Ghost Shadow

16

Sean was awake, back out at Katie’s desk, working at her computer, when David came downstairs in the morning. He had showered and dressed quietly, not wanting to wake her, although a glance at the bedside clock had informed him that they’d slept until well past two in the afternoon.

That happened, he decided, when you finally had some sleep when the light was coming up.

“Morning,” Sean said, hearing David come down and head over to him. He looked up at David. “Or afternoon,” he said dryly.

“Yeah, it’s late. Have you been up long?”

“Only half an hour,” Sean said. “Did you put the coffee on a timer last night?” he asked. “If you were the one who did it, your timing was perfect.”

“No. Katie seems to have it rigged to start in the morning.”

“Just to be brewed fresh when the first person makes it down the stairs. And I sure didn’t wake up in the morning. Odd,” Sean mused.

“She must have set it. Great plan, in my opinion,” David said. He felt they had a great deal more to worry about than coffee. “I’m going to my place. Danny Zigler had three books on his table when-when I checked out his place. I had Katie get me the same books from the library. I’m going to my place to read. When Katie gets up, want to bring her over?”

Sean nodded at him, studying him. “Sure. I won’t let her come alone. I promise you that!”

David thanked him. Sean locked him out of the house.

The newspaper lay on the front lawn. The headline blazed, Local Found Murdered and Decomposing in Festivity Decoration.

David read the article quickly. There was nothing there, except for the facts he already knew. Danny Zigler had been found, his body in a bad state of decomposition. The body had been removed to the Monroe County Medical Examiner’s office for autopsy.

He started to leave with the newspaper, but then decided not to do so. Danny had been murdered; his body had been discovered. By Katie. Her seeing the story wasn’t going to change what had taken place. They’d both see the bloated remains of Danny Zigler in their minds for years to come, he was certain.

He reached his house and opened the door right when he heard wheels in the drive. He turned around to see that Liam was pulling into the driveway.

David walked to the driver’s side of the car. “Anything?” he asked.

“No answers,” Liam told him. “But we’re getting help. The streets will be filled with our own force tonight, and with officers down from Miami-Dade. The chief is considering canceling a lot of the events, the commissioners are going crazy and Pete has been nuts, prowling the streets.”

“It’s a good force. Your chief is a good guy-he’s been up the ladder, he’s local and he intends to make it the best force in the world, as he says,” David said.

“He put through a call to the FBI. We’re supposed to have a team of agents and profilers down here by the start of next week,” Liam said. He winced. “Some folks aren’t happy about that. We were the Conch Republic, briefly. Some of the guys are convinced we could have solved it all ourselves, but the chief says that pride isn’t worth a life. Anyway, I was actually headed to Katie’s place, looking for you. I’m going up to the M.E.’s office. Danny’s autopsy is scheduled.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“You hitchhiking?” Liam asked.

“Hell, yes.”

He got into the car. “Thanks.”

Katie woke with a start. She had been deeply asleep, but when she woke, she remembered the dream.

And that she had told David that-ghosts came to her.

He hadn’t believed her. Neither had he walked away. She had told him about Bartholomew. He hadn’t said that she was stark, raving mad.

She shivered, remembering herself as the corpse of Elena de Hoyos.

Maybe it meant nothing. No, it meant that two women had already been left that way!

They always came back to the hanging tree.

That was what was important, she thought.

When she came downstairs, she didn’t see David, but Sean was at the computer. She thought that he was working. But he was looking up sites on the Internet. Sites that had to do with Key West.

“Hey. Where’s David?” she asked.

“He went to his place. He wanted to read through the books that Danny Zigler had apparently been reading,” Sean told her. He rose and stretched, pushing away from the computer chair. “You know, just a few years ago, they dug up seven bodies from the cemetery, trying to match them with DNA to missing persons cases.”

“I remember, vaguely.”

“And you know where most of our investigations into unnatural deaths are centered?”

“Accident victims? Drunk drivers?” Katie asked, pouring coffee.

