“So Regan tells me. And, of course, I know the area through my studies. It must have been interesting growing up on one of the major battlefields of the Civil War.”
“Rafe was always more into that than me. The land doesn’t care if it’s historical, as long as it’s tended.”
“So you’re not interested in the history?”
“Not particularly.” The truck rumbled over the bridge that spanned the piece of the Potomac River between Virginia and Maryland. “I know it,” he added. “You can’t live there all your life and not know it. But I don’t give it a lot of attention.”
“And the ghosts?”
“I don’t give them a lot of attention, either.”
A smile shadowed her mouth. “But you know of them.”
Again he moved his shoulders. “Part of the package. You want to talk to the rest of the family about that. They’re more into it.”
“Yet you live and work on a farm that’s supposedly haunted.”
“Supposedly.” He didn’t care to talk about it, or think about it. “Look, Regan mentioned something about you coming out to do whatever it is you do—”
“To study and record any paranormal activity.” Her smile spread. “It’s just a hobby.”
“Yeah, well, you’d be better off at the old Barlow place, the house Rafe and Regan put back together. It’s a bed-and-breakfast now—one of my other sisters-in-law runs it. It’s lousy with ghosts, if you believe in that sort of thing.”
“Mmm… It’s on my list. In fact, I’m hoping they can squeeze me in for a while. I’d like to stay there. And from what Regan told me, you have a large house. I’d like to stay there, too.”
He wouldn’t mind the company, but the purpose didn’t sit well with him. “Regan didn’t mention how long you were planning on being around.”
“That depends.” She looked out the window as he took a route through a cut in the mountains. “It depends on how long it takes me to find what I want to find, and how long it takes to document it.”
“Don’t you have, like, a job?”
“I’m taking a sabbatical.” The word had such marvelous possibilities, she closed her eyes to savor them. “I have all the time in the world, and I intend to enjoy it.” Opening her eyes again, she saw the glint from the little gold earring in the ashtray. “Don’t worry, farm boy. I won’t cramp your style. When the time comes, you can tuck me into some little room in the attic. I’ll do my thing, you can do yours.”
He started to comment, but she made some soft, strangled sound and sat bolt upright in the seat. “What?”
She could only shake her head, absorbed in the jarring sense of déjà vu. The hills rose up, grass green against outcroppings of silver rocks. In the distance, the higher mountains were purple shadows against hazy skies. Fields, high with green stalks of corn, thick with summer grains, rolled back from the road. On a sloping embankment, black-and-white cows stood as still as if they were on a postcard.
Woods, dark and thick, ranged along a field, while a winding creek bubbled along the verge.
“It looks just as it should,” she murmured softly. “Exactly. Perfect.”
“Thanks. It’s MacKade land.” He slowed the truck a little, out of pride. “You can’t see the house this time of year. Trees are too thick. It’s back down that lane.”
She saw the rough gravel road, the way it swung left and followed the line of trees. With her heart thudding dully in her breast, she nodded.
Come hell or high water, she thought, she was going back there. And she would stay until she found all the answers to all the questions that plagued her.
She took a deep breath, turned to him. “How far to town?”
“Just a few miles now.” His eyes narrowed with concern. She’d gone dead pale. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.” But she did open the window to take a deep gulp of late summer. “I’m just fine.”
Chapter 2
Through the display window of her shop, Regan saw the truck pull up to the curb. With a child in each arm, she dashed outside.
“Dr. Knight.”