“You have their addresses?” Gail asked.
“Sure, we have them,” Javier said.
“Then you go after the closest one. That’s Robbins, right?” Gail asked.
“Yes, Robbins.”
“Okay, we’ll take a second to see if there’s a focus here and then head for the Nichols’ residence,” Gail said.
“Sounds okay,” Marta said. She opened the gate and trotted forward.
She shouldered her shotgun on its sling as she reached me. Grabbing my head with both her hands, she pulled my face down to hers and kissed me hard.
“Come on, Marta, we don’t have time for that,” her brother yelled and started for the exit with Bruno.
“He’s right, we’re in a time crunch here,” Gail said, and then added, “So get your lips off my partner and go after yours.”
Marta pulled back from me, I had forgotten I could blush, but I could feel the growing warmth of my face. Marta winked, pulled a card from a pocket, and shoved it into my hand. “Good to see you again, amoroso. Call me.”
She patted my cheek and then turned to run after her brother.
I watched until she disappeared around the far end of the row of shelves. Marta, hmmm, good memories.
“You want to wipe that grin off your face and help me see if there’s a focus?”
I dropped the grin and turned to Gail. She had taken the EMF meter out and turned it back on.
“Ah, sorry about that, Gail. We’re, ah, good friends.”
“So I gathered,” Gail said without looking up. “Not my problem, unless it interferes with your work.”
“My work? You mean hunting? Hell, Gail, Marta and I separated nearly three years ago. I’m sure she’s found someone else.”
The EMF meter chirped and settled back down. Gail raised it as high as she could and then swept it back toward the floor. The chirp didn’t repeat.
“If she’d found someone else do you think she wouldn’t have stuck her tongue down your throat or is she that kind of girl?” Gail asked.
“If you must know, she’s a lot like you, I think that was what drew me to her in the first place,” I said.
Gail took a few more steps down the row of shelves and swept the meter from side to side. It chirped once again, but this time the lowest LED remained lit. “Seriously, Jesse? You’re going with that?”
“Going with what?”
“Trying to compare Marta to me. I’ve known her for years and I don’t see any resemblance.”
“It’s not a physical like, it’s an attitude thing. Headstrong, determined to get your way, willing to fight for what you believe in.” I briefly, very briefly, considered mentioning how similar the two women were in bed, but sanity overcame the impulse. After all, I did want to keep breathing.
“Spare me the—” Gail stopped as the EMF meter pegged and chirped loudly. She held it closer to a shelf on the left and the chirp turned into a continuous shrill cry.
The nearest object was a pair of thin silver armbands. She picked up the closest one and saw that it was two armbands fastened together by about ten inches of silver chain.
“You think that’s the focus?” I asked.
“I suspect it is.” She held it up to the light. “There’s writing on it. I didn’t think the Mounds Indians had a written language. We’ll have to destroy it. I have a torch in my pack, but I think we’d better start for Nichols’ place. Someone may have heard the shooting and called the cops.”
Chapter 15 – Flashback
I brought the van to a screeching halt in the circular drive of the white colonial, two-story house about a mile from Murray Hall. Gail had her backpack over her shoulders and her door open before I could kill the engine. As I reached for my own bag, a man’s scream came from inside the house. Gail took off at a run, leaving me trying to decide whether to stop and shut the van’s doors. Figuring we might have to leave in a hurry, I left the doors opened and ran after her.
Her shotgun sounded, twice, as I hit the steps to the front porch. Gail finished blasting both locks from the massive wood door and planted a solid kick beside the twin holes. The door flew back on its hinges and Gail rushed through the entrance. Another cry came from the second floor, this one a woman’s voice, higher and fuller-throated than the previous scream.
Gail crossed the tiled foyer and hit the broad wood stairs to the second floor, taking them two at a time with me stomping loudly up the stairs on her heels. The second-floor landing was dark, but to our left a gold glow came from under double doors at the end of the hall. Gail made the turn as I reached the landing and ran the length of the short corridor in a few strides. She left the floor six feet from the door and planted both feet in the right side door just above the handle. The doors flew backward to bang loudly against the walls. Gail sailed into the master bedroom and landed in a crouch, shotgun at the ready, just inside the doorway. I snapped my own shotgun to my shoulder as I braked to a stop directly behind Gail.
A woman sat on the bed, partially under the covers. The middle-aged woman was the obvious source of the last scream. A man, her husband, stood in the doorway to a large walk-in closet on the back wall. The professor held a revolver in his hand and shakily aimed it at the glowing figure emerging from the master bathroom. It was the specter from the university storage room.
The professor cast a glance our way. Apparently, he decided the specter was the real threat. His head whipped back around and he unloaded half the revolver in three quick shots. Of course, none of the bullets had any effect on the ghost.
The specter raised one hand and slowly clenched it into a
