Samantha wished her an enjoyable time at Warren's art retrospective, and then drove home, smiling the whole way.
That night, when Warren appeared after dark at the cabin, she said, “Happy now? I'm getting out and meeting people. You like that, don't you?”
He nodded, yes. He was happy now. Happy she was getting to know people in Owl Bend.
They sat in peaceful silence together for a while before she asked, “Is this your big plan? Are you trying to make me move here permanently?”
Warren gave her an innocent look and a half shrug.
He didn't speak, but she heard words in her head. No matter what happens, please know that I only want what's best for you.
“Did you say something?”
He gave her the innocent look again and put his ghost arm around her. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the comfort of his love. They'd been dating over a month now. She wasn't crazy to think it was love.
“I love you, too,” she said. She didn't open her eyes to see his reaction.
* * *
June 8th
7:02 p.m.
Residence of Caitlyn Winters
Caitlyn lived in a house that was surprisingly large for a young, single woman. The home was located twelve miles south of the town limits for Owl Bend, on a substantial chunk of land. The house itself was rustic in style, fashioned of huge logs in an A-frame style, with two-story windows designed to maximize the view of the Colorado mountains.
Samantha knocked on the wooden front door, which opened under the force of her knocking.
“Hello?” She peered around inside the A-frame home. The lofted front room had apparently been furnished with items chosen for their comfort rather than to match with each other or create a cohesive theme. At one side of the room, facing the two-story view, was a particularly cozy recliner with a still-steaming cup of tea on the table next to it.
She called out again, and this time got a response. “Make yourself at home,” Caitlyn called out from nearby. A toilet flushed and the young blonde appeared at the top of the stairs for the upper loft. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said breathlessly when she got downstairs. “Can I make you some tea? Or coffee? I have a French press.” She led the way to the kitchen, which featured more rustic wood on the cabinets.
“Or we could open this,” Samantha said, holding up one of the bottles of wine she'd bought with the bartender's help a few weeks earlier.
“Looks yummy,” Caitlyn said.
Samantha looked up at the high ceiling. “This is a gorgeous house, by the way. A real dream home in the country. Have you lived here long?”
Caitlyn seemed to consider the question seriously before answering, “Oh, only about twenty-nine years.” She laughed as she plunged a corkscrew into the bottle. “I live here with my mother. I left the nest briefly, for college, and ended up right where I started, though I've been getting a taste of living alone lately. Mom's on a cruise right now.” She pointed to one of the barstools along the counter. “Have a seat, unless you'd like a full tour first.”
Samantha smiled and took a seat, saying the tour could wait. For the next twenty minutes, they made small talk about the house and the garden, and the wildlife that ate almost everything Caitlyn and her mother planted. Samantha tried to be a polite guest and not dig into gossip, but a question burned in her mind.
On the second glass of wine, she asked, “What's the deal with Toni, anyway? Is she your cousin? And what was going on between her and Warren? I talked to Finn Bruno a bit last month, and I think he's a bit hung up on her.” She didn't ask about the lost pregnancy, as it didn't seem like fair game.
Caitlyn nodded, looking anything but surprised at the questions. “Toni Winters is my second cousin, and she's a nice enough person, deep down. But if I were you, I wouldn't get too close to her, if you can help it. She loves to fixate on new people, but she burns through them quickly.” She bit her lower lip guiltily and glanced around, even though the two women were alone in the large house. “I didn't know Warren at all when they started hanging out. It's hard to say exactly what happened between them. You know how they say there are two sides to every story, and then there's the truth, which is something else entirely.”
“I've heard that expression.” Samantha looked down at her wine as she gave it a swirl. “Were they still dating when Warren Jameson died?”
Caitlyn let out a laugh that bordered on wicked. “I don't think they were ever dating. Not officially, anyway. More like a couple of drunken hookups that Toni believed meant something.”
“So, there's no chance she was out hiking with him the day of his accident?”
