The Drifter (18 page)

The rest of the day flew by. Andy kept Carolyn so busy that she didn't have time to think about grave robbers—or any of her other worries. By evening she was sure they'd ridden every ride, eaten at least one of every kind of food, inspected every single craft, tried their skill at every game, and walked at least a hundred miles back and forth through the village.

Exhausted, they found an empty table at a sidewalk café. Dusk was beginning to fall, but the festival continued around them, noise and laughter and music echoing through the shadows. One by one streetlamps blinked on, while colorful lanterns danced gaily above them in the night breeze. Carolyn yawned and stretched. She sipped her cappuccino while Andy leaned back in his seat and smiled at her.

“Happy?”

“I've had the best time. I don't want it to end.”

“Well, you're in luck—it doesn't happen to end officially till tomorrow.” His face brightened, and he leaned toward her. “Not only that, I've got a great idea. I'm taking a boatload of tourists out for a sunset cruise tomorrow evening. Why don't you come?”

Carolyn smiled and shook her head. “I don't know. I'll probably be too tired to do anything.”

“It'll be beautiful,” Andy promised. “You don't know what you're missing.”

She laughed and finally nodded. “Okay. I'll think about it.”

He looked so pleased that she reached over and took his hand. He moved even closer and bent his head against hers.

“Better be careful,” he said in a dramatic whisper. “People might think we're involved.”

Carolyn laughed again. “Well, we are sort of involved, aren't we—involved in some really strange things we didn't expect to—”

She broke off and sat rigid in her chair. Andy grimaced and tried to pry his hand out of her sudden grip.

“Ouch—hey—do you mind—I
need
that hand—”

“Andy, is that Joss?”

“What?” Andy wheeled around in his seat and tried to follow the direction of her gaze. “Where?”

“It looked like him,” she insisted. “I could have sworn I saw him in front of that building.”

Andy gave her a puzzled glance, then refocused his attention back across the street.

“Carolyn, I don't see a thing except about a hundred overweight tourists dancing to that stupid band over there. How in the world could you even recognize anyone?”

“It was him—I know it was.”

“Well …” Andy's smile looked a little uneasy. “So maybe it
was
him. Is there some reason he shouldn't be out here if he wants to be?”

Carolyn snapped back to attention. “No, of course not. I just thought it was strange because he said he was working. That's all.”

Andy's smile grew more perplexed. He looked up into the sky and back to her. “Carolyn … it
is
dark out here now. There
is
such a thing as quitting time.”

She shook her head. She squinted her eyes and tried to study the gyrating flock of tourists, but all she could see was a blur.

“You're right,” she mumbled. “I probably didn't see him. Someone who just looked like him, maybe.”

“What was he doing?”

“Watching us.”

“Watching us?” Andy spun in his chair and strained once more through the darkness. “Why would he be watching us?”

“Andy, how should I know?” Carolyn's voice came out sharper than she intended. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. It's just that I thought he was there, and I thought he was watching us, and it makes me nervous.”

“Well, he isn't there now,” Andy soothed her, but there was a tinge of annoyance in his voice that hadn't been there before. “And he probably wasn't there to begin with. So will you calm down and finish your coffee?”

Carolyn nodded and lifted her cup. She held it to her lips without drinking it. Instead she stared over the rim and scanned the street corner one more time with narrowed eyes.

“Carolyn,” Andy said gently, “come on, forget about it. If it really
was
him, maybe he just happened to see us here, and then he ducked out of sight so you wouldn't think he was staring.”

Carolyn's frown was distracted. She swallowed the last of her cappuccino as Andy helped her up.

“I've got to get some change,” Andy said, checking his wallet. “You want to wait here?”

“No, I think I'll go over there so I can hear the music better.”

It was a lame excuse, and Carolyn knew it. She saw Andy give her a knowing look, but he only nodded and went into the café.

Carolyn crossed the street and stood on the edge of the curb. All around her people were laughing and dancing and keeping time to the music. She let her eyes roam slowly over each face, but not one looked even remotely familiar. She was just about to go find Andy again when a hand closed tightly around her elbow, sending her back with a startled cry.

“Molly!” Carolyn gasped. “Where did you come from!”

The strange little woman cocked her head, lips spread wide in a toothless sneer.

“I remember you,” she mumbled, and she jabbed a crooked finger against Carolyn's arm. “Nervous you were, and asking questions. About the captain … about his silly, dead wife …”

“The hook,” Carolyn said quietly. “You were telling me about the hook.”

“People don't listen when they think you're crazy—”

“I don't think you're crazy, Molly,” Carolyn insisted.

Molly's bulbous eyes rolled in her head. She lifted her hand and trailed it lightly down Carolyn's cheek.

“The face I remember. I do remember faces. And your name was the same as
hers—”

“Yes, that's right. Carolyn.”

“And my mind is going round and round. Ever since I saw you with your young man.”

“My young man?” Carolyn looked blank. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you there!” Molly pulled away and pointed toward the hill leading up past the library. “On the sidewalk. Talking to your young man—”

“Oh. Yes.” Carolyn nodded uneasily. “His name's Joss. He's doing some work for us at the house—”

“Joss?
Joss?
” A thin thread of drool oozed down over Molly's whiskered chin. “I know that face, all right, but his name isn't Joss—it's—it's—”

“Joss,” Carolyn said again, struggling for patience. “You couldn't know him, Molly, he just came to the island looking for work. That's why he's staying at our house for a while.”

“But I've seen him before.”

