by fox, angie
I gave a small shriek. We were both breathing hard as I reached into the hole and pulled out a round, flat object. Ellis shone the light on it and we both held our breath and saw…a penny.
"Oh my," I said, turning it over in my hand. The date read 1982, so it wasn't even a particularly old or interesting penny.
We dug at the hole some more and found nothing. I swept the metal detector over it again. Nothing.
Ellis saw my disappointment. "Want me to take over?"
"Yes," I said, scrambling out of the cave, needing some air. I'd never thought of myself as claustrophobic, but these tight spaces were wearing on me.
Perhaps the penny was a marker for an old and valuable jewelry stash. Or maybe it was only a penny.
I looked out over the woods, listening to the river churning below. I didn't dare walk close enough to the cliff edge to see it. The back of my neck prickled. Quickly, I glanced behind, to the path leading up the hill. It stood empty.
"Nothing else in the hole," Ellis called out. "I'll check out the rest of the cave."
"Good," I called to him, folding my arms over my chest. I couldn't escape the notion we were being watched.
I took a step toward the path, then another. My throat felt tight. "Anybody there?" I called.
Trees rustled above, but not a soul—living or dead—revealed itself.
If there was ever a time I could stand to have my gangster friend around, it was now.
"Frankie?" I asked, as I caught sight of a gray image among the trees. My heart sped up. It could be nothing. Still, I didn't dare leave Ellis with his back exposed.
A hollow voice floated down, chilling as it settled over me. "Come."
I glanced back at the cave. "What do you want?" I called.
A sharp breeze rustled the woods, sending up a chorus of squawking black birds.
Ellis emerged from the cave, eight kinds of dirty. He saw me and his eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?"
"I think I see a ghost, up the path," I told him.
He froze, unsure of what to say.
Join the club.
"I don't know who it is," I said quietly. It had to be Frankie. He hadn't restored my ability to see other ghosts. Although I supposed a ghost with enough energy could manifest whenever it wanted to. I searched for it among the trees, but didn't see it anymore. Heaven knew I wasn't about to go up there and look for it.
I glanced back at Ellis. "What did you find in the cave?"
"Nothing," he said, carefully placing the Garrett ATX on the ground. "If there was a treasure, it's long gone."
Then the trees rustled and I saw our visitor clearly—Colonel Maker of Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders. My heart thundered in shock.
He beckoned me furiously.
It took a lot of energy to manifest. Whatever the colonel had to tell me, it must be important. I blew out a breath. "I've met this ghost," I said to Ellis, "give me a second to go see him." I didn't know if he'd talk to me with Ellis around. Besides, now that Ellis was out of the cave, he could watch out for both of us.
I scrambled up the muddy trail. The colonel spoke to me now, frantically, but I couldn't hear what he said. His image faded at the edges and he appeared weaker than I'd seen him last.
"Hold on," I called to him. "I'm coming."
He grew more agitated, holding his hands out, screaming at me, his voice silent, his body turning to smoke before my eyes. Something bad was happening to him.
Cripes. He was fading. "Hey," I grabbed the leaning juniper bush as I pulled myself up onto the cliff face. "Calm down." I tried to spot the flicker of him in the trees. "Don't try to manifest. Just talk. I'll listen." Sweat trickled down my forehead. My body flushed. "Colonel?"
I felt a hard shove at my back. My legs went out from under me, and I screamed as I fell face first off the path.
Chapter Sixteen
I'd never been so terrified as I hurtled down. I saw the stark horror on Ellis's face as he tried to catch me. I hit him with a bone-rattling crunch, taking him down with me onto the hard shale.
My muscles shook as I braced my arms and lifted myself to my knees, straddling him. I should have been crushed on impact.
He swore. "You okay?" He lay with his head in the dirt, staring up at the sky.
A startled, panicked laugh escaped me, as if his asking that were the funniest thing in the world. I knelt over him and took his cheeks in my hands. "I'm more worried about you." Carefully, slowly, I inspected his head for injuries, and when I found none, I contented myself to hold him a little longer, gently slicking the hair out of his face.
