someone else’s dream.
She was fully conscious now, completely in control of her faculties, and nothing still made sense. The whole night was beginning to seem like a waking nightmare.
“So do you want a ride or not?” he queried.
An alarm sounded in her head, but so faintly Ree could easily ignore it. “Yes, a ride would be nice. I live a few blocks north of here. Just at the edge of campus.”
“You’re a student then?”
“I’m working on my master’s thesis, but I also volunteer at the Milton H. Farrante Psychiatric Hospital.”
She could almost hear the wheels turning inside his head. Disoriented girl alone in an old graveyard…
“I’m a psych major,” she added.
“Ah.” He made it sound as if that explained everything. “Do you have a name?”
“Ree Hutchins.”
“I’m Hayden Priest. Recent law school graduate and soon-to-be attorney when and if I pass the South Carolina bar.” He took a few tentative steps toward her. When she didn’t retreat, he offered his hand and she reluctantly shook it. A surge of electricity shot up her arm and she felt a little light-headed from the contact. Embarrassed, she dropped his hand and clutched the front of her top, which she’d buttoned all the way up to her neck. It was a little late for modesty, though, seeing as how he’d already seen her half naked. Ree actually caught herself wondering about the impression she’d made on him. Idiot.
His eyes glinted in the moonlight. “Still don’t trust me?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Then why had she told him her name and where she worked? Why not just give him a handwritten invitation to stalk her? At least she’d had the good sense to be vague about where she lived. Not that it would matter if she accepted a ride and/or he turned out to be a serial killer.
She glanced around the old cemetery. Where the mist thinned, she could see stone faces glowing in the moonlight. All those sightless eyes unnerved her.
“What are you doing out here anyway?” she asked with a shiver.
He scratched the back of his arm. “I’m on assignment.”
“What kind of assignment?”
“I’m doing some testing for the Charleston Institute for Parapsychology Studies. Ever hear of it?”
That got Ree’s attention. “You’re a ghost hunter?”
“I prefer paranormal investigator. Ghost hunter is so limiting and I’m not opposed to tracking down vampires and werewolves, or even zombies, if it comes to it.”
A chill crawled up her spine even though she knew he was joking. At least…she hoped he was. “That seems an odd avocation for a lawyer.”
“Soon to be lawyer. The courts are pretty keen on that distinction.”
“So you’re here in the cemetery looking for ghosts?”
“Listening for ghosts. There’s a difference.”
“Have you heard anything?” she asked anxiously. “Voices, music…chanting…”
“Chanting?” He moved a step closer. Despite his easy manner, his gaze was extremely potent. “Now that would be interesting, but no. I haven’t been able to pick up so much as a whisper. No EVPs, no spikes in the EMF readings, no fluctuations in temperature, nothing on the K-2 meter or Frank’s Box. Nothing, nada, zilch.”
“Then why not give up?”
“Because something is here.” His voice dropped and Ree sensed a tremor of excitement go through him. “Can’t you feel it? It’s like an echo…a vibration…”
Ree felt something when he looked at her like that. “But no ghosts,” she said.
He shrugged.
“Maybe you don’t hear them because they don’t exist.”
“A nonbeliever, I take it.”
“Have you ever seen one?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Heard one?”
“Debatable.”
“And yet you still believe.”
He didn’t say anything to that, but merely gazed down at her. He looked pale and very mysterious in the moonlight. Ree trembled in spite of herself.
“Tell me about your dream,” he finally said.
She really didn’t want to talk about it, especially with him, but the moment he took her arm, she was lost. An odd bond had formed between them, one she still didn’t fully trust. But neither could she ignore it. She dropped down on the steps of the mausoleum beside him, and for some reason, it didn’t seem so strange anymore. He was easy to talk to, a very good listener, and Ree found herself telling him about some of the things she’d experienced since Miss Violet’s death, carefully skirting the blackmail scheme. If that somehow got back to Dr. Farrante, he’d suspect she was the source and she shuddered to think how far he might go to protect his work and his family’s legacy.
“You think Miss Violet’s death somehow triggered the dream?” Hayden asked when she was finished.
“Probably. But she wasn’t