Ghostly Fears

by Lily Harper Hart

  “Her name is Margot Markham,” Shawn volunteered, joining the group from behind. “I know because I asked Bates. I was curious about everyone as much as you guys and figured he had answers. He says Byron selected half the psychics and Madeline added a few names of her own to the list.”

  “I can’t believe he willingly shared,” Harper noted. “That doesn’t seem like his style. He thinks we’re beneath him.”

  “I don’t know that he really believes that,” Shawn hedged. “He clearly wants people to believe he feels that way. I get a sense everything he does is for show, and he’s not particularly happy about it. That’s neither here nor there, though.”

  “What did he tell you about Margot?” Jared asked.

  “Just that she’s a psychic of some renown and made a name for herself with some murder on the west side of the state. I’m not sure if she actually solved it ... or found the victim ... or something else. That’s all he said.”

  “I can run the information easily enough,” Jared offered. “I think it’s smart to get background on all three of these people ... just in case.”

  Harper couldn’t find reason to argue with his assessment. “Yeah. I definitely think that’s a good idea.” Her eyes traveled back to where the Jessup family was sitting, unhappiness practically oozing from the corner. “You might want to see what you can pull on them, too. I mean ... odds are long that any of them are involved, but it can’t possibly hurt to check.”

  Jared followed her gaze and grimly nodded. “You read my mind. I want to check on all of them, too. I’m especially interested in Madeline. I know you said the relationship between her and Byron didn’t start until after Jennifer went missing, but what if that’s not true?”

  Harper’s stomach twisted at what Jared was suggesting. “You think Byron was involved with her before? You know that means he would’ve been messing around with her when she was still in high school, right? She graduated with us.”

  “I know. Would she have been an adult at the time?”

  Harper shrugged. “I don’t know. I have no idea when her birthday is.”

  “It’s something to check out. It could be nothing. Maybe Madeline visited at the time to offer her condolences or help and one thing led to another. I just want to make sure.”

  “It makes sense to me,” Harper supplied. “I find their entire relationship weird.”

  “Then I’ll look. Other than that, I suggest we try to get through dinner and see where that leaves us.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  6

  Six

  Dinner was an uncomfortable affair. For some reason, someone — Harper had a strong suspicion it was Bates because he seemed evil — set up a seating chart that isolated her from the other members of her group.

  She didn’t like it.

  To her left was Evangeline, a woman who seemed as uncomfortable as Harper felt. She kept focusing on her plate to the detriment of everything else, including conversation. Harper wasn’t particularly excited about the set-up but recognized it would be worse if she made it through dinner without a single comment.

  “So ... I believe you’re on a committee with my mother,” she hedged after a beat, antsy. “The library committee or something. I can’t remember the exact name of it.”

  Evangeline arched an eyebrow and pinned Harper with a look. “Oh, really?” She said it in such a manner Harper couldn’t help but wonder if she was judging her by her outfit ... and by extension her mother. Gloria wouldn’t like that. “And who is your mother?”

  Harper was legitimately afraid to answer the question. “Um ... Gloria Harlow.” She didn’t see where she had much choice so she simply went for it.

  “You’re Gloria’s daughter?” Evangeline’s expression was hard to read. “You don’t look much like her.”

  Since Harper found her mother’s devotion to fashion somewhat embarrassing — especially in southeastern Michigan, where a hoodie was considered the height of subtle elegance — she took the comment as a compliment. “Thank you.”

  Amusement, faint as a whisper, flitted across Evangeline’s face. “How do you know I don’t like your mother?”

  “Because very few people like my mother. There are times I don’t like her. Just recently she was a suspect in a murder. I was playing the odds.”

  This time Evangeline laughed, genuinely amused. “I take it you got your father’s sense of humor. I’ve always been fond of Phil. He’s a bit of a card, but he has a good heart.”

