The Ghost and the Muse (Haunting Danielle Book 10)

by Bobbi Holmes

  Releasing hold of his tie, Antoine smiled sadly. “We were celebrating Valentine’s Day. I saw the tie a couple days before, thought it would be fun to wear when we went out. But our Valentine’s Day celebration didn’t go as planned.”

  “What happened?” Walt asked.

  “I came clean with Melissa. I told her everything. She was furious with me. She didn’t understand. Melissa thought I had used her, that I really didn’t love her.”

  “That’s why you were arguing when you left the restaurant?” Danielle asked.

  Antoine nodded. “Yes. We’d each driven there in our own cars. She was furious. As we were walking to the parking lot, she wouldn’t listen to me. I knew she was just going to get in her car and drive off—drive out of my life. I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the alley. I just wanted her to listen to me.”

  “And when she wouldn’t listen, you killed her,” Walt snapped.

  “No!” Antoine shook his head. “I…I don’t think so.”

  “What happened in the alley?” Danielle asked.

  “We were arguing, and I remember grabbing her by the forearms—I shook her. I just wanted her to listen to me. When I let go, she stumbled and fell down. And then…then…”

  “Then what?” Danielle asked.

  “I knelt down next to her…and the next thing I remember, I’m at her funeral. She’s in her coffin, and people are walking by, looking at her. I hear them talking…whispering. I piece together what they’re saying.” Looking down, Antoine buried his face in his palms, unable to continue.

  “He learned she had been strangled,” Hillary continued for him. “The people at the funeral believed whomever Melissa had left the restaurant with—a man wearing a red bow tie—a man she had been arguing with—had strangled her in the alley.”

  “I’m assuming Melissa’s spirit wasn’t at her funeral?” Danielle asked.

  Antoine didn’t answer immediately. Finally, he lifted his face from his palms and looked at Danielle. “If she was, I never saw her there. I haven’t seen her since that night in the alley.”

  “What did you want from Hillary?” Danielle asked. “Why have you been going into her dreams all these years…why have you been showing her murders?”

  “I just wanted answers. I needed to know what had happened that night. I wandered around, looking for someone to help me. Then I saw Hillary, and I recognized her.”

  “Apparently Antoine and I attended the same writing seminar,” Hillary explained. “I was exploring other genres—at the time I was burned out writing romance. It was a mystery writing seminar.”

  “I just assumed she was a mystery writer. I thought maybe someone like that could help me. I followed her back to her room. I tried to communicate with her, but of course she couldn’t hear me. When she went to bed, I watched her sleep, and the next thing I know, I’m in her dream. I tried to explain to her what I needed, but the words wouldn’t come—they never came. But I was able to show her what I remembered—and what I thought had happened.”

  “So you took her to the alley, and you showed her how you believed you had strangled Melissa?” Danielle asked.

  “I didn’t know what else to do. I was limited in how I could communicate with her. But when we were in the dream together, and I thought back to that night—everything appeared as I remembered.”

  “So you remembered strangling her?” Walt asked.

  “No, not that. I just remembered what they said I had done. I just wanted Hillary to help me.”

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t much help. I didn’t really understand what he was trying to tell me—and then a story came to me.”

  “What about the other murders?” Danielle asked.

  “After that night, I just wandered. I didn’t know what else to do, where to go. Then one day I witnessed a man being murdered. I tried to save him—but there was nothing I could do. It was chilling. I asked myself, if I was responsible for Melissa’s death, perhaps this was my punishment. And then I began to wonder, perhaps I was supposed to do something. That killer was still alive. He was going to get away with what he had done. I needed to do something.”

  “So you went into Hillary’s dream again? Did you really imagine showing her that murder would help catch the killer?” Danielle asked.

  “I didn’t know what else to do. It didn’t work—but then it happened again—I tried again—and it still didn’t work.”

