Shadows Fall

by Denise A. Agnew

  A hostess dressed in plaid, tight jeans, and cowboy boots showed them to a secluded booth in the back. After slipping out of their coats, they ordered beers. Roarke wasn’t talking much, and she wondered if her experience in the dark bathroom had proved the final straw.

  “Everything all right?” she asked.

  “Just thinking.” His gaze met hers.

  “About my crazy imagination? The fact that I heard something that wasn’t there?”

  His expression softened. “Don’t beat yourself up. What happened in there goes right along with everything else we’ve experienced in Simple.”

  “You believe me?”

  “Of course.”

  Relief drained the last tension from her body. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  “Let’s sleep on this tonight and start fresh in the morning. I have another idea.”

  “You’re full of them tonight.”

  “Is that a compliment?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  The waitress brought their beers and took food orders. All Melissa wanted was clam chowder, and Roarke ordered a big Cobb salad.

  “What’s your new idea?” Melissa asked.

  “We find out who this paranormal team is that’s coming into Simple, and we quiz them when they get here. I’d like to understand more about what’s happening to us.”

  “Good idea, but I can see complications.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if Steele Company hired them we don’t know what they’re like, if they know what they’re doing, or ...” She lifted her hands in surrender.

  Roarke seemed to ponder that for a long time. “You’re thinking they’ll tell us what we want to hear whether it’s true or not.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “How can they be legit? I can’t believe I’m considering any of this paranormal garbage with any seriousness.”

  “Do we have any other choice?” She took a sip of her beer.

  Dinner came quickly, and Melissa dove into her bowl of soup eagerly. Roarke looked hungry as hell, and attacked his salad with his usual eating speed. By the time they’d satiated themselves, the restaurant had filled to the brim. The atmosphere, unlike Simple, had a cozy country flare that she appreciated.

  She pushed the soup bowl aside. “I like this place.”

  “You enjoy country music?”

  “A little.”

  “I like it a lot.”

  “I never would have guessed, but I’m finding out a lot of things about you that surprise me.”

  “All good I hope.”

  Warmth spread through her. “Yes.” A new beautiful song started, harmony from the male voices. “Who is singing this?”

  Roarke suddenly slipped out of the booth and held out a hand to her. “Restless Heart. I’ll Still Be Loving You. Let’s dance.”

  Melissa took his cue and slipped her hand into his. “Yet another thing about you I didn’t expect. You like to dance and you like country music?”

  “Yep.”

  Heat poured into her stomach, a pleasant rush of enjoyment. “I have two left feet, remember?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  Though the dance floor was packed, they found a spot on the edge. He tucked her close, his arms around her waist and hers around his neck. Good. A shuffle around the floor was easy. Plastered intimately against a virile male body like Roarke’s, Melissa was in heaven. Music flowed over them, and she loved the sound. She hadn’t spent much time listening to country music, but she liked this song. Liquid heat pooled inside Melissa as they swayed to the slow tune. The dance floor almost steamed it was so hot, but she didn’t care. Roarke’s body brushed hers and his strong thighs touched hers. Her breasts snuggled into uncompromising man, and she couldn’t mistake his erection against her stomach. Oh, yeah. No way she could miss that in a million years. He kissed her ear, and the sensation sent an erotic thrill pulsing in her loins. If he wanted her tonight, she didn’t plan to resist a seduction.

  As the last strains of the music closed, another song started. Not at all what she expected, but she recognized it. Older couples entered the dance floor.

  “Oh, I love this song,” she said softly.

  “Sounds familiar. Classical.” He whispered into her ear. “Want to stay and dance?”

  She shivered, but with pure delight. “It’s Claire de Lune. Of course.”

  The music filled her with languid pleasure. The sweeping, flowing nature of the piano giving way to the immeasurably beautiful strings. She tried to recall the last time she’d heard anything more beautiful and couldn’t. Roarke’s hands smoothed down her back, and she allowed the chords to filter into her psyche, to take over and remove every depressing and disturbing thought she’d allowed inside at the library.

