In Search of Truth Page 9

  “What in the world?” She hurried to the French doors that led into the courtyard garden behind her building, as if the texter would be there, hoping to see her reaction. Of course, the courtyard was empty. The only movement was the water splashing around the fountain where Persephone stood in perpetual running-away motion.

  A knock startled her and she spun around to see the door open. When her best friend Maddie’s head appeared and her daughter Susan ran in and headed for Nicholas Trott, Allison exhaled. Her heart raced, and she flexed her fingers against her skirt. “Hi.”

  “I hope we’re not bothering you.” Maddie came in clutching a bakery bag and shut the door behind her. “Susan wanted to see Nicholas Trott and I knew you had office hours today.”

  “Hi, Miss Allison!” Susan, in a white sundress and braided brown hair, sat on Nicholas Trott’s bed with the dog’s head in her lap. “This morning I found a worm on the sidewalk. And I picked strawberries in my mom’s garden.”

  Allison smiled and went over to kiss Susan’s head. “I’m thrilled to see you. So is Nicholas Trott. And I can’t wait to hear all about the worm.”

  The dog licked Susan’s face and she giggled.

  Maddie laid the bag on the desk and went to the coffee machine next to the microwave. Since Allison always had students in her office, she had an entire coffee/tea setup, complete with mugs, sugar, and creamers. Once Maddie poured two, she handed one to Allison.

  She took the fresh cup and tried not to think about Zack. He’d made coffee and left before she’d even woken up. She was sad, annoyed, and relieved. And all of it was wrapped up in abject humiliation. Not only had she needed Zack’s help to wake from the sleep paralysis, but she’d also admitted that she and Stuart hadn’t had a normal married relationship for years before his death.

  As she put cream and sugar in her cup, she felt like another woman doing the mundane things of life. The separation from herself made her feel lightheaded.

  Is this what grief was like? Or was it kissing Zack again?

  “Allison?” Maddie touched her arm. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m…great.”

  Maddie took Allison’s wrist and led her outside into the courtyard. Once they were seated on an iron bench, Maddie said, “I got your texts this morning. I hate to say this, but you look…”

  “Like hell?” Because that’s how she felt.

  “Exhausted.”

  Allison focused on Persephone, who ran with her arms over her head and her eyes closed. “I don’t know why I feel this way. Tired. Confused. Shaky. I hate women who cry, yet that’s all I do now.”

  “I’m sure it’s grief. What else happened last night? Did you get into the Usher Society?”

  After telling Maddie about the Pirate’s Grille, Hezekiah’s death, and Isabel, Maddie said, “Stay here,” and left.

  A moment later, she returned with the bakery bag and handed Allison the biggest piece of blueberry coffee cake that any woman had ever eaten in one sitting. She bit into it and sighed at the heavenly sweet/tart taste.

  Meanwhile, Maddie stared at her with concern in her brown eyes. Today Maddie’s long brown hair was pulled back in a clip, so it hung down her back. “Isabel and Stuart were having an affair? For years?”

  Allison nodded and took another bite. It was lemony and blueberry-ey and sweet. Yet for the perfectness of the cake, all she cared about was when the pain would go away.

  Maddie handed Allison a napkin and laid her own on the skirt of her blue sundress. “I don’t understand. How did you not know about it?”

  Once Allison had wiped her lips, she said, “Did you know about your husband’s affair right away?”

  “No.” Maddie put her uneaten cake back in the bag. “Although when I look back now, I see the signs. Hindsight and all that.”

  Allison took Maddie’s hand and squeezed. Her friend was in the midst of a vicious divorce that included having to leave her home overlooking the Charleston Battery.

  Allison finished her cake and wiped her mouth again. “I want to go back to bed.”

  “I felt that way for months.” Maddie sipped her coffee. “When does your brother-in-law come into town?”

  “I’m meeting Lawrence later this morning to talk about things.”

  Maddie snorted delicately. “You had every right to bury Stuart after his death. It’s Lawrence’s fault for not wanting to leave Paris and return for the funeral. It’s also very generous of you to agree to this memorial service Lawrence demanded.”