Sean said, “No. Drowning and diving and snorkeling accidents.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Katie said. “Sean, what are you trying to do?”

He shook his head with disgust. “Find anything that we don’t know about Tanya’s murder. Instead, I think I’ve just become a walking encyclopedia of trivia on my hometown.”

“Nothing we learn can ever hurt,” she told him.

Bartholomew took a seat at the computer. “Morning, Katie,” he said.

She ignored him. He was purposely trying to annoy Sean, she thought. He hit a computer key, and pages started flashing by.

“You really have to replace that thing, Katie,” Sean told her irritably. “Or is it the cable company? I think I had better service on the China Sea.”

“The Internet is great-when it works,” she said, staring at Bartholomew with a glare that meant, Behave!

“Sean,” she said to her brother, “I’m going to go on over to David’s.”

“All right. I’ll walk you.”

“It is broad daylight, and the streets are busy.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“All right, thank you.”

“I’ll walk you, too,” Bartholomew said. He stood up and fluffed her brother’s hair. Sean spun around, eyes narrowed.

“It’s just Bartholomew,” Katie said.

“What?” Sean demanded sharply.

She inhaled deeply. “Sean, for the love of God! You’re not blind, you’re not an idiot. I know you’ve spent your life afraid that people will think I’m crazy, and I get that! But you have to feel it, you have to have seen things move. Please, Sean, right now, it’s important that you believe in me!”

He rose. He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to believe!” he whispered.

“Admit that there’s something!” she told him.

He held his breath; he let out a sigh. Bartholomew laughed, and tousled Sean’s hair again. Sean jumped.

“It’s Bartholomew, and-” Katie winced. “He’s my friend. He wants to help us, and maybe he can. Please, Sean, for once, and now, believe in me!”

Sean was still for a long moment. “Yes, there’s something in this house,” he said.

“Someone. It’s Bartholomew. He’s real, Sean.”

Her brother’s face was hard. Then he grated his teeth, and let out a long breath. “Bartholomew. All right. Bartholomew the ghost. Tell him that I have to be in love-and that I am heterosexual-to enjoy anyone messing with my hair,” Sean said.

“I’ve told you. He can hear you,” Katie said.

Bartholomew proudly made a mess of Sean’s hair again.

“Eh! Tell him to stop that,” Sean said. His eyes narrowed. “If he’s a damned ghost, why can’t he help us solve the killings?”

“He doesn’t know,” Katie said.

“Why doesn’t he just ask the other ghosts?”

“Sean, I’ve tried to explain. They don’t know.” She turned away from him. “I’m just going to grab a cup of coffee quickly, all right?”

“Sure. Then I’ll get you over there. I’m running up to my room for a minute. I’ll be right back down.”

She went to pour herself coffee. Bartholomew leaned against the counter casually. “So?”

“So what?”

“Danny Zigler has nothing?” he asked.

“Bartholomew, if I knew who the killer was, I’d be announcing it to the world.”

Bartholomew was thoughtful. “So, Danny was taken by surprise, from the back, just like the others. Odd, though. I have a feeling that Danny knows something.”

“He’s not a talkative ghost. Except for…”

“For?”

“Last night, I had a dream, or a nightmare, whichever way you want to look at it. Danny was in it, and so were Tanya and Stella. First, I asked him about the books and the money. He received a threatening call-to drop looking into the books. Then, he found the money under his doormat. I don’t think that the killer wanted to kill him, but finally felt that he had to. Oh! He saw Stella before she died. Maybe the killer thought that he might have seen something.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No.”

“Then?”

“I begged them to help me.”

“And?”

“We went on a ghost tour together.”

“Danny did enjoy giving a ghost tour,” Bartholomew said.

“The dream ended at the hanging tree. Bartholomew, you must know something more. Let’s say that we’re figuring this thing correctly. The killer is an islander. Someone with an old grudge, trying to relive a past they don’t even really know. Can you think of anything?”

