southern ghost hunters 02 - skeleton in the closet Page 20

  "Jump!" I screamed.

  I didn't see him at the window.

  He'd been shot. He was suffering from smoke inhalation. He might have passed out.

  "Ellis!" I hollered. He had to make it. I couldn't get back to him. I didn't even hear sirens. Whenever the fire trucks did arrive, they would be too late. "Ellis!"

  He clawed his way over the windowsill, dripping with sweat, his side bloody, his face and arms stained with soot. "Jump for the tree!" I pleaded.

  We locked eyes and he launched himself out the window.

  I screamed as he plummeted, and then choked out a sob as an unseen force drove him straight into the tree below me. The old pine shook with the impact. If he fell, I didn't know what I'd do.

  But I saw him catch hold and start shinnying down.

  Before I could think on it too much, I forced myself to follow. I didn't worry about the height or the fire or the tears stuck in my throat. I headed down to solid earth.

  The fire blazed, consuming the house, illuminating the ground below. I briefly spotted Josephine in her bedroom window, panicked, before flames took over.

  We ran to Ellis's squad car.

  We slid in and he reached across the console for me. He wrapped a hand around the back of my head and kissed me hard, like he couldn't quite believe we'd gotten out of there. I returned the kiss, scared and grateful and happy to be alive.

  "You're okay," I said, cupping his cheek.

  He closed his eyes hard for a moment before giving me a bold, beautiful look that said it all. "We're both going to be just fine."

  "You're bleeding," I told him. I couldn't see it from where I sat, but it had looked bad when he went down.

  He looked over at me, his skin streaked with soot, sweat, and blood. "You too."

  Now that some of the adrenaline had begun to wear off, I felt the throbbing pain in my shoulder.

  Ellis grabbed for his police radio as he started the car. "Fire at 11 Rural Route K. The house at the back of the Hatcher property."

  The radio had been fried, too. He tossed it down.

  "Hold on. We're going to the hospital," he gritted out, keeping his focus on the road. His sweaty, blackened uniform clung to his chest and arms.

  "Let's skip it for now," I croaked, coughing. It felt good to breathe clean air. "I'm okay if you're okay."

  He clutched the wheel tighter. "You're delirious."

  Yes, my shoulder screamed and I'd been shot and I was probably out of my mind. Still, we couldn't go to the hospital. "We have to go after Montgomery."

  Ellis jerked. "What does he have to do with it?"

  "You didn't see," I said, wheezing in a breath. He'd been passed out. "Montgomery shot us. He killed Darla. He's behind all of this."

  Ellis bit back a curse.

  We couldn't call in backup. We couldn't tell anyone, not until the hospital. By then it could be too late. Montgomery could learn we'd survived and make his escape. But right now, we had the element of surprise. We could end this once and for all.

  We could get justice for Darla Grace. And for poor Josephine. She might not survive the burning of her house. How many more lives could be ruined if we didn't stop Montgomery now?

  "Verity," Ellis warned, but I could see him cracking.

  "You know I'm right," I pressed. "This is our chance." We could intercept Montgomery at the midnight celebration. It was about time to start. This was our one shot.

  "If you weren't with me, I would." He ran a hand over his face. "You're sure you're okay?"

  Truthfully, I wasn't. I was in more pain than I'd ever been in my life. Scared, too. But we couldn't think about that right now. We had a job to do. "Let's go get him."

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ELLIS AND I raced down the back roads and onto the highway.

  I hoped Josephine was okay, that she didn't owe her existence to that house. Frankie had told me once that a ghost could be emotionally tied to an actual physical structure. If those four walls were the only things keeping Josephine with us, I could lose her for good. So could Matthew.

  It felt like it took forever to reach the lights and the crowd at the midnight Cannonball in the Wall event. The whole town was there, and possibly a good part of the citizens from outlying counties. Cars packed the field below Cannonball Hill.

