“Oh.”
“I know what I’m doing,” he told her. “I’d wanted to get in with the Krewe—but you don’t just apply for it. And guess what, Ms. Gordon? I have seniority over your cousin. He got roped into the academy through the Krewe. I was already an agent when I got recruited.” He stopped talking. He didn’t need to defend himself.
She smiled. “I didn’t say anything. I’m just glad someone believed me. Except that I knew Malachi would.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “How...how did you find out? Are you one of those people who sees them—” She broke off, and lowered her voice. “Who often sees ghosts?”
He nodded. “Often enough. It started when I was a kid. I used to talk to an old fellow who haunts a tavern—the place where I first met your cousin, by the way—and my parents thought I had an imaginary friend. I think, prior to that, I was intended to be an only child. No, I think I was a surprise myself. But I do know I made them decide to have another.”
“You must have been a wonderful kid.”
“Nope. I scared them. Anytime Rayna starts getting uppity with me, I remind her that she might not have existed if it weren’t for my ‘imaginary’ friends.”
“She gets uppity?”
“Occasionally.” He shook his head. “But not usually. She’s a good kid. And she’s the perfect product of Nashville. She loves music. In fact, she’s like a kid herself when she sees others perform.”
“Aha! It’s parental and sibling issues that plague you! We can work on that at the Horse Farm,” she said solemnly, but a small smile curved her lips.
He grinned, sitting back. “My parents are great people, too. They’re major-league academics and spend their lives pursuing interesting places and knowledge, even in retirement. They don’t see ghosts or believe in them. Ghosts aren’t scientifically verifiable, in their opinion. What about you? What’s your history with ghosts?”
She hesitated. “I’ve tried to avoid seeing them—or else I tell myself that I don’t see them. But of course Malachi always knew and when I needed someone to talk to about a ghost or...when I was scared, I talked to him.” She smiled. “You may already know this, but Malachi has a live-in ghost who’s friendly, charming and interesting. I’ve always seen General Cunningham, but I guess I usually pretend I don’t. None of this is easy.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not. So, tell me about the jerk who left you. Did that have to do with you seeing ghosts?”
“Ouch!” she said, straightening. “He’s not a jerk. No, it had nothing to do with ghosts. He never suspected I saw anything...unusual. He’s in music, like your sister. A producer. He had fabulous opportunities in Austin. He asked me to come with him, but I knew our relationship wasn’t really going anywhere. We were...comfortable together. That’s all we were by then. So, what about you? Did the love of your life slap you down in public for being too inquisitive?”
He laughed, setting down his fork. “No. No love of my life. In high school, I became involved with the police because I’d seen a ghost. Naturally, I didn’t tell them that.” He hesitated and then shrugged. Her life had been laid bare for him; no reason not to tell the truth. “I was dating the high school prom queen, the puppy love of my young life, when I met Sarah Sharman. She’s dead, by the way, and she was dead when I ‘met’ her.
“She was standing outside the alley where I’d wait for my sister. I’d pick her up after her private music class. So I talked with this young woman who seemed very sad. After I’d seen her a few times, I guess I wound up having an adolescent crush on her. I said I wanted to take her out somewhere, make her happy. She said, ‘Oh, Dustin, don’t you understand? I can’t go anywhere. I just stay here, and I watch and I wait and I try to help.’ Turns out this killer was kidnapping women and taking them to a derelict meat plant, and what he was doing before they died is...not dinner conversation. Anyway, she gave me some details that I passed on to the police, and they caught him before he could kill the next girl. I claimed I’d overheard a conversation in an alley. It all turned into a big deal, and I tried to hide from it. In the midst of talking to the police and the whole thing, I missed some school, missed some games...and my high school queen ended up with the quarterback.”
“That was your last affair?” she asked dubiously. “If affair’s the right word.”
He grinned. “The last one that broke my heart, anyway. I was seeing someone in Savannah for a while. But I was restless, and I wanted to go to the academy. So I guess I’m the jerk. I felt I had to leave. We split up.”
“And that was it?”
“Well, there were a few brief interludes. We never exchanged numbers.”
“Ohh,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means...oh.”