“Hey, it’s not a descendant of mine!” Bartholomew said defensively. “I was avenged.”

“By David Beckett’s ancestor. But what about Smith?” she asked.

“Do you know a Smith?” he asked.

“No,” she said with a sigh. “But decades-almost two centuries-have gone by.”

“You don’t think that the ghost of Eli Smith has come back, do you? I’m telling you, I’m a dammed good ghost, and I couldn’t sneak up behind someone, smother them and then strangle them.”

“There’s no ghost. There’s a human being out there doing all this,” Katie said.

Sean came quickly back down the stairs. His hair had been brushed. “Ready?” he asked his sister.

She nodded.

Bartholomew followed as they left the house, waiting patiently as Sean made sure that he locked the door. Katie picked up the newspaper and read the headline.

“Anything?” Bartholomew asked.

“No. Just the facts we already know.”

“No what?” Sean asked.

“No, there’s nothing new on Danny,” Katie said.

“Bartholomew asked first, right?” Sean asked with a groan.

“Sean, he’s real,” she said softly.

Sean squeezed her arm. “I believe you. Well, I believe something, anyway. Let’s get this straight then. You’re there, Bartholomew? Quit being a horse’s ass! Flipping my hair around is really beneath your dignity.”

Bartholomew puffed himself up. Katie thought that he was going to explode with anger.

He didn’t. He laughed. “Tell Sean that he’s all right.”

Katie did so.

Sean lowered his head, hiding a smile. “Let’s go.”

They walked the few blocks to David’s house.

Sean knocked on the door, stepped back, frowned and rang the bell.

Katie did the same.

“He’s not here,” she said with dismay. “Or, he’s not opening the door if he is!”

“Katie, there’s this modern invention. It’s called a cell phone,” Sean reminded her.

“Funny,” she told her brother. She pulled her phone out and dialed David’s number. He answered before it seemed to ring.

“Katie,” he said, sounding as if he were aggravated with himself.

“Hey. Where are you?” she asked him.

“With Liam,” he said briefly. He groaned. “I should have gotten those books out and given them to you.”

“I can go back to the library. They might have more copies,” she said.

Sean nudged her, glaring at her. “Well? Where is he?” he asked.

“Indeed, where the hell is he?” Bartholomew asked.

She covered the phone. “With Liam.”

“Great,” Sean said.

“Katie, Danny had the books-and you found them for me at the library. I’m not sure how many more the library will have. They’re research books. Look, I probably won’t be more than a few hours.”

“I want to start reading now. It’s worth a try. I’ll go to the library.”

“Wait. You don’t need to do that. You still have keys to the family museum, right?”

“Yes.”

“You know the desk where you buy tickets and go through the stiles?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“Third drawer down, under guidebooks with old prices. You’ll find house keys there. I’m really sorry, Katie. And don’t go anywhere alone.”

“It’s all right. Sean is with me,” she said.

“Sure. Sean loves walking around town when the sun is beating down like a mother!” Sean said.

She nudged him with an elbow. “Stop!”

“All right,” Sean told her. “Let’s go get the keys. And walk around some more.”

“We could have taken the car,” Katie said.

“Wonderful. Take the car to drive three blocks here and there-and spend an hour looking for parking.”

Katie laughed. “Bitch, bitch, bitch! David’s house has a driveway. We wouldn’t have had any trouble parking, but we’re not going far! Anyway, walking is good. Let’s go get the keys.”

“Katie? Katie?” David’s voice called to her from the other end of the line.

“I’m here, and as I said, I’m with Sean, and we’re going to go and get the keys to your house. What are you doing-exactly?” she asked.

There was silence for a minute.

Katie waited, but then she thought that she had lost him.

Then he answered.

“Autopsy,” he said briefly. “Be careful, Katie.”

“I’m with my brother. Everything will be fine,” she assured him.

David knew that sometimes people thought of the Keys as being backwoods. Laid-back meant slow.