“Not likely. She came to the studio to help me with something earlier that afternoon, a funny little bit for our Cinco de Mayo coverage. She didn't say anything about Warren, which would have been odd if she'd actually had plans to see him.”
“Oh, thank God,” Samantha said with a big sigh of relief. She felt much better knowing that Toni couldn't have pushed Warren off the cliff in a lover's quarrel.
Caitlyn raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “Why do you say that? Has Toni been trying to milk you for sympathy?”
Samantha didn't feel ready to share that she'd been dating Warren herself. Especially not if Caitlyn might think she was bringing it up to milk out some sympathy. “Something like that,” she said cryptically. “Can I help you with dinner?”
“Just keep me company and help me eat it,” Caitlyn said, and she continued preparations.
From there, the evening continued in a pleasant manner. Dinner was served on the wrap-around patio overlooking the bits of garden the deer or moose hadn't eaten. One bottle of wine led to the second one, and then back to coffee for the dessert course. Caitlyn shared details about funny community stories she'd covered for the TV and radio, and she used a computer tablet to show Samantha some commercials she'd acted in as a child. The pretty blonde admitted to still harboring dreams of stardom.
The sun set between the mountains, and they went inside once the chill set in. The front door had swung open on its own, and the interior was buzzing with at least five good-sized houseflies. The two women spent a giggly twenty minutes dealing with the flies so they could relax without the drone.
“How long's your door been broken?” Samantha asked.
“Ages,” Caitlyn said. “My mother's been meaning to fix it, but whenever we start to get serious about installing a new handle, the thing comes to its senses and starts working again for a few weeks.” She looked way up at the peak of the A-frame's vaulted ceiling. “We think it might be something to do with the weather. Either that, or it's haunted.”
“Haunted. That's funny.” Samantha snorted over her coffee and leaned forward to help herself to another cookie from the tray on the coffee table. After loading the dishwasher, they'd settled in the living room, and the furniture was as comfortable as it looked.
Caitlyn said, “You laugh, but my mother is one of those ladies who sees things. She actually does readings for people.” She rubbed the well-worn arms of the recliner. “She sits right here and tells people about their auras, or the spirits hanging around them.” She tilted her head to the side, her blonde bob swinging adorably. “Mamma says the gift runs in the family.”
Samantha had consumed her fair share of the wine, but at the mention of psychic gifts, she lost the heady buzz instantly. “Caitlyn, are you saying you have a gift for seeing things?”
“I'm adopted,” Caitlyn said. “If I do have any gifts, they came from another family tree entirely.”
Samantha's spine stiffened. She remembered meeting Wendy Jameson three days earlier at the art show, and how Warren had mentioned his aunt fixating on young women she believed could be her daughter. “Are you in contact with your birth parents?”
Caitlyn shuddered. “God, no. No, thank you.”
Samantha studied Caitlyn's features, which were both average and attractive. Even if Wendy Jameson could have conceived a child, it seemed
unlikely it would resemble Caitlyn Winters. It was obvious why the girl had been a child actor in commercials.
“Don't do that,” Caitlyn said with a smirk. “I know you're trying to figure out what my birth parents looked like. People always do that when they find out you're adopted. They look at you in a new light.” She crossed her thin arms over her chest. “Seriously, don't.”
Samantha finished chewing her cookie and covered her eyes with both hands. “Guilty,” she said with a smile.
Caitlyn let out a light laugh. “Just teasing.” There was a creaking sound, and Caitlyn yelled, “Excuse me!”
Samantha dropped her hands and looked to see what Caitlyn was yelling about. The front door was open, and diminutive Charles DeWitt stood in the doorway with one hand raised in the air. He must have knocked, like Samantha had, and the door had simply swung open.
“Caitlyn,” Charles said, his bulging eyes darting from her to Samantha and back again. “I think your door's broken.”
She got to her feet and crossed her arms. “Tell me something I don't know,” she said, clearly agitated.
He shuffled into the room without an invitation and slowly closed the door behind him. “Is this a bad time? You got another letter.”
