Ghostly Fears

by Lily Harper Hart

  “What was that about?”

  “I don’t like his attitude,” Harper automatically complained. “It was like he was silently judging us.”

  “I have news for you: There was nothing silent about his judgment. Still, you usually don’t react to things like that.”

  “I know.” Harper let loose a long sigh. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m on edge or something. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “Well, now that you’re here and the initial meeting is over, maybe you’ll calm down some, huh?” He dropped the bags he was carrying and crossed to her so he could give her a hug. “This is going to be a tense weekend — I can already see that — but it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

  Harper nodded as she returned his embrace. She recognized she was on edge and needed to calm herself. It was obvious to pretty much everyone, and she wasn’t the sort to turn away from introspection.

  “Let’s get the equipment unpacked and put it on the dining room table,” she suggested after a beat. “I don’t think we’re going to be doing a lot of eating out here. Then, after, we can check out the grounds.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to have time for that,” Eric offered, his attention on a sheet of paper he found on the counter.

  “What is that?” Harper asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

  “This is an itinerary. We’re expected in the main house in two hours for a cocktail meet-and-greet. After that, dinner will be served. Dress is casual ... but no ripped jeans or visible bra straps.”

  Harper furrowed her brow. “It doesn’t really say that, does it?”

  “As a matter of fact, it does.”

  She scowled. “I’m really starting to dislike these people.”

  “Just remember that you’re here for Jennifer and not her father,” Jared noted. “It’s only one weekend. I’m sure we can all make it work.”

  Harper was no longer sure that was true, but she kept her opinion to herself. There was no point in begging for trouble. They would have to head off each problem when it became apparent. There was nothing else they could do.

  5

  Five

  Harper opted for simple black pants and a cashmere sweater, a Christmas gift from Jared that he loved seeing her in because the rich blue set off her eyes.

  “You look nice,” he noted as he straightened his tie in their bedroom mirror.

  “Thank you,” she beamed ... and then decided to help, sliding in front of him so she could attack the crooked scrap of fabric. “I don’t think you have to wear a tie if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s the first night. I figure I should probably make a good impression because I’m basically the only one who doesn’t have a legitimate reason for being here.”

  “Shawn doesn’t either,” she offered helpfully, grinning when he kissed the tip of her nose. “Also, you do have a legitimate reason for being here. I want you with me.”

  “Then I guess it’s good that I always want to be with you.”

  “Most definitely.” She rolled her neck as she finished, her hands light as she brushed them over his suit jacket. “You clean up really well.”

  He cocked his head to the side. There was something about her demeanor he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She was melancholy, quiet, but he sensed an eruption would eventually come if she didn’t vent her emotions better. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

  She was taken aback. “Why do you think something is bothering me?”

  “Because I’ve met you.”

  “Why else?”

  He almost laughed. Almost. He didn’t think she was purposely being funny, though. “You might feel better if you tell me,” he offered, tugging a reluctant sigh from her lips.

  “You’re going to think I’m being ridiculous.”

  “Try me.”

  “It’s the other psychics and hunters. I haven’t really thought about them until now — mostly because I was more interested in seeing Jessup Manor — but now that we’re finally going to meet them, I can’t help being afraid.”

  Jared didn’t know what to make of the statement. “I’m not sure what to say. Do you need me to tell you that you’re better than all of them or that it’s okay to step back and let them dominate the room? I could go either way with this one.”

  The indecision on his face caused Harper to giggle. “I guess I’m nervous that they’ll be better than me,” she admitted, sheepish. “I never thought this would be a genuine concern for me, but this situation is different from anything else I’ve ever been part of. I can’t help but wonder if Byron is setting us up to be in competition with one another.”

  “I think that’s a fair question. He seems to be the sort. It doesn’t matter, though. It doesn’t matter what these other people think. It doesn’t matter what sort of show they intend to put on. All that matters is that you’re an authentic person and you’re here for a legitimate reason ... to help people. We don’t know the motivations of these other people, but I very much doubt they’re all pure as the driven snow.”

  Harper hadn’t considered that, but now that she did, she found she overwhelmingly agreed. “We have to be careful. Odds are, not all these people will be trustworthy.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” He cupped her chin and kissed her. “I think it’s time we head up, though. We shouldn’t be late. I don’t think Byron Jessup is the sort of guy who finds tardiness whimsical.”

  “Yeah. We should definitely head up.”

  BECAUSE IT SEEMED RUDE NOT TO, Harper knocked on the front door and waited for Bates to answer. If he was surprised to see them, he didn’t show it.

  “We weren’t sure if we should knock,” Harper offered lamely.

  “Knocking is always appreciated,” Bates replied. “The other guests are assembled in the parlor. This way, please.”

  Harper made a face behind the man’s back — one that made Jared choke on his tongue — but she held it together as the stiff butler showed them through the house. She was relieved when they arrived at their destination and found the other guests seemed to take the missive for casual dressing to heart. There wasn’t a ripped jean in sight but there were a few pairs of Levi’s that boasted frayed seams.

