Dreams of Idlewood Page 7

  “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but have you heard from Rachel?”

  “Uh, no, I haven’t. Why?”

  “Janice Kowalski called and was looking for her. She didn’t come home last night.”

  Ashland grinned. “It sounds to me like Rachel and Angus made up. They probably hooked up and she stayed over. Don’t you have his number?”

  I sighed with relief. He was probably right about that. “I think so. You think I should call him?”

  “Well, no. It’s not even eight o’clock yet. Let the girl get a chance to get home before you call and bust her. If Jan hasn’t heard from her by this afternoon, then call him.” He put the lid back on the storage container and slid it back in the closet.

  “Yeah, you are probably right. I should get back downstairs to the kid. You need any help in here?”

  “No, I found what I was looking for,” he said. And he wasn’t anxious to show me what he’d found.

  “Great. Have fun cleaning your office.” I left him alone and spent the rest of the morning bathing the baby, playing outside in the yard with him and thinking about my family. I wanted to call Momma, but I also wanted to give her space. It was a lovely fall day, warm enough that we didn’t need jackets, but I put the baby in a cute blue turtleneck and corduroy pants. He wasn’t actually walking yet, but he liked to pull up on things and he absolutely adored the yard. We sat in the grass and played with toys. As he had a good time I let my mind wander. I wondered what Chance had been like as a baby. I was too young to remember our short time together. I wondered if he’d been fussy or quiet. Did he cry all the time? What did he like to eat? What games had we played together? I felt a great sense of loss, but then I reminded myself that there was still a chance I would see him again. Anything was possible.

  Baby Boy started to get fussy. He was tired and so was I. I decided to go inside and forage for a healthy lunch since I’d be on my own.

  “Babe? I’m taking off. Be home in a couple of hours.”

  “Enjoy yourself. Say, ‘Bye, Daddy!’” I waved the baby’s hand while he fussed. Yep, it was almost nap time. My son and I snacked on fruit and he drank his fruit juice before he began rubbing his eyes. Fifteen minutes later, Baby Boy was dozing and I carried him upstairs and put him in his crib. I was just about to call Jan to see if Rachel had come home yet when somebody knocked on the door and startled the heck out of me.

  When I peeked through the glass I almost fell on the floor. The face of David Garrett was looking back at me! I sure wasn’t expecting that! I stepped back and caught my breath. Okay, Carrie Jo. Think reasonably. I peeked again. The face looking back at me belonged to Austin Simmons, not David Garrett. But how does he know our address? What if this was work-related? I cracked opened the door and greeted him with a cautious smile. “Mr. Simmons? May I help you?”

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Stuart. I know this is an inconvenience and I am sorry to bother you at home, but I wonder if it is possible to have a moment of your husband’s time.” What an odd experience, staring into the face of someone from my dreams. Someone I didn’t trust. I wasn’t sure if I trusted this new incarnation either.

  “Ashland had to step out for a minute. Is there something I can help you with? If you have questions about Seven Sisters…”

  “It’s not that. I’ll come back if you like. Will you please give him my card? And it’s important that we speak soon. Please?”

  “Sure, Mr. Simmons. I’ll give him your card.” He handed me the card and said with a striking smile, “I do appreciate it. Have a nice day, ma’am.” I watched him climb behind the wheel of his silver Mercedes and ease down the driveway. I closed the door behind me and stared at the crisp white card. I read it twice, hardly believing what I read.

  Austin Simmons

  Ad lucem

  I knew it was Latin, but darned if I knew what that meant. A few minutes later I was on my laptop searching the phrase.

  “To the light?” I said to myself. “What does that mean?” I then searched for “Austin Simmons” and added “Mobile, Alabama.” Nothing. Nada. I took off “Mobile, Alabama” and tried again. There were about a hundred hits, but at first glance I didn’t spot his face on any of the social media profiles. I tried the online yellow pages. Nothing there either. I tapped into a few more reliable search engines and came up with zero.

  I was beginning to doubt if Austin Simmons even existed.

