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"Oh hell," I muttered.
That wasn't mist.
Chapter 18
I closed my eyes, then opened them. The wavering white cloud remained, more solid than a fog yet unidentifiable as anything else.
The phone had stopped ringing again. I held my own stupidly against my ear. With stiff movements, I closed it, then shoved it into my pocket, never taking my eyes from the billowing white. Maybe the place was haunted after all.
I wouldn't be surprised. Four thousand Cherokee had died on the Trail of Tears. Why wouldn't some of their ghosts come back here?
I wasn't afraid of spirits. I didn't think. I'd never seen one.
Nevertheless, I held my breath, my entire body tense, quivering as I hovered between flight and fight. How did one fight a specter?
The worry became moot as the wavering mass solidified into a woman, and Grace popped out of the trees wearing nothing but a white cotton robe.
She came to a stop when she saw me in the yard. We stood blinking at each other.
"What are you - ?" we said at the same time, then fell silent.
"Problem?" Grace tilted a brow.
I wasn't sure if she meant in town or with her running around the forest wearing not much more than a bath sheet. It didn't take X-ray vision to see that beneath the robe she was naked.
"Claire?" Grace stalked past me toward the house. "Is there a problem in town?"
"No. I mean yes. Well, not in town. "
She cast a withering glance over her shoulder, her dark hair swinging loose, appearing even darker against the white of the robe.
"Focus. " She turned the knob.
I frowned. The door had been locked. Or maybe I didn't know how to twist it just right. Old houses were tricky that way.
"I tried to call you," I said. "I heard your cell phone ringing - "
Grace reached into a pocket, then held up her phone and waggled it.
"Why didn't you answer?"
"Must have fallen out. Lucky you called or I might never have found it. "
"What were you doing out there?"
Grace disappeared inside, leaving the door open, which I took as an invitation, and I followed her.
The place was much as I remembered - an old house, updated bit by bit over the years. The color of the paint had changed. New carpet brightened the hall, as well as the new furniture in the living room. The hardwood floors shone a bit brighter than they had when Grace's father lived here.
Other than that, the kitchen had been remodeled in the eighties and still sported teal appliances and peach and white vinyl floor tile. Yummy.
Water ran in the small half bath off the hall, then the door opened, and Grace appeared fully dressed in cutoffs and a blue tie-dyed T-shirt. "Want a drink?"
She headed for the kitchen. I had no choice but to join her or stand in the hall alone.
Grace straightened away from the refrigerator, then tossed a beer at my head. I bobbled the can but managed a save. When I popped the top, the beer fizzed up so fast I had to slug some down or make a mess.
Taking a long sip of her own brew, she stared out the dark square of window that overlooked her yard. "I heard something," she said slowly.
