“It’s not for them; it’s for the cameras. Plus, if a ghost tries to form as a shadow, it’s easier for them to do it in the dark.”
Clearly she’d been watching a great many paranormal television series, because as far as he knew she’d never delved into this sort of thing before. Night vision goggles and walkie-talkies, yes – but not for anything as whimsical as ghost hunting. He rolled his shoulders. The most likely scenario was that this equipment was for something else, but she did have a superstitious streak. If this became her new hobby, then, he would accept it, but he didn’t quite feel up to encouraging it. Especially if she meant for him to participate.
“Jellicoe, I’m still in the grand ballroom,” Tom’s voice came. “And only because my wife likes you. How’s the view?”
“Oh, Donner. Yeah, you’re good. I forgot you were there.”
Richard chuckled. Yes, they each had serious reservations about the other, but lately he’d been detecting an undercurrent of at least mutual respect if not affection in their non-stop battle. With a thief on one side and a lawyer on the other, perhaps that was good enough.
Detouring down a short flight of stairs, Richard met up with Tom as the former Texan wrestled with a hundred-year-old table lamp. “Stop pawing at it like a grizzly bear,” he said, and leaned down to pull the delicate chain hanging inside the shade.
“We’re really going to spend the night doing this?”
“A few hours, anyway. I’m calling it familial bonding.”
“Uh huh. Where are your aunt and uncle?”
“Locked in their room and refusing to come out till morning.”
“Your life has gotten really odd over the past year.”
With a grin, Richard clapped Tom on the shoulder. “Yes, it has, hasn’t it?”
They returned to the dining room to see Samantha sitting in front of the monitor and labeling the four input lines, while Reg had a hand on the back of her chair and leaned over her shoulder, ostensibly to gaze at the four-way split screen. At the other end of the table Eerika looked through the infrared camera and passed her hand in front of the lens.
“That’s the kind of familial bonding you wanted?” Tom muttered under his breath, his gaze on Reg and Samantha.
“No, it is not.” He moved around to Samantha’s other side, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. “Any shadows or levitating chairs yet?”
“Goodness!” Miss Nyland exclaimed. “If that were to happen, I would perish on the spot!” She set aside the camera. “Do you think we’ll actually find anything? This could be very good for my show. Oh, could I have the recordings afterward?”
The hell she could. Samantha shrugged. “We’ll see. As to whether we find something, that’s not really up to us. Just keep in mind that these spirits, if there are any, are Rick’s ancestors. So no calling them names or trying to piss them off to make them show up. You can ask for their help and cooperation, ask them to answer questions or knock on walls or turn on flashlights. We might not hear anything tonight, but with the digital recorders on, we might pick up something anyway. Any questions?”
“How long have you been doing this?” Reg asked, shifting a little as Richard accidently crowded him away from Samantha.
“Just once in a while,” she lied smoothly. “I spend a lot of time in old places. We’ve just accidently found a couple of ‘maybes’, but put together they kind of add up to ‘unexplained’.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Norway asked, moving over to join them behind Samantha’s chair. Sam couldn’t possibly like having this many people standing behind her, but she didn’t show it. “You and Rick?”
That was not going to be allowed to stand. A hard-charging businessman did not pursue the paranormal unless he wanted to show the world a very large chink in his armor. He did not want to read about his penchant for ghost hunting in the tabloid news. He opened his mouth to deny his involvement, but Samantha chose that moment to stand, elbowing him in the ribs as she did so.
“Yeah, right. Rick’s only doing this because he doesn’t want me wrecking the furniture. I was talking about my adopted dad, Walter. He knows a lot about cameras and photography, and we end up partnering up sometimes trying to figure out how security might have been disabled, stuff like that.”
“Ghost hunting is an offshoot of antiquities recovery I would never have expected,” Reg put in, “but it does make sense.”
“Right, ‘recovery’,” Tom mouthed, and Richard scowled at him. Good God, this had begun as a quiet, low-stress holiday. Now they were treasure hunting and ghost hunting and Tom wanted to blab about Samantha’s criminal past. They’d be lucky if any of them made it out of Canniebrae unscathed.