  I felt dizzy and more than a little strung out. I'd be dead right now if Matthew hadn't intervened. Now I was about to expose the secret that would not only bring down the Wydells, but also Matthew's long-dead brother, Lieutenant Colonel Eli Jackson, who had been the one to duel with Colonel Vincent Wydell. But it had to be done. We'd identified our killer. Now we just needed to expose him.

  Montgomery Silas stood on the platform overlooking the crowd. A band played "Dixie" as he waved and smiled. To his credit, he appeared twitchy and he was sweating heavily. His hair stuck out in a few places where it shouldn't, and he had the overall look of a guilty man. I liked to think that was because he believed he killed us.

  Ellis parked haphazardly near another squad car and flagged down the officer, who was out of his car directing the crowd. "We have a situation. My radio's dead, so use yours. I need all officers to approach the stage and wait for my command." Then he used the officer's cell phone to call and request a warrant to search Montgomery's house. "I'm pretty sure we have probable cause," he said, turning to me, "but I'm not about to let him get off on a technicality."

  I nodded. "Okay, so they're gathering evidence while we confront him." Only this was a man who had hidden his true colors from us and from the whole town. He wasn't going to come quietly now.

  "The search warrant for his home and office. It should come through within the hour. If he still has that secretary, we'll find it. In the meantime, we're walking, talking proof of attempted murder," Ellis said, helping me up the hill. "And we need to get that Bible back before he destroys it."

  "Easier said than done," I said, as we crested the hill.

  People stared as we made our way through the crowd. Avery, the cute blonde psychic, turned around directly in front of me, her eyes wide. She gave me a slight nod as I passed. "Good luck."

  I'd take it.

  I saw my friend Lauralee several yards away, with her husband. It seems they'd hired a babysitter and made a night of it. She didn't see me and I kept walking. We needed to lie low if we wanted to try to confront Montgomery. Virginia stood on the stage next to him, waving like the queen of England.

  The band finished the song to the cheers of the crowd.

  I purposely looked away as I ducked past my fifth-grade teacher and my favorite clerk from the dollar store.

  "The documentary crew is filming everything," Ellis muttered, his eyes on the stage. "This could be really good or really bad."

  The microphone gave a hollow ring as Montgomery took the lectern. Close up, it was clear that soot streaked the collar of his white shirt. His neck and face appeared ruddy, and sweat slicked his temples. He also had a noticeable bulge in his tailored tweed jacket. It could be the Bible. It could be a gun.

  He glanced to Virginia, who nodded for him to speak. "My fellow citizens," he greeted the crowd. They cheered and he benevolently waited for a break in the applause. "Tonight marks the one hundred and fifty-second anniversary of the Battle of Sugarland!" He grinned at the documentary cameras as the crowd went even more wild. "This is going to take all night," he said, clearly enjoying it as laughter filtered up toward the stage. "I'd like to give special thanks to Virginia Wydell and the Wydell Foundation for making sure this inspiring, compelling story is told to the world." Just then, he spotted me in the crowd and his eyes went wide.

  He thought he'd killed me, and now I was coming for him.

  Montgomery lost his train of thought and had to scramble to continue his speech. "We…we have always come together each year to commemorate our ancestors for their fortitude and courage," he said, distracted, his eyes following Ellis and me as we advanced on him.

  My gunshot wound throbbed and
my head swam. It was almost enough to make me forget the nervous churning in my gut. If Montgomery didn't have that Bible, this was all for nothing. And I was about to make a royal fool out of myself in front of the entire town. Again. But you know? I didn't even care about that. I wanted justice.

  The crowd burst into applause for our town killer. We pressed forward.

  "The history of Sugarland is a celebration of honor and family." Montgomery bit his lip as the emotion of it hit him hard. "In a time of great desperation and darkness, the people of Sugarland came together in spite of their differences to protect their home. We all know the story…"

  "And it's not the right one," I said, stepping out onto the stage. Montgomery froze. Virginia didn't. It took a second or two for the crowd to even notice me, but they sure paid attention when she stormed past Montgomery's lectern and grabbed me by the arm, the one attached to my injured shoulder. It hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before and I cried out.

  "My, my, dear," she said, dragging me close to the microphones so everyone could hear. "You appear as if you're having another mental breakdown."