  “I didn’t have the energy to fight him. But until then, I’m going to see if I can work on my research project.”

  “Are you any closer to finding out what happened to Mercy Chastain?” Maddie’s smile brightened her face and Allison realized that it’d been a long time since she’d seen her friend happy.

  “Unfortunately, no.” Allison grabbed her cup and savored the coffee. It wasn’t quite as bitter as before. “If I can find out what happened to Mercy after she disappeared in 1704, I can get my article published in The Journal of Eighteenth-Century History. If I do that, I’m almost guaranteed tenure.”

  “What about Mercy’s witch’s examination? If Stuart sold it, can you ask this new buyer to let you read it again?”

  “I have no idea who bought it. And Hezekiah is dead. But there is something odd about the Pirate’s Grille. In one corner there’s a sketch of a broken daisy.”

  “Why is that odd?”

  “It’s been years since I’ve seen Mercy’s witch’s examination, but I remember there was a sketch of a broken daisy on every page.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “I know.”

  Susan appeared with the dog. “May I give Nicholas Trott a snack?”

  Allison nodded. “There are treats in the jar behind the sugar. But don’t let him see you. I don’t want him to know where they are.”

  Susan’s grin showed off her missing teeth. “Thanks!”

  Allison shared a look with Maddie. After the long, horrible custody battle that was still brewing, anything that made Susan happy made them happy.

  When both the dog and the girl went back into the office, Maddie said, “Are you still having restoration work done on the Pirate House?”

  Since Allison didn’t live in the eighteenth-century house she’d inherited from her grandmother, she rented it to Maddie and her sister, who owned Ashton Antiques, an appointment-only antiques firm. Maddie used the first floor of the house as an exclusive showcase. “I had to postpone the work due to lack of cash flow. Why?”

  “I was there yesterday with a client and thought I heard a noise upstairs.”

  “It was Mercy Chastain’s ghost!” Susan reappeared, this time without the dog. After she took a piece of cake from the bag, she said with her mouth full, “Everyone is seeing Mercy around town. Why wouldn’t she be haunting her own home?”

  Allison handed Susan a napkin. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

  “Mercy is real. I’ve seen her.” After wiping her face with a napkin, Susan added, “I’m doing a diorama about Charleston ghosts and pirates made with marshmallow Peeps for my summer school project.”

  Maddie raised both hands. “Marshmallow Peeps are not easy to find in the summer, even online.”

  Allison laughed. “Susan, I hope your research goes better than mine.”

  “It’s so cool that you’re related to Mercy,” Susan said.

  “I just wish I knew what happened to her,” Allison said. “Not long after the witchcraft charges were dropped, Mercy disappeared.”

  “That must be why there are so many ghost stories about her,” Maddie said. “I have to agree with Susan. All I’ve been hearing lately is that Mercy is haunting Charleston again.”

  Allison offered an exasperated eye roll. “I’ve been hearing that too.”

  Susan danced around the
courtyard. “I’ve also been reading about pirate ghosts. Did you know Blackbeard was mean?”

  “I’ve heard”—Maddie winked at Allison—“that he was married fourteen times.”

  Allison couldn’t imagine having fourteen husbands. “Seems like a huge waste of energy.”

  “That part isn’t going in my report,” Susan said.

  “Susan, have you ever heard of the Dread Pirate King?” Allison asked the girl who was now carefully walking on the edge of the raised pond.

  “Yes! He’s one of my favorites. He was a famous pirate who taught other famous pirates like Blackbeard and William Kidd. He was super scary. He haunts South Adger’s Wharf.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  “Henry Avery.”

  Allison inhaled sharply. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Susan jumped off the ledge. “He stole a big treasure, moved to Charleston, and then disappeared, taking all of his loot with him. A lot of people were very unhappy.”

  “Allison?” Maddie asked. “You look pale.”