  “Harper Harlow and ... guests,” Bates announced when they arrived in the room. “There are drinks at the bar — no gratuities are necessary because our host has arranged to cover that — and Mr. Jessup will be joining the party imminently. Please enjoy yourselves ... within reason.”

  Zander’s eyes lit with insult as the butler escaped from the room. “Why did he look at me when he said that ‘within reason’ part?” he exploded.

  “Maybe because it’s easy to see that you’re the type who will dance on tables,” Jared shot back.

  “That is a bigoted thing to say,” Zander sniffed. “I can’t believe you’re dating a man who would think that, Harp. I just can’t even ... .”

  Months past, Jared would’ve fallen for the act. He knew better now. “Oh, don’t even.” He made a face. “I didn’t say that because you’re gay. I said it because you’re a loud drunk.”

  “Oh.” Zander brightened considerably. “Well, that’s perfectly acceptable.” He shuffled toward the bar. “Speaking of that, I’m thinking it’s a Grasshopper sort of night. What do you think, Harp?”

  “I think I’m sticking to water,” Harper automatically replied. “I think you should, too.”

  “Absolutely not.” Zander squared his broad shoulders. “I’m going to see how the other half drinks and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

  “Then knock yourself out.” Harper kept close to Jared as she swiveled to focus on the rest of the room. To her utter surprise, she recognized some of the faces milling about and socializing. “That’s Madeline Baxter.” She made the announcement a bit more loudly than she intended.

  Jared cocked an eyebrow. “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

&
nbsp; “It should,” Zander replied, appearing on the other side of Jared with a glass full of some green concoction gripped in his hand.

  “That was fast,” Harper muttered. “Are the bartenders magical or something?”

  “Let’s just say they’re not Tom Cruise but they’re pretty freaking sly. I’m impressed ... and it’s good to boot.”

  “That’s great,” Jared drawled sarcastically. “As long as your tastebuds are happy, we’re all good.”

  Zander’s eye roll was pronounced. “Who beat you with the crabby stick?”

  “I asked you a question,” Jared reminded her. “Who is Madeline Baxter?”

  “It’s the blonde over there in the corner,” Harper supplied, keeping her voice low. “See the one in the dress that basically covers nothing?”

  Jared’s eyes went wide when he finally found the woman Harper was referring to. “I believe I see her.”

  Harper, not amused in the least, elbowed him in the stomach. “You’d better not like what you see.”

  “I only like what I see when I’m looking at you. Who is she, though?”

  “She’s a former cheerleader and the bane of my existence,” Zander volunteered. “If evil had a face, it would belong to Madeline Baxter.”

  Harper shot him a quelling look. “Let’s not exaggerate,” she suggested. “She might’ve changed since high school.”

  “You went to high school with her?” Jared was officially intrigued. “Why is she here?”

  “Because she’s married to Byron Jessup.”

  Jared opened his mouth to respond and then snapped it shut, taking a moment to absorb the news and regroup before speaking. “Just so I’m clear — and I’m not casting aspersions on anyone here, I’m seeking clarification for my own edification — that woman went to high school with you and Zander and now she’s married to Byron Jessup? She’s young enough to be his daughter.”

  “She’s most definitely young enough to be his daughter,” Harper agreed. “Ironically enough, Madeline was always jealous of Jennifer in high school and gave her a hard time. She started dating Byron publicly not long after Jennifer disappeared. It was quite the scandal ... although most people let it go because they believed Byron was grieving.”

  “You don’t believe that, huh?”

  “I don’t think Byron cares about anyone but himself. Appearance is everything with him, so all he cared about was other people coveting what he had ... like a young wife.”

  “Still, that’s kind of gross,” Jared pressed. “I wonder what Jennifer would’ve thought of that.”

  “Maybe we’ll get a chance to ask her,” Harper suggested.

  “Fair enough.” Jared inclined his chin toward the older couple sitting across from Madeline. “Who are they?”

  “George and Evangeline Jessup,” Harper supplied. “They’re Byron Jessup’s parents.”

  “They don’t look happy to be here.”

  “Not even a little,” Harper agreed. “I don’t know much about them. I know they had money but not the sort of money their son possesses. There was a rumor at one time that George and his son were warring over who was more important to the family legacy – the house went with the status, but it was Evangeline’s to pass on when she deemed it necessary – but I think they were legitimately the only two who cared.”

  “Awesome,” Jared intoned. “What about the others?”

  “That’s Richard.” Harper extended her finger toward a handsome man standing next to the couch where George and Evangeline reclined. “He’s Jennifer’s brother. He’s two years older, was in college at the time she disappeared.”

  “I didn’t realize she had a brother.” Jared straightened and studied the man, who was dressed for success but appeared to be morose and surly. “He doesn’t look happy to be here either.”

  “I don’t want to make excuses for these people, but if you look at it from their point of view, this all probably seems ridiculous,” Harper said. “I mean, think about it. Jennifer has been missing for ten years. Suddenly Byron has decided that he’s going to amass a bunch of psychics and ghost hunters — people they probably assume are kooks — to discover what happened. It can’t be easy to swallow.”