“It's not exactly a good time for that,” she spat.
As the two squared off, Samantha glanced around to locate her purse. She wanted to leave, but her own cabin was on the opposite side of town, and her bladder was full. She quietly excused herself and left the two coworkers to their conversation while she went in search of the bathroom, upstairs.
Once she was inside the bathroom, Samantha could hear muffled voices but not their conversation. She used the facilities and then stood in the shadows at the top of the stairs, listening. Charles was talking about letters that had been coming to the community station.
“I don't understand,” Caitlyn said. “Why are you here? Why didn't you take it over to the deputy sheriff and let him handle it?”
“Don't you want to know who it is now?” Charles asked. “And why these are still coming? This one doesn't have a stamp. It must have been dropped off in person.”
“You idiot,” she said. “They're still coming because they're going to keep coming until I disappear off the face of the earth.”
“But...” He trailed off.
“Yes, Charles?” she spat. “Do you have a theory you'd like to share with me? How about I go get my magical CSI kit and we can test the envelope for DNA and then test every person in this town. I'll get right on that.”
“I guess... Uh... I'll drop this at the sheriff's office.”
“Good idea!”
Samantha emerged from the shadows, cleared her throat to announce her presence, and came down the stairs just in time to see Caitlyn practically shove Charles out the front door. She slammed the door shut and dragged a chair over to prevent it from swinging open again.
Samantha picked up her empty coffee cup, and paused to give Caitlyn a sympathetic look. “Anything you want to talk about?”
Caitlyn shook her head. “Just another glamorous day in the life of a community access channel superstar.” She picked up her own mug and walked heavily toward the kitchen. Samantha followed. Caitlyn opened the dishwasher with a squeak and said, “Some loser has been sending me creepy letters through the station. The kind with letters and words cut out of magazines.”
“I'm so sorry. That must be awful.”
Caitlyn sighed. “It could be worse. The letters aren't exactly threatening. They usually contain inspirational quotes, or requests for me to smile more, or to wear a particular color that brings out my eyes.” She frowned at the dishes as she loaded them into the racks. “He loves it when I wear green.”
“That sounds awful.” Samantha glanced at the tall, dark windows. They had no curtains, and she felt very exposed in the brightly lit house.
“I wish he'd drop dead,” Caitlyn said.
Samantha made a sympathetic noise. Caitlyn was referring to the stalker as a male, but was it possible the letters were coming from a delusional Wendy Jameson? Or perhaps they were coming from the creepy little guy who worshiped his coworker.
Samantha asked, “What about this Charles DeWitt guy? Do you think there's a chance he's involved? You don't seem that fond of him.”
“I don't know,” Caitlyn said sadly. “Some days... It's all too much to handle.” She yawned. “I'm tired.”
Samantha nodded. She knew exactly what Caitlyn meant. Some days really were too much. She thanked Caitlyn for the lovely meal, said goodbye, and stepped outside.
The big, wide sky was sparkling with stars. She took a moment to feel small in the universe before driving home to curl up with her ghost.
Tomorrow, she would go to the police with her suspicions about Caitlyn's stalker.
Chapter 11
June 9th
4:22 a.m.
The sun would be coming up soon, but Samantha hadn't been to bed yet. At midnight, her internet friend Scooby75 had suddenly reappeared with details about a shocking haunting and murder investigation in her own life. The woman apologized for having been missing, and asked about new developments with Warren.
Samantha was embarrassed to admit she'd been seeing the ghost for over a month and was still no closer to figuring out anything. Her friend reassured her that sometimes it could take years to uncover the reason for a haunting. She asked when Samantha was planning to leave Owl Bend. There was no answer to that question, because there was no plan. Samantha was simply there, and she would continue to be there, until she was somewhere else.
Together, they reviewed the case thus far.
