“Perhaps we could move over by the old oak, and your Dobermans won’t be nipping at my heels,” Aubry said.

She smiled, confident that whether or not this fellow was a sensationalist journalist, she could handle him.

“Careful, the ground is rough around here,” Aubry warned.

The oak was near the open grave. Darcy found herself curious about its intended inhabitant.

“Mrs. Morrison,” Aubry said.

“Pardon?”

“Old lady Morrison. She was a hundred and one on her last birthday. Died a few days ago in her sleep, surrounded by loving family. That’s the way to go, I do say,” Aubry said.

“Certainly.”

“So!” They stood behind the oak. “You’re a psychic investigator. Did you see the skull in a vision? How did you do it? Do ghosts talk to you? People are fascinated by such phenomena, you know.”

“Actually, Mr. Aubry, I was able to find the skull because I looked up the history of the legend at the library. After that…it was a matter of deducing where the murder took place, and how far a skull might have moved through time and the elements.”

“So you don’t talk to ghosts?” he said, disappointed.

She would never let this man quote her as saying that she did. “We all have incredible minds, Mr. Aubry. And we don’t use all of our mental power that often. Harrison Investigations is a company that does a great deal of research. We ferret out shams, and we can say that there aren’t always answers to the unexplained. They may be there somewhere, not just in our current knowledge of science and technology. So, if you want to write up what happened, I discovered the details of the story at the library.”

“You fell through the floor there, too,” Aubry told her. “You weren’t hurt?”

“No.”

“The sheriff saved you, huh?”

“Yes, luckily, he was around.”

He was staring at her, trying to get to something. Darcy didn’t feel daunted; just challenged.

“That was odd, don’t you think?”

“What was odd?”

“That the sheriff was there,” Aubry said impatiently.

“Why would it be odd? He knew I was doing research there. It was natural that he might check in to see how I was doing. And luckily, the timing was good.”

“Do you think that a ghost, afraid of what you might discover, followed you from Melody House to attack you at the library so that you would cease your meddling?” Aubry asked.

She laughed out loud. “Mr. Aubry! The floorboards gave because someone spilled a cola on them! The acid ate into the wood. I hardly think that a ghost drifted over from Melody House, sneaked a soda into the library, and spilled it all over the floor.”

Aubry blushed.

“Weren’t you scared, though?”

“When the floorboards gave? Of course.”

“Aren’t you scared now?”

“Why would I be scared now?”

“Because the ghost must think that you’re meddling.”

“Mr. Aubry, I don’t remember telling you that there was a particular ghost. And there would be no reason for a ghost to be disturbed that I was meddling, as you say.”

“This is just ridiculous,” Aubry argued with her. “Obviously, Matt Stone called you because of a ghost!”

“Mr. Stone allowed Harrison Investigations in because of a few reported incidents that had occurred in his home. We’re investigating those incidents, doing research, just as I did when I heard about Amy’s murder, which is how I found the skull, Mr. Aubry. And that’s it. I’ve talked to you, and I’m afraid that I really don’t have anything else to say.”

“What do you think about the fact that so many of these incidents have only started cropping up in the last several years? Think the Stones are trying to invent ghosts in order to bring in the tourists?”

“Since Matt Stone doesn’t believe in ghosts, he’d hardly go about inventing them.”

“He doesn’t believe in ghosts, but he’d do just about anything in the world to hold on to Melody House,” Aubry said. “He was married to Lavinia Harper, you know. A very wealthy woman. Since they divorced he doesn’t have her money behind him anymore. She’d once wanted to put all kinds of money into the house. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of her for ages, though. So there you go. Money problems. You don’t have to believe in ghosts to invent them.”

“I definitely don’t believe that Matt is inventing incidents at his house, Mr. Aubry. If you need to ask any more questions, my associate—and the founder of my firm—Mr. Adam Harrison, is here. Perhaps you should talk to him.”

“Where is he?” Aubry asked sharply.

“He was over by the minister,” Darcy said, pointing toward the church.

“Thanks!” he told her.

Darcy leaned against the oak, feeling oddly drained, and once again, uneasy. Aubry pretty much came right out and said what he was feeling.

Matt Stone had married for money. Then he’d divorced. He needed money.