  Harper couldn’t argue with that sentiment. Even though she was agitated with her parents — to a level she never thought possible — he was still a good man. He always listened to her, tried to help, and yeah, occasionally he gave the most ridiculous advice ever, but he honestly tried to help when the opportunity arose. That was more than she could say for her mother.

  “He does have a good heart,” she agreed, her eyes moving farther down the table, to where Jared sat between Delphine and Bertie. He seemed to be listening intently to whatever Bertie was saying, something Harper couldn’t fathom because she was bored out of her mind. “Are you on board with this?” she asked on a whim.

  Margot, who was seated on Harper’s right, swiveled at the question. She looked genuinely interested in the answer, although she didn’t insert herself into the conversation.

  “Am I on board with what?” Evangeline’s expression reflected confusion.

  “This.” Harper gestured toward the huge table. “Your son has assembled a bunch of psychics and ghost hunters — people I would assume you don’t believe in — and wants us to discover what happened to your granddaughter. I can’t imagine that’s easy for you.”

  Evangeline worked her jaw, and for a brief moment Harper sensed real anger simmering under the surface. Ultimately, though, she collected herself. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “That’s not really an answer.”

  “What sort of answer do you require?”

  “The truth.” Harper was determined to get a real answer from the woman. “I knew Jennifer in high school. I’m only telling you because I’m not sure you were aware. She hung around with my friend Zander and me sometimes ... although, in hindsight, we wish we’d gone out of our way to spend more time with her.”

  “I’m sure that would’ve made things better,” Evangeline said dryly, causing Harper’s lips to twitch. “As for what’s going on here, I don’t know what to think about it. You’re right about me not believing in psychics and the like.” Her gaze was pointed when it landed on Harper. “That being said, you have an interesting reputation.”

  Harper swallowed hard at the insinuation. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you have an interesting reputation. You’ve been in the newspapers several times. You found that girl in high school, saved her life. I remember listening to Jennifer go on and on about it. She thought it was a marvelous thing. Other people were more suspicious.”

  Harper felt distinctly uncomfortable being at the center of the conversation. “Well, we don’t have to talk about that.”

  “Why? It’s your exploits that got you here in the first place. You’ve been at the center of quite a few high-profile investigations, including that little girl who went missing before Christmas.”

  “That was pure luck.”

  “Really?” Evangeline arched a challenging eyebrow. “My understanding is that you found another girl in a shed. She’d been dead for years. Her mother was arrested for murdering her and kidnapping the other girl.”

  Harper shifted on her chair, uncomfortable. “Well ... I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said finally. “On one hand, I get that you don’t believe in all this stuff and I figure I should play along for your benefit because I was taught to respect my elders. On the other hand, I did everything you said. I found Zoe and put Chloe to rest. I’m not ashamed of that.”

  “You shouldn’t be. Those were both wonderful accomplishments. I’m hopeful you can help my son th
e same way.”

  “But you don’t think I can,” Harper surmised.

  “Let’s just say that I think Whisper Cove has seen its fair share of miracles for one year. I don’t believe we’re due for another. If you’ll excuse me.” She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and stood. “I believe I’m done for the evening. It was nice meeting you, Harper. Tell your father I said hello.”

  With those words, she was gone, and Harper was left with more questions than answers.

  “That was interesting,” Margot noted, speaking for the first time.

  Harper slid her eyes to the young woman. She was quiet, shy, and seemed happiest hanging back and surveying the landscape rather than making waves. Harper liked that about her, although she wasn’t sure she trusted her. It could simply be that Margot was smarter than everyone else in the room.

  “What did you find interesting about it?” Harper asked.

  “She doesn’t want to get her hopes up,” Margo replied without hesitation. “On one hand, the idea of getting answers excites her. She’d like to at least know what happened to her granddaughter. On the other, if somehow it’s proven that Jennifer is dead, she’ll lose hope. That’s the only thing that’s been fueling her for the past ten years.”