But the facilities in the Keys were state-of-the-art. The department was small, and like most other agencies in the world, when faced with an anthropological question, human remains might be sent out across the country. But the autopsy facilities were sterling.

David was offered a mask by an assistant.

“Take it,” Liam advised him.

He wasn’t a cop, and so David kept his place in the background and remained silent.

The mask didn’t help much.

Danny’s body had been washed and cooled, but he still barely resembled a human. Gases had exploded through bloated skin and crevices, and his flesh was horribly mottled and discolored.

The medical examiner had a good, clear voice, and he offered facts and figures of the body’s appearance to Liam and two other officers who attended, and to the microphone above his head. He stated that due to lividity, the body was certainly left at an unknown location for some time; blood had pooled to the buttocks, shoulders, back, thighs and calves.

The room was cold, sterile. He could remember similar occasions, but in far less pristine conditions, when he had served in the military.

Land mine, a man’s body all but blown to bits, picking up the pieces.

Unchecked syphilis.

Gunfire straight in the face.

Danny Zigler, more bloated, distorted and discolored than any horror he had seen before.

It wasn’t right.

No, it wasn’t right. And why Danny? He had been a suspect himself, a perfect patsy, just about.

“All right, he died somewhere else,” Liam said, suddenly impatient. “How did he die?”

There was silence. The medical examiner looked at him. “Liam, that’s what I’m trying to determine.”

Still, something about Liam’s words made him change his intended direction. He turned to one of his assistants. “Let’s slide him into X-ray.”

Rearrangements were made. They stared at a computer screen.

“X-ray of the body shows a broken cervix. The neck was broken when he was strangled.”

Sean stared up at the Beckett museum.

Katie looked at her brother, and then the old Victorian mansion.

There was something forlorn about it today. Craig had loved the place. He had believed that he had found a way to preserve a history he loved. He’d been such a good and decent man, and she had really loved him. What was the future for the museum? The oddities museum down the street was already back up and running.

“Hate the place. Hate it,” Sean said, looking at her.

“It’s a beautiful old house,” Katie said.

“You don’t remember everything that happened as clearly as I do,” Sean said. “David had been my friend. Tanya and Sam…they’d been friends. Everything fell apart. Craig Beckett was never the same. David left, the Barnards left.”

“People move on, no matter what,” Katie said.

“Maybe I hate it most because David had been my friend. Did I back away from him?” Sean said.

“We were kids,” she reminded him. She smiled, touching her brother’s shoulder. “Maybe you actually learned from it, and became a stronger person?”

He laughed. “All righty, Katie-oke. Let’s do this thing.”

Katie tried the door, remembering how it had been unopened the night she had come to find David here. What a fool she had been, walking right in. Bartholomew had warned her. But she hadn’t believed at the time that such a heinous crime could come back to haunt Key West again, in the way that it had. She had been worried about a commercial venture, which seemed silly and so long ago already!

Today, the door was securely locked; both bolts were secured. But her keys worked, and within seconds, they stepped into the entry.

Sunlight gleamed in. From the stairway, Hemingway looked down at them both, as if they were intruders on a secret party that raged when the doors were closed.

“Where are the keys?” Sean asked.

“Desk. Third drawer.”

He leapt over the turnstile and pulled open the third drawer. Katie leapt the stile and stood behind him, looking around. Sunlight couldn’t penetrate the whole house. She was pretty sure that David still kept auxiliary lights in the floor, but they were on a timer.

Now, with the sun falling but not quite down, the place was cast in a strange shadow. It was somehow disturbing. Through the door to her left, she could see a number of the displays.

She had never been afraid or uneasy in the museum. Even knowing its history.

The figures were frozen in place.

And yet, in the ghost shadow of the house, it seemed that they might move at any minute.

And, if she were to move into the hallway, she knew what exhibit she would come to. That of the Otto family, Artist House and Robert the Doll.