  "Hardly," I gritted out.

  She pressured me toward the front of the stage. "Help her get off before she embarrasses herself," she said to the people below.

  "Stop it." I forced her to unhand me. Virginia would make sure I didn't have another shot at the microphones, so I had to speak now. "The movie, the story," I announced, all eyes on me. The microphones broadcast my voice; the lights from the documentary cameras made me squint. "It's all based on a lie. Ellis and I have proof."

  Meanwhile Ellis moved in behind Montgomery and yanked the Bible from his inside coat pocket. "He tried to kill us tonight in order to hide this."

  Virginia's hold on me slackened. "Kill them?" she gasped. She whispered the next part, but the microphones caught it anyway. "You said you just burned the house down."

  Montgomery paled and covered the microphone in front of him with his hand. Too bad Virginia had paid for about six other ones. "It's not like I planned for them to be in it!" he hissed, his voice echoing over the crowd with amazing sound quality. "Now calm down. The old Hatcher place is gone." The crowd gasped, and he realized he'd been heard. No doubt Virginia had ordered the best microphones. "It doesn't matter," he announced quickly. "That building had absolutely no historical significance."

  "This is a disaster," Virginia murmured as the crowd began to boo.

  "I'm all right, Mom," Ellis said drily, "thanks for asking."

  "Obviously," she said, dismissing him, even though he was clearly bloodied. "You need to stop this nonsense right now," she ordered. "Whatever you think you're doing. Stop."

  The cameras came in for a close-up and she waved them away. "Stop!"

  We were only getting started. I closed in on Montgomery. "You shot up Maisie's house so you could search it for this." I held up Pa's Bible. "You tried to frame my sister."

  Virginia gasped. "That's why you took her keys?"

  "Then you shot us, took the Bible, and left us in the burning house to die." I had the crowd's full attention now.

  Montgomery stumbled backward, looking for an escape, but he ran straight into another cameraman.

  "Darla Grace learned about the Bible, didn't she?" I pressed.

  "You killed Darla Grace!" Virginia squeaked, completely losing her careful veneer.

  Montgomery turned and ran, straight into the police.

  Virginia stood shaking and staring at Montgomery. "Darla called me the night she died and said I might want to hold off on funding. That you both would talk to me in the morning." She drew a hand to her mouth. "You made sure she never did. I gave hundreds of thousands of dollars to support a man who would murder my son." She turned to Ellis, clutching for his hand. "What's in that Bible?"

  He gave a quick nod to me as I took to the lectern. There, I stood in front of the documentary cameras, in front of the town of Sugarland, and read Lieutenant Colonel Hatcher's final confession.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  THE HISTORY CHANNEL still wanted to air the documentary. Only instead of focusing on Sugarland during the war, they talked about the history of small-town politics and how one family can distort the truth for generations. Virginia refused to give any more interviews, but it didn't matter. They used footage of her gushing about the Wydell legacy and backed it up against the proof that it hadn't happened that way.

  The film production company shut down. Beau's movie star dreams were dashed. And the town tried to return to normal.

  As normal as it could be for a small town embroiled in a murder investigation.

  Ellis's search warrant proved quite fruitful. The police found the secretary under Montgomery's bed. Frankie had been right. People did hide important things in their bedrooms. He'd preserved the secretary as he'd found it. The letter pointing to the Bible, as well as the document proving Maisie's parentage, were still tucked inside. Turned out Montgomery had no problem destroying lives, but he did draw the line when it came to protecting historical artifacts.

  Melody's car keys bore his fingerprints, and the bullet casings Josephine found for me on the hill matched the rifle he owned, a very modern gun with an excellent scope. He could have killed us at Maisie's kitchen window if he'd wanted to.

  Maisie's inheritance letter hadn't gone over well with the Sugarland elite, but it appeared to be legal. Virginia would still fight her in court. Her most prized possessions—her empire and her reputation—lay in tatters, but she held strong to her husband's money and her 1980s-era plantation home. We'd see how that turned out.