Samantha had extricated him nearly flawlessly, even if she’d been the one to drag him so close to the edge in the first place – but then he was becoming accustomed to that, these days. The other bit, the quick and masterful defense, was what stopped him for a moment. He needed to stop pushing at her, demanding that she somehow prove she’d left the dark side behind, demanding that she prove she was on his side. Because she was on his side. Truly. She’d already proven it, long before today.
He took her hand as the other three divided up digital recorders, EMF detectors, and night vision goggles and cameras. “I quite adore you, Samantha Elizabeth Jellicoe,” he murmured. “You know that, yes?”
She looked up at him, a slow smile curving her mouth. “You’re just saying that because you can’t get into my pants tonight, aren’t you?”
Richard tightened his grip. “Sam.” Yes, she liked to jest, and yes, emotions still tripped her up sometimes, but she had to know by now that he would give up everything, including his life, for her.
Samantha faced him, taking his free hand in hers. “I know it,” she whispered. “You’re my…best thing, Rick. It scares me a little how much I love you.”
“What are you two whispering about, over there?” Reg asked. “If anyone means to jump out of the dark and scare me, expect to be punched in the eye.”
Ignoring the interruption, Richard brushed straight auburn hair out of Samantha’s face, then tilted her chin up and kissed her. Sometimes, just sometimes, the winds calmed and the storm eased, and there she was – not the cat burglar, or the adrenaline junkie, or the puzzle solver or the chaos lover, but just her. Samantha. He lived for all the moments, but especially those.
“People are staring, James Bond,” she whispered, twining her fingers with his.
“Let them stare, Xena, Warrior Princess.”
Her grin deepened. “You say the nicest things.” Finally she sighed and backed away. “Okay, Spengler, Venkman, and Stantz. Let’s divide into two groups and get going.”
“Who’s that?” Eerika asked, pulling the night vision goggles down and with that one question probably dooming any chance of a friendship with Samantha. To not know who the Ghostbusters were was to be irredeemably uncool.
Samantha sighed, very quietly. “Nobody. I’ll go with you and Reggie. Sorry, Rick, that means you get Donner.”
“I’ll manage,” he said crisply.
Considering that neither Reg nor his girlfriend were particularly pleased with Samantha right now, he had to admire her fortitude. Of course she might have decided to use the opportunity to grill Reg about the highwayman’s map – which was fine with him. If they chose to go about chasing their own tails for another week or ten days, he would be able to declare the holiday over and remove Samantha to Rawley Park and the rest of them to wherever they chose to go, as long as it wasn’t here.
Even if she did decide to quiz his cousin about highwayman Will Dawkin, without a map and without any idea of the lay of the land it wouldn’t do her much good. Hopefully. Reg was greedy and obsessed enough that he likely wouldn’t voluntarily share any information, anyway.
“Tom and I will take the ground floor,” he said, picking up a torch and his walkie-talkie. Despite Tom’s vocal skepticism of this adventure, the attorney was loaded down with enough devices
for the two of them, so he didn’t bother taking any more himself. One lunatic talking to the walls in the dark would be plenty.
“Sounds good,” Samantha returned, hefting one of the infrared cameras. “If anybody falls over something or makes a loud noise, report it. Same if you hear something, so we won’t end up investigating each other.”
“I had no idea paranormal investigation was so technical and complicated,” Eerika commented.
“Just trying to keep everybody from breaking their necks in the dark,” Samantha said.
They parted company at the main staircase, while the surprisingly obliging Yule went to keep an eye on the monitor. Richard and Tom headed downstairs to the foyer, the light from their torches bobbing against the old walls and feeling creepy in a way that the semi-regular power outages hadn’t managed. “What say we go get a beer?” Richard suggested. “The staff’s gone home or turned in early, so we’ll have the kitchen to ourselves.”
“Listen, I don’t even know what day it is right now, but I kinda want to look around first. I mean no offense, but this place is spooky in the dark. Kind of ghosty, really.”
