Raven's Rest (18 page)

So I told her. This time I included who it was I saw with the shovels. She didn’t seem unduly shocked.

“I always had a bad feeling about Darryl Hollis,” she said, repositioning her hat on her head. “Nothing I could put my finger on. Just a feeling. Maybe it was growing up in this town and hearing all those stories about Coleman leaving town and never coming back. I think part of me always wondered if he killed those two boys. But Gary Thornton? Never liked the man, but why would he be involved?”

“He was friends with Darryl Hollis. Still is. Maybe Darryl called him, asked him to help out an old buddy,” Trey suggested.

“Hell of a favor to ask. ‘Hey, I killed a guy. Want to help me bury him?’” Hughes chuckled hollowly.

“Maybe Thornton owed him a favor. A hell of a favor,” I said.

Hughes bit her lip and let out a little hiss of air. “You guys have put me in an impossible position,” she said. “Officially, I’d have to ignore your information. It’s not like I can write on a report that the information came via a crystal ball. I’d be asked to give up my badge.”

“And unofficially?” Trey prompted.

“Unofficially, I don’t discount entirely that Michael here might have some sort of precognitive abilities. Hey, I’m friends with Betty Schultz, and I’m fully aware that she honestly believes in the ghosts at Raven’s Rest, although I’ve never seen anything myself. But I did see something once that makes me kind of believe this.” She looked down at the ground, kicking at the dirt again.

“There was this boy that died when I was in high school. Years later, I was at a party at his parents’ house. And I saw him, just for a moment, walking up the stairs. No one else saw it, and of course, people just thought I’d had a little too much to drink. But I know what I saw.”

“So you’ll check it out?” I asked hopefully.

I was a little surprised to see her shake her head. “No,” she said. “I can’t. There’s just nothing to go on. I have no real reason, other than what can best be termed a hunch, that there’s anything here to find.” She held up a hand when Trey and I both began to protest. “I said
I
couldn’t do any digging. There’s no reason you two can’t, though.”

I looked at Trey. He raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure I can find a couple of shovels.”

“You be Burke, I’ll be Hare,” I said with a wry smile. When Trey and Hughes stared at me blankly, I added, “They were famous grave robbers. I thought everyone knew that.”

“Yeah,” Trey said slowly, “that’d be a no.”

“First let me do some asking around,” Hughes said. “Make sure this lot is owned by the city. I’m pretty sure it is. Give me a day or so.” Trey and I both made noises of protest, and she added, “If what you think is true, he’s been down there a long time. Another day or two won’t hurt. Just let me ask around.”

Knowing in my heart that Bryan Finn’s bones were resting in the ground beneath us, I was conflicted. I knew Hughes was right. It sounded daft, and I could hardly ask her to act on a vision I’d had. But on the other hand, I was itching to prove that, indeed, Bryan Finn was buried here among the trees.

But why was his spirit separated from Coleman’s? Why weren’t they joined in death? Surely they’d died, if not together, at least on the same day. Or soon after. Had Darryl killed his son’s boyfriend first, thinking that would be an end to it? What had really happened all those years ago? Would we ever know for sure? And where was Coleman’s body?

I sighed. “You’ll let us know as soon as possible, right?”

“Hopefully tomorrow morning. I’ll do what I can. You’ll be at the inn?”

I shook my head. “I’m moving into my new place in the morning. Got a couch and a bed being delivered and everything. But just call my cell.”

Thank goodness I’d taken the day off to move. Now, hopefully, Trey and I would not only be moving furniture but also excavating earth.

In my head I was already hearing my shovel scrape against something that wasn’t a rock or dirt, and I shivered.

AS IT
was my last night in the Ulalume Suite, I wanted to spend as much time there as possible, but Trey and I were both starving, so after Deputy Hughes left, we journeyed downtown to a little restaurant that Trey said wasn’t “too bad.”

It turned out to be a 1950s style diner, complete with red plastic seats (some of which needed repair) and pictures of Elvis and Buddy Holly adorning the walls. We were the only customers, and the waitress didn’t seem overjoyed when we arrived. Perhaps she and the kitchen staff were hoping to close up early. When she came, grudgingly, to take our order, she nodded briefly to Trey. “Hey.”