He leaned into my hands, wincing. "You're heavier than you look."
I refused to take offense at his snark at a time like this. He'd broken my fall. He'd most likely saved my life.
"Somebody pushed me," I told him. I looked up at the cliff face above and saw no one, not even the colonel. It was a long way up from here. And then it hit me. "Somebody just tried to kill me."
"That's it. Let's get out of here," he groaned, attempting to shove himself to his feet.
"Wait. You could have a back injury," I said, trying to hold him down.
There was a blossoming spot of red on his cheek where he'd hit and his hands were bloody as he warded me off. "See?" he said, brushing past me, struggling to his feet. "I'm fine."
"That's debatable." He bled from scrapes on his cheek and chin, and I could see more blood seeping from his shoulder, staining his gray T-shirt that had gone from dirty to downright disreputable.
"I like how you handled that fall," he said, patting his hands over himself to check for injuries, completely ignoring me. "No crying, no hysterics."
"That comes later," I told him in all honesty.
He chanced a glance up at the path. "Stay put. I'm going to see who's up there."
"It's too dangerous," I said, following. "We should call the police."
He moved fast for someone who should be flat on his back, recovering. "I am the police."
There was that. "Then I'm coming with you." I went back to recover the metal detector, my bag, and Frankie's urn, and somehow managed to haul them up the cliff face, where I joined Ellis in his search. I slowed as I approached the spot where I'd been shoved, feeling distinctly uncomfortable even being there. I felt no more ghostly presence, no malice, just a lingering sense of unease that was wholly mine. This was no accident. Someone wanted me dead. A fall like that could have easily killed me. But since it hadn't, and whoever pushed me probably knew that… What if he'd gone back to get a weapon?
"I don't see anyone," Ellis said. His hair stood on end and he swayed where he stood. He shot me a look that challenged me to say a word about it. "They didn't leave anything behind, either."
"Let's get you back to the carriage house." From there, I'd wrestle him into my car if I had to. The man needed to be checked out at a hospital.
Besides, I didn't like being in these woods. We were too exposed.
Ellis kept his gun out as we picked our way up the path. He made short forays into the wooded spots, looking for God knew what. The entire time, he didn't move his shoulder. And he kept bleeding.
"Stay with me," I said, looping both my arms around his good one. "This way I won't fall down the hill." He might have been too bull headed to admit he needed help, but I knew he wasn't above being gallant.
I was right. He didn't argue. And as I held him tight, I felt him leaning into me for the first time. It was clear he hurt everywhere.
He grit his teeth. "I've had worse."
"I'm sure you have." "He swayed as we hit a particularly rough spot. "I'll let you stand on your own and be a bad ass if we see anyone you'd like to arrest. Or shoot."
"Thanks," he said.
I felt pretty good about that until I looked up at the rest of the hill. Sweet heaven. We were insane to try climbing that in our condition.
He worked to steady himself. "Maybe get Harry to help."
"No," I said, urging us both forward. For all we
knew, Harry was the one who shoved me from behind. "We're going to take it one step at a time."
"So you saw a ghost," he said, forcing himself forward, probably trying to take his mind off the pain.
My shoulders and back ached. My thighs burned as we struggled up the path.
"The colonel," I explained. "You'd like him."
"Why?" he asked, his breath coming harsh. "Because I was in the military?"
"I didn't know you served." At least I didn't remember hearing. I felt vaguely guilty about that.
"Marines," he said automatically. "Back when you and Beau were in college. Mamma didn't brag about it because she didn't like her son going enlisted. Or serving at all."
I'd never stopped to think what it must be like to be raised by a woman like Virginia Wydell. I didn't think he'd want my sympathy, so I didn't say anything. I kept my focus on the hill as we trudged forward.
"The ghost," Ellis prodded. He'd obviously said more, but I hadn't heard the question. A cut on his hairline bled down over his ear. He either didn't notice or didn't care. He was too focused on me. His hazel eyes bored into me as he repeated his question. "What was the soldier ghost trying to protect you from?"
