“That doesn’t seem like something that would bring about revenge or a sick sense that you needed revenge in a future generation,” Will said. “We’re looking for something that might have come about because of what happened at Donegal that day.”

“What about Hank Trebly?” Angela asked.

“Trebly—that was his ancestor’s name, too.”

“See what you can find on him.”

They all worked in silence for a while.

Whitney sighed as one site after another came up blank. “Not found,” she said. “Sorry. We need Jake. He’s the one who can find anything on a computer.”

“Could you take over for a few minutes, Will? My back is killing me!” Ashley pushed away from the desk. Will stepped back, looking at her.

He nodded. “Sure. Why don’t you go and try the attic with Jenna? See if you can sense, or even find, anything there?”

She nodded. “I’m just going to grab some water first. And a cheese stick.”

“Food!” Will said. “We haven’t eaten since break fast.”

“All right, everybody, meal break,” Angela said.

“Every man for himself. There’s no Beth to feed us delicious delicacies today.”

“We’ll make a real dinner,” Whitney said, yawning. Then she leapt up. “Angela is right! Every man—and woman—for themselves! And dibs on the crab cakes!”

As they started for the kitchen in a sudden mad hurry, they nearly collided with Jenna, who was coming down the stairs.

“Anything?” Angela asked her.

Jenna shook her head, frustrated. “I can feel her, and I’ve talked myself blue. But she won’t appear for me, or she can’t appear for me.”

“I can try,” Angela said.

“I know who can reach her. She’s been trying to reach him,” Whitney said.

They all stared at her.

“Jake,” Whitney said. “Before we even knew about Charles being missing, I think he saw her. I was kind of ignoring him, because he was just talking about someone he thought was about to lead a tour. But then we couldn’t find her. The way he described her, she was a Southern white woman. He saw her coming through a crowd when we were at Café du Monde. He told me that she had been trying to talk to him, and I said that was rather ridiculous, because she was across Decatur Street, and there was a lot going on, and unless she had been shouting, he couldn’t have possibly heard her. But now, I think it all makes sense. It’s Emma, and she’s decided that if she’s going to communicate with the living, it’s going to be Jake.”

Angela was thoughtful for a minute. “All right, then. We’ll all get back on the computers after our very late lunch, and when Jake gets back, we’ll just lock him in the attic.”

“It’s a plan,” Ashley agreed. “I’m going to get my grandfather out of the study; he’s been poring over bills long enough.”

Frazier wasn’t sorting through their bills. He was seated there thoughtfully, staring down at his hands.

“Grampa?” Ashley asked him.

“Ashley,” he said, looking up and giving her a brilliant smile.

“I’m going to get some lunch. Would you like to eat here, or in the dining room?”

He didn’t answer her right away.

“Grampa?”

“I’m sorry, my dear.” He let out a soft sigh. “Ashley, I can’t help being afraid that if this drags on, we’re going to lose the place.”

“I won’t let that happen!” she promised him. “I swear, I won’t let that happen.”

He lifted his hands. “It’s a house, Ashley. It is built of brick and mortar and stone. Life is what’s important. I’m thinking that Beth was right, that we should just leave. People are important, Ashley. You and I are important.”

“I agree,” she told him. “But we have the best of the best on this. They will find the killer. They will find him.”

“I’ll eat right here, Ashley. Then I’ll drag my old bones up for a nap. Heaven knows, maybe we can get one of those reality programs to pay us the big bucks to come in and do a ghost documentary!”

“Maybe,” she said. “Though I shudder! But I’ll shudder away, if it helps us keep Donegal Plantation.”

Grinning, she headed into the kitchen. Even with Beth gone, it didn’t have to be every man for himself. There was plenty of food for everyone; Beth kept her leftovers well-packaged and dated.

Ashley found gumbo and heated it up for whoever might want it when they came down. She brought Frazier lunch on a tray, and then realized that it was late afternoon. It would be late when they were hungry again; they’d call out for pizza, maybe.

“Angela,” she said.

“Yes?

“What happened to the cops who were always outside?” Her grandfather’s concern remained in her mind.

