Phantom Evil

Angela wasn’t sure about that. Jackson Crow was courteous, and he knew how to be completely stoic.

Except for the fact that he didn’t seem to think much of her. She winced inwardly; oddly enough, she felt a great deal as Mama Matisse did.

There was something deep in him that he didn’t give away easily. And more oddly still, she wanted to know what it was, wanted to know more about the real man beneath the facade. Why had he been chosen to lead their team?

Firsthand knowledge and work with human behavior, she told herself dryly.

But she did have a certain gift, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not.

She rose. “Excuse me, you all. I’m going to run upstairs for a minute.”

“Do you want us with you?” Jake asked.

“Not right now,” she told him.

Leaving them, she hurried up the stairs to the second floor—and to the room where Regina Holloway had been.

Right before she had died.

She paused for a minute, and then she lay down on the bed as Regina might have done that fateful day. She closed her eyes.

She imagined the woman who had been Regina Holloway. Her life had so recently been perfect. She’d had a loving husband. And a child. A son.

She had lived in this house; she hadn’t been afraid.

She had been lost and hurt.

Angela let the pain sweep into her, and she opened her eyes….

She could see them. Two children. They were adorable. They were near the foot of the bed, and they had a game of jacks. The little girl had blond pigtails, and she wore a calico dress that probably ended at her ankles; the little boy was in breeches and a bleached cotton shirt and gray vest. They were both seated cross–legged, facing one another as they played.

She lay very still on the bed, never sure if she was imagining, or if there was a place somewhere deep in the human soul where one could “see” what had gone on in the past.

“Annabelle!” the little boy said. He sighed and leaned over to catch the bouncing ball. “You have to drop it right where you are, or it will roll away. Look, watch me.”

The little boy dropped the ball, collected a number of jacks and caught the ball again. “See?” he said.

Annabelle nodded and took the ball from him. But her lower lip trembled. “I’m so scared, Percy. I’m so scared. I don’t like it here.”

“You don’t need to be scared. Mommy and Daddy are here; that nice man, that Mr. Newton, he’s helping us.”

“I want to go home.”

“We don’t have a home anymore, Annabelle. We don’t have a home.”

“Daddy said we were going away.”

“We will go away, unless Mr. Newton can give Daddy some kind of work. Then Daddy can work, and we can buy a house again, and we won’t have to leave our friends.”

“Our friends are all gone,” Annabelle said. “They’ve been gone since the war.”

“The war is over, Annabelle.” The little boy’s voice hardened. “We lost. So now we all have to start over again.”

Annabelle started to cry.

Percy took her into his arms, soothing her.

“There, there, Annabelle. It’s going to be all right….”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jackson Crow’s deep voice interrupted her; the children vanished.

Angela bolted to a sitting position.

“Were you napping?” Jackson asked her, incredulous.

“No, thinking,” she told