* * * * *
Shay went straight into the bathroom once she got home and cleansed away her makeup and brushed her teeth. The face in the mirror reflected a woman she hadn’t seen in many years, but had somehow found again. The move west had been the first big step toward healing. Deciding to put down roots and then meeting Colt had been unexpected treasures.
Walking away from him tonight had been difficult. She felt happy when she was near him. But could happiness last? She knew it to be fleeting. Both love and family had been ripped from her, leaving her heart battered and wounded. It wasn’t easy to depend on anyone or to have faith in a happy ending anymore. It would be especially hard to trust Colt, since he’d told her he wasn’t interested in a committed relationship. One-night stands or sex for the sport of it was not the way she was programmed.
Pushing Colt to the back of her mind, she tried to concentrate instead on meeting Frank Averill tomorrow. She sauntered into her bedroom, and immediately, a prickly feeling niggled beneath goose-fleshed skin. She lifted her head.
There hovering in front of the fireplace was the young blonde. The black and blue bruising around her neck was as clear as a picture. She stared at Shay, not speaking.
Quickly gathering her wits about her, Shay knew she had to try to communicate if she was to gain any information about the woman. “You’ve returned. Does that mean you’ll talk to me?”
The woman nodded slowly.
Good. She was willing to communicate. And Shay was willing to forgive her for choking her before. “First things first. What’s your name?”
The woman touched her neck, and her eyebrows drew together. She whispered, “Cal…lie.”
Callie! From the pained expression on her face, it must have hurt for her to speak. It was obvious from the dark bruises that she’d probably been strangled.
“Callie, is there a way for me to help you?”
She nodded again, and her form seemed to lighten in front of Shay’s eyes, as if she was fading.
“Don’t leave,” Shay begged. “Please stay. Tell me what I can do.” She inhaled deeply. “Did you write that word on my front door today?”
Callie shook her head with vehemence.
Shay exhaled. “I’m glad to hear that. Do you know who did write that word on the window?”
The ethereal spirit’s blue eyes widened, and she touched her neck again.
“Was it the same person who hurt you?”
Once more, she nodded. Shay felt excited to be getting somewhere. Strangely, she didn’t feel frightened at all now, only curious. In her enthusiasm, she took a step forward, but backed off when Callie’s expression grew fearful.
“I’m sorry.” Shay stopped in her tracks. “I won’t come near you. I promise. Let me ask you about the person who hurt you. Does his soul remain in this saloon?”
Callie’s head bobbed up and down.
“Can you tell me his name?”
Before she could answer, Shay heard a crash downstairs and then footsteps plodding up the staircase. A lump formed in her throat. Her body went cold as she felt a presence approach the bedroom door. Her fists clenched at her sides. This was definitely not one of the passive card-playing ghosts. Glancing at Callie, she saw the girl’s eyes grow large in terror.
“Who is it? Who’s out there?”
Callie seemed not to be paying attention to her. She appeared frozen, staring at the door, horrified.
“Who is it?” Shay repeated.
Staring at the open door, Callie’s mouth opened, and she whispered, “Ev…er…ett.”
When the door slammed against the wall and invisible footsteps stomped across the threshold, Shay jumped and dashed to the other side of her bed. The booming steps caused the room to shake like it was under siege. Shay inched closer to the window. Smelling the rotten odor, she knew it was the same ghost from before. She glanced toward the fireplace and saw that Callie had dissipated.
Feeling completely alone and vulnerable, Shay chanted out loud, “He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.” If only she could convince herself the entity couldn’t hurt her. Her back was stiff against the windowsill. “Whoever or whatever it is, it’s dead and it can’t hurt me,” she repeated.
As the presence drew nearer, the air grew thick and cold as ice. Shay yelled, “Everett! I know it’s you. Leave me alone!”
The window at her back slammed up violently. She screamed. Twisting her head around, she saw the two-story drop to the concrete sidewalk below and felt non-existent hands pushing on her chest. Wind blowing from nowhere whipped her hair around to slap in her face.
“Help!” she cried, while grasping onto the thin curtains as her feet slid out from beneath her. She was being lifted into the air! Two feet off the floor, she screamed out the window, “Someone, help me!”
When flames suddenly blazed and exploded in the fireplace, whatever held Shay let loose and she crashed to the floor. In an instant, the sulfuric smell disappeared and the ominous pressure that had filled the room was gone.
She crawled to the bed and laid her head against the mattress, drawing in shallow breaths. Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. When she sensed someone watching her, she raised her head and saw Callie standing before her.
“Did you start that fire?”
A thin smile played upon the woman’s chalk-white lips.
“Thank you.”
Shay closed her eyes for a split second. When she opened them again, Callie had vanished.
Eighteen
Shay scurried onto the bed and dug through her purse for her cell phone. “Please, Colt. Please answer your phone.” She prayed aloud while punching in his number with a quivering hand.
“Morgan Realty.”
Thank God. “Colt, it’s me. I’ve just had another encounter. Actually, there were two encounters. The girl was here, and so was the evil male spirit. He almost pushed me out the window.”
“What the hell? I’ll be right over.” Click. The line went dead.