She didn’t want to look through the doorway that led to the exhibit. Danny had been found in an effigy of Robert the Doll.

She had to look. She had to make sure that the little robotic was standing right where he should have been.

He was.

Sean was oblivious to her.

“What’s the matter with David? Sending us on a wild-goose chase. They’re not here,” Sean said.

“Of course they are. He wouldn’t have told us to come if the keys weren’t here,” Katie said. “Oh, hell. It’s already heading toward sunset. I’m not going to have any time to read anything if we don’t hurry. I’m supposed to be at work soon.”

“Okay, where did he say-exactly-that they were?” Sean said.

“The third drawer, under the old guidebooks,” Katie said. “He was certain of it.”

“They’re not here,” Sean said.

Bartholomew had followed them in. “Impatient fellow, your brother.”

Katie sighed. “You, chill,” she said to Sean. “And, you! You just hush up,” she said to Bartholomew.

“Great. Your ghost is still with us?” Sean asked.

“Tell him that I’m learning to work a razor. I’ll shave his hair right off his head next time,” Bartholomew said.

“Bartholomew is with us, yes,” Katie said. “And David might have been wrong, or mistaken. Try the second drawer. Never mind, move. I’ll find the keys. I don’t mind messing anything up here. I was already in here with Liam,” Katie said.

She glanced up as she started rummaging through the drawers. Sunset was coming, and it was causing the light to play tricks.

It looked as if something was moving.

Something…a ghost shadow, in that first exhibit where Robert the Doll and the Otto family reigned supreme.

“Katie, you need to get out of here!” Bartholomew said.

“What the hell is that?” Sean demanded.

“Sean, let’s just go,” Katie said.

But Sean didn’t heed her warning. “Katie, call the cops,” he said. He started toward the exhibit.

“Sean, no, let’s just get out of here!” Katie pleaded.

“Whoever the hell you are,” Sean yelled angrily, his voice loud and deep, “show yourself. Come on out-you’re breaking and entering and the cops are on the way.”

Katie had dropped her purse when she’d started rifling through the drawers. She reached for it, couldn’t find her cell phone and dumped the contents on the desk.

“Sean!” she called.

Bartholomew swore; she saw the ghost go striding after her brother.

Sean became shadow, walking through the doorway to the Otto family tableau.

She found her phone. Her fingers curled around it. She keyed in 911, and to her dismay, got a busy signal. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

She searched her entries and found Pete Dryer’s cell number and punched it in. There was no answer.

“Son of a bitch!” Sean roared.

“Pete, Pete, it’s Katie O’Hara, I’m in the old Beckett museum, and there’s someone in here. Please, please get this, and come quickly!”

Sean let out an oath, and then it seemed as if the world exploded. The sounds of breaking glass, thumping, crashes, came shrieking out at her.

“Sean!”

Katie grabbed a paperweight from the desk, and went tearing in after her brother.

They were in the car, driving back to town. David turned to Liam.

“The killer is playing with Key West legend. He’s someone that history means a great deal to. He’s fascinated by all the legends.” He was quiet for a minute. “You don’t know anyone named Smith, do you?”

Liam laughed. “Smith? In my life, I’m sure I’ve met a number of people named Smith. And Gonzalez, Rodriguez, Jones…and I even know a pack of O’Haras, none of them related.”

“Okay, Liam. I believe that Tanya was murdered to hurt our family. So, there is someone out there who is carrying a grudge. And it seems to be a grudge that’s hundreds of years old. Okay, first off, think about it. It couldn’t be Sanderson to begin with-he was a tourist. He didn’t know the Elena legend, he didn’t know our family. He was an outsider.”

“An outsider with an alibi,” Liam reminded him.

“All right, as odd as it may sound then-Sam Barnard.”

“Tanya’s own brother?”