  Harper wasn’t sure she agreed with that assessment. She found it insightful, though, and filed it away to think about later. “I think this is a family at odds,” she offered finally, her gaze bouncing toward the end of the table, to where Richard sat with Zander. They looked to be the only two individuals enjoying each other’s company, and Richard roared with laughter at some story Zander told. “I think some want answers and others would be happy with the memory of Jennifer going away.”

  “I can’t disagree with you there.” Margot’s gaze fell on Madeline, who was sitting between Shawn and Harris. She participated in polite conversation with both but didn’t appear engaged. “Do you think we’ll find her?”

  Harper shrugged, noncommittal. “We don’t even know she’s dead. I don’t know what to expect.”

  “If she’s not dead, where has she been?”

  “Maybe she’s been hiding. Maybe she adopted a new identity, a new life. There are a myriad of possibilities.”

  “Do you really think that’s possible?”

  “Yes. Do I think it’s probable? It’s too soon to say.” She turned back to her prime rib. “This is really good. I guess we can’t complain about that.”

  “I’m a vegetarian.”

  Harper’s gaze flitted to the woman’s plate and she realized not a single thing had been touched. “Oh, well, sucks for you.”

  Margot laughed. “I’ll survive. There’s always bread.”

  “That’s the way to look at it. Who doesn’t love bread?”

  “Nobody I know.”

  AFTER DINNER, BYRON LEFT the bulk of his family in the parlor and led Harper, Harris, Delphine, and Margot to the second floor. Harper’s team trailed behind, seemingly unsure what they should do, but Byron completely ignored them and focused on the willowy blonde.

  “This is Jennifer’s room,” he intoned as he pushed open the door. “I’ve changed nothing since she went missing.”

  Harper’s discomfort jumped to the point where she turned itchy as she found herself looking at a child’s room. Technically, she guessed it belonged to a teenager. It was vastly different from the room she had when eighteen, though.

  “Oh, this is weird,” Jared muttered, moving in behind her as he surveyed the room. “It’s like ... .”

  “A little girl’s room,” Harper finished, her heart giving a tremendous heave as she lifted her eyes to the top of the canopy bed. “I always wanted one of these ... when I was eight.”

  “It’s a little girly,” Jared admitted. The room set off a number of red flags in his busy brain. “Is this what your room looked like when you were eighteen?”

  Harper shook her head. “No. I had rock posters everywhere ... and I was obsessed with Colin Farrell so I had pictures of him taped to my mirror. I had makeup all over the place ... and Zander kept his hair products at my house because he didn’t want his mother to know what he was spending his money on.”

  Jared smiled. He could picture Zander and Harper sitting on her bed, futzing with each other’s hair and makeup while gossiping about everyone in their school. It was a warm vision. Jennifer’s room was vastly different. “Yeah, well ... I really want to get a look at the original missing person’s report. Mel is pulling it for me.”

  Harper couldn’t contain her surprise. “You’ve been in contact with Mel?”

  “I wanted him to know where we were in case these people turned into murderous cretins.”

  “Oh, right. Smart.” Harper flashed a bright smile and patted his arm before moving toward the nightstand. There was one photo in the room. It was a framed snapshot, and at the center of it were Madeline and Jennifer. It seemed out of place in the room, and for some reason it set Harper’s teeth on edge. “Has this always been here?” Harper asked, snagging the photo.

  Byron furrowed his brow as he slid his eyes in her direction, frowning when he realized what she was holding up. “No. Where did that come from?” He grabbed the frame and searched the room, his eyes ultimately falling on Madeline, who had trailed after the rest of the group. “Did you put this here?”

  The woman’s cheeks colored. “So what? We were friends.”

  “That’s not exactly how I remember it.” Byron’s tone was tart. “Is this even a real photograph?” He stared hard at the image. “Did you pay someone to create this? I’m pretty sure Jennifer never posed with you. She didn’t particularly like you ... especially toward the end.”

  Harper tilted her head to the side, suspicious. She decided to play a hunch. “Is that because she found out the two of you were seeing each other? That had to be hard on her.”