“I thought you’d be more put out that Samantha’s enjoying it here. I think she’s having a better time than I am, truth be told.”
Tom shrugged. “Truth be told, the past week’s been borderline dull without any of her lunatic shit for me to rant about. But don’t you dare tell her that. It’s attorney-client privilege.”
“That generally works the other way, doesn’t it? For the client and not the attorney, I mean.”
“Shut up and help me hunt for some ghosts.”
Samantha turned the infrared camera on Reggie and Eerika, observing as Norway made nervous sounds and kept her hand wound into the back of her boyfriend’s jacket. It dawned on her that Eerika acted just like a shallow, dimwitted, bimbo blonde from some 1980’s television show.
She didn’t miss a beat, really, from the lack of familiarity with popular movies to the obsession with shopping to her helplessness and reliance on big, strong menfolk to protect her, to the way anything technological was clever and marvelous and far beyond her ability to decipher. If they’d had internet, Samantha was pretty confident that Eerika would be a wiz at texting and twittering and instagramming. Even without cell service she’d taken about a hundred thousand selfies in four days. The Viking wanted to be a reality show character so badly she’d turned herself into one.
From the few conversations Samantha had had with Reggie, he wasn’t stupid. Rick-light, maybe, but in most circles that could still be pretty impressive. For him to have paired up with Eerika, especially to the point that he’d introduced her to his parents, he had to have found something interesting about her. Maybe she was just really good in bed, but for somebody as fame-adjacent as Reggie was, a good fuck buddy wouldn’t have been that hard to find.
What was it, then? Was Eerika’s dimness really an act? If so, why? “Let’s stop here,” she said aloud, deciding the middle of the portrait gallery worked as well as anywhere else. Plus, it was atmospheric as hell. “Eerika, turn on the digital recorder, and we’ll ask questions. Leave some space in case anybody answers.” That was what they used to do on Ghost Hunters, anyway. She’d watched those paranormal shows a lot before she’d met Rick. A couple of times their use of new night-vision tech had come in really handy. And now their spook-hunting tips had, too.
Norway tapped on the recorder, putting her free hand over her chest. “My heavens. I don’t know what to say. What if something answers? I will faint.”
Inwardly Samantha sighed. This would have been easier if Norway had fled to lock herself in the room she shared with Reggie. Since the Viking hadn’t, though, Samantha had an idea or two how to make her useful tonight. Now she just needed to prime the pump. “Like this. Can you tell me your name?” She waited a beat. “Did you live here at Canniebrae?” Pause. “Did you work here?”
“Oh, I hope we won’t be speaking to chamber maids and scullery girls,” Norway broke in. “Do you think we will, Reginald?”
“Servants spend more time at a big house than the owners do,” Reggie commented. “If anyone’s here, it’s probably one of them. One of Aunt Rachel’s relatives would be more interesting, though.”
“It doesn’t even have to be someone who lived here,” Samantha added, lowering the camera to make it less obvious she had it pointed at them. “A spirit could be anyone who experienced strong emotions, negative or positive, in the area, anyone with unfinished business or an undiscovered secret, a lost love, a missing child, anything.”
The temperature on Reggie’s face didn’t change, but behind him Eerika’s warmed by several degrees. Embarrassment or excitement. Well, nothing embarrassing was going on. Fear, dread, or worry would lower face temperature as blood rushed away from the surface to protect vital organs. Yep, there she was, Sam Jellicoe, lie detector and ghost tracker.
“So I can ask anything?” Eerika repeated.
“Sure. Then play back that bit of recording and listen to see if anything shows up.” Sam straightened. “In fact, you guys do that, and I’ll check out the rest of the room with the thermal camera.”
Norway’s face got even warmer. Reggie’s didn’t, so either he didn’t share his girlfriend’s excitement or he hadn’t caught onto it yet. Hm. Samantha figured she’d made it pretty clear that a certain highwayman might be hanging around without just coming out and saying it. If that was what Eerika was reacting to, it was interesting for two reasons: One, Eerika seemed more interested than Reggie; and two, Eerika had figured it out first. Somebody was pretending to be stupid. Probably for dramatic purposes.