  Beau had returned to being furious with me, which I considered a blessing.

  Maisie hadn't been so cordial after she learned she'd slept through Melody's arrest, the burning of the old house on the hill, and Montgomery's exposure as a liar, murderer, and thief. Not to mention being outed as an heiress. She dealt with it by fishing in my backyard lake with her shotgun. Who knew you could catch carp that way?

  I let her stay while we got her house cleaned up, and Ellis installed new windows. Heiress or not, she didn't cotton to staying in a hotel and I wouldn't have suggested it anyway.

  She made fast friends with Lucy, cooked me real meals, and helped water the rosebush in the trash can. I nestled Frankie's urn in the dirt underneath, to try to give him an extra boost. But so far, he remained stuck at my place. His lamentations grew even more intense after Josephine's hound dog, Fritz, showed up at my back door looking for love. I took it as a reason to hope that she'd survived the burning of her home with her spirit intact. Frankie looked at it as one more creature who could wander free while he watched his undead life pass him by.

  I told him we'd keep trying. And we would, as soon as the gunshot wound in my shoulder healed a bit. It hurt. Ellis had an ugly injury as well. Montgomery's bullet had struck his right side, just above the hip.

  I was left with the uncomfortable notion that Montgomery could have easily finished us off—shot us each in the head—if he'd wanted to. But I don't think he'd ever planned to be a killer, so he'd taken the coward's way out. Thank heaven.

  At least we'd found justice for Darla, who hadn't been so lucky.

  All said, it was a week before I felt strong enough to sneak back into the library.

  I parked out front this time, on a crisp October morning. Melody was expecting me. She'd been sent home after Virginia's humiliation and Montgomery's subsequent arrest for murder, and now she was picking up extra shifts while Sheila Ward, our library director, tried to put everything back to rights.

  Melody and I did our best as well. My sister had found a new place for the boxes and coatrack that had occupied the storage closet off the lobby, and requested that it be locked until further notice. I had a few things to do as well.

  Melody greeted me at the door. "Best hurry," she said, eyeing my bag with Frankie's urn inside. "The library opens at nine o'clock on the dot. And I wouldn't put it past Sheila to show up early."

  "You kn
ow I'm not a morning person," I said, breathing in the familiar scent of old books. I made my way toward the back, and as I did, I pulled a copy of The Vampire Lestat from my bag.

  "Is that ours?" Melody asked.

  "It is now," I told her as we skirted the desk and made our way to the back hallway. "I need to leave this for a friend."

  Melody crossed her arms over her chest as we reached the door to the stacks. "If you don't mind, I'll stay up here."

  "No problem." I smiled. The air belowground felt chilly, but the heavy dread had disappeared, at least for me. I didn't see Matthew around, so I left the book on his chair. I had no doubt he'd find it soon enough.

  Melody waited for me at the top of the steps. "It's done?"

  "Yes," I said, noticing her relief when we returned to the main reading room. "Now I just need a private moment."

  She nodded. "Come get me when you finish," she said, treating me to a wink. "I'll be in my office." I watched her go, her shoulders square and her manner confident.

  I was glad to see how well she handled herself after Darla's death, the allegations against her, and her boss's arrest. She'd had a few nightmares about her arrest, but had assured me she'd be fine. I hoped that was true. Melody had a great head on her shoulders, and she was one of the strongest people I knew.

  Frankie held his own as well, considering he'd had his hopes for freedom dashed. Still, we'd find a way to unground him somehow. I'd promised him.

  "Frankie, I'm ready," I said. This time, I didn't demand. I didn't rub at his urn or try to be smart. I took a deep breath as my skin prickled and I felt the air around me shift. A dull light settled over me and I stood in another world.

  Silvery light bathed the space around me.

  The poker players were back. Stoutmeyer dealt cards while Gregson and Owens studied their hands and ribbed each other. I saw the field hospital in the reading room, and quietly made my way to the third bed on the right.

  "Private Baker?" I crouched down next to the military cot. A small flame flickered over the indentation in the pillow. "I heard you'd like me to take down a letter."