Warren had met Samantha in late April, when he saw her taking photos in town and offered some camera advice. They'd flirted, and made a date for Friday, May 1st. They had dinner at a casual Tex Mex restaurant, where he'd talked about his photography career in a charming, self-effacing manner. He described himself as a “regular Coloradan” who loved hiking, camping, and snapping pictures. He'd been in the right places to catch a few great wildlife shots, and started making industry contacts. That was his career in a nutshell. His family was small, with both of his parents deceased and no siblings. As far as his love life went, he'd never been married, but he had lived with a woman in another state, years earlier. “In another lifetime,” he'd called it.
He'd tried his best to unravel the mysteries of Samantha Torres, but she'd evaded his inquiries, promising she'd talk more on the next date.
They'd talked about Owl Bend, eating the local green chile, his favorite magazines and books, and he'd briefly touched on the subject of his oddball aunt. He'd seemed embarrassed to be living with an older family member, and insisted he could afford his own place. But his aunt was going through a difficult time, suffering delusions and regular psychotic breaks. Warren insisted his aunt was harmless, a danger only to her own happiness.
Then Warren had gone for that midday hike not far from where Samantha was staying, and he'd died. The police ruled it an accident, saying that he'd been distracted by the incoming storm, or had gotten too close to the edge to take a photo, slipped, and fallen to his death. The body had been located by a homeowner investigating the barking of their dog.
Now his ghost was hanging around Samantha, occasionally dropping hints that she go out and talk to people. His first hint led to the buxom redhead, Toni Winters, a woman who suffered delusions of her own, believing she and Warren were more involved than they were. She'd even been mourning the alleged loss of a pregnancy. Toni hadn't been aware of Warren dating someone else, and Samantha wasn't about to tell her. Toni seemed friendly enough, but her behavior was erratic. Samantha couldn't understand why Toni had wanted to hike up to the point from which he'd fallen.
She'd met with the bartender, Finn Bruno, with no help from Warren. On their afternoon date, she'd made the uncomfortable discovery that Finn was hung up on Toni and possibly jealous of Warren. Also, the man was disturbingly interested in locking people up in room
s, whatever that meant.
The ghost had also hinted at concerns about Toni's second cousin, Caitlyn Winters, when he'd pointed out her dropped barrette. But Caitlyn was just a tiny, sweet girl—no threat to anyone. She'd enjoyed getting to know Caitlyn, but as far as she could tell, Caitlyn and Warren had barely been acquainted. That was when Samantha decided the ghost simply wanted her to get out and make friends, live her life.
It had crossed Samantha's mind, as just one of countless theories, that Warren could have been the one stalking Caitlyn by sending letters. He hadn't struck Samantha as the stalker type, but then again, what did she know? Lucky for his reputation, the letters had apparently continued beyond his death, which cleared him as the culprit.
Another person, however, did seem suspicious. Wendy Jameson was obsessed with women she believed to be her daughter. Caitlyn was adopted, and had been getting letters she'd described as “creepy.”
The stranger on the ghosts and psychics message board asked Samantha to define what she meant by “creepy,” but Samantha didn't know the specifics of the letters.
Scooby75 wrote back: Your ghost friend must be concerned about the girl. Maybe he's sticking around out of concern for his aunt getting help with her mental health. Maybe his death really was an accident, and he's only sticking around to do a few good deeds.
Samantha couldn't argue with that theory. It was as good as any. So, now what? She didn't want to confront Wendy Jameson. Nor did she want to dump this information on sweet, anxious Caitlyn. There was one logical choice.
She thanked Scooby75 for her help, logged off the computer, and located the cards for Deputy Sheriff Daniel Robichaud.
She waited until 5:55 a.m. before she called his number.
He made a groggy sound. “Hello?”
“It's me,” she said. “Samantha Torres.”
He cleared his throat. There was a rustling sound, and she imagined him sitting up in bed. “I'm listening.”
“I just wanted you to know that I believe you,” she said. “About how you were dead, and how you saw angels, and everything.”
Witches and Ghosts Supernatural Mysteries Page 26