  His breath touched her ear again, then his lips. “I want you so bad I ache.”

  Arousal spiraled upward. She whispered back, “I want you.”

  Spending this time with Roarke filled her with new appreciation and delight. By the time the music finished, she walked off the dance floor in a daze. Roarke held her up, and she smiled. No doubt in her mind, they were straight on the way to his condo.

  * * *

  Lying in bed that night, basking in well-being after making love with Melissa, Roarke couldn’t sleep. His mind spun with thoughts he couldn’t purge. He eased from her arms, and she awakened. He pulled on sweat pants.

  “What’s wrong?” Her voice was thick with sleep.

  “Can’t sleep. I’m going to read for a while. Go back to sleep.”

  She sighed and rolled over, and he smiled. The nightlight in the bathroom threw enough of a glow over the bedroom that he could see her slim form nestled in his bed. When they’d returned from Jace’s he’d hummed with sexual need, his body hot to take her immediately. They’d thrown their clothes off from the front door to the bed with an eagerness that had burned. He’d grabbed a condom, she’d playfully pushed him onto his back and taken him. Riding him like a wild thing, she’d shown him that when it came to sex, she could be a definite aggressor. It turned him on, and he looked forward to more like it.

  He entered the living room and snapped on a light by the couch. His mother’s journal lay on the coffee table. He grabbed it and settled on the couch to read more.

  I’ve lived here a few months and things just keep getting stranger. Who could I tell about the things I've seen and heard the last few months? I tried telling my ex but he already believes I'm unstable. My son...well there is no way I could tell him. For so many reasons. I've put him through a lot. When he was a kid, he put up with insecurities and uncertainty. His father and I weren't a stable relationship. We should have divorced a long time ago. I just kept hoping against hope. It’s obvious to me that I’m not meant for marriage. Maybe it’s too much to expect a man to understand my moods. My life is my own now. My ex may say that I cheated on him, but I never have. I am done with men. Done.

  Some might read this and think I’m coming unglued. At first I believed it was my bipolar, and then my medication, but I’m sure now it is real what I’ve seen and heard. This place is haunted, but not with just ordinary ghosts. There is a grand, overarching evil. It is alive, it is here.

  He flipped through the pages idly. He’d read through the journal more than once, hoping for clues. The only evidence the book provided was the last entry dated August eighth. She hadn’t written another word after that. He glanced at the entry.

  Last night I heard it and felt it again. So much sobbing. Weeping. God, how I wish I hadn’t moved into this place.

  Roarke winced as guilt sliced like a knife. Jesus, he wished he’d listened. He wished he’d moved her out of here. Though she’d mentioned the so-called haunting way before this final entry, this one called to him. He would read it again and again until it yielded a clue.

  Roarke is such a good man, and I thank God he came home from the war in one piece. It’s the greatest gift I’ve ever received. Yet in this condo I feel so alone. The rumor
s of death and torture and evil are here in the walls, in the air and the earth. There’s no escaping the taint. No one understands. I’ve discovered I’m the only one in the world who believes this damned place is haunted other than Henrietta and Melissa.

  Once more the guilt punched a hole in Roarke, but he continued reading.

  My son has always been my rock, even when his father and I had bad times. Even when I discovered that I had bipolar disorder. Every day I feel blessed to have such a son. My heart is full of love for him.

  I need to leave this place before it consumes me. For some time I believed my mental issues created everything I’ve seen and felt and experienced at Tranquil View. But I know that’s not true. I’ve taken my medication. These things are not hallucinations. Even Jana told me she believes the place is quirky. The haunted house attraction will go up as usual this year. Well, I think that’s a bad idea. It will bring out the evil, as if it needed any help. The darkness will consume and eat anyone who stays here too long, as it has consumed me. The longer I stay the harder it will be for me to leave. This place wants me. I can only guess. I look forward to calling Roarke and telling him my plans to leave here. I must leave here or die.