I thought back on the colonel's grim features, his soundless warning. "My attacker, maybe. I don't know." I wasn't sure of the colonel's motives, or who he was prepared to stand behind. At least I knew he'd been too weak to shove me.
But what I couldn't figure out is how I'd seen him in the first place. Frankie hadn't helped me, I didn't feel his energy. If the gangster had nothing to do with it, then the colonel must have gathered the energy to manifest by himself. I hadn't realized he was capable of that.
Ellis and I struggled forward until we reached the area behind the carriage house. We didn't see anyone, but I didn't want to chance a confrontation if Harry was our attacker. Ellis was in no shape for it, and I didn't know if I would be on my best day. We kept going, straight to my life-boat of a Cadillac.
"This is old," Ellis mumbled, practically falling into the passenger seat. My limbs tingled, grateful to be relieved of Ellis's weight. But my heart pounded. We weren't out of the woods yet.
"Here," I adjusted him so he leaned against the headrest. "I'm taking us to the hospital."
"Ow," he muttered, closing his eyes.
"How bad does it hurt?" I asked, checking out his injuries.
He winced. "It's getting better."
I didn't see how. I gave him a shake. "No sleeping."
His eyes cracked open. "But you don't know how good it feels to sit down."
"Nope," I tossed my bag into the backseat and hurried around to the driver's side. I wouldn't feel better until we were safe and moving. "You have to stay awake."
He began shaking. I knew how he felt—punch drunk on adrenaline.
I slid my key into the ignition. "I didn't drag you up a hill so you could crash on me now."
He swallowed, nodded, and closed his eyes again.
Dammit.
I didn't feel Frankie's energy leave me as I drove past the gates. He'd had nothing to do with this. The colonel was even stronger than I'd thought.
Wow. I pushed the radio button and hit the gas.
First things first. I had to see to Ellis.
I turned the volume up high and jabbed the button for 105.9 The Slam.
Rap music blared through the car.
Ellis jerked up in his seat, eyes wide. "What the hell?"
"Oh good," I hollered sweetly. "You're awake."
"And I thought it hurt to catch you," he said, as I turned down the volume and steered the car onto the main road.
"Nope," I said blithely, even though his bold-faced assessment unnerved me. "Saving me is the least of your problems tonight. Now you have to deal with me taking care of you."
He reached for the radio off button but I swatted him away. "No. This will keep us going." We couldn't afford to relax until we got him to the hospital.
He shoved past me and switched it off. "My head can't take any more."
"Have it your way," I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible while I gripped the steering wheel. "Just don't bleed on my seat."
He huffed at that. "It's purple velvet," he said, as if that in itself was bizarre.
"Really?" I asked, acting surprised. "That's what you see? Because it's really tan vinyl."
For just a second, his shocked expression was priceless. Then he saw me chuckle. "Gotcha."
"You don't know who you're messing with," he said, the corners of his mouth tugging into a grin. I considered that a victory.
I lay on the gas, hoping to get pulled over. We could use a police escort. I didn't like the way his hands lay limp on his legs, or how his head lolled against the seat.
What would have happened to me without Ellis there, it was too horrible to comprehend. Now he was paying for saving my skin.
I could almost see the wheels turning as he tried to phrase his next comment in his head. Good. That meant he was thinking, trying to stay alert.
From his expression, I could tell he hadn't lost his sense of amusement. Lord help us.
"Excuse me," he drawled, "but why are you driving this piece of shit?"
I barked out a laugh. Random and honest. I liked that. "Because it's my piece of shit," I said proudly. Believe me, there was something to be said for that.
He let out a huff. "God, I'm sorry. Did I offend you?" He leaned back in the seat. "I'm always offending people…mamma can't stand it when I open my mouth in public. I just say what I think and usually it's the wrong thing."