Shay grabbed her pillow and clutched it to her chest. Her gaze darted around the room, as she expected the entity to return and wreak more havoc. It was not out of the question. Ghosts could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, apparently—including physical assault on live human beings.
“Callie? Are you still here?” she whispered.
There was no sign or sense of her. The room was quiet, and so was downstairs.
It seemed ages before Colt arrived. When he banged on the front door, Shay leapt off the bed and ran down the stairs, still trembling. When she flung open the door and saw his faced etched with concern, she threw herself into his arms. He held her tight and sifted his fingers through her hair. Melting into his broad chest made her feel protected and safe. Slowly, as he held her, her pulse rate began to decrease. It wasn’t until she finally eased out of the comfort of his embrace that they exchanged words.
“Tell me what happened.”
Shay took his hand and led him through the saloon and up the staircase. “I’ll show you.”
When they reached the top of the stairs, Colt stepped into the bedroom first, gazed around, and announced, “It’s clear and as quiet as a tomb.”
She followed him in and told him of her experience. “As soon as I got home, I went straight into the bathroom. When I walked in here, Callie was standing in front of the fireplace.”
“Who’s Callie?”
“The ghost. She told me her name tonight. Do you recollect hearing the name before, in any of the stories you heard growing up?”
“No. I guess she didn’t tell you her last name. Did she?”
“No, but her first name isn’t that common. Maybe she’s listed in the census I found in one of the books at the historical society.”
“On the phone you said he tried to push you out the window. Do you know who he is yet? Did the girl tell you his name, by any chance?”
“Yes.” Adrenaline rushed through Shay’s body causing the words to shoot
out of her mouth like bullets from a gun. “I heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs and then he entered the room. That horrible smell filled the room, and I knew it was Everett.”
“Everett?”
“He’s the one who strangled Callie.”
“Wait a minute.” Cole held his hands up as if he was surrendering. “How do you know she was strangled? Did she tell you that, too?”
“No. But she kept touching her neck, and it has black and blue marks on it. I’m guessing that’s how she died. I think she was murdered.”
“Where did you come up with the name of Everett?”
“Callie spoke the name as he was entering the room. The expression on her face was one of complete terror.”
“Did this Everett guy show himself to you?”
Shay shook her head. “No. He never manifested. But he felt like the Hulk when he lifted me into the air over there.” She walked to the window, and her legs began to shake at the recollection. “See this window? It was closed, but Everett opened it and then he pushed me. I held onto the curtain as he was lifting me into the air.”
Colt examined the curtain and saw where her fingernails had ripped the fabric.
“There wasn’t anything I could do,” she continued. “He was going to throw me out the window, but Callie saved my life. She started a fire in the fireplace, and he immediately let go and disappeared.”
Colt strode to the fireplace and knelt. “There aren’t any logs in this fireplace. No ash. No sign of a fire.”
Shay moved to his side. “Callie made the fire start. I swear.”
“There hasn’t been a fire in this grate for years,” Colt said. “Are you sure you weren’t asleep and this was all a bad dream?”
She ground her teeth and realized he was questioning her sanity again. “I saw it flaming. I heard it crackling. I felt its heat.” She knew the octave of her voice was rising, but she hadn’t been hallucinating. She didn’t want him to think she was a raving lunatic. “How do you explain the tears in the curtains?” I’m telling you, something hoisted me into the air and was about to throw me out the window. I didn’t dream that.”
Colt stood up and put his arms around her again.
Pushing away, Shay held in tears and eagerly searched his face. “Do you believe me?”
He sighed and plowed a hand through his hair. “I’ve never held to the rumors about ghosts, but I want to believe you.”
Her mouth stretched into a thin line. “Either you believe me or you don’t, Colt. If you don’t, then please leave. I’ll deal with this myself, like I’ve dealt with all the other problems and heartbreaks in my life.”
When his face softened and he reached out to gently push a strand of hair behind her ear, she struggled to hold back the flow of tears that threatened to wash down her face.
“I’m sorry. I want to believe you. None of this makes sense, but I don’t know how to explain it logically. I’m thinking that dream I had must have been about you or this girl.”
“Callie.”
“Callie.” Colt shook his head as if he was trying to put all the pieces together. “The hands around my throat yesterday felt real. We both saw the writing on the glass. You tell me you were almost tossed out the window tonight, and you’ve been seeing and speaking to a dead person. Unless you’re as crazy as a loon, you’re not imagining the things that have been happening to you.” With a hand on her arm, he assured, “Even if I hadn’t experienced some of these things myself, I believe you.”
She smiled and hugged him tight. “Thank you, Colt. I needed to hear that, and I need you to help me unravel this mystery.”
He set her back. “What mystery?”
“The mystery of who Callie and Everett were, and why Callie needs my help now, in the present.”
Colt grinned. “You mean I’ll be Doctor Watson to your Sherlock Holmes?”
Shay’s eyes lit up. She was learning he was good at turning around a stressful situation with humor. She played along. “Or Frank Hardy to my Nancy Drew.”
He snapped his fingers. “How about, I’ll be Scooby Doo and you can be Daphne?”