  “I’m curious,” Walt asked. “If you knew Danielle could talk to spirits—after all, you did call her ghost girl—why didn’t you simply reach out to her and see if she could help you? Why did you tell her to stay away from Hillary?”

  Antoine shook his head. “I don’t know exactly. It was almost a compulsion. I’d witness a murder, show it to Hillary, expect something to happen—and when nothing did, it started all over again.”

  Walt frowned. “So you just kept doing the same thing over and over again, with the same failed results?”

  Danielle leaned back on the sofa. By her pensive expression, it was obvious she was considering Antoine’s explanation. Finally, she said, “Don’t be too hard on him, Walt. I don’t think it’s that unusual.”

  The three spirits—Walt, Antoine, and Hillary—turned to her.

  “What do you mean?” Walt asked.

  “I’ve heard stories of other hauntings where a spirit does the same thing over and over again. Sort of a…loop. Take Harvey Crump, for example. He was in a loop. Each Halloween he’d show up at Presley House and look for something that hadn’t been there for years. But each Halloween, he’d return and do it all over again. I suspect my interaction with Harvey and the fire broke the cycle.” She then added under her breath, “At least I hope so.”

  “My dying broke the cycle,” Hillary suggested.

  “I believe so. But Antoine is still here, and I suspect he needs to know what really happened that night,” Danielle said.

  “But how?” Antoine asked. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  Danielle sat up on the sofa. “I think another dream hop is in order.”

  “What do you mean?” Antoine asked.

  “You need to take me on a dream hop—show me that night—what you remember, not what you think may have happened. At the point in the dream where you can’t recall what else happened, you need to step back and let it simply play out.”

  Antoine shook his head, clearly confused. “I don’t understand.”

  Hillary frowned. “Neither do I.”

  Walt let out a groan. “I’m afraid I do.”

  Hillary and Antoine turned to Walt, waiting for an explanation.

  “If you take her on a dream hop where you’re showing her something that actually happened when you were still alive—like you did with Hillary in the first dream—it’s possible for the dream to play out as it really happened, even if you don’t remember. As long as your physical body was still present in the alley, you should be able to see what happened after you knelt down next to Melissa.”

  “I really don’t like this,” Walt told Danielle as she climbed into bed that night.

  “You agreed it would work.” Wearing her pajamas, Danielle pulled the covers and sheets over her.

  “I know I did. But I don’t like you going off with that man. He could be a killer.”

  “It’s just a dream.” Danielle reached to the light on the nightstand and turned it off, sending her room into darkness.

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “Good night, Walt. You need to leave. No way can I fall asleep with you hovering about.”

  Walt didn’t answer immediately. Finally, he said, “Alright. I’ll go. But you be careful. And remember, if you need to wake yourself up, focus and scream.”

  Falling asleep on demand was even more difficult than Danielle had imagined it would be. Curled into a fetal position facing the window, she hugged her pillow and closed her eyes. A few minutes later she rolled over, her back now to the window, the pillow still in her arms. And
so it went for the next three hours—tossing and turning, taking numerous trips to the bathroom and one trip downstairs to drink a glass of warm milk. She remembered reading somewhere that warm milk would help her sleep. It didn’t. It was past 2:00 a.m. when Danielle finally succumbed to sleep.

  Opening her eyes, she found herself standing on the sidewalk outside a restaurant. It was nighttime and Danielle was alone. Just as a couple stepped out from the restaurant onto the sidewalk, Antoine appeared by her side. It was in that moment Danielle recognized the man who had just stepped outside—he was also Antoine. The woman by his side, Danielle had seen her picture in the news articles.

  “That’s you and Melissa, isn’t it?” Danielle stated the obvious.

  “She was so beautiful,” Antoine murmured.

  “Yes, she was,” Danielle agreed.

  “Let’s get this done,” Walt said when he appeared a moment later, standing between Danielle and Antoine’s spirit.

  “Walt?” Danielle said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “You didn’t seriously think I was going to let you do this by yourself?”