I'd been in that boat a time or two. "Lucky for you, I'm not sensitive about my ride." As long as it got me from point A to point B. Besides, he was in immense pain and slap happy. And, I had him talking. We needed to keep it up. I tossed him a playful glance. "While we're asking uncomfortable questions, tell me about your girlfriend in New York."
He winced, but this time I wasn't sure it had anything to do with his wounds. "I don't have a girlfriend. My mom keeps trying to set me up with this model." He cradled his left arm in his lap. "I can't stand her. She's plastic."
"Hmm," I mused. I wasn't letting him get off that easy. "Isn't there a movie about that? Some guy and his blow-up doll?"
"She's fake," he said on an exhale. "I like girls who are real," he said, glancing at me, "ones who know what they want."
"Good," I told him. "I want you to stay awake.
He gave a slight grin. "I am. I will," he said, readjusting his injured left shoulder, grimacing. "There's no telling what you'd do to me otherwise."
We sang Christmas songs for the rest of the way, to keep his energy up. He had a better voice than mine, which wasn't saying much. But, hey. We were in this together. We'd survive.
At the Tri-County Regional Hospital, he got to listen to a doctor tell us both how lucky we'd been. Evidently several people had died on those cliffs over the years. It didn't surprise me in the least.
Ellis was in worse shape than me. He'd taken the brunt of my fall. I had bruises and scrapes. He had scrapes on top of his bruises on top of his scrapes. He also had a sprained shoulder, a badly bruised tailbone, and possibly a mild head injury, one he claimed not to notice.
"You want me to call anyone?" I'd asked. I'd even deal with his mother if it meant he'd be more comfortable.
His answer had been a definitive, "no."
His reward for that was to be sent home with me. Well, to his home, not mine. I promised to take him there and to keep an eye on him. I owed him that much and more.
The ride to his place was quiet, which was fine with me. We both needed time to settle down. And when we arrived, he didn't complain as I opened the door and let him lean on me as he got out.
Ellis lived in a tidy bungalow on Magnolia Street, about a block away from Lauralee's house. I took his arm as I helped him up the stairs.
"Where are your keys?" I asked when we made it to the porch.
"In my pocket," he said, attempting
to reach into his jeans.
"Let me," I said quickly, sliding my hand down into his left front pocket…and pretty much down his thigh. Maybe I should have thought this through.
He grew still. "Um, wrong pocket," he managed to choke out.
"Gotcha," I said with forced cheer. He was right handed.
I steadied him and moved to the other side.
"I got it," he said, shoving his hand into his pocket, most likely enduring shattering pain so I didn't feel him up again. Great.
He inserted the key in the lock and pushed the door open. "You don't need to stay," he said, glancing back at me as I followed him inside. "It isn't part of your job."
This had stopped being about the job the minute I'd fallen down that cliff. "You helped me, now I'm helping you," I said simply.
"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered.
"That's the spirit," I told him.
Sure, if you'd asked me a week ago, I'd have sworn there was no way I'd voluntarily spend a red hot minute in the company of Ellis Wydell, much less a whole night. But now? I'd learned a lot about him since then.
And, oh my goodness! Shock hit me as he flipped on the overhead light and I learned one more thing about Ellis. The man could not decorate.
His man cave looked as if a blind bear had outfitted it.
A black leather sofa rested against a white painted wall. He had a black leather coffee table that doubled as storage. Either that, or it was in the process of giving birth to a bunch of video game controllers hanging from their wires.
An immense TV hung on the opposite wall and that was it. Finito. As if the Y chromosome demanded absolutely nothing decorative or appealing be allowed in the room.
"Let's get you into bed," I told him, leading him past the empty dining area on the right. A card table and chairs stood in the small kitchen and the back bedroom contained only a basic black platform bed and nightstand.
"I'm sensing a theme," I said.
"What?" he asked. His voice stayed even, but the lines of his shoulders betrayed him. He was unsettled. He shifted away from me and toward the bed.
"Nothing." I was running off at the mouth. It didn't matter what I thought of his hastily put together home. Or the fact that I'd be spending the night here.