  Before Byron could open his mouth, Madeline took control of the conversation. Harper was hoping that would be the case.

  “She was just jealous,” Madeline hissed. “She melted down when she caught us together, accused me of only wanting to hang out with her so I could get close to her father. She was rude and judgmental, and I absolutely hated her for it. She was impossible to be around ... and all because she was jealous that her father liked me more than her. I mean ... really.”

  Harper pursed her lips as she slid her eyes to Byron. He understood what she’d just admitted. Madeline was still operating in the dark.

  “Madeline, if you don’t have anything constructive to add to the conversation, perhaps you should go downstairs,” Byron suggested. “Isn’t one of those Real Housewives and Insipid Women shows you like — the ones you aspire to be worthy to be on — airing a marathon or something? Why don’t you take a bottle of wine upstairs and focus on that? I’ll handle this.”

  Madeline showed her true colors, the doting wife disappearing. “You can’t just cut me out of this. I’m part of this family, too.”

  “For now.” Byron’s expression was cold. “That can be remedied, something I’m giving serious thought to. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to focus on someone of actual importance to me.” He shoved the photo frame in Madeline’s direction. “You are not allowed in this room. We’ve been over this a million times. I will have Mrs. Sanders go through the closet and chest of drawers tomorrow. If any of Jennifer’s things are missing, I can guarantee you won’t like what happens.”

  Madeline’s eyes reflected murderous intent as they landed on Harper. “This is all your fault,” she hissed. “Why couldn’t you just mind your own business? I mean ... really. You were such a freak in school. When Byron mentioned he was calling you, I told him it was a bad idea. He should’ve listened to me.

  “You’re so ... low class,” she continued, obviously warming to her subject. “You don’t have the same breeding as we do. You don’t belong out here. You brought your stupid fairy friend — he was always obnoxious and people laughed behind his back — and neither one of you belong here.”


  She was haughty enough that Harper’s temper snapped. When the blond ghost hunter took a deliberate step in the woman’s direction, Jared intercepted her quickly.

  “Heart, that’s not a good idea,” he said on a murmur, carefully snagging her arm. “She’s trying to bait you.”

  “I don’t care what she says about me,” Harper growled. “She can’t go after Zander. I won’t allow it.”

  For a brief instant, Jared got a picture of how Harper must have spent her teenage years. Her devotion to Zander, while sometimes irritating, was a thing of beauty. She didn’t care if Madeline disparaged her. She did care about Zander feeling even a moment’s discomfort.

  “Mr. Jessup, I think we need to have a discussion,” Jared noted, motioning toward the hallway with his hand. “Harp, stay here with Zander. Check out the room and ... do your thing. I’ll talk to Mr. Jessup and his wife.”

  Harper glared at the other woman, fire practically coming out of her eyes. “I’ll make you cry if you’re not careful,” she warned, fury practically oozing from every pore. “I mean ... I’ll make you cry like a little girl.”

  Jared had never seen Harper quite so aggressive and he was amused despite himself. “Rein it in, Tiger,” he teased, squeezing her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  Jared made sure to snag Madeline from the corner before exiting the room. He had no intention of leaving her behind to wreak havoc on Harper’s already frayed emotions. “You, too.” She put up a fight, but Jared refused to let her escape.

  “I’m not going to let this viper harass Harper to the point of no return,” he announced when it was just the three of them in the hallway. He had on his “no-nonsense” cop face and it was clear he wasn’t in the mood to play games. “She agreed to come here even though her initial instinct was to say no. She’s in a different position from these other people because she knew Jennifer.”

  “I would think that would make things easier for her,” Madeline shot back. “Unless ... wait ... is she a fraud?” Her eyes lit with mirth at the suggestion. “I bet she is. I always knew it back in high school. People would fall all over her because she supposedly found missing people, but I knew better. She was faking all of it because she liked being the center of attention.”