  He wasn’t one to cry, but his throat felt so tight he thought he’d choke. Roarke looked at the words in front of him as a realization dawned on him. He’d read this journal so many times, and this one entry stood out for him. He read it again and a certain passage gave him what he needed.

  “Roarke?” Melissa stepped into the room wearing his robe.

  He loved seeing her in it and wondered if she was naked under it. He held his hand out to her. “Come here a second.”

  She took his hand and settled right next to him. “Reading your mother’s journal?”

  “Yes. And I think this one passage tells me what I needed to know.” He read out loud. “It’s too much for any man, and I won’t be getting into another relationship. My life is my own now. My ex may say that I cheated on him, but I never have. I am done with men. Done.” Roarke looked up at Melissa. “My mother didn’t run off with another man.”

  Sadness filled Melissa’s eyes. “No. I don’t think she did. Roarke I think ...”

  He closed his eyes. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  “I think so. I’m so sorry.”

  The tears came and he hung his head. They weren’t sobs or wails of grief. Just hot tears that made tracks down his face. Melissa rubbed his back, and when she drew him into her arms, he didn’t resist.

  Chapter 21

  Melissa and Roarke waited patiently for Darcy Haylock to arrive at Tranquil View. She’d called when she reached Breckenridge. She’d stopped for lunch and was running late.

  He slipped his arms around her and drew her close. “More time to kiss you.”

  Roarke kissed Melissa with a hot, drugging quality that melted her into the couch. Last night’s lovemaking had been different—less frantic and more tender. The need tearing through Melissa had been tempered by tenderness and a desire to give. Caution kept her emotions at bay this morning. She didn’t know where their relationship would go from here. While wine and roses ruled the day now, they both had too many things to sort out personally to declare one way or the other. She did know the longer she was with him, the closer she felt, and the more drawn to him she became. She felt a sexual connection she couldn’t deny, and a friendship that made her ache with longings.

  When he released her, she offered him a smile. “You might distract me if you keep that up.”

  He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Might?”

  The doorbell rang and Melissa twitched in surprise. He released her and answered the door. The woman stood around six feet tall, yet her tall, thin body gave her a delicate appearance. Though she appeared to be close to forty, her clothing had the trendiness of a much younger woman. Her pencil thin jeans outlined long legs while a puffy down-filled red jacket covered the rest of her. Tough black snow boots completed the picture. She had a tote bag slung over her shoulder. Short brown russet hair stuck up this way and that on her head, with a trendy youthful look. Her smile had all the hallmarks of genuine.

  “I’m Darcy Haylock.” Her voice was melodic, soft. “Director of Colorado Mile High Paranormal Investigations.”

  “Welcome.” Roarke stepped back and gestured for the woman to enter. “I’m Roarke O’Bannion and this is Melissa Allan.”

  After handshakes and small talk about the weather, Darcy took off her coat and gloves and Roarke put them away in the coat closet. Darcy settled onto the small love seat while Roarke and Melissa took the couch. Darcy excavated a large spiral notebook and a pen out of her tote.

  “I’m glad you called me.” She leaned forward, eagerness clear in her blue eyes. She tapped her pen against the notebook and her wedding ring sparkled in the light. “I have a few concerns.”

  “About?” Melissa asked.

  Darcy scribbled something at the top of her notebook. “Before we get too far into this, let me tell you what I’ve discovered so far. Steele Company contacted me more than a month ago about doing an investigation, but when we tried to set a time to interview anyone from the company, they hesitated. They said we could wait and do the interview on Halloween. We told them without an interview we just wouldn’t do the investigation. We emailed them a release and waiver for us to investigate as well as a questionnaire and they finally filled it out and mailed it back. We never would have agreed to do the investigation without that. Then you called and told us there was more information you can provide.”

  “Did you talk with Jana Peterson?” Roarke asked.

  Darcy nodded. “Sure did.”

  “Jana Peterson hated the idea of an investigation,” Melissa said. “Well, she claims to hate it, but says the company should do it for publicity.”

