Maybe if she produced results, he’d come around.
“Fine,” she ground out, then jabbed a finger at him. “But I want your participation. You can be my test subject by sharing your experiences on the property.”
His smirk dimmed. “I haven’t had any.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care.”
She folded her arms over her chest and shot him her own smug smile. “Then what will it hurt for you to sit at the bog with us and tell us what you’re not experiencing?”
He didn’t have an answer.
* * *
By the time Carly returned to the inn, the sky had darkened and the air turned cold. Her breath formed thin puffs of vapor as she left her car next to Andy’s van and hurried to the gray pebbledash two-story overlooking the sea. In the dark, she couldn’t see the water, but the slap of waves against wet sand filled her ears.
Inside, soft light fell over white walls and rose-colored carpets. The dining room off the hall was dark, the few round tables in the room empty. She and Andy were the only guests, and had told Mrs. Leonard, the owner, they wouldn’t be eating here tonight.
There was no sign of the woman now, nor her son or daughter-in law who helped her to manage the place. Maybe they had already retired to their apartment at the back of the building.
Carly mounted the stairs and made her way to Andy’s room instead of her own. A flutter of apprehension tickled low inside her. She wasn’t sure how Andy would react to the agreement she’d made with Meyers. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it herself.
He’d certainly kneecapped her investigation by refusing to allow for a test group, but his participation opened doors she hadn’t considered previously.
Carly had recorded several claims of a shadow man at Stonecliff, who showed an interest in Meyers’s sisters, Brynn and Eleri. It would be interesting to see if he too could draw out the phenomena, or if his presence increased activity compared to her and Andy on their own.
Outside Andy’s room, she knocked on his door.
“It’s open,” he called out.
Carly pushed open the door and stepped inside. His room was nearly identical to hers in size and function, but instead of blue frills and satin his were peach. Andy was stretched out on his bed, propped up on pillows and watching the telly perched on the long dresser opposite him.
“You’re back?” he said with a snort. “I’ve been waiting for a visit from the police, or a call to fetch you from the station.”
Carly pushed the door closed and shot him a wry smile. “Oh, ye of little faith. Mr. Meyers and I had a very reasonable conversation, and he’s agreed to let us investigate.”
He sat up. “Bullshit.”
“There are some caveats,” she dropped onto the corner of his bed.
Andy snorted. “Here it comes.”
“Anonymity is important, and he will not agree to a test group.”
“Then what good is access to The Devil’s Eye?”
“He’s agreed to act as a test subject for us.” She tensed, waiting for his response.
Andy rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t strike me as the most open-minded sort.”
“He’s skeptical,” Carly admitted, with a shrug. “But sometimes that’s better than someone who thinks every noise, every feeling is paranormal. And if he witnesses activity for himself, maybe he’ll change his mind.”
“If you think that’s all it will take.” Andy swung his feet to the floor and stood. “I might have something, then.”
“You found something?” A thin thrill shot through her.
He crossed the room to the equipment stacked against the wall near the door and grinned. “More than one something, actually, but this is the most impressive.” He brought out one of the recorders and set it on top of the dresser. “I already cued it up for you.”
He pressed play. A soft weeping filled the quiet room, low and possibly male, mingling with her voice and Andy’s in a discussion about readings, completely oblivious to the sobs.
“It sounds like someone crying. Could we have picked up—”
Andy held up his hand. “Just wait.”
Then a woman’s voice, a clear-as-crystal whisper through the speakers.
Goose bumps studded her skin.
Andy hit stop. “Do you think that will change his mind?”
She nodded slowly. “It might.”
Chapter Five
Swirling gray mist wrapped around Declan, icy and damp against his skin. The fog blotted out his surroundings except for the still, black waters stretched out before him. A shudder rippled through him. The urge to run tightened his calf muscles, yet he remained frozen, rooted to the ground at the water’s edge.
They’ll devour you.
His mother’s words spoken to him on her deathbed, the last thing she would ever say to him, whispered inside his mind, but not in his mother’s voice. He didn’t recognize the woman’s voice.
A faint odor of charred wood smoke teased at his nose and everything inside him squeezed tight.
Not her, he thought, heart slamming against his chest. Not again.
The water before him rippled and frothed. Something was moving beneath the surface, coming for him. His hands felt wet and sticky, and when he looked down they were streaked with blood.
His breath came fast and hard; he wanted to back away from the churning waters. Instead, his feet slid toward the edge of the bank. A man’s pale, slack face emerged from the roiling waters. His gaze locked on dead, staring eyes. His eyes. His face.
They’ll devour you.
Declan woke with a jolt. His eyes flew open and fixed on the unfamiliar ceiling. Where was he? A confused vertigo gripped his mind before memory swept over him like a wave. Stonecliff.
He closed his eyes and let out the breath he’d been holding, sagging against the mattress. A stupid dream. Was it any wonder, after his bizarre conversation with Carly?
A part of him still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to let her come back or to take part in her craziness, but maybe she’d offer him some explanation for the things he’d seen.
He reached for his phone on the night table to check the time. Nearly five-thirty. He doubted he’d be falling back to sleep.
Throwing back the covers, he sat up and rubbed his tired eyes. Cool air chilled his bare legs and chest. He grabbed up his jeans from yesterday and dragged them over his boxers, then pulled on a sweater. Damp, drafty air still wrapped around him. He crossed the room to the fireplace and tossed a log on the smoldering coals—all that was left of last night’s fire.
He’d left the light on in the en suite, its soft glow spilling into the shadowy room, and the lamp between the two chairs facing the hearth—all in an attempt to chase away the shadow man. He shook his head in mild disgust. He hadn’t slept with a light on since he was kid too young to have started school.
He dropped into the chair at the small writing table next to the window. He had a few hours before the rest of the house woke—before Carly Evans showed up banging at his door—he might as well get a little work done, make some effort at running his business.
Once again, he considered how much easier and more comfortable he would be set up in the study, and once again a thick