  Chapter Eight – Jan

  “Come on, Bree. Let’s go to the Stuarts’ house. No sense in sitting here and doing nothing—I don’t care what the police say. I’m not waiting forty-eight hours to file a missing person report. That’s ridiculous!”

  “I’m with you, but let me drive.” I didn’t argue with her. My daughter needed to feel in control of something right now. That was her nature, so practical. Much more practical than I.

  “Fine! Whatever, but let’s go now.”

  Sabrina put the car in reverse and headed toward the Stuarts’ house on Government Street. I didn’t bother to call—a phone call wouldn’t have satisfied me anyway. I wanted everyone searching for my granddaughter. I found Angus’ phone number on the card Rachel had in her desk, but he swore he hadn’t seen her. Naturally my phone call launched a dozen questions from him, and I answered none. I wasn’t in the mood to play nice with the boy. I hung up and knew immediately that she was in trouble. That was not an intuition that I shared with Sabrina now.

  “Mom, we’ll find her. I’m sure she’s okay. She has to be okay, right?” Her eyes searched my face for assurance, but I couldn’t give it to her. I didn’t know what to say. Our Rachel had never done anything like this before, not even during her rebellious stage when she dyed her hair purple and got the Pegasus tattoo she didn’t think I knew about.

  “Here it is. This is it.”

  She pulled into the driveway, and I didn’t waste any time getting to the front door. Carrie Jo answered right away and immediately knew something was wrong. “No sign of her yet?”

  “No. I’m assuming you haven’t heard anything either?”

  Carrie Jo’s son began fussing in the other room. “No. Not a word. Oh goodness, Ashland James is in rare form today. Y’all come inside. I’ll call Momma to see if she can watch him for me, and then we’ll start looking. Have y’all been to Idlewood yet?”

  “No, not yet. I didn’t think it would do any good without the keys. She’s got her keys with her.”

  “Okay, give me a sec. Be right back, Baby Boy.”

  Sabrina and I played with the baby as we waited. He was a sweet child, with a perfectly round face and a playful personality, but I couldn’t enjoy the time with him. I was anxious to get the search started.

  A few minutes later she returned with a worried look on her face. “My mom is on the way and Ashland is almost home. I’m going to run up and grab my shoes. You guys got him?”

  “He’s fine.” Sabrina sat next to the baby, who immediately started crying for his mother as CJ disappeared up the stairs.

  I whispered to Sabrina, “I hope she hurries.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. We’ll find her. Rachel is too practical to get in trouble. She’s street smart.”

  I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat. “You and I both know that’s probably where she went.” I rubbed my forehead with my hand. “This is my fault. I know it is. I told her to embrace her gift, but I had no idea she would get hurt. I know she’s in danger. I can feel it!” I blinked back tears, and Sabrina stared at me.

  “Stop that, Mom! Don’t talk like that. She probably fell asleep while she was working. You know she’s a workaholic. Don’t start blaming yourself. What is it you always say? ‘Don’t borrow trouble’? Now stop.” Sabrina’s tone surprised the heck out of me, but it was enough to shake me out of beating myself up.

  Carrie Jo bounded back down the stairs and sat on the couch next to us while she tied her shoes. She’d pulled her hair back and was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. “Tell me exactly what happened,
y’all. When was the last time you heard from her?”

  We told her what we knew and by the time we’d finished, Ashland and Deidre had arrived. My mind was totally on Rachel, but Ashland’s appearance disturbed me. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes, as if he were guilty of something. Major.

  “Have the police been notified?”

  “Yes, but we were told to wait forty-eight hours. We can’t do that.”

  “Well, I drove by the house on the way here. Her car is there. She’s got to be there. I checked around the porch and stuff, but it was locked up tight.” When Ashland glanced at me, I could see his blue eyes were worried but not necessarily about Rachel. His face was white, despite his tan. Yes, indeed. Something was amiss with him too.

  “Let’s go then.” I headed toward the door and left them all behind. I didn’t give a hoot who came along. My grandbaby needed me! I wasn’t a psychic, just a sensitive, but I’d been in tune to my daughter’s and granddaughter’s energy for years. As I sat in the car waiting for the group to take their cars too, I was so impatient now, too impatient to be my age.