She moved away from the pair, panning down the length of the room so she could bite off a short piece of duct tape and put it over the camera’s red indicator light. No sense letting them know she was recording them. At the same time, she turned up the camera’s microphone sensitivity; they’d probably be whispering their questions, and she could listen to them later.
She gave it about twenty minutes, making a mental note of the time stamp a couple of times when Reggie caught on to whatever had Eerika excited, when their body temperatures rose and fell. Checking the digital recorder would be more para-interesting, but as long as she had the audio on the thermal, their questions and conversation should be there for her listening and viewing pleasure.
“Anything interesting?” she asked, removing the tape covering the recording light. “I got a couple of temperature fluctuations, but old houses have drafts. Nothing I could declare paranormal. Maybe when I go through it again.”
“I think I heard a few whispers,” Norway whispered, “but I want to listen to it again. Maybe we can do that in the morning. If we find anything, we’ll play it for you.”
Yeah, like that would happen. If the two of them hadn’t just spent the last twenty minutes asking a highwayman ghost where he’d hidden his treasure, she would eat Donner’s ten-gallon hat. And the questions they’d asked were the reason she was never going to set ears on that tape. But with the infrared camera’s audio, she didn’t need their stupid digital recorder. “That would be great. It’ll save me from having to watch and listen to everything on my own.”
In the deflected glow of her flashlight, she saw Eerika smile. “I’m so glad we’re getting on again, Sam. I do want us to be friends.”
Samantha decided she was going to have to go along with that, for a while, anyway, if she ever wanted to figure out this mess. Which she did – both because Rick had challenged her, and because she loved unraveling a damn puzzle.
From the portrait gallery they went into the huge ballroom, the music room, the billiards room, and a couple of the long-empty bedchambers. With Norway hearing – or pretending she heard – scary noises in every squeak of every floor board and jumping around like a kangaroo, any self-respecting ghosts would have stayed well away. Especially if they were related to Rick and had any of his common sense and taste.
When she figured they’d been at
it long enough to convince squad Reggie that the paranormal investigation was the actual focus of the night, she radioed Rick. “You guys find anything interesting?”
“Tom tripped over an ottoman and nearly broke his neck, but not much other than that.”
“Nifty. Let’s meet back in the dining room.”
“Roger that.”
“Thank God,” Donner’s voice exclaimed, more faintly.
She grinned at the walkie-talkie before she pocketed it again. “Ready, team?”
“Absolutely,” Reggie returned. “It’s past my bedtime.” He picked up the EMF detector and digital recorder and gestured for Eerika to precede them. “I’ve noticed you and my cousin’s faithful companion seem somewhat…antagonistic. Considering Tom Donner’s had a stick up his arse since I’ve known him, please tell me you discovered some horrible secret of his. An affair? A gambling addiction? A drug addiction?”
What was the public explanation for her and Donner’s antagonism? They’d never really come up with one, and when he’d arrived they’d just taken up where they’d left off without considering what their audience might think. That had been sloppy. And short-sighted. And careless. “Donner’s a die-hard Houston Astros fan,” she improvised, looking for something stupid but plausible. “I adopted the Chicago Cubs a long time ago.” She grinned. “It’s American baseball. Do you follow it?”
“Baseball? No.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of ridiculous, but since the Astros won the World Series he’s been a real jerk. I lost a hundred bucks to him because I went with the Dodgers.”
“You should’ve known better,” Donner said from behind her, as he and Rick reached the hallway outside the dining room. “And you still haven’t paid up.”
Oh, so now he was willing to play along. That figured. “I’m not over my shock and disappointment yet,” she countered.
“Mm hm.”
She pushed open the dining room door to find Yule snoring in front of the monitor. Swiftly she turned around to face the troops behind her. “That was a long evening,” she said, a little too loudly. “Whoever wants to do their own re-listening or watching, keep hold of your equipment. Otherwise hand ‘em over and I’ll go over everything. In a day or two we’ll have a ghost busters meeting and share our findings.”
Barefoot in the Dark Page 18