The Amulet

by Joanna Wayne

  “She started screaming at me, telling me that the hotel was on fire, and that if I didn’t get out quickly, I’d burn to death. And then she touched…”

  “What did she touch?”

  “She touched my shoulder, and her hand was red-hot.” Dr. Lipscomb rubbed her shoulder as if she could still feel the heat.

  “Did she say or do anything else?”

  “No. That’s when I woke up. The nightmare seemed so real, I ran into the hall. When I didn’t see any flames, I called security. They assured me there was no fire, but they’d register my complaint.”

  “And the next morning you recanted it all.”

  “Yes.”

  “You never thought the woman might be a ghost?”

  “Most definitely not. If I said anything like that, it was the mixture of alcohol and medication talking. Now you’ll have to forgive me. I really must get back to my clients.”

  She’d closed up again. Carrie doubted she’d get anything else out of her, but she’d heard enough that her stomach was tying itself into painful knots.

  Dr. Lipscomb was freaked out big time over what she’d seen or thought she’d seen in the hotel that night. For the public record, she’s said it was a nightmare, but anyone watching her tell that story would know differently. She believed that a woman had come into her room.

  Rich McFarland didn’t believe supernatural powers he couldn’t prove or disprove. If Bart were around, he’d tell her the same thing. There were no ghosts or spirits or places where the undead intersected with the living.

  But what if they were all wrong and Rich’s grandfather and Maizie Henderson were right?

  Now Carrie really couldn’t wait for their visit with Rich’s grandparents. His grandfather might be the best one around to give insight as to the symbol and the bizarre happenings at Fernhaven.

  RICH’S GRANDPARENTS were as warm and welcoming as their house had been. Rich had stopped for to-go orders of fish and chips, his grandparents’ favorite, and the four of them had laughed and talked their way through lunch. They covered Tom, Maizie, Jackson and the fact that Carrie and Rich had spent the night in their mountain home during the storm. Mrs. McFarland seemed especially pleased about that.

  Carrie couldn’t help but let the envy creep in. She would have thought she was in heaven to have grandparents like this when she was growing up. She’d missed that chance.

  By the time she’d moved out of her foster parents’ home and researched her ancestry, both of her grandparents were dead. She wasn’t sure they’d even known she existed.

  Her mother had been the only child of a mother who’d been an only child. The best information she could gather indicated that her own mother had left home to find herself and never returned. Instead she’d gotten pregnant by a man whose name hadn’t been included on Carrie’s birth certificate.

  When she’d died in a head-on car collision, Carrie had been taken as a ward of the court. As best she could tell, her paperwork had fallen through the cracks and her grandparents had never been tracked down and notified they had a granddaughter.

  Now that she’d met Rich’s grandparents, she planned to picture hers just this way. Well, except maybe for the superstitions.

  When the last fry was eaten, his grandmother got up to clear the table.

  “Let me do that,” Carrie said, jumping up to help.

  “No. You just stay right there and relax. This is the only exercise I get all day. I have some chocolate cake for dessert. I baked it just yesterday.”

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Rich said. “Bring it on.”

  Mrs. McFarland’s smile claimed her face. “Who wants coffee with their dessert?”

  Carrie picked up her plate. Mrs. McFarland took it away from her. “Kitchen’s only big enough for one.”

  “Give it up,” Rich said. “Grandma always wins any argument.”

  His grandfather laughed. “You got that right.”

  They all opted for coffee, and Rich waited until his grandmother was in the kitchen before he brought up the subject of the symbol they’d found in the book. He didn’t mention that it had been carved on the victim, nor had that bit of information ever been released to the press.

  Mr. McFarland nodded slowly as if he were giving Rich’s question serious thought. “I know the sign you’re talking about. A squiggly line intersecting a straight one. It’s been talked about in the mountains for years.”

  “Have you ever seen it actually used by anyone or by a group of people?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by group of people.”

  “Like a biker gang or devil worshippers.”

  “We’ve had both of those around here, but I don’t recall them using it.”

  “I’m thinking we saw that sign one day when we were fishing,” Rich said. “It wasn’t printed out like in the book. It was made out of twigs and maybe rocks if I remember right.”

  Mr. McFarland exhaled slowly and rubbed his bony fingers over his chin. “That was a long time ago. I didn’t think you’d remember.”

  “I don’t remember it too well. Where were we when you found me kicking those twigs?”

  “Up at Craters River, at the end of the road that runs past the Fernhaven. I haven’t been back there since. When the undead claim a spot, a smart man lets them have it.”

  “Wasn’t there a campground up there somewhere?”

  “There was. They closed it down after some college women got murdered in their sleep.”

  “So that’s the campground where that happened.”

  “Yeah. Sad day that was. Somebody crossed a line they weren’t supposed to cross. Don’t go messing around in that area, Rich.”

  “Rest easy, Grandpa. I don’t plan to rile any evil spirits.”

  “I know you think I’m just a superstitious old man, but I’m telling you, we’re not the only ones on the planet. There are things out there with powers we can’t begin to understand.”

  “Don’t you worry about me, Grandpa. I got powers, too, right here on my hip.”