  “They’ll meet us there. Henri and Detra Ann are coming too.”

  “The more the merrier, but if Rachel’s car is there, she should be there too.”

  Sabrina focused on driving down Government Street while I offered up a few silent prayers. She was doing a much better job than I would have been. The traffic was too heavy—didn’t these people know it was Sunday? A few minutes later we were pulling into the driveway of the big house.

  Idlewood’s exterior had largely been redone, the old “plaster” concoction of ground oyster shells, pig bristles, lime and sand sloughed off and replaced with some new stucco that was supposed to last for twenty years. It was mold-resistant and could easily be replaced if the occasion called for it. I knew all this because of Rachel. She’d scattered the living room floor with pictures of Idlewood when they first got the job. She knew more about the house than probably everyone in the room right now. That didn’t make me like it any better. Even in the bright light of day it reminded me of a great big mausoleum. Nope. I didn’t like the place, and I hadn’t been quiet about it.

  “Oh, Gran. She’s an exceptional architectural beauty,” Rachel had said. “She’s got it all. Spacious, shady porches, high-ceilinged rooms, jobbed windows, paneled doors, slate hearths and even silver-plated doorknobs. I love every inch of her.” Of course, all this praise was before she’d encountered the ghost girl, Trinket Ferguson.

  My stomach sank at the sight of Rachel’s empty car sitting off to the left side of the driveway. It didn’t look like she had car troubles—the tires were intact, the hood wasn’t up and nothing appeared to be broken. I immediately began searching the car while the others fanned out to look around. Her keys were in the ignition. The smiley-faced frog dangled there like everything was perfectly fine. My granddaughter was not missing. Nothing was wrong. Go home, Gran. In the passenger seat was her quilted purse, but there wasn’t much else. The car was neat and tidy, just like Rachel herself.

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t handle the car too much. You know, in case law enforcement needs to dust it for prints.” Bree touched my shoulder and tried to pull me out of the car. I handed her the keys.

  “You watch too much television, Bree.” My comment stung her, but I didn’t care. Rachel needed us!

  “Rachel! Rachel!” Bree left me staring at the car and began to walk through the orchard calling for her daughter. I joined her. I needed to stop being an ass—that wasn’t helping anyone.

  “Rachel-girl! Where are you?”

  Soon Rachel’s name was echoing around the property; other than a few odd shoe prints that disappeared into the orchard, we didn’t find her. That was both encouraging and discouraging. No bits of clothing or obvious signs of a struggle, but then again, no Rachel either. “We need a bloodhound out here. By the time those cops get involved, whatever tracks there are will be washed away. It’s supposed to come a gully washer tonight.”

  Bree didn’t engage in conversation with me; she kept calling for Rachel. We heard nothing. Not a peep. “Let’s join the others. I think they went inside. There have to be at least fifty rooms in there.” My daughter’s voice quivered as she continued, “I wish I hadn’t done it, Mom. I should never have given up the gift. She needs me now, and I can’t reach her.”

  I put my arm around her and hugged her to me as we walked up the hill. “I have the gift, and it isn’t helping me right now. Let’s stop blaming ourselves and focus on finding Rachel. Like you said, we’ll find her. Uh-oh. Look who’s here.” We paused and waited for Angus to park his ugly green car. I couldn’t make up my mind if I liked this guy or not. Mostly I didn’t, but that was because of what I knew. He was bad news and not just because the supernatural went on high alert whenever he was around. Like with Ashland’s earlier evasiveness, I felt like Angus was not being completely honest with us all. But then I was naturally suspicious of people. Normally Southern women my age take up tomato growing or fill their lives with cats. Not me. I liked examining people. I liked getting to the bottom of a good secret. And Angus was definitely an enigma. Maybe because he was the first true Scotsman I’d met in Alabama. Why was he here?

  “I thought I could help.”