“They’re doing patrols now, since they found the new bodies in the bayou. The logic is that this house is filled with agents—and since others were killed at the bayou, the cops are more useful elsewhere. And we do have cameras going all over the property. Are you all right with that?”

“Sure. I’d rather have a houseful of agents anytime,” she assured her.

When she had finished her own bowl, she walked out to the back porch. She shouldn’t call Jake; he was busy, but she decided to call him anyway; she could just let him know that they were all fine.

He answered on the first ring. “Ashley? Everything is all right?”

“Everything is fine. I just thought that I would call and tell you so. Is, uh, is everything all right with you?”

“We can’t find Ramsay Clayton, and I’m sitting in front of a hotel, waiting for Jackson to see if anyone can tell us where he might have gone,” Jake said. “Is there anything new?” he asked her.

“Actually, yes,” she told him.

“What?”

“Well, we’ve been on the computer all day and tearing through the household records and accounts of the battle,” she said.

“And?”

“Jake, I think that, after the battle, Emma was raped.”

“What—by whom? The enemy didn’t take the house. Four were killed and two disappeared.”

“By one of her husband’s supposed friends. One of the Confederate soldiers. And…and I think that he was attacked by someone else while he was raping her, and I think that person might have been Cliff’s ancestor.”

“This was in the household records? That’s surprising,” he said.

She was silent a second.

“Ashley?”

“No. I know this, Jake.” She was silent again for a minute; then words rushed from her. “I pushed you away once, Jake. I thought I was afraid of you, but I was afraid because I was terrified my father would appear before me, too, or that there was always something there that I didn’t see and didn’t want to see, but I do see. My ancestor is here. I can reach him, Jake, I can reach Marshall Donegal. He’s trying to help. We need you here, when you can come. I think—and the others agree—that whoever attacked Emma Donegal was the ancestor of the man who attacked Charles Osgood, and then Toby Keaton and Marty Dean.”

He was silent.

“Jake?”

“Ashley,” he said huskily.

“Forgive me?”

“Always.” He cleared his throat. “I guess it falls in. We’ve known it was someone close who had to be the murderer. I didn’t know that Emma had been attacked—until you told me. Are you certain about that? Wouldn’t it have shown up in the records somewhere?”

“Jake, only a small percentage of women report a rape now. Back then, Emma Donegal would have never breathed a word of it—any more than she would have mentioned she’d taken on an ex-slave as a lover and borne a child of his. He brought me—he brought me back there. In a dream, Jake. I—I saw it. I saw it all. And it was real.”

“I believe you. You know I believe you.”

“Jake,” she said softly. “Only Emma can tell us. And Whitney says that you’re the one who can reach her.”

“I’ve seen her,” he admitted. “She brought me to you when you were out riding. But…I can’t seem to get her to talk, to stay. Maybe she’s ashamed, even though nothing was her fault.”

“Jake, she trusts you. She at least shows herself to you.”

“We’ll be back soon. Take care until then, huh? Wait, hold on a minute!” The line fell silent and she frowned with concern. “Jake?”

“I’m here—Jackson just had a conversation with Detective Mack Colby. Seems that the remains of Toby and Marty yielded the same drugs—they were able to push the toxicology reports to the top level. You all be careful there, swear it!”

“Absolutely,” she promised him. “We’re here, we’re together, and we don’t intend to let anything happen.”

“The best intentions,” Jake murmured.

“Pardon?”

“Stick together. I think that this killer is basically a coward—that’s why he has to attack with a drug cocktail that’s so potent it immediately renders his victims powerless. If you remain en masse, you’ll be fine. We’ll be there soon.”

“I’m glad,” she said softly. “Jake.”

“Yes?”

“You know, I was only afraid of you. I never stopped loving you.”

He was quiet for a minute; she wondered if she had spoken those words aloud.

“I’ve loved you forever,” he said and hung up.

Ashley looked at the phone and smiled. Walking back in, she found that Angela was washing dishes at the sink. “Hey,” Angela said. “I was going to bring some tea up to Frazier, but I thought that you might want to.”

“Yes, thank you. I should sit with him for a few minutes. This has to be taking a terrible toll on him. Not because he isn’t strong at heart, but just because—”