair twenty years ago, it was probably Smith.
Smith’s door stood wide open. The older man sat at his desk, glasses perched on the end of his nose, reading one of his students’ papers. Clutching a red pen, he marked it every few seconds with a groan.
Tristan knocked on the open door. Smith lifted his head, his eyes blinking owlishly. His face broke into a smile when he recognized Tristan. He pulled off his glasses.
“My boy, what brings you to my doorstep this morning?” Smith leaned back in his brown leather chair, his fingers laced behind his head.
Tristan crossed the room, taking in the medium-sized office. He had never been inside before. Old textbooks and some newer history books filled the wooden shelves on either side. One shelf was dedicated to all the books Smith wrote. Tristan recognized a few of the ones about the local history of the area. He reached the large black desk, which rested in front of a long, narrow window with the blinds drawn. He sat down in the hard chair across from the older man.
How do I start this conversation without Dr. Smith thinking I’m crazy? he wondered. He cleared his throat and jumped in. “Sir, I have a couple of strange questions to ask you about my office.”
“Your office?”
“Yeah, did anyone, maybe, have an affair in there?”
Smith threw his back and laughed. “Many a young student has had a tryst in there. Why? Do you want to have an affair in there?”
“No, no. I just…heard about one twenty years ago. The girl went missing. Her name was Lily?”
“Twenty years ago?” Smith rubbed his beard. “That’s going back a ways, son. What brought this up?”
Tristan tried to appear nonchalant about the whole thing. “Oh, you know how students are, telling each other stories about the place.” His mind churned as he searched for a reasonable lie to explain his interest. He hadn’t thought this conversation out very well. “Um, an older sibling of one of my students knew her.” Crap! That sounded forced even to his ears.
Smith made a thoughtful noise as he rocked back and forth in his chair. “Like I said, a few professors have had affairs in several of the rooms around here. It’s hard to remember one, especially from twenty years ago.”
“Ah, well, thought it was worth a try.” He gathered his satchel and headed to the door. Wait! Hidden Forest! Maybe he could try another tactic. He stopped halfway across the room. “Sir, I think she may have been connected to the Hidden Forest apartment building. Do you know anything about that building?”
Dr. Smith dropped his smile. “Such a tragic place. Ian just told me about Paul’s death last Friday.”
“You knew Mr. Martin?” Surprise leapt into Tristan’s voice. He sauntered back to the desk and sat down.
“I did.” Smith picked up a framed picture that sat on his desk. “I knew him fairly well. We became friends when I started working here, but we hadn’t spoken in a long time. His father’s company built many of the newer buildings on campus. I suppose he took over that business after his father died a few years ago.” He handed the picture to Tristan. A group of seven men stood on the edge of a lake, fishing rods held high. Smith pointed to the man on the left. “That’s me.” He pointed to the man next to him. “And that’s Paul.”
Tristan studied the picture, noting how most of the men wore bucket hats. Did any of them help Paul Martin kill a college girl? If he had indeed killed her and that was why the ghost went after him. “How old were you?”
Smith took back the picture. “We had to be about thirty, maybe?” He pointed to another man on the right. “That’s Dr. Cameron.” Cameron smiled at the camera, holding a large fish on the end of his hook. “And the one in the back who looks like he’s not having a good time is Dr. Knight.” Dr. Knight stared stone-faced at the camera. Smith chuckled. “Knight hated the whole idea of fishing, but Ian felt bad if he didn’t invite him.” He set the picture back on his desk.
“What happened between all of you?”
“Life, Mr. Johnson. Things happen and they take up more time than you think they will.”
So, his original plan wasn’t going so well. He decided to try another tactic, and appeal to Smith’s knowledge of local history. “Have you ever heard of the legend of The White Lady? She haunts Hidden Forest.” Tristan sat up straighter. “Before my friend Zack died, and especially after, people told me different versions of the legend.”
Smith nodded. “Yes, I have. I’m not surprised a story like that would spring up. No one ever did find out who killed those boys ten years ago, did they?”
“No, sir.” Tristan paused, and then decided to tell Smith the truth. “I have seen her, though.”
“You’ve seen a ghost?”
“Yes, sir. I know it sounds crazy, but I think there’s some truth to the legend.” He stopped short of telling Smith how he had seen The White Lady hurl Martin down the stairs like he weighed nothing. He scooted forward. “You’ve been here a while. Have you heard of any women dying in those woods? Maybe before Hidden Forest was built? Maybe during it?”
Smith’s blue eyes studied Tristan for a long moment. Tristan shifted, his left leg shaking. This was it. This was how he was going to get fired from his job and kicked out of school. “Son, maybe you should take a few days off. It sounds like you’ve been through a lot. Take some time to grieve and clear your head.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you believe it.”
Smith pushed back his chair and stood. He pulled a dusty black binder off his right shelf. He set it in the middle of the desk with a thud, right on top of the papers he had been grading. He reclaimed his seat as he flipped it open to a page near the back. A black and white picture of Hidden Forest was at the top of the page with statistics listed underneath it. “My boy, this book lists all the buildings in and around the Blackwood campus. Hidden Forest has only been around for twenty years. It was originally part of student housing, but was converted to regular apartments a few years ago. As far as I know, no woman has died in the building or the surrounding area.” He turned a few pages to reveal the history building. “If there were such a thing as ghosts, this building would more than likely be haunted. It’s much, much older than Hidden Forest.”
Tristan regarded the page in front of him. “I don’t think a ghost would care how old the place was, but I understand your point, sir.” Part of him wanted to throw the binder across the room. This conversation wasn’t getting him anywhere. Dr. Smith was telling him things h
e already knew. But he knew the ghost was real. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Zack fall backwards out of a window or Mr. Martin thrown down the stairs. Someone knew who this ghost used to be and why she was so angry. Someone also had to know if Lily Comer was connected to her or not.
He shook Smith’s hand. “Thank you for your time, sir. I should probably get to class.”
Smith cracked a smile. “Don’t mention it, son. I’m here anytime you want to talk history.” He patted Tristan’s arm. “And think about taking that time off. It’ll do you a world of good.”
18
“Coffee for everybody!” McKenna set a foam tray of coffee cups on her desk. The dark, warm aroma filled the small space in a matter of seconds.
Tabitha left one of the desks in the back of the room. “Caffeine. Thank God.”
Drew stepped out of the equipment room, his nose in the air. “Pumpkin spice. I love this time of year.” He grabbed the giant cup with his name on it.
Aaron appeared out of his office. “About time you came back to work.” He found his cup and took a sip from it. “Off gallivanting all over the state.” His mood lifted as he enjoyed the coffee. He grunted. “I guess I can forgive you.”
Drew slurped.
Aaron side-eyed him. “I don’t know why you put all that frou-frou stuff in your drink. Coffee should be served plain and black.”
Tabitha bumped his hip. “With a hint of chocolate.”
He rolled his eyes and continued drinking.
McKenna dropped a straw into her Mocha Frappuccino. “I wasn’t off gallivanting. Tristan and I went to his parents’ house to find out more about why the ghost pulled energy from us.”
Drew wiggled his eyebrows. “Sure you were.” He sucked in air when McKenna kicked his shin.
Aaron grabbed a chair from his office. “What did you find out?”
She told them about Tristan’s grandfather’s journals. “Neither he nor his team understood it, but my grandmother apparently figured out a way to stop it.” She sipped more mocha. “Did you know my grandmother worked for The Greene Institute, too?”