  “I don’t know how much help you’ll be. You’re a spirit magnet, and we don’t need spirits confusing things right now; we need to find Rachel,” I barked at him. His face fell, and I followed that up with, “But since you are here, come on.” We walked into the house and could hear the others calling Rachel’s name.

  After searching for what felt like hours, we all gathered downstairs. There were seven of us in all. At least that was a lucky number. Carrie Jo paced while the rest of us sat around the parlor. “Okay, so we know that she’s here or she was here.”

  “No, we know her car is here. Does anybody know for sure that she was actually here?” Ashland asked. Everyone stared at him, and he shrugged. “What? I want to make sure we don’t assume anything. Who saw her last?”

  “I guess we did,” Bree said. “She was going for a drive, but she didn’t tell us where she was going. I just figured she needed some space.”

  Angus cleared his throat. “I asked her to come here but not by herself. I wanted us to explore the house together, do some ghost hunting. She said no and told me to leave. I didn’t think she’d go by herself.” I shivered as he spoke. Was it getting colder in here?

  Nobody said anything for a minute. The tall blonde, Detra Ann, leaned forward and asked him directly, “And you had no idea she was coming to Idlewood? You didn’t come with her?”

  “I didn’t know, and no, she wasn’t game for that at all. I mean, we did come here once before, but that was at least six months ago. She wouldn’t let me come back and document. This evening I guess I pushed her too hard. I don’t know.” Detra Ann leaned back, satisfied that he’d been telling the truth.

  “What else, Angus?” I prompted him. “Tell them the rest of your story.”

  “You know?”

  “Yes. I’m her grandmother.” I didn’t feel the need to explain that I’d been eavesdropping on their conversation last night. “Of course she would tell me.” Bree’s hurt expression went largely ignored by the rest of the group. She picked the wrong time to get sensitive about Rachel. I continued, “Tell them, please. It might help us get into Rachel’s head.”

  “All right, if you think it will help Rachel, but I can’t be responsible for what happens.”

  Henri said, “Wait. Do you mind if I record this? It might help us later.” He glanced at Carrie Jo and Angus. Neither objected, so he pressed the record button and we listened to Angus explain his connection to the house—I was hearing this for the second time. He didn’t vary his story, not one iota, which did my heart good.

  With a sigh of relief he completed his confession. “I’m not proud that I kept who I was a secret from Rachel or any of you, but I didn’t want to put anyone at risk. Whatever it was that pun
ched me in the driveway that first day I met Rachel, I have felt it before. It never left me, and I know it all started here.”

  “Could it be possible that you are somehow kin to the Fergusons? They were from an ancient Scottish clan. It’s obvious you are Scottish too. I don’t want to assume, but do you know anything about your own history?”

  “A little bit, and yes, it could be possible.”

  Ashland rose first and walked to the window. Naturally all eyes were upon him since he saw ghosts the most often. When he didn’t say anything, I slapped my leg and said, “I can’t just sit here. Let’s search again. We still have a few hours of daylight, and there’s a lot of property to cover.”

  Carrie Jo watched Ashland for a minute, obviously hoping he could add something to the here and now, but he kept his mouth shut. Fine time to abandon your gift, buddy! I wished I could see what he saw. Maybe the spirits could point me toward my granddaughter. Well, it couldn’t hurt to ask.

  “You are right, Jan,” Carrie Jo said. “We should look again.” She glanced at her watch. “I don’t think we have hours, though. More like an hour and a half. The days are so short now.”

  Henri turned off the recorder and held out his hand to his wife. “Let’s go to the garconniere. Rachel was reluctant to go there last night. Maybe she went back to check it out.”

  “No,” Ashland said, his voice low with an edge of warning to it. “Nobody goes to the tower except me. Everyone stay here. I’ll be back.”

  “No, Ashland!” Detra Ann barked at him. “That’s not going to happen. We don’t go exploring alone. You know that.”

  “You can’t do this, Detra Ann. I have to go by myself. If someone is with me, it’s a distraction. There is something here on this property, but it feels different. Real different. It’s elusive. I don’t know how else to describe it, but it doesn’t feel the same. Not ghostlike.”