Ginger and Kenny came down from their porch stairs, Kenny speaking as they did. “Hey, I’m so sorry, maybe it was nothing, but I woke up thirsty. When I was closing the refrigerator…I saw something out of the corner of my eye and went to the window. I think the guy was watching the house, and then he bolted like lightning and took off into back and…well, I said I would tell your husband if I saw or heard anything. Anything at all. I mean, maybe it was nothing. And he’s gone now. But I felt I had to call.”
“You did the right thing,” Kylie and the officer said at the same time. They looked at each other, and despite the circumstances, they each smiled.
“I hope so,” Kenny said. “I mean…he’s gone. I don’t think Jon can catch him, even if he does move like an Olympic athlete.”
“Probably not,” Kylie said. “Our peeping Tom had too much of a head start. I just hope—”
“That he’s not behind a tree, ready to attack?” Kenny asked.
“Jon is too smart for that,” the officer replied. He looked at Kylie, and she recognized him. He hadn’t been heavily involved in the case Jon had been investigating when he and Kylie met, but they had met at the station. He was a young officer, just starting out.
“Healy,” he told her. “Bernie Healy.”
“Of course,” she said. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
She knew it was right that he was there. She hadn’t wanted to be alone. But she didn’t know how to find someone on a chase. She wouldn’t have been an asset. She would have been a hindrance.
“I didn’t make it up; I swear it. And I wasn’t seeing things,” Kenny told her.
“Oh, Kenny, no. We know you saw something,” she assured him. “Are you sure it was a man?” she asked.
“I—um. Well, no. I mean, it was a figure. It’s dark out here. I guess I just assumed…”
“You think a woman might be a peeping Tom?” Ginger asked, confused. She had obviously been awakened abruptly.
“Peeping Thomasina?” Officer Healy murmured.
“I just know someone was there.”
Kylie wondered. During the regression, when she’d first had her strange experience, she had entered the body of a woman being murdered. She had seen through Brenda’s eyes before they came to Salem…
Did sex matter? And was she just incredibly lucky because the dreams told her something she could use to help others? And perhaps, to save her life?
“I’m so sorry. I just…I didn’t wake up until Kenny was on the phone,” Ginger said. “I don’t mean to sound…”
“Half-asleep?” Kylie said. “It’s all right. Sorry to disturb you.”
“I’m so sorry about…poor Brenda. And you two having to wake up,” Kenny said. “But—”
“You did the right thing,” Kylie and Officer Healy said together again.
That made Kenny laugh.
Jon came back a few minutes later, winded and empty-handed. “I went all the way to the next street,” he said.
“Did you see anyone?” Kenny asked anxiously.
Jon grimaced. “Twenty superheroes, a dozen Disney characters, witches, warlocks, ghosts, werewolves…yeah, people are still partying. It’s Haunted Happenings. Bars are still open all over town, and there was a midnight tour. Our person could have been any of them. Kenny, thank you. I didn’t catch him, but I wonder if he thought you saw him, and that’s why he bolted so quickly. Bernie, thank you. If something was going on—”
“Hey, Jon, you know I’ll be here as fast as I can. For you guys, anytime. I’ll hang out on the street now for a while. We’re well covered tonight. You folks can all go back in and try to get some more sleep.”
“Thanks again, Bernie. And, Kenny, Ginger. Thank you,” Jon said. He set his arm around Kylie’s shoulders. They were going back in.
Kylie called out her thanks as well as they walked, wondering if she would be able to sleep again.
Inside, Jon tested the bolt and left Kylie standing by the stairway as he walked around the house, testing every window and the back door.
When he returned, he took her by the shoulders and held her close for a minute.
“Kylie, what exactly did you see?” he asked her.
“The house,” she said. “He was looking up at the window, the bedroom window. He knew we were in here, and he knew you were FBI. And he was thinking that even an FBI agent had a weakness somewhere.”
“Every man has weaknesses. And any can be vulnerable. Except Superman,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “I saw him on the street tonight. Hey, wait. Even Superman has a weakness. Kryptonite. That’s it—every man has his kryptonite. Anyway, we have a lot of work tomorrow. Let’s try to sleep.”
“Okay,” she murmured. She knew—though he would never say it—that he hoped she didn’t see through another’s eyes again tonight.
They really needed sleep.
One more day.
It would be Halloween soon. And she knew that they both feared what might happen if they didn’t catch the killer by then.
They headed up the stairs together, and Kylie stripped off her hastily donned dress and returned to bed. She didn’t think she could sleep.
And figured neither would Jon.
He was looking out the window.
“Jon?”
“I’m coming,” he said softly. “And it’s all right. The killer is calculating how much we know. He apparently knows I’m FBI and that the two of us are staying in Brim House. He’s not the kind who openly challenges people. He’s plotting his next move. We’re safe tonight. And besides my guess—hopefully educated given half a dozen lectures by our behavioral sciences team—on the killer’s mental state, Bernie is outside in his patrol car watching, too. And he’s a good cop. We can sleep.”
He curled up beside her.
And held her.
Miraculously, she slept. And she didn’t dream. When she woke, the sun was bright and making its way through the fabric of the drapes.
Jon was already up.
She washed and dressed quickly and then hurried downstairs.
At the entry to the kitchen, she paused.
They already had a visitor.
Not a neighbor.
The ghost of Obadiah Jones sat at the table across from Jon.
He turned to look at her. “Ah, lovely Kylie! Come, sit. Jon has brewed coffee, and it seems I have much to tell.”
Chapter 7
Jon indicated to Kylie that she should take a seat while he poured her a cup of coffee. She sat, looking at Obadiah. He remained an impressive figure to her in his Puritan garb—breeches, jacket, white socks, buckle shoes, and sweeping hat. She smiled at him and said softly, “Thank you. You are an amazing friend.”
“Ah, Kylie, maybe that’s why I’ve remained all these years. With Jon as a child, and now you and Jon together, you’ve allowed me to feel as if I have a purpose on this Earth.”
“I’m sure you always did,” Kylie said.
With more coffee for himself at hand, Jon slid into the seat next to Kylie and nodded to Obadiah.
“First,” Obadiah said, “I can verify what you’ve already learned. Ezekiel Johnson held on for a year—the witchcraft craze was over when he came along, but New Englanders remained prim and proper. Beliefs demanded a year of mourning—at the very least—for a surviving spouse. I spoke with one of my great-nieces, Hannah, who was living at the time. She suspected that Ezekiel had been seeing Mary while Teresa was still alive. And when I suggested that Teresa might have been helped into the grave, Hannah grew thoughtful. At the time, no such thing was suspected—the doctors believed she died from heart failure. Now, of course, an autopsy might have proven otherwise. By the time it was obvious that Mary had been murdered—a knife from her kitchen still in one of the lacerations in her body—Ezekiel’s son with Teresa, Hamish, was seventeen. And Ezekiel’s daughter, Rebecca, was sixteen. Might one of them have suspected her of their mother’s death? Possibly. Would a young person like that commit such a murder in revenge and happily allow their father to be hanged for it? That, I don’t know.”