she was there. It was a direction to pursue, at any rate.
After a minute, Meg rose and walked into the bathroom. Time to get ready for bed.
She liked to shower first thing in the morning. It seemed to start the day right, really wake her up. But since she’d begun training, she’d discovered she needed a night shower, too—in order to be able to sleep.
Tonight, the odor of the morgue seemed to linger on her. She didn’t just want a shower to sleep, she needed one.
She took a long shower, with very hot water and lots of soap and shampoo.
Wrapped in a towel, she got out her toothbrush and toothpaste. The mirror was heavily fogged, and she wiped it with the edge of her big beach towel.
She looked thin, she noted. Thin and haggard. Well, nothing she could do about that right now.
She studiously brushed her teeth, glanced in the mirror again—and froze.
The mirror was misty once more and yet she could see her own face. And another. Behind her.
Lara’s face.
Lara’s mouth worked; her eyes seemed filled with pain. No audible words came to her lips, and seconds later she began to fade away. And yet Meg thought she knew what Lara had tried to say.
Not help me, but find me. Find my remains.
Meg whirled around just in time to see the last vestige of her friend disappear into the soft swirl of fog left by her very hot shower.
* * *
“I met Margaret when she was a child,” Adam was saying to Matt. “The Krewe didn’t exist back then, but local law enforcement in West Virginia called me in. They knew I could find the right people to help us discover the truth. I was also friends with an agent working kidnapping cases for the FBI.” He sat behind his desk, a cup of coffee in front of him, his hands folded on the desk. He raised them as he said, “There was hope that it was a ransom case, that the missing girl would come home. But her little cousin knew. She told me, although she wouldn’t tell anyone else, that she saw Mary Elizabeth sitting at the foot of her bed. She was gone, Meg told me, and she could be found in the cemetery. It changed the case. We found the body before the ransom drop, and because of the forensic evidence at the scene, her killer was easily caught. So I’ve kept tabs on Meg. I was going to wait until she’d graduated and taken a position at the academy and then introduce her to Jackson and the Krewe, but...well, life intrudes and changes everything. Life—and death.”
Matt nodded, well aware of the truth of his words.
He looked out the window onto the beautiful old street. He loved their location in Alexandria, and he was glad the Krewe had left the modern building where they’d once had their offices. There was something about looking out at the old row houses that seemed good for the soul; history had marched through these streets. The houses had been there when the nation struggled for freedom. They’d continued to serve as homes during the bloody conflict of the Civil War. Alexandria was so close to Washington, DC—yet it had been part of the Confederate state of Virginia.
Of course, he loved the Capitol, too. He was no romantic when it came to war, but the history of his nation’s struggle was both powerful and heartbreaking to him. He was fascinated by the life of Abraham Lincoln. He was equally interested in the lives of men like Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee.
When he was young, his parents had purchased an old tavern west of Richmond. In a roundabout way, it had been owned by Thomas Jefferson, who’d purchased the place for a cousin and been repaid over a period of years. Matt had dreamed that he could sneak into the parlor area at night—and find Jefferson sitting by the fireplace.
He never did see Jefferson. He did, however, encounter the spirit of his cousin, Josiah Thompkin. Thompkin had regaled him with tales of famous congressmen, battles, the Underground Railroad and more. Matt’s parents had thought he spent too much time with his books and that he—like many children—had an invisible friend.
One of his great-aunts had known, however, and when his mother had spoken to him about her concerns, Genevieve had winked at him and told him that “imaginary” friends could be the best. They mirrored the soul, she’d said, and furnished the mind with information.
Great-Aunt Genevieve was long gone now, but he always remembered her with a smile. She’d made it to ninety-five, full of laughter and vigor to the end.
She’d assured him she wasn’t coming back. She’d lived a long life—and she knew the light was waiting for her.
“You and Meg have similar pasts,” Adam said, returning Matt’s mind to the present.
Had Meg grown up with imaginary friends, as well? Unlike Meg and him and the rest of the Krewe, Adam’s background was somewhat different. His son, Josh, had been granted the gift—or the curse—of precognition; he’d known what might happen. He’d known what people were thinking. He’d been ill throughout his life, and he’d died young. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason when it came to paranormal ability. Matt felt sad that there were people worldwide who kept their secret, trying not to give themselves away in case the world considered them crazy.
There was a knock at the door. Agent Murray was certainly punctual.
Matt remained by the window, staring out as Adam invited her inside. He turned, curious about the young woman. She could be no more than midtwenties, but she carried herself with a grace and poise that belied her age. Her dark hair was pulled back and she seemed even more attractive than he had realized. Today she was wearing a medium-length business skirt and matching jacket, and he couldn’t help noticing that her legs were wickedly long and well shaped. There was an unselfconsciousness about her, and he sensed that she had no idea of her own appeal.
“Meg, come in. I have a few more of our local Krewe working this. They’ll be getting onto research, credit card trails and the like. I think you and Matt should start at the source. Head over to Congressman Walker’s office. I’ve arranged that he’ll be ready for you at ten,” Adam said.
“She’s dead,” Meg told him.
“You know that?” Adam asked.
Meg nodded, glancing at Matt as if she didn’t want to speak in his presence.
“I know she must be dead, yes.”
“You saw her?” Adam asked.
Meg glanced at Matt again and lowered her head in a nod.
“It’s all right, Meg. You can speak freely. Don’t worry, Matt has friends around the city who only appear to him. I’m just so sorry that we won’t find your friend alive,” he said very softly.
She’d been crying, Matt saw. He felt a tug of sympathy.
It hurt so badly to lose people.
“You’re absolutely sure?” he heard himself say. He didn’t mean to doubt her; he sincerely hoped she’d been wrong. His voice sounded rougher than he’d intended.
She turned to him. “Agent Bosworth,” she said coldly. “I never say that someone is dead unless I believe it to be true.” He could tell he’d offended her. But that wasn’t