“Hi, Suze.” He handed her back the menus we’d been handed when we sat down. “Think Bert can manage a couple of burgers and fries?”

“Sure. We’re closing in half an hour, though. Just to let you know.”

Trey gave her his best grin. “We’ll hurry. Promise.”

Stone faced, she traipsed back to the kitchen. I waited until she was out of earshot to say, “I hope she’s not expecting a huge tip. Talk about service with a grimace.”

Trey shrugged. “Not many places in town are open this late on a Sunday night, other than the fast-food places. I guess we should just be happy they’re open at all. I went to high school with Suze. She’s not bad.”

I could have pointed out that she hadn’t even glanced my way and had been colder than the water in the glasses she’d brought out for us, but then the bell above the door jangled. “Seems we’re not her last customers of the day,” I said.

My back was to the door, but Trey’s look of alarm made me turn around to see who the newcomer was.

Gary Thornton, the former sheriff, was standing in the doorway. His gaze locked onto mine, and he strode purposefully toward our table. Suddenly I wished the restaurant was a bit more crowded. This man, while possibly not a murderer himself, was at least an accomplice. Who knew what skeletons were in his closet?

Brow furrowed, he stood, blocking any exit I might have wanted to take out of the booth. “What’s your game?” he demanded.

I thought about trying to casually take a sip of my tepid water, but I didn’t think I could pull it off. My hand would be shaking like a leaf. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’ve been checking up on you,” he said, his gaze darting to Trey and then back to me. “Both of you. You’ve been harassing Darryl Hollis.”

“Harassing?” I choked on the word. “I barely know the guy!”

Thornton sneered. “You’ve been snooping around. Don’t think I don’t know about it. I’ve got friends in this town. Talking with that crazy woman, Maupin. Holding séances at the Raven’s Rest.”

I paled a little. How did he know about that?

“Oh, yeah. Like I said, I’ve got friends in this town. All this talk of ghosts. Ain’t no such thing, and you know it. You’re just trying to stir up trouble.” He leaned toward me. If he was attempting to be intimidating, he was succeeding brilliantly. “And I’m telling you to stop.”

“Seems to me,” Trey said, his tone reasonable, “that what we do shouldn’t be a concern of yours. You’re not the sheriff in Banning anymore. Haven’t been for years. You’ve got no—”

Thornton turned to Trey, his face red and his teeth clenched. “Look, you little shit! I won’t have the two of you bothering my friends! Knock it off, before I….”

He let our imaginations fill in the blanks.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves. “We haven’t been harassing anyone. We just—”

“You were with that deputy tonight!” Thornton’s voice must surely be audible to those in the kitchen. I hoped someone would come out to see what the commotion was about. A witness might keep him from punching either me or Trey, a possible action in Thornton’s mind, judging from his tightly clenched fists. “What have you been telling her?”

“You’ve been following us!” I remembered a car driving slowly along the road as Hughes, Trey, and I had just been entering the vacant lot earlier. I’d paid no attention to the driver, my mind fully on Bryan Finn at the time, but it could have been Thornton. A chill ran through me. Had it been either Thornton or Hollis who had tried to run me down? I’d assumed it had been Kevin or one of his buddies, but now I wasn’t sure.

Thornton jabbed a finger in my direction. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave town. Now. No one wants you here, except maybe this little faggot.”

“Hey!” Trey protested. “I’m not that little!”

I admired his ability to be a smartass in a situation such as this. Personally, it was all I could do to keep from peeing myself.

Thornton ignored him, instead curling his lip at me. “Keep your trap shut. That’s my advice to you. Stop interfering in other people’s lives.”

He spun around but stopped in his tracks when I said, “Is there something in that vacant lot you don’t want us to find?”

Thornton’s face went from beet red to pale white in seconds. I didn’t know what made me blurt out the words, but if I’d had any doubt that my vision hadn’t been true, the man’s reaction proved to me it was.

Thornton turned but this time couldn’t meet my eyes. “Stay away from that lot, you little shit. Both of you.”

He strode to the exit, but the wind had been knocked out of his sails. There was worry on his face now.

Trey’s face bore a look of defiance. “Well, that’s got him on the ropes.”

“Is that a good thing?” I asked. “He could snap us in two like twigs.”