His wife had disappeared.

If he’d murdered his wife, he wouldn’t need the money, would he? But she was his ex-wife. They’d been divorced.

She gritted her teeth, furious that she was allowing people to let such suspicions seep into her mind. Especially when they didn’t make sense. Matt was simply impatient and angry with the whole ghost concept. And yet, even Matt thought that something was going on.

He’d loved Lavinia at one time. Been enamored of her. Their relationship had been one of passion—and hate.

Just like that she had witnessed in dreams, from both sides…

“Ridiculous!” she said aloud. Just as she did so, the threatened storm came. First, a few raindrops fell on her head. Then the wind kicked up as if the hand of God had indeed reached down to stir up a tempest. The raindrops suddenly became a deluge.

Darcy started away from the oak. The cars were around in front of the brick wall, but if she leapt over it, she’d reach them far quicker than if she were to walk around. She headed toward the wall, and in doing so, needed to skirt by the open grave awaiting Mrs. Morrison, the centenarian who had passed away in her sleep.

She wrapped her arms around her chest, lowered her head, and started to run. She shot through the area where the chairs had been arranged around the grave.

She didn’t hear anything behind her. Nothing at all. But the rain was pounding and the wind was whistling. Footsteps would have been washed away.

The wind was strong. Very strong.

And still, she didn’t know what kind of force seized upon her with such strength as she ran by the grave. She only knew that it rocked her to the side with such vehemence that she lost her footing, teetered precariously on the uneven ground, then slammed over to her right.

Flailing…

Falling…down. Down, into darkness.

Six feet down, to be exact. Into the deep, damp earth of the freshly dug grave.

The rain was pounding hard. Matt saw Penny, her summer shawl over her head but doing little good, come running toward the passenger door.

He leaned over to open it.

Penny slid in, moving the shawl, and apologizing. “Oh, Matt, I’ve gotten the car all wet. You would have thought we’d have been prepared for this kind of summer storm! Oh, well, thank God it’s summer. You can go for lunch, right? We’re all supposed to be meeting at the Wayside Inn.”

“Yeah, I can lunch,” he said. “Where are the others?”

“In Adam’s car. He drove.”

“Darcy?”

“She’s probably with Adam. Or else…”

“Or else what?” he asked sharply.

“Max Aubry cornered her. And you know Darcy. She was confident she could take care of herself. I never had a chance to tell her that he was a headline-grabbing monster. Clint tried to come between the two of them, but…Matt, don’t worry. Darcy doesn’t like to tell anything, she hates it when people turn her kind of perception into ooh-aah parlor tricks.”

Darcy was with Max Aubry. Great.

He gunned the motor with greater force than he intended.

“Matt, it will be all right.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“That was a beautiful ceremony!” Penny said. “Wasn’t the Reverend Bellamy just wonderful?”

“Yep.”

“Matt, come on. Sure, it will be in the newspapers. They’ll say that Amy was put to her final rest with tender words. What else can they say?”

“Let’s see—they can say that the sheriff of Stoneyville has become a complete nutcase, bringing so-called ghost busters in to solve problems in his jurisdiction because he hasn’t the skill to makes discoveries beneath his own nose.”

“Matt, Aubry would never write such a thing,” Penny said.

He stared at her.

“Trust me, Darcy won’t give him anything to add fuel to the fire. Isn’t this weather just terrible? Can you see where you’re going?”

“Yes, Penny, I can drive. Are you sure we’re supposed to go straight there? Everyone is going to be soaked.”

“It’s summer—we’ll dry,” Penny assured him.

It was still pouring when they reached the Wayside Inn. Matt gave Penny his umbrella, lowered his head, and ran through the rain himself.

They were the first to arrive. Not even Mae had returned as yet, but Sim Jones, standing in for her, assured him that they had a number of tables ready, and could put their party together. “Hell, Matt, you all are our regulars anyway. No problemo,” Sim said.

He and Penny ordered coffee and sat, awaiting the others.

Darcy’s temple thundered. She had struck hard earth when first going in, and she might have blacked out. For how long, she had no idea, though with the rain flooding over her, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.

She was quickly becoming engulfed in a mud bath. The rain and earth were already past her ankles when she made it to her feet.