“He knew the island like the back of his hand. Knew all the legends. He admits that he saw Tanya the night that she was killed. He admits that they argued. He told me that he was angry with her for acting like a flirt-a tramp. And maybe it even went deeper. Damn it! If we’d just found Danny alive, he might have known something. He had the books, and the money. Lord, here’s what it has to be-the killer read something sometime, during his life that ticked him off about the Becketts. Maybe he’s like a functioning psycho. I believed from the time I came back here that the murder wasn’t random. Think about it. Stella Martin winds up dead. The method of death didn’t change. Danny winds up dead. Danny is small, but still, he might have put up a fight. Get him from behind. Smother him. Strangle him. And then here’s the piece that makes it the same-he is found in a giant effigy of Robert the Doll. Who else knows these legends and stories better than anyone else? A local. And when violence happens, don’t the police look at family members first?”

“All right, so what do I do? Well, I’ll give your reasoning to the team, of course,” Liam said. “But there’s the thing-we still don’t have a shred of physical evidence.”

“I know. And I’m not certain. I think I will be-if I just get through those books,” David said. “Maybe, by the time we get there, Katie will have found something. Maybe she’s already found something,” he said. He pulled out his phone and called Katie’s cell. It went directly to voice mail. He swore softly.

“What?”

“She’s either talking, or she never charged her battery,” David said.

He was already dialing again.

“Sean?” Liam asked.

David nodded. But Sean’s phone rang and rang-and went to voice mail.

“Hurry,” David told Liam.

“Hell, this isn’t a sci-fi car, even if I have a siren!” Liam said. “I can’t fly over those other cars.”

“Put the siren on, do your best. Hey, have someone get over to Katie’s house, and to my place, Liam. Please. Have them do it now.”

There were figures tussling on the floor. Sean. And someone else. Someone else big and brawny, rolling with Sean. She heard a whack-a fist connecting with flesh. She heard another whack.

Robert the Doll stood in place, looking at her with his ugly face and beady eyes. She looked beyond him to the small-scale model of Artist House.

“Bastard! Asshole!” Sean raged. “The cops are on the way, you idiot!”

For a moment, one of the shadow figures rose high above the other. He turned blindly, heading toward the archway that lead to the next exhibit.

“Hey!” Sean roared, making it to his feet. Ahead of him, as if he had hit a wall that wasn’t there, the big shadow figure suddenly fell back to the ground.

“Sean, stop it, let him go!” Katie cried.

The figure crawled to its feet, then doubled over and came at Sean like a bull. Katie heard the sickening thud as they met. Her brother went down with the lug on top of him. Katie found a piece of wood that had been used to construct the miniature of Artist House.

She wrenched it free, and brought it down with all her strength on the back of the man on top of her brother.

He bellowed in pain, rose and staggered toward her.

She held the wood, and whacked him again, as hard as she could, across the shoulder.

Sean was up, hurrying toward her.

Light suddenly flickered in from a car passing by on the street.

It was Sam. Sam Barnard. And he was stumbling toward her now with the ceaseless drive of a zombie, his face frozen into a mask of anger.

“Stop!”

Sam lunged for her. She tried to back up; she crashed against the Artist House miniature and fell flat back on the floor.

Sam came down on her.

She screamed.

Robert the Doll looked down at her with malign eyes.

Sean was on top of Sam next, dragging him off her. He straddled over Sam, punched him, and punched him again.

“Stop!” Sam screamed. “Stop!”

“You murdering bastard!” Sean raged.

“No, no, no! I didn’t murder anyone,” Sam said. “I swear, I swear. I just came here…because I had to come here. Tanya was killed. That whore was killed. And now Danny!”

“Right. You were just sneaking around in here,” Sean said.

“You’re breaking my ribs, Sean, please, get up,” Sam said.

“No. The cops are coming, right, Katie?”

“Yes,” she said. She didn’t really know if they were coming or not. She was struggling up from the broken pieces of the Artist House.

Pete would come. For the moment, though, they were in the house, alone, with Sam. And she didn’t know for the life of her if he was telling the truth or not!