  “You can’t be here!” Antoine protested.

  “I certainly can!”

  Antoine stamped a foot in protest. “This may not work if you’re here!”

  “You don’t know that. There is absolutely no reason why I can’t be here.”

  “I don’t know why you had to come!”

  “Hey, guys, stop arguing!” Danielle interrupted. “We need to follow them!”

  Walt and Antoine stopped arguing and turned to the young couple, who were hastily making their way toward the parking lot.

  Flashing Walt a glare, Antoine said, “Fine. If you insist. Let’s go. We need to keep up with them.”

  Thirty-Six

  The three—Danielle and the spirits of Antoine and Walt—followed the couple away from the restaurant. Melissa, who was walking at a good pace, was several feet in front of her companion, who kept shouting at her to slow down and listen to him. Just as they reached the entrance to the parking lot, he grabbed her.

  “Let me go!” Melissa hissed just as Antoine—not the spirit Antoine—clutched her forearm and jerked her to the right, pulling her toward the alley.

  “You’re not leaving until you listen to me!” Antoine countered, his hand digging into her arm as he forced her to follow him.

  “There is nothing you can say! Let me go!” Melissa shouted as Antoine continued to hold on tight, dragging her away from the parking lot.

  After several stumbles, Melissa stopped resisting and silently followed him into the dark alleyway, their pace faster than a walk yet not quite a run. Once there, Antoine jerked her around so that they faced each other.

  Just as Antoine—not the spirit—was about to say something, Melissa began shrieking obscenities in his face, refusing to listen to what he had to say. Frustrated, he grabbed hold of Melissa’s shoulders and began shaking her, telling her to listen to him. Melissa managed to push away, yet then stumbled and fell to the ground.

  “You practically shoved her down!” Danielle turned to Antoine the spirit and glared at him.

  “I didn’t mean to,” Antoine muttered helplessly.

  Walt shook his head in disgust. “There is never reason to manhandle a woman. Such a cowardly thing to do.”

  “I just wanted her to listen to me,” Antoine explained. “I loved her.”

  Danielle looked back to the couple. Antoine—not the spirit—knelt by Melissa, who crouched on the ground, yet there was no motion. Like statues, the couple appeared to be frozen.

  Danielle glanced to Antoine the spirit. “Why did you stop? What happened next?”

  Antoine shook his head. “I don’t know. This is all that I remember. After I attended Melissa’s funeral and heard what I had supposedly done to her, I couldn’t get the image of me strangling her out of my head. So when I showed Hillary what had happened that night—what I remembered happening—when I came to this part, I couldn’t help but think about what I had heard. I didn’t mean to show her that—”

  “Unfreeze it,” Danielle said. “Let it just happen without you interfering.”

  “What good will that do?” Antoine asked.

  “I thought we already explained this to you,” Walt said impatiently. “You don’t need to remember what happened next—you don’t need to improvise—simply let it happen. As long as you were present, we’ll see what happened next.”

  Antoine didn’t quite believe Walt, but he turned to the couple—the woman he loved and the man he had once been—and watched as they came to life again.

  In the next moment the three observers learned why Antoine could not remember what had happened after Melissa had fallen to the ground and he knelt by her side. Some might have mistaken the sound they heard next as a car backfiring—as a bullet hurled through the air and hit its intended target: Antoine Paul.

  Surprised by the sound, Danielle let out a gasp as the Antoine by Melissa’s side crumpled to the ground. Looking in the direction from which the bullet had been shot, Danielle watched as three men stepped out from the darkness. One was Baron Huxley. She did not recognize the other two men.

  “They shot me!” Antoine the spirit cried out. “I couldn’t have killed Melissa, they killed me.”

  Walt shook his head. “I suspect you aren’t dead, at least not at this point.”

  Watching the three approaching men, Danielle dismissively waved a hand at the two spirits. “Shhh, let’s watch what happens next.”