  “You be careful all the same. You, too, Deputy Fransen. You should really be careful, being a woman and all.”

  “I’ll do that,” she promised.

  Rich’s grandmother returned with the coffeepot and the talk of spirits and guns ceased. Unfortunately, it still consumed Carrie’s thoughts.

  BART HAD spent the morning checking out the wooded area around cabin twelve. There were footprints in the snow that led right up to the edge of the woods and then stopped in a spot that provided a good view of the cabin. At first he’d thought it might have been Jeff Matthews, but he’d checked out the bottom of his shoes when he’d crossed an ankle over his knee during lunch. The design in the soles didn’t match.

  But someone had been out there circling around like a wildcat; stalking and waiting for the moment when its prey was the most vulnerable. Someone who knew enough to keep anyone from following them back the way they’d come.

  The prints had disappeared into the water and cracked ice that stood in the bottom of the ravine, the same ravine where Elora Nicholas’s body had been dumped. Bart was certain that whoever was stalking the woods around the cabin was not on a na ture walk. He was up to no good. Bart would stake his reputation as a cop on that.

  His skills as a cop were all he was sure of these days. Katrina had his mind so messed up, he wasn’t sure it would ever be straight again.

  He took the woods back to the hotel, enjoying the solace and the sunshine that filtered through the evergreens and dappled the barren ground. He walked fast, hoping it would clear his mind of Katrina. It didn’t. If anything the yearning to see her again grew stronger.

  Once he’d reached the hotel, he cut across the employee parking lot and took the back way into the garden. Anticipation was already building, just on the chance that he might cross paths with her.

  He cut through the hedges just north of the fountain. The old woman was there, but not Katrina.

  �
�She needs you.”

  He looked around to see who the old woman was talking to, but there was no one but himself. He walked over and stopped beside her, so close to the fountain that the cold spray seemed to seep inside him.

  “Were you talking to me?”

  “Katrina needs you. You have to find her before it’s too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  “Too late for her, and too late for you.”

  “If Katrina wants to see me, why isn’t she here instead of you.”

  “She won’t come to you. You must go to her.”

  “No. I don’t play that kind of game.”

  “You must do it, if not for yourself or Katrina, then do it for Deputy Fransen. Do it now—or lose the chance forever.”

  Anger exploded inside him, as hot as the white pain of the bullet that had torn him apart. “Don’t you dare drag Carrie into this.”

  “That is not my decision. Talk to Katrina, before it’s too late for all of you.”

  “Where is she?”

  “In the woods, on her way to the ravine. Go now, or lose her forever.”

  He took off at a run, leaving the woman behind. He didn’t know what was going on, but he wouldn’t let anything happen to Carrie. She was his partner, and a good cop never let his partner down.

  He had just come from the area of the ravine east of the river. This time he went west. He found Katrina as soon as she left the path. She was just standing in the woods, staring into the distance, looking incredibly fragile and afraid.

  When she looked at him, his resolve melted like a snowflake on the tip of a warm tongue. And in that second, nothing in this world could have stopped him from going to her and taking her in his arms.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Don’t shut me out, Katrina. I’m trying hard to understand.”

  She went stiff in his arms. “This isn’t about you, Bart. It’s the necklace. It’s gone.”

  “Your emerald pendant?”

  “Yes, I had it in my pocket, and now it’s not there.”

  “You must have dropped it. I’ll help you find it.”

  “I’ve looked everywhere. There’s no way to find something so small in the leaves and rocks.” She trembled and collapsed onto a half-rotted tree stump. “It could be anywhere between here and the Fernhaven gazebo.”

  Bart hunched down beside her. He’d never thought of the pendant as small. “The necklace must be worth a small fortune.”

  “It’s priceless. It was all in my hands, and now I’ve failed.”

  The last part of that was all he understood. He’d never been able to tolerate failure in himself. He still couldn’t, which is why he was determined not to let his partner down.

  The rest was as confusing as everything else Katrina had said lately. There had to be more than what she was saying. She could be involved in a theft ring, might even be the fence. Only why flaunt the pendant the way she had if it was stolen?

  “Let’s rehash this, Katrina. If you’re ‘not alive,’ why does it matter so much that you’ve lost the necklace?”

  “It’s not just a necklace.”

  “So what is it?”

  “It’s…forget it, Bart. It’s not your problem.”

  He fit a thumb beneath her chin and tilted it so that she had to look at him. Her eyes were moist, like emerald pools, and he felt that if he gave himself half a chance he’d drown in them.

  And here he went again, thinking like a poet. The woman kept him so off balance, it was surprising he could walk.

  “Tell me about the necklace, Katrina. I promise I’ll do my best to understand.”

  “It’s a family heirloom. My great-great-grandmother, Colleen, brought it with her when she came to America from Ireland. Her father had been murdered, and she and her mother stowed away on a cargo ship.”

  “That must have been a rough trip.”

  “Her mother died on the way over. Before she did, she gave Colleen the only thing of value she had.”

  “The necklace?”

  “Yes. She was only fifteen, and she was in a new country, cold, hungry and all alone. She was terribly frightened.”