“Hard to do that,” Trey replied, “when you’re behind bars. There’s no statute of limitations on murder.”

I PUSHED
the curtains aside. “Do you think one of them is out there, watching our room? Thornton or Hollis?”

Trey and I were in my room at the Raven’s Rest. The television was on, although neither of us was really paying attention to the singing competition show that was on. Trey was lounging on the bed, shoes off, leaning back against the headrest, leafing through a music magazine. “I don’t know. Maybe. Can you see anything?”

“Well, no. But from here you really can’t see much of the street. They’re not in the gazebo, though! I can tell you that!”

Trey grinned at my feeble joke but didn’t look up from his magazine. “Any ghosts out there? I hear ghosts like to hang out in gazebos.”

“Nope. Quiet tonight.”

“They’re not in here, are they?” Trey’s gaze darted around the room before returning to the article he was reading.

“I don’t feel anything.”

“Good. I always feel like I’m being watched whenever I’m here. I don’t even like to pee when I’m here. I can’t help but think Coleman or one of his spooky friends is in the bathroom with me, comparing dick sizes.”

I turned from the window and examined Trey’s face, which was healing nicely. In another day or so, there would hardly be any traces of Kevin’s battering. I knew he was thankful that this would be my last night in the Raven’s Rest, but I was feeling somewhat melancholy over leaving.

To get my mind off it, I went and sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbing his right leg and shaking it. “So what ya reading?”

“Article about some young British singer. He’s mentioned that he’s only nineteen twice in this interview, like it’s something special. ‘Oh, I’m only nineteen and look what I’ve done so far!’ How the fuck old does he think Mick and Keith were when they started?”

I kept my hand on his leg. God, he was bony. “I wish you’d brought your guitar tonight. You could have played me something.”

“I am writing something new. It’s still a work in progress, though. Something about a love that lasts even when the two people involved are dead. Can’t think where I got the inspiration.” Trey tossed the magazine aside. “You’re sure Coleman doesn’t have his ghostly little eyes on us?”

“Far as I can tell, it’s just you and me in the room.”

“Good. Then come here.”

I scooted up the bed and stretched out until my body was plastered against his, my head resting in the crook of his shoulder.

Trey ran his fingers through my hair and massaged my scalp. “I’m glad you came to Banning,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Despite the ghosts and getting the fuck pounded out of me and being threatened left, right, and center, at least we’ve got this. We’ve got each other.”

I shifted around, ending up with my head on his chest. He was wearing a T-shirt—black, of course—with the logo of some band I’d never heard of on it. Catfish something. I traced the
C
with my finger, smiling as my touch sent a quiver through Trey’s body. The magazine got tossed to the floor. “So what do you want to do tonight?” I asked, now outlining the next letter. Just in case he didn’t get the hint, I pressed against him tighter.

“I thought maybe we could play some Monopoly,” Trey said. “Or Parcheesi. No one plays Parcheesi anymore. Used to love it as a kid.”

I smacked him lightly. “Think again.”

He was still running his fingers through my hair and gave a tuft a tiny little yank. “Or I suppose we could get naked and….”

“And?”

“Play strip Parcheesi!”

Like a snake, I slowly crawled up him until our lips could meet. My glasses seemed to be getting in the way of smooching, so they were relegated to the nightstand. Our kisses lingered, and soon I was on top of him.

He smiled contentedly, although I could detect some reticence in his eyes.

“What?” I asked. “Not feeling it tonight?”

Trey rolled his eyes at the impossibility. “No, it’s not that. Certainly not you. It’s just… this room!”

“I can’t sense that Coleman is here.”

“Still. This place is creepy. Things you don’t see scratch your cheek. Lightbulbs decide to explode. God knows what’s going to happen if we start to get jiggy.”

I put on my best reassuring face. “Nothing is going to happen, other than I’m going to rock your world. Come on. What’s that you told me? Don’t let the past control the present.”

A grin slowly crossed his face. “It’s hard to say no with you squirming like that.”

I ground my pelvis against his. “You mean like this?”

Trey put his arms around me and held me tight. Jokingly, he turned his head to speak into the empty room. “Hey! Ghosts! We’re going to be busy for an hour or so, and we’d appreciate it if you’d respect our privacy!”