broad shoulders trembled. His jaw was so tight, I thought it might snap. His eyes flashed as he stood as straight as an arrow and listened to Stone.
“Mr. President.” Jeremiah Stone bowed slightly. The overhead light gleamed off the part in the center of his hair. “We are not scheduled for another cabinet meeting until tomorrow, sir. Yet you sound as if you need my help on a matter of some consequence. We shall certainly attend to it, sir. But first . . .” He was carrying his leather portfolio. Of course he was carrying his leather portfolio. This was one ghost on a mission, and he intended to carry it out. Even if it took him more than a hundred years. “There are some papers that require your signature, sir, and —”
“Papers!” President Garfield was a sight to behold! Remember how I once said that if I was casting a Biblical epic, I’d give him the starring role as God? Well, this was an Old Testament God, all right. Furious, and raging like Lake Erie when a sudden storm kicked up. He closed in on Stone, who by this time, was shaking in his boots. The president poked a finger at Stone’s chest. “You are the blackguard who engineered this infernal treaty with our Canadian friends to the north.” The President poked him again. Stone backed up another step.
“You are the one who sought to profit by it.” Another poke. Another step.
“You knew in those last days I was not thinking clearly. You fully intended me to sign the paper without knowing what it was I put my name on and I have no doubt you intended to profit from the perfidy.” He poked yet again, and by this time, Stone’s heels skirted the edge of the shadows that surrounded the dais. “Even after all these years, your diabolical deed haunts your wretched soul. That is why you still insist I put my signature on the treaty. You have sought, over and again, to make me a partner to your despicable deed. You, sir . . .” The president pulled himself up to his full height, and I swear, in the play of light and shadow, he looked bigger and more imposing than that statue of him nearby.
“You are a vile and pathetic devil, and I want you out of my sight.”
With a little yelp, Stone folded in on himself. “But sir, I thought . . . I thought . . .”
“I neither know nor care what you thought then or now, Stone. I know simply that you are a traitor to your president and to your country.” The president pointed into the darkness beyond the shadows. “Leave my sight. Now and forever. There is no more cowardly or mean-spirited creature upon the earth than a man who betrays his nation.”
“But Mr. President, I—”
“Be gone!” Like a lightning strike, the command shook the foundations of the memorial, and Stone had no choice but to obey it. He slunk off into the darkness, and just as he stepped into the shadows, I saw him pop into nothingness. I knew I’d never see him again.
The president must have known it, too. By the time he turned back to me, he looked like his old self again. He was worn out, but satisfied, too. A small smile played over his lips. “It seems that, after all, I did have unfinished business to attend to. I owe you my thanks, Miss Martin.”
“Does this mean you’ll go? I mean, over to the Other Side?”
The president looked around the memorial, from the high glittering dome above our heads to those stained glass windows, their colors muted by the nighttime sky outside. “I think I rather enjoy being president,” he said. “And without Stone’s infernal badgering . . .” His eyes twinkled and he allowed a full-fledged smile to break through his stony expression. “I will no doubt see you now and again,” he said. “Good night, Miss Martin.”
The light around him was phosphorescent when he shimmered away. I realized that I was smiling, too, when I said, “Good night, Mr. President.”
My work was done. One bully of an IT geek taken care of. One murderer caught. One low-down dirty aide to a president finally put in his place after more than a hundred years.
As evenings went, this was a productive one.
With a sigh of contentment and the promise of a nice hot shower, my jammies, and a glass of wine I figured I’d more than earned, I locked up the memorial, started across the wide veranda and toward the steps, and—
Ran right into Ball Cap Guy.
Startled, I jumped back and pressed a hand to my heart. “Oh!” It was hardly up there with clever or even productive things to say, but after all that had already happened that night, I was not thinking clearly. I swallowed my surprise and scrambled to gather the last shreds of a patience that had been long since worn thin by the events of the last few hours.
“Who are you?” I asked the man. “What do you want?”
When I jumped back, I’d left what was still a less-than-comfortable space between us. He shuffled toward me and closed it.
“Pepper.” His eyes were on me in a way that made a cold sweat break out on the back of my neck. I had my keys in my hand and I poked them through my fingers the way those defend-yourself articles in the ladies magazine always advise. I hoped Ball Cap Guy didn’t hear the keys clinking together when my hands shook.
“Pepper,” he said again, and his voice was soft and reminded me of the sound a too-ripe tomato makes when it gets squished. “Pepper, I want you.”
If it wasn’t so dark and I wasn’t so alone, I might have tried for a smile and tossed off some cute comment like, “That’s what all the boys say, but sorry, I’m booked solid.”
But it was dark. And I was alone. And I didn’t feel much like being cute.
I stepped to my left.
Ball Cap Guy stepped to his right. The security light glimmered against the blade of the knife in his hands.
Honestly, hadn’t I had enough excitement for one night? Choked, shot at, now stabbed? It was enough to make me laugh.
Except that it wasn’t the least little bit funny.
I swallowed. Or at least I tried. My mouth was dry and sandy. My smile was anemic, but hey, I had to try.
“That’s really nice,” I said, and I wondered if he could hear me over the noise my heart was making as it slammed against my ribs. “But I—”
“No buts. Not this time.” He took another step closer. I gauged the distance to the steps and from the steps to the wide lawn in front of the memorial, and from the lawn to my car. I braced myself and wondered how fast a doughy guy in sneakers could run. “You’re coming home with me,” he said, and shivers of panic raced up my spine. “I’m going to take care of you, Pepper. I’m going to show you how much I love you.”
Oh yeah, this was creepy. I wished my phone wasn’t in my purse, but when I made an attempt to fumble for it, he raised the knife. “You have to come with me,” he said, and his words were like ice on my skin. “If I can’t have you, nobody can.”
“You can’t.” Brave words. Too bad I sounded like a scared little kid. I tried reinforcing the idea with a shake of my head. “You have to go now. Before the cops come back. You saw them here earlier, right? Well, one of them—the guy with the really big gun—he’s coming back to pick me up and he’ll be here in just a couple minutes. He’s kind of cranky. You don’t want him to find you here with that knife. If he does—”
“If I can’t have you, nobody can!” The words gushed out of him in one breath, and as he said them, he moved at me so fast, all I could do was stumble back against the building. I found myself with my back against the front door and that gleaming knife just inches from my neck.
“When he comes back, he’ll find you here,” the man purred. “But he’s going to find you dead.”
Just as I shot to my right and fell to my knees, I saw the flash of the knife. But then I saw another flash, too, one that was brighter and crackled with electricity.
President Garfield popped out of thin air and materialized at my side.
Ball Cap Guy’s jaw dropped. His eyes were as round as baseballs and his hands hung loose at his sides. He backed up a step.
“You must leave the premises this very moment,” the president thundered. “You must stay far from Miss Martin now and forever. Do you hear me, sir? She does not desire your inappropriate attentions, and she will tolerate them no further. I will tolerate them no further!” The words boomed around us like jet engines, and believe me, Ball Cap Guy got the message.
By this time, he was blubbering. He backed up another step, then another, before he took off running. But it was dark, and he was so busy staring over his shoulder at the president’s ghost, he didn’t watch where he was
