Asking for Trouble - Leslie Kelly [72]
Cupping her cheek, he tugged her up. “It’s fine,” he murmured, knowing it wasn’t fine. He wasn’t fine. Laughing almost desperately, he said, “I need you to look at something and tell me if I’m losing my mind or not.”
She didn’t make any sassy comeback about how good a look she was getting at something right there where she was. Instead, immediately sitting up, she stared in his eyes and gently asked, “What’s wrong? What is it?”
“I saw something,” he whispered, looking ahead again, out the windshield, though he knew what he would see.
Absolutely nothing.
“What did you see?” Following his stare, she swung her head around and looked toward the back lawn. “Was something there?”
Shaking his head slowly as the dull throbbing of a headache began to build in his temple, he murmured, “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”
AN HOUR LATER, sitting in the office after chewing a couple of aspirin and washing them down with coffee, Simon stared into the fire roaring in the fireplace. Lottie had lit it while he’d been in the bedroom taking off his costume. Then she’d gone to undress, leaving him alone with his thoughts, not starting the conversation he knew they were about to have.
In the car, after admitting she’d seen nothing unusual on the cliffs, she’d gotten very quiet, not pressing for answers. Once he’d gotten his pants back together, they’d walked inside pressed closely together. Now, staying at bay, she seemed to be giving him time to regroup.
Regroup. Get a grip. Figure out what the hell was wrong with him.
Something was. He couldn’t pretend any longer. During all the time Lottie had been here, he’d been able to shove away his misgivings, ignore the tension or the occasional hairs standing up on the back of his neck. There’d been no major headaches, no more weird pictures on his laptop, no smells. But in the back of his mind, he’d noticed a few things. Drafts in empty rooms. Sounds in empty hallways. Plus the strange things that had happened to Lottie.
He’d been putting off dealing with what had been going on here for the past three months. But tonight, seeing that figure on the cliffs—a figure who looked so disturbingly familiar—he knew he had to find out what was happening to him.
If he was really losing his mind. Or if there was some other explanation he hadn’t yet grasped.
“You sure you don’t want hot cocoa?” Lottie asked as she came into the room, her hands curled around a steaming mug piled high with whipped cream. “Coffee’s going to keep you up.”
“I don’t think I could sleep anyway.”
She sat beside him, carefully sipping her hot drink. Still silent, offering only a quiet layer of support that he could take advantage of the moment he was ready.
Now, he supposed was as good a time as any.
“Have you ever questioned things you see, wondered if they’re really there or if your eyes are playing tricks on you?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes. A twenty on the table when I’m expecting a five-dollar tip at the restaurant. That kind of thing.”
“I mean something a little more…dramatic.” Like ghosts.
She didn’t answer, instead leaning over to set her mug on the table. “What did you see, Simon?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitated for a brief moment. This was the point of no return, and if it were anyone other than Lottie sitting beside him, he wouldn’t have been able to go on.
But it was Lottie. And he trusted her like he’d never trusted anyone before in his life. “I saw her. Standing next to the cliffs.”
Turning to face him, she bent one leg and tucked it beneath her on the couch. “Who?”
“The woman from Charleston.”
Her shocked inhalation told him she hadn’t expected that.
“Look, I know she’s dead. I don’t believe in ghosts. But I swear, Lottie, for a few seconds, she was there.”
“Maybe the wind, the trees?”
“It wasn’t a shadow or a weird reflection.”
“It was pretty dark out. How could you be sure it looked like her?”
“There was a strange light shining on her.”
She bit her bottom lip before saying, “You were a little…distracted.”
Forcing a smile, he slowly