Carolyn stared at the glitter in Molly's eyes. The old woman's hand slid to her shoulder and clamped down, making her wince.

“It's your medicine, isn't it?” Carolyn said kindly. “We can talk again when you feel—”

“I've seen him,” Molly whispered, “and I never forget a face. But
different
somehow. Yes … very different somehow … can't quite put my finger on it.…”

She shook her head and tugged on Carolyn's arm, leading her away from the crowd, over to another street corner that was quieter and completely deserted.

“Different,” Molly mumbled to herself again. “Different … different … but how? Same face. But something …”

Carolyn glanced back nervously, trying to find Andy in the crowds. Molly was still muttering, still pulling on Carolyn's arm.

“Ah, but I do know!” Molly suddenly hissed, and her mouth drew back in an empty grin. “And he's a sly one, isn't he … but not sly enough to fool old Molly!”

“What is it?” Carolyn was trying very hard to be patient, but Molly was pressing relentlessly on her shoulder blade now—really hurting her—and Carolyn was trying desperately to pull away—

“Yes, yes! Sly devil!” Molly's head bobbed up and down, but then suddenly she froze. “Psst! Hear that?”

Carolyn didn't hear anything except her own voice pleading. “Come on, Molly, why don't we go back? I'm waiting for—”

“
Did you hear that?
” Molly hissed, and she glanced back over her shoulder in obvious alarm. Carolyn looked, too, but saw only thick trees and shrubbery behind them.

Molly's mouth was a gaping black hole, silent words forming that Carolyn couldn't make out. Helplessly Carolyn shook her head.

“No, Molly, what are you saying? I don't understand—”

“Someone's watching,” Molly hissed again. “Spirits, stay away from my soul!”

She whirled around, movements quick and birdlike. Her eyes nearly burst from her head as she stared into the leafy foliage. She picked up her shopping bag and gave the shrubbery a good sound whack, while Carolyn covered her mouth and tried desperately not to laugh.

“Gone now,” Molly breathed. “Someone
was
there, but now they're gone.”

Carolyn didn't know whether or not to be scared. Taking Molly's hand, she finally managed to pull the old woman back along the sidewalk.

“Please, Molly, let's go back. It's too dark over here, and we might—”

“
Blond!
” Molly shrieked, and Carolyn shrank in embarrassment as people around them turned to stare. Molly was doing a strange little dance now, hopping from one foot to the other, switching her shopping bag from hand to hand. “Blond, blond—
blond!
”

“Molly—”

“I knew I'd remember, and I did!” Molly faced her defiantly, fairly spitting the words. “He had long fair hair when I saw him last! The night he walked with Hazel!”

Carolyn froze. She looked down at the old woman … watched as Molly's eyebrows drew deviously together.

“What … did you say?” Carolyn whispered.

“Hair the color of gold that night,” Molly said smugly. “The color of sun in the dark! And him, pale as a spirit, and just as dead.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The night he walked with Hazel by the sea.”

“Please, Molly, you're not making any sense—”

“A secret admirer?” she cooed. “A long-lost beau? I saw them, but they didn't see me! Lured her there, he did—calling his own lost name! I hid behind the rocks, and I stayed a long, long time. And when I looked out again,
he
was walking back, but
she
wasn't.”

“Molly … what are you … saying …”

The woman's fingers dug into Carolyn's arm. Her mouth moved close to Carolyn's ear, and the smell of rum nearly knocked Carolyn over.

“But
you
believe in ghosts, don't you, my dear?” Molly whispered. “Yes … yes … I do, too, because I
saw
one that night!
The ghost of Matthew Glanton!
In his long black coat, he was so tall and still with the wind blowing his hair, and for one quick second when the moon came out from the clouds, I could see his
face
, too, clear as I'm seeing yours! But he was
blond!
And today—when
you
were talking to him—he wasn't blond anymore!”

An icy chill shook Carolyn from head to toe. She pulled slowly from Molly's grasp and took a step back.

“You're lying.” Carolyn shook her head, her words tumbling out faster than she could think. “You're lying to me—just trying to scare me—you really didn't see him before—you've
never
seen him before—”

“You've let him get close.” Molly chuckled, and her laughter got louder and louder, her horrible fish-eyes only inches from Carolyn's nose. “Foolish, foolish girl! You'll never escape him now!”

19

S
OMETHING ROARED THROUGH
C
AROLYN'S HEAD
—something wild and dangerous and frightening—yet from some remote corner of consciousness, she knew it wasn't the wind she heard, or the sound of the sea. She started to say something to Molly, then realized the woman was already out of sight over the top of the hill.

“There you are!” Andy's voice brought her around with a startled cry. “Hey, what's up? I was looking all over for you.”

He sounded so concerned that Carolyn reached out and took his arm.

“Andy—”

“Don't wander off like that, okay? I was worried—”

“Andy, I was just talking to Molly—”

“No wonder you look upset. Did she try to sell you something from her bag of tricks?”

Carolyn was shaking her head, tugging insistently on his elbow. “Andy, she said something about Hazel—about the night Hazel died. She was hiding on the beach and—”

“Hiding or passed out?”

Carolyn's smile was grim. “You were right about the drinking. She smelled awful.”

“Molly's always on the beach. Molly's always seeing things.”

“But she said she saw Matthew Glanton's ghost with Hazel and—”

Andy groaned and pried Carolyn's hand from his arm. “You're making me black and blue, Carolyn. I wish you'd stop beating me up every time you're trying to make a point.” He chuckled and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, I've heard that same story and so has the sheriff. And you can probably imagine how well it went over.”