“You don’t approve.”
“I don’t think it’s any of my business.”
“You’ve never wanted to have a wild, fantastic night with no obligations?”
“Sounds...meaningless.”
He laughed. “Well, it is meaningless. That’s the point.”
“I guess it’s not me.”
“You’re never lonely? You’d never like a night where you were with someone, no commitment? Or where you just go out?”
She shrugged. “I—I’m boring, I guess. I don’t just go out. We don’t have that many places to just go out.”
“You never come to the city?”
“We do. Sometimes we all go to the Ryman Center for a concert, or come in to see a movie or...we go bowling.”
“Bowling is fun.”
“Bowling is fun!”
“Hey! I’m agreeing with you. So, let me get this straight. The guy you weren’t really in love with went to Austin. And you decided to remain unattached. Single and celibate?”
“No. Not that it’s your concern, but I haven’t decided anything.”
“Ah.”
“Ah, what?”
“Online dating!” he said. “That’s the answer.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “No, but don’t knock it. I do have friends who’ve found the loves of their lives through online dating.”
“I always wonder what happens when everything looks perfect but you meet someone and you just don’t gel.”
“Then you part ways. Maybe you should try online dating.”
“And what do I put? ‘Must love ghosts and be willing to spend long evenings waiting for them to appear’?”
She smiled at that and smoothed her napkin on the table. “Speaking of ghosts... We’ve got ten minutes to make the downtown ghost tour.”
“You really want to do it?”
“I really do.”
“Then let’s get going.”
He was afraid she’d argue over the check, but he insisted and she acquiesced. A few minutes later, he was finding parking downtown at the meeting spot, and they joined the group and listened to the stories. Dustin was astonished to realize what a good time he was having with her. They heard a few stories that might have occurred anywhere, like the one about the waitress who haunted a particular bar, serving up ale when people weren’t expecting it. Apparently she was still waiting for her soldier to return from the war. They heard about the four thousand Native Americans who died as U.S. policy forced them from their homes to reservations west of the Tennessee border. They went by the Ryman Auditorium—originally the Union Gospel Tabernacle and still undisputed mother church of country music. Dustin teased her that he could’ve given her a much better tour—an insider’s tour—if his sister had been home.
When they came to the capitol building, the guide went into a coughing fit and kept excusing himself. Olivia hurried to a nearby bar to get him some water. Dustin was actually feeling so comfortable and relaxed that he offered to tell the story. The distressed guide raised his eyebrows; Dustin launched in. Olivia, running back with a bottle of water, looked at him curiously.
He bowed to her and began his speech.
“When Tennessee first became a state, the capital was Knoxville—Nashville was the frontier back then, little more than a wilderness. But by 1806, Nashville was starting to thrive. Yeah...a lot of outlying areas were still wilderness, but she was now becoming a great city. An important city. So Nashville was voted as the capital but the seat of government was just a small building. In 1845, Architect William Strickland was hired to construct the new capitol building. He fought constantly with Samuel Morgan during the many years it took to get the building completed. Morgan, called the ‘Merchant Prince of Nashville,’ had been appointed by the Capitol Commission to oversee construction. The two men did not get into a duel or murder each other, but alas, they both died, William Strickland in 1854, Morgan some years later, in 1880. The capitol building wasn’t complete at Strickland’s death, but he would be interred in a vault within its walls. This honor went to only one other man—Samuel Morgan. Today, people believe, you can still hear the two of them, arguing eternally over the most minute details of construction.”
By then the guide had recovered. He asked if Dustin would mind if he took over again, and Dustin stepped back beside Olivia. Not thinking, he placed an arm around her shoulders. She laughed at the guide’s antics and didn’t seem to notice.
When the tour was over, he drove back to the small chain motel, where they checked into adjoining rooms under his name alone.
He bade Olivia good-night and went to his own room. He’d slipped his Glock into the top drawer of his bedside table and had stripped down to his briefs when there was a knock at the adjoining door.
He rose and walked over, opening it partially.
Olivia stood there in a sheer black gown with red trim. It might have been the most seductive garment he’d ever seen—on the most seductive body.