  “I guess.” Jared was thoughtful. “The fact that they’re here seems to suggest to me that Byron is in charge of pretty much everything where this family is concerned. If they don’t want to be here and yet still attended ... well ... that means he’s controlling the purse strings and they all know it.”

  “You assume this has something to do with money,” Harper noted. “That’s not necessarily true. Maybe they’re upset he’s doing this and hanging tight because they want to make sure Jennifer’s memory isn’t trampled.”

  “Are you sure that’s not wishful thinking?”

  “No, but I don’t always want to be the jaded person who assumes the negative.”

  “And you think that’s what I’m doing?”

  “No. I just ... it’s weird, but I don’t want to hate all of these people.” It was hard for Harper to admit. “I’m here to help Jennifer if I can. At least one of these people has to be worthy of sympathy. Otherwise, it’s going to be hard to keep my eyes on the bigger picture without getting bitter.”

  Jared understood exactly what she was saying. “Fair enough.” He slipped his arm around her waist. “What about the others? Do you recognize any of them?”

  “That’s Bertie Nixon,” Zander volunteered, tipping his head toward the far-right corner. “He’s a local attorney. I know because he handled my grandfather’s will, the probate and stuff. I bet he’s here representing the financial needs of the family.”

  “That makes sense,” Jared acknowledged. “Perhaps the other family members are here because they believe Byron has lost his mind and they want the probate lawyer present to strip power from him.”

  Harper scorched him with a dark look. “And that’s not jaded?”

  Jared had the grace to be abashed. “That probably came out a little harsher than I intended.”

  “Just a little bit,” she agreed, turning to the other three people in the room. They were dressed more colorfully than the rest, and Harper had a feeling they were the psychics she would be pitted against. “I guess that’s the other ‘talent.’”

  Jared slid her a sidelong look before focusing on the individuals in question. “Does anyone recognize them?”

  “I do,” Molly offered, her hair a violent shade of purple this week. She wore a pretty black dress that showed off her shoulders and seemed in awe as she stared at the man holding court in the middle of the group. “That’s Harris Fontaine.”

  The name meant nothing to Harper. “Should I know who that is?”

  “I’m on it,” Jared offered, typing on his phone. “Oh, here he is. Wow. He’s considered a psychic to the stars. He has a bunch of celebrities who supposedly use his services religiously.”

  “I don’t think that’s anything to get excited about,” Harper said petulantly.

  “Oh, so cute,” Jared teased, squeezing her tighter. “If I was a famous star, you would still be my favorite psychic.”

  “I’m not a psychic.”

  Jared stilled. “I guess not. How do you think of yourself?”

  “As awesome,” Zander answered for her.

  “That goes without saying,” Jared acknowledged. “How else, though?”

  She shrugged, noncommittal. “I’m just ... Harper.”

  “No, you’re special. How do you want us referring to your gift?”

  Harper shifted from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I ... just call me a ghost hunter. That’s what I am.”

  Jared found her reaction peculiar and looked to Zander for help. For once, Harper’s best friend looked as stymied as Jared felt. He didn’t appear to have any easy answers.

  “I’ll run Harris Fontaine before dinner and see if I find anything good,” Jared said finally, opting to put off pressuring Harper on the issue until later in
the evening ... when they were alone and she didn’t have to worry about censoring her thoughts. “What about the other two, the women?”

  “I’m pretty sure the one in the bright scarf with all the jewelry is Delphine Winston,” Molly replied, squinting to get a better look at the woman in the muted light. “She’s based out of New Orleans. She’s considered a bruja, although I’m not certain if she’s the real deal or a fraud. So many of the faces coming out of the Quarter are fakes that I’m leery of all of them now.”

  Jared didn’t want to look like a rube, but he was behind. “What’s a bruja?”

  “A witch,” Eric replied. “Molly endlessly researches all this stuff because she’s obsessed with the paranormal.”

  “You think witches are real?” Jared asked Molly with an arched eyebrow.

  Harper slid her boyfriend a sidelong look. “I happen to believe witches are real, too. In case you’ve forgotten, we met one not too long ago.”

  Jared was chagrined. “I remember, but I didn’t really consider her a witch.”

  “Oh, she was a witch. She didn’t want to view herself that way, but she was still a witch. As for this woman ... .” Harper trailed off as she went back to staring. Delphine appeared to be the gregarious sort. She was the life of the party, telling spirited stories and causing Harris to break out in raucous guffaws. She was clearly putting on a show.

  “Do you think she’s real?” Jared asked after a beat. “I mean ... I realize you can’t possibly know beyond a shadow of a doubt, but if you’re real, there’s every possibility one of the others is real, too.”

  “I don’t know,” she answered after a moment’s contemplation. “It’s too soon to tell. I need to get to know her. I agree it’s possible one of these people is the real deal.”

  “What about the last one?” Jared asked, gesturing toward a pretty woman, long red hair hanging to her waist. She had high cheekbones and looked to be enjoying herself, although her expression suggested polite interest in whatever Harris was saying rather than genuine curiosity.