“Why not Velma? She was the intelligent one.”
“Because Daphne was the hot one with the red hair.”
Shay rolled her eyes. “I can’t argue with that.”
They smiled at one another. “Feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes. But would you mind staying a while longer? I’m wound tight and still a little nervous.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He eyed the one chair in the room and then the bed.
“I don’t have a living room,” she reminded him, after following his gaze. “We’ll have to sit on the bed.”
“Or lie.” Colt fluffed up the pillows and flopped onto the mattress, which squeaked under his weight. He lay back with his arms behind his head and stretched out his long legs. “This bed is comfortable.” He patted the mattress with his hand as a request for her to join him.
When she curled up beside him, he placed his arm around her and she snuggled into his shoulder, sighed, and closed her eyes.
Nineteen
While sitting on the edge of her bed the next morning, Colt jiggled Shay’s arm to wake her. Her eyelids rolled open and she lazily said, “Good morning.”
“Mornin’, sleepy head.”
She yawned. “What time is it?”
“Seven o’clock.”
He’d been up for a while watching her. It’d been a long time since he’d awakened beside a woman. Nothing had happened last night except he’d stayed with her, and they’d both drifted off with her in his arms. This morning, watching her sleep had given him time to reflect. A deep longing had washed over him. Studying Shay had reminded him of what he’d been missing for so many years—a soft body nudged against him in the mornings, warm breath on his neck, a woman to love and cherish.
He’d noticed she seemed to barely breathe when she slept. A quiet sleeper would be nice. Denise had been sweet as pie, and he’d loved her more than life itself, but she’d snored like a freight train throughout their entire marriage. Another cute thing he saw while watching Shay was that she’d smiled in her sleep a couple of times. Maybe she’d been dreaming about him. He could only hope.
His reverie was broken when he saw her peek under the covers he’d tucked her into sometime in the night.
“All of my clothes are still on,” she said, lifting one eyebrow.
“Everything except your shoes. You didn’t think I’d take advantage of you in your sleep, did you?” He narrowed his eyes, teasing her. “I’m not that kind of guy. I want you to be fully coherent the first time I undress you.”
Her eyes widened.
“Damn. Why do I keep saying things like that to you?”
The truth of the matter was he couldn’t help it. Open mouth and insert foot. That’s how it seemed to be when he was near her. Honest to a fault. That’s the way he’d described himself to her when they’d first met, and the description fit him to a tee.
All he’d been thinking about was what it would be like to make love to her, and he had a hard time not hinting at it. She’d kept him in line so far, much to his chagrin, but patience was a virtue. Or so he’d been taught. Anyway, he’d meant what he’d told her. The first time they made love, it would be her idea. That way she’d know he was in this for more than a one-night stand.
That confession sent shock waves through him. He didn’t think he had it in him to take a chance at going the distance with another woman, but this woman seemed to be changing all that. She didn’t seem too stoked about moving forward, however. Taking it slow was how he’d need to play it with her, if he wanted to prove he was different from the others who’d come and gone. Not knowing her full story, he sensed she’d been hurt pretty bad somewhere along the line.
“I’m gonna leave now.” He cupped her face and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll be back around one to pick you up to go to Frank’s.”
She yawned and s
tretched like a cat. Despite waking up in her bed with him next to her, she was definitely more at ease this morning than she’d been last night at his place.
“I’m really looking forward to meeting Mr. Averill. Have fun showing your houses today.”
“Showing houses is not fun,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’ll be especially hard to concentrate when all I’ll be thinking about is seeing you this afternoon.”
She propped up on one elbow and flashed him a slow smile. “You’re a kind man, Colt Morgan. Thank you for staying with me last night. And for not trying anything.”
“Don’t think I didn’t want to.”
She grinned, and when she leaned forward to give him a soft kiss on the mouth, he knew without a doubt that she was special. They both had morning breath, but it didn’t matter to her.
“See you at one.” He patted her arm, rose from the bed and exited the room, amazed that a woman could look as fresh as she did at that hour. “Are you coming down to lock up behind me?” he asked from the doorway.
“I’ll go down soon. I want to lie here a minute more.” She turned her head toward the window. “The sun feels good.”
Colt smiled then treaded down the stairs and let himself out. He hadn’t realized how disheveled he must look until an older couple wearing matching powder blue sweat-suits jogged past him on the sidewalk and then stopped and whirled around.
“Colt! What on earth are you doing out this hour of the morning?” the woman said.
It was Margaret and Bill, longtime friends of his folks. Margaret, a retired schoolteacher who had taught him in fifth grade, cast a suspicious glance at the saloon and then stared at his shirt, which was not tucked in. When her wary gaze moved to his face, he rubbed a hand over his cheeks and chin, feeling the five o’clock shadow that covered them. Margaret still had a way of making him feel guilty, even at the age of forty. Like she’d caught him sticking his hand in the candy jar and was sorely disappointed in his behavior.
“Just visiting a friend,” he drawled. He skimmed a hand through his hair, which felt like it was sticking up on end.
A Haunted Twist of Fate Page 8