Winchester had looked nothing like the legendary ghost woman standing there so tall, dark and exceedingly handsome.
Yet there had been something haunting in his eyes …
She shivered at the thought, remembering that when he’d seen her he’d looked as if he was the one who’d seen the ghost. Probably just recovering from his injuries. Still, it was odd, him wanting to return to the scene of the crime, as he’d said. Who visited his old hospital room?
She looked again at the windows where he’d peered out just minutes ago. With the blinds closed, she could see nothing but white metal.
Turning the key, she started the engine and a Christmas song came on the radio. It was too early to be thinking about Christmas. She was still gearing up for her annual Halloween haunted house. She turned the radio dial until she found country and western and turned her thoughts to Halloween.
She planned to transform the basement of Second Hand Kate’s into a haunted house. She’d only been in town for a few months and it was her way of welcoming the community into her new store. The basement of the old two-story, once-a-library building with all its nooks and crannies was the perfect place for chills and thrills.
Fortunately, she’d managed to make a couple of friends who’d offered to help her. Jasmine was sewing some of the costumes and backdrops while Andi preferred working with the blood and guts, turning perfectly normal food into something gross and frightening.
Kate couldn’t wait to hear the children’s shrieks and screams, giggles and gags. She hoped for a good turnout Halloween night. But she still had a lot of work to do and was glad she’d finally gotten the last of the furniture out of the old hospital. There had been no hurry, but she hated leaving anything undone.
As she drove away, her cell phone rang.
“I found the most perfect fabric for the ghost in the pit of horror,” Jasmine said, making her laugh.
“Of course you did. I was just thinking of you.” She’d met Jasmine soon after she’d come to town at where else? A garage sale. The two had realized how much they had in common when they’d both tried to buy the same ugly chair.
“Oh, yeah?”
“I was just leaving the old hospital with the last of the furniture.”
“You saw the ghost.” Jasmine sounded excited. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“What I saw was no ghost. I just ran into Cyrus Winchester.”
“Who?”
“Pepper Winchester’s grandson. You’ve never met him?”
“No. So what is he like?”
“Gorgeous.” She almost added, “and a little strange,” but chastised herself for even thinking it. The man had just come out of a coma.
“Sounds like a Winchester. Black hair and eyes?”
“Uh-huh. Tall with broad shoulders and slim hips that look great in Wrangler jeans.” Kate remembered how good-looking he’d been standing there in his Stetson and boots. Even now she couldn’t put her finger on what it was about him that had left her feeling afraid for him.
“Wait a minute, is he the one who was in the hospital with the coma?” Jasmine and Andi always knew more of what was going on than Kate ever did. Jasmine worked at City Hall so she heard all the good stuff and Andi was the local newspaper reporter.
“Uh-huh.”
“He and his brother are private investigators in Denver. I heard he’s drop-dead gorgeous and that he and his brother are identical twins,” Jasmine said.
“Really?” She felt a chill at discovering Cyrus was a private investigator, but tried to hide her reaction from her friend. She’d never told anyone in Whitehorse about her past.
“What was he doing at the old hospital?” Andi asked.
“He stopped by to visit his room.”
“Seriously? Don’t you think that is a little macabre? Maybe he died there, you know, went toward the light but was pulled back and now he’s trying to call up the other side.”
“Or maybe you’ve been spending too much time planning the haunted house,” Kate suggested.
Her friend laughed. “Swing by and I’ll show you the fabric. I also have some old white curtains I can use for the ghosts, but I want your opinion first.”
Kate was tired and dirty from hauling dusty old furniture, but she agreed. “See you in a minute.” She hung up and on impulse, circled around the block and made a point of driving back past the hospital.
The pickup with the Colorado plates that had been parked behind her truck was still there, which meant Cyrus Winchester was still inside the hospital.
What was he doing in there?
THE HOSPITAL ROOM was exactly as he remembered it. Cyrus had quit asking himself how he knew that. Obviously he hadn’t been unconscious the entire time.
When he’d opened the blinds, he’d seen Kate Landon sitting in her truck. Was she worried he wouldn’t lock up? She couldn’t be worried that he’d steal anything, since clearly there was nothing left in the building to steal.
He’d dropped the blinds and searched the room, not sure what he was hoping to find. Of course there was nothing either in the room or the bathroom but dust. How quickly the building was falling into disrepair.
When he peeked out the window again, the Second Hand Kate’s truck was gone. He had wanted to question her further, but had warned himself not to ask too many questions that would scare her.
She looked too much like the murder victim not to have some connection. He would have to find out what he could about the Landon family.
Leaving his former hospital room, he walked down the hall, his boot heels echoing. The place had taken on an eerie feel. He stopped to listen as if he thought he could tap into the building’s history, feel all the lives that had traveled through here from birth to death and all the broken bones and illnesses in between.
But of course he couldn’t. He wasn’t psychic. He’d seen someone switch two baby boys in the nursery and then become a murder victim. That was a far cry from being able to tell the future.
He thought about calling Cordell and telling him about Kate Landon. But he knew his brother would try to come up with some reason Kate looked so much like the murder victim.
“You must have seen her before you were attacked, before the coma, and unconsciously put her in your dream,” Cordell would say.
Unfortunately, everything that had happened between his last memory of driving to Montana and waking up was lost. Except for what had happened that one night in the old hospital. He knew that alone should be proof the murder was just a bad dream.
At the nursery, he paused. It was just inside there that he’d found the dead woman. He walked a few feet down the hall, found the door into the nursery and stepped in.
Fortunately