  “Why didn’t she sell the necklace to buy food?”

  “It was all she had of her mother’s, and she was afraid that it was the necklace that had gotten her father killed. She didn’t let anyone know she had it. She kept it hidden beneath her clothes, but always around her neck and close to her heart, at least that’s the way the story was always told.”

  “So the jewelry stayed in the family, and you ended up with it?”

  “The tradition was that it be passed down to the oldest daughter. And each one who wore it not only found happiness, but was empowered to rise above some great adversity. I know that sounds corny to you, but it’s my heritage.”

  More than corny. It could have been a greeting card—or a country song. But there was no way to look into her eyes and not believe she was dead serious.

  “My mother nearly lost her life when she was giving birth to me,” Katrina continued. “The mid wife told my father she’d never seen such suffering. But Momma held on to the necklace, and we both survived.”

  “If we find the necklace, will that give you back your life?”

  “No, it’s no longer for me. I must pass it on to my great-granddaughter. If I don’t, it will be lost to our family forever.”

  “If you have a great-granddaughter, then you must have had a child when you burned to death in the hotel.”

  “I did, a daughter, born out of wedlock. I was the shame of my family, and people in our small town ostracized her because of my sins.”

  “Did you love her father?”

  “No.” She seemed to spit the word out. “No. I hated him. He was a teenage neighbor boy who came to our house to steal the necklace. I wouldn’t give it to him, so he threw me to the floor and raped me. My mother came in while it was going on, and she shot and killed him.”

  “Good for her.”

  “We didn’t think anyone would understand.”

  “Why not? A woman has a right to protect her daughter. It’s always been that way in America.”

  “He was rich, and we were poor. That makes a difference when you seek justice. It’s always been that way in America, too.”

  He couldn’t argue that. “So what happened?”

  “We buried him in the backyard.”

  If this was the kind of luck the necklace brought, Katrina should be thankful it was lost. So should her great-granddaughter. But Katrina wasn’t glad. She was hurting. He could see her pain and feel it inside him as if it were his.

  Whether the story was true or not, she believed it. And sitting here beside her as she relived the agony, it was difficult for him not to believe it, too.

  “You must have been very brave.”

  “I wasn’t brave at all. I was scared to death for nine months, and then my daughter was born. I named her Colleen after her ancestor. I loved her from the second I held her in my arms. She was smart and beautiful, and I treasured the necklace because I knew it had given her to me.”

  “Was Colleen with you at Fernhaven?”

  “No. I was here on my honeymoon. She was with my mother.”

  Her honeymoon. He didn’t know why that bothered him. It hit him then that he had begun to buy her strange story of having lived and died so long ago. She certainly talked the part. No one in his generation put words together quite like she did.

  “I married for Colleen’s sake,” Katrina continued, “but I had hoped that my relationship with my husband would grow into love. Looking back, I doubt that would have happened, but I was young and I believed anything was possible.”

  Crazy, but he still believed that. If he didn’t, how could he feel this way about a woman who told him she was dead without batting an eye? How could a woman decades older than him steal his heart? How could they have made love in a way that rocked his very soul?

  “If you hadn’t lost the necklace, how
would you locate your great-granddaughter to give it to her?”

  “She’s staying in the hotel. The pendant brought her here. I don’t know how exactly, but I’m sure that it did.”

  The confusion carousel started to spin again. “If she’s here, why haven’t you already put the necklace in her hands?”

  “That’s not the way it works. I can’t speak with her unless she’s receptive. I’ve followed her hour upon hour, stayed as close as I could, but I can’t reach her.”

  “People in this world don’t ordinarily do a lot of communicating with ghosts.”

  She jumped up and propped her hands on her slender hips. Her green eyes sparked with fire. “I’m not a ghost. I’m me, Katrina Ryan O’Malley.” She stood and started to walk away.

  He jumped up and caught her arm. “Don’t go, please. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “You doubt me when I tell you the truth.”

  “You’re right. I’ll stop doing that right now. I’ll change, but you have to change some, too. You have to realize how new all this is to me. Give me a chance. Give us a chance.”

  “There are no chances for us, Bart. I’ve told you that all along. I wish it could be different. I wish it so much. I’ve never known a man like you, never felt the way you make me feel.”

  “Then stay with me. Stop running away.”

  “There’s so little time left.”

  “Let’s not waste it. Make love with me again,” he pleaded. “At least leave me with that.”

  “You don’t make this easy.”

  “I want you so much it hurts, Katrina. If you want me, too, all you have to do is say so. How can it get any easier than that?”

  “I do want you, but…”

  He didn’t wait for the but. He took her in his arms and kissed her. All he knew of life or death was that he wanted to be with Katrina. That was more than enough for now.

  ANOTHER DAY had gone by without a note or an abduction. That was a good sign. It would have been a lot better if they were any closer to identifying the killer. They weren’t. None of their efforts had produced any viable results and Harlan Grant was still avoiding the wide net that had been cast for him.

  Carrie’s high hopes for the frightening symbol leading them to the killer were beginning to wane. Her fears were on the rise.