“I’ll help you up,” Bartholomew said. “Hey, did you like that stop? Did you see it? Don’t tell me you didn’t see it. I stopped him like a brick wall.”

“I saw it,” she assured Bartholomew. He had extended his hand. She took it, not expecting much real help. But she could feel him-she could actually feel him, as she got to her feet.

“What’s she doing, who’s she talking to?” Sam cried out, as if he were in mortal terror.

“My sister talks to ghosts,” Sean said, eyes widening, waving his arms in the air. “And guess what, asshole? The ghosts aren’t saying good things about you.”

“What?” Sam cried.

“The spirits are assembling!” Sean said.

“Sean!” Katie protested, stunned. But Sam was scared. It was the place, it was her brother’s fury. Maybe it was a combination.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Sam swore. “Yeah, all right, I broke in here, but I just needed to see the place. I needed to see the place again where my sister died.”

There was something forming in the shadows behind Sam and her brother. The two were still talking, but Katie didn’t hear them.

It was Danny. Danny Zigler. And once again, just as in her dream, the girls were with him. Tanya and Stella. They flanked him, looking over at her with sorrowful expressions.

Danny pointed upward. She frowned, and realized that he was referring to the exhibits above them. She thought briefly, and she knew which tableau stood right above them, on the second floor.

The hanging tree.

They heard the door open.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Pete Dryer demanded in his husky, authoritative voice.

“Thank God!” Sean breathed. “Pete, we found this bastard lurking around in here,” Sean said.

“Is that a fact?” Pete demanded. “What are you, some kind of a sicko? You killed your own sister, and now you’re back at the scene of the crime?”

“No!” Sam cried out. “Get this jerk off me, for God’s sake.”

Sean stood. Pete pulled out his cuffs. “Time to pay the piper, you little snot-nose creep!” Pete said.

Pete was here. It was all under control.

“Whether he killed anyone or not, Pete, he was breaking and entering here,” Katie said.

“Oh, what, it’s your place because you’re sleeping with Beckett?” Sam demanded. “That asshole-my sister dies over him and he’s still out there poking everything in a skirt!”

Katie ignored him. “I have to run upstairs for just a minute. It’s important. Pete, you’ve got Sam, right? Sean, you can fill Pete in? I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t give them a chance to answer. Danny was beckoning, and he looked worried, as if speed might be of the essence.

“I’m calling it in,” Pete said, “but I’ll drag the little goon in myself. Tell me exactly what happened, Sean.”

“Katie, what the hell…?” Sean demanded angrily.

“I’ll be right back down!” she swore.

She wasn’t afraid. Her brother was there, and Pete had Sam Barnard-he’d be cuffed any minute, and safe.

She came out upstairs. The auxiliary lights had come on, giving her a footpath to follow. In the very strange orange-and-purple light that filtered in from the sky of the dying day, figures rose all around her. Pirates, smugglers, scalawags. Navy men and soldiers, Union soldiers, Confederate soldiers. They posed, ready to speak, ready to move.

She made her way to the hanging tree.

The figure there was posed with its back to her as it dangled from the tree. She stepped up. There was a large plaque on the floor, noting the tree, telling its present location, stating its grim utility as a means of execution.

On the wall, closer to the exhibit, was a small handwritten explanation. Craig Beckett had lovingly written up small wall plaques when the place had been younger, when no velvet ropes had barred visitors from getting too close.

“The hanging of Eli Smith,” the plaque read. “Justice was hard; another man hanged for his crimes, lynched by a mob. But truth caught up with a reckless killer.”

Underneath it Craig Beckett had noted that Smith still had descendants living in the city today. He had left behind a daughter.

The cursive handwriting was difficult to read. Katie leaned closer.

As she did so, there was a tremendous thud from down below.

The auxiliary lights went out.

As they did so, her mind comprehended Craig’s cursive handwriting, and she gasped as the room fell into a shadow land of darkness.

She knew the killer.

And she knew he was in the museum with her.

He already had Sean.