  Allison glanced at her friend and whispered, “Little is known about Mercy, but she did have a pirate lover who disappeared the same day she did. And her lover was Henry Avery.”

  Chapter 10

  Zack still couldn’t believe he’d spent the night in Allison’s bed. Although he’d hardly slept due to the night-long hard-on, holding her for hours had been worth it.

  Zack parked his bike behind Iron Rack’s gym in the not-so-nice section of Savannah. He was half a day late. He was also so deep in I don’t give a fuck about Kells’s rules land that he wasn’t about to make excuses. He was still reeling from the night before: Hezekiah’s assassination, the ghost, Isabel Rutledge working for Remiel, holding Allison, and her admission about her marriage with Stuart.

  The fact that they hadn’t slept together in over two years had been the last thing Zack had expected. Why would Stuart send his wife away, to a different room in the house, and turn to Isabel? It didn’t make sense.

  The other thing that didn’t make sense? That woman he’d seen in the window. Once the sun had come up, he’d left Allison asleep in bed and investigated the garden. If there’d been any evidence, the rain had washed it away.

  Zack strode into the gym to find Luke, the youngest and most computer-savvy man in their unit, behind the front desk. Today he wore gym shorts and a black Iron Racks logo T-shirt with a skull and crossbones printed in white, only the crossbones were barbells.

  Catering to a primarily male clientele, the gym offered hardcore weightlifting stations and a boxing ring in the center. There were a few cardio machines, but since Pete and Vane started offering Krav Maga and dirty fighting classes, the place attracted more MMA types.

  And the gym still smelled like sweaty feet.

  When Zack approached the desk, Luke looked up and smiled. He was letting his black hair grow and every day looked less soldier-like. “You’re la—”

  Zack held up a hand and scowled.

  “Okaaaaay.” Luke gave Zack a clipboard with a spreadsheet on it. “Nate adjusted the chore chart.”

  The chore chart was constantly being adjusted since they had more chores than hours and men to do the work. The phone rang and Luke answered with a pleasant “Iron Rack’s gym. We now offer self-defense classes for the women in your life.”

  Because they were so desperate for money, they were offering classes for women. Although why any woman would even want to look in the window of this place confounded him. The new renovations couldn’t hide the fact that the centuries-old warehouse-turned-gym still looked—and smelled—like it’d housed Sherman’s soldiers during the Civil War.

  While Luke talked to a prospective client, Zack scanned the chore list, none of which he had any intention of doing.

  “Hey, Zack.” Nate came out of Kells’s office, also in shorts and T-shirt, a determined smile on his face, which meant one thing: staff meeting.

  Fuuuuuck. Zack tossed the clipboard onto the desk.

  “Luke,” Nate whispered to the younger man with the phone against his ear, “when you’re done, meet us in training room two.”

  Zack followed Nate into one of the two private training rooms they used to teach Krav Maga, jujitsu, and street fighting with knives and chains.

  He shut the door behind him.

  Kells, in khaki combat pants, stood in front of a semicircle of metal folding chairs with six blank posters on easels behind him. Near the gym mats in the corner, Nate spoke to Pete White Horse and Detective Garza from the Savannah Police Department.

  Garza knew about Zack’s unit and had been helping them get settled in the gym and in their new lives. Garza’s only request in return for his help with certain matters was that their unit fly under the radar. He really, really hated public disturbances. Emphasis on really.

  Luke hurried in and planted himself next to Ty, who sat in a chair with his legs out, arms crossed, and head down as if he were sleeping. Alex strode in next, which surprised Zack since Alex didn’t attend staff meetings or movie night.

  It wasn’t an idea Zack liked. If Alex was living with them, he was part of the team. And the team always did everything together, including watching monster movies.

  Alex threw his ass in a chair near the corner. Cain and Vane were missing, but according to the chore chart, Cain was cleaning and Vane was teaching a Krav Maga class next door.

  And this was what was left of the Seventh Special Forces Group that’d once been stationed at Fort Bragg. A unit that had spent most of their time in the hottest combat zones in the world. Eight men—nine if you included Alex who’d been a ranger—left to save the world.