  Darcy scribbled something else on her paper. “I heard that, too. I also spoke with Anderson Offut.”

  “The regional CEO.” Roarke laughed softly. “That’s very interesting. I wouldn’t think he’d get his hands on this.”

  Darcy sighed, and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well paranormal investigation is very soup du jour these days. A lot of companies, hotels, other attractions want and welcome paranormal investigation teams coming in to do investigations.”

  “Because they could get publicity and therefore more business.” Roarke’s voice held an edge of disgust.

  Darcy picked up her mug and took a sip of cocoa. “You’re exactly right. It’s one of the reasons my team is so cautious and does a thorough interview before we take on a case.”

  “You need to investigate them a little and understand if there are issues before you agree to an investigation,” Roarke said.

  Darcy nodded. “I’m sure its no surprise to you there are people out there who aren’t sincere and some are outright trying to pull a fabrication. Either because they’re mentally ill, they want attention, or they figure if they make something up and we’re suckered, they’ll prove that all paranormal investigation teams are full of crap.”

  Roarke’s expression was cool, no sign of emotion one way or the other.

  Darcy looked at the floor and doubt flickered over her face. “We’ve been a team for close to ten years, and we’ve never been able to get in here. We’re hungry for this, I’ll admit. I researched Tranquil View years ago, and I’ve heard a lot of rumors and tales. I want to know the truth.”

  “So do we,” Melissa said. “What’s your plan for the investigation? Both nights, right?”

  “Two nights, the twenty-ninth and thirtieth. So we’ll be gone ... or at least done with the investigation by Halloween. That’s the plan anyway. We’ll be going over our evidence every day, so we’ll know if there’s anything interesting happening.”

  “Interesting how?” Roarke asked.

  “Electronic Voice Phenomena for example.”

  “I’ve heard of EVPs.” Roarke continued his skeptical face.

  “We collect data with a vari
ety of equipment such as audio recorders. You’ll see the equipment we use if you participate in the investigation or observe.” Darcy smiled. “I know you said you’re a skeptic, yet you said you’ve had a change of heart. I want to know why. First, I need to know a few things about you.”

  Darcy pulled more papers out of her tote bag and quizzed them about their health and history, whether they’d had previous paranormal experiences, whether they believed in the paranormal at all, and if they’d taken any medication for depression or been diagnosed with mental illness.

  Roarke cleared his throat when she came to the question about mental illness. “That’s one of the reasons why I want to participate in this investigation. Yeah, I’m a skeptic, but ... some of the stuff I’ve heard and felt since I move into Tranquil View has never happened to me before.” His gaze darted to Melissa’s. “I want to know if this is post traumatic stress disorder. Or if my mother’s death has screwed with my mind more than I thought.”

  Roarke explained about his mother’s disappearance, and how he’d come to the conclusion that she must be dead. “There’s no other reason I can imagine for her disappearing like this and not contacting me.”

  “I am so sorry.” Darcy frowned. “Are you sure there’s no chance she’s alive?”

  Roarke shrugged. “I don’t think so. The sheriff’s department looked through the journal once before and said there was no indication of foul play. I’m not so sure.”

  “Is there any way,” Darcy asked, “that I can look at your mother’s journal?”

  “Maybe.” Roarke’s voice sounded solidly against it. Melissa doubted he’d relent.

  Darcy took some time to make notes. “You were in Afghanistan.”

  Roarke nodded but didn’t comment.

  Darcy fiddled with her pen and when it was obvious it had run out of ink, she tossed it into the tote bag. She withdrew another pen, this one with a bright blue and purple housing. She smiled. “Glow in the dark pens. Sometimes comes in handy for working in low light. Crap when it comes to drying out, but they look cool.” After they shared a chuckle, Darcy turned serious again. “I’m a skeptic, too. But I also have experienced things I can’t explain in the many years I’ve been investigating the paranormal. Sure, there is a lot that can be debunked. But not everything. I’m as eager as you both to find out what’s happening here.”