  The scene reminded Danielle of an old gangster movie—three men dressed in dark suits, stepping out from the shadows while two people sprawled on the ground—one recently shot, blood spilling from his back, while the woman on the ground tried to grasp the reality of the man now dying just inches from her.

  When Melissa looked up, she looked into the eyes of her husband. Baron towered over not just her, but his two companions. Tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to form the right words.

  Looking coolly from the woman by his feet to the man to his right, Baron said without emotion, “Finish the job.”

  To Danielle’s horror, the man on Baron’s right knelt down and grabbed hold of Melissa by the neck and proceeded to strangle the life from her. Her eyes bulged, looking up pleadingly to her husband, as her hands clutched the wrists of the man who now had her by the throat.

  “Oh my god!” Danielle gasped. Unable to watch the grizzly scene, she turned to Walt, who wrapped his arms around her as she closed her eyes. Holding Danielle tightly, Walt shielded her from the scene as he watched it unfold.

  The dying Antoine groaned in pain, his eyes fluttering open. Just as that happened, Baron knelt down and grabbed hold of Antoine’s face, forcing him to look at what was happening to Melissa.

  “You caused this. Watch her die. That might as well be your hands on her throat. You killed Melissa,” Baron hissed.

  When Baron’s henchman finished with Melissa, Baron stood and looked down at the pitiful pair. “Leave her there. But get rid of him.” Baron turned and walked away, once again disappearing into the darkness. The next moment, the scene froze.

  “I suspect you just died,” Walt announced.

  “I thought you said as long as I was still there, we’d be able to see what happened next. I’m still there.”

  Opening her eyes again, Danielle turned back to the lifeless bodies. “We’re not really sure how all this works. We’re pretty sure as long as you were alive back then and still present, the event will replay in a dream like this. But once a person dies? Spirits don’t always grasp what’s happening around them right after death. Walt, for example, has no memory of the events immediately following his death. He didn’t know they had found him hanging in a noose.”

  Walt cringed. “Please, Danielle, you know I loathe thinking about that.”

  “Sorry, Walt.” Danielle turned to face Antoine’s spirit. “In some cases, a spirit will clearly remember what happened as th
ey left their body—they remember what was going on, what people said. But obviously, you don’t. Which isn’t unusual when a death is especially traumatic. At least, that’s been my experience.”

  In the next moment, Danielle found herself sitting on her bed. Walt and Antoine stood nearby in the darkness.

  “Wow, that was quick.” Danielle reached over and turned on her nightstand light.

  “I couldn’t stay there.” Antoine shook his head.

  “I hope you don’t mind, I decided to wake you up after we left,” Walt explained. “I was afraid it might be too confusing for you in the morning when you did wake up.”

  Danielle yawned. “Now we know what really happened. Baron had his wife killed—and you.”

  Danielle slept in on Wednesday morning. When she finally woke up, she glanced at the clock on her nightstand and groaned when she saw the time. It was almost 10:00 a.m. There was also something else on her nightstand, something that hadn’t been there the night before. It looked like a letter.

  Sitting up in the bed, Danielle snatched the piece of paper off her nightstand and looked at it. It was from Lily.

  Leaning back on her pillows, Danielle read the note.

  Call me when you get up. Went to Portland. Lily.

  Tossing the note back on the nightstand, Danielle grabbed her cellphone.

  “Hey, sleepyhead, so you finally decided to get up?” Lily greeted her when she answered Danielle’s call.

  “I had a rough night,” Danielle explained.

  “You feeling okay? You were already in bed when I got home last night, and I heard you get up a few times.”

  “It’s a long story. I assume Ian is with you?”

  “Yeah. He’s driving. So what’s up?”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  “Okay. By the way, Chris stopped by when we were leaving. I told him you were still in bed.”

  “Did he go back home?”

  “No. He was on his way to the Gusarov Estate.” Lily chuckled. “So weird to think he owns that place now.”

  “What’s he doing over there?”