  Hoooah. And all that.

  Luke, their efficient office manager, got the thing started. “Sir? Is something wrong?”

  “Yes.” Kells nodded at Detective Garza, who came forward with his trademark frown, complete with brow furrows deeper than a slit trench. “Something’s happened.”

  Ty stretched his arms over his head, then parked his chin against his chest and went back to sleep. The brother became more detached with every passing day.

  Garza took off his blazer and tossed it onto the gym mats. His brown holster was a stark contrast to his white button-down shirt. He turned around the first poster, which was a hand-drawn picnic bench, stroller, and tree. A stick man holding a gun stood nearby with a red X covering his body. The picture looked like it’d been drawn with crayons by a preschooler. “Before I get to the interesting things that have happened in the past twenty-four hours, Kells and I decided you all needed a refresher in the concept of No Public Disturbances.”

  Everyone in the room looked at Nate, who held up his hands surrender style. “I haven’t done anything. I swear.”

  Zack sat in the closest chair.

  Garza spun the next two hand-drawn posters. One was of a building with a hole in the wall near a stack of TNT covered with a red X. The other showed Savannah’s buildings and skyline outlined in black.

  “That’s not fair,” Luke said. “We didn’t set that bomb or take out the city’s power for twelve hours.”

  Garza snorted and moved on to the next poster of a helicopter, or maybe a flying dumpster, hovering over a gun lying on a park bench. Again, everyone looked toward Nate, who just shrugged and said, “Wasn’t my fault.”

  The fourth was of dead cows or horses or some other kind of stick animals lying on their backs with thin legs in the air. Red crayon beneath signified carnage.

  “Dude,” Pete said. “Are those supposed to be boars? They don’t look like boars.”

  “They look like camels,” Alex added. “Except camels have bigger di—”

  “They’re not camels.” Garza spun the fifth poster of a house in flames with dead stick men on the ground. Lots of lines in red crayon, along with the orange flames, added an element of destruction.
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  “Bro.” Nate coughed to hide the laughter in his voice. “You gotta talk to Rafe about that one.”

  Rafe, technically the tenth member of their unit, rarely came to the gym. Mostly because Rafe and Kells didn’t play well together.

  Finally, Garza unveiled the sixth poster. It showed a torn-apart car with two dead stick people hanging out the window. For added effect, red crayon stripes shot from their heads.

  “Oh shit.” Everyone looked at Zack and that’s when he realized he’d spoken out loud. Since he’d already incriminated himself, he added, “Is that a car bomb?”

  “It is.” Garza crossed his arms. “Last night, in Charleston, a car bomb took out a man named Hezekiah Usher and his driver.”

  “Who is Hezekiah Usher?” Pete asked.

  “Hezekiah was the leader of the Usher Society,” Zack said.

  “I thought you were at a sex club?” Alex said.

  “The Satyr Club is a cover for the Usher Society’s real business,” Zack said. “They buy and sell illegal manuscripts, like ancient papyrus and Gutenberg Bibles.” He paused because everyone stared at him. “Stuff like that.”

  “Hezekiah Usher was the first purveyor of books in Boston in 1647,” Kells said, speaking for the first time since the meeting began.

  That’s right. Kells was from South Boston.

  “What does the bombing of that car and the Usher Society have to do with us?” Ty had spoken? A miracle.

  Garza nodded at Zack. “A witness also claims to have seen a woman near Hezekiah’s car and walking away before the explosion.”

  “I saw her too,” Zack admitted. “It was Isabel Rutledge.”

  Kells answered in his tough, stern voice that could strip the bravado from the most arrogant teenage boy, “The same Isabel who works for Remiel?”

  “Yes.” Nate held up his hands. “Just so you all know, she’s a quick draw.”

  “And,” Zack said, “Isabel was also having an affair with Stuart Pinckney.”

  “The same Stuart whom Remiel murdered two months ago?” Luke asked.

  Zack nodded.