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Red woofed as if he were offering to go up to the second floor with her.
“It’s okay. I’ve got this, Red!” she said, setting her hand on his head and then going up the stairs.
Megan was at her door.
“Am I late?” she asked. “I’m sorry. I just—”
“Is something wrong?” Colleen asked her.
“Other than the Viking following me around all day? I mean, he’s probably fine when he’s really working, but the guy is taller than most other human beings and, anyway, I guess it was good he was worried, but I don’t think I was in danger in the souvenir shops—or the bookstore! Oh, I do love national park bookstores!”
“I do too.”
“I was back in plenty of time. I admit I was glad the Viking was following me at times. Because I can’t get Rory Ayers’s words out of my head.”
“I’ve been thinking about them too,” Colleen admitted. “But come on! Let’s go. We’re all on vacation. And you deserve it. My making fun of you for trying to save a puppy was—”
“I know. I’m amazed I was as calm as I was.” Megan gave Colleen a sudden hug. “I knew you would come for me.”
“With help. Anyway, let’s go down. We already ran into Rickie, and he’s going to ‘haunt’ the tour tonight so he can see you.”
“Great! Let’s go.”
There was a lot of walking to be done at Harpers Ferry, and much of it up and down. But for their ghost tour, they headed to the area known as the Lower Town. It was downhill. There was some traffic on the road, but there seemed to be heavier foot traffic that night. And there was plenty of space for Red to sniff about and wag his tail and behave like any dog might.
Their tour met near the old arsenal.
Their guide was good. He laughed. He explained history, legend—and what folks said happened here and there that could be taken as truth—or not.
They heard again about John Brown’s raid on Harpers Ferry and how the first man killed was Dangerfield Newby, an African American man with Brown. The frightened townspeople had stuffed their weapons with anything, and he’d been hit with a barrage of spikes and nails.
After the raid, they had viciously desecrated the man’s body.
Now it was said there were nights when he ran through the streets screaming.
“Poor fellow has the right to run around screaming,” Ragnar muttered.
Colleen grinned at the comment and then frowned, not sure if she was hearing something strange at the back of her mind or not.
“Yes, I heard them whispering about you, you freak,” a voice said. “Some of the cops think you’re crazy. I just think you’re the monster who brought good men down. Go ahead! Nod if you can hear me.”
She frowned.
The guide was talking.
Even Red seemed to be paying attention to him.
But she nodded.
The voice went on, “Look to your left. To the far end of the street. It’s dark...not on the tour. But this lady is finished with the tour and...are you going to make her pay for what you did?”
Colleen turned to her left. She was looking far up the street, away from the tours, away from what remained open at night.
There was someone there—barely discernible in the darkness up the street. But he held something that glinted in what pale light reached him.
A knife.
And it was held against the throat of a young woman.
“Taking a note from my buddy’s playbook, Special Agent Law. This blade is at this woman’s throat. Come now, or I’ll slide it right through her. Just slip away. I’m sorry it’s an uphill distance into the darkness, but I couldn’t get closer to your co-creeps. Come on, come on, come on, or she’ll die, and I’ll disappear into the darkness. You’ll find this sweet young thing with her life’s blood spilling out on this hallowed ground!”
Not again.
She couldn’t play this again, not without telling the others, and yet...
He was watching. If anyone turned in that direction...
It wasn’t Megan, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t have a young woman’s death on her conscience, not when she could have acted.
And she believed she knew who it was.
Mark had been right all along.
Nothing like having a mentor!
The voice entered her head again.
“Slip away, and I mean, slip away. There will always be another chance. But this girl will die.”
There was one thing she could do. She believed it would work. She took her sister’s arm lightly and spoke to her in a whisper.
“I’m going to find the ladies’ room,” she told Megan, slipping back. Both Ragnar and Mark were staring straight ahead, listening.
But Megan would understand.
And carefully relay the message.
“But this gentleman is talking—” Megan began. “Um...”
“I have to go!” Colleen said.
She backed away, and then hurried toward the hill as everyone around her paid her no heed.
They really had a good guide.
Of course, in a minute, Mark and Ragnar would know she was gone. But with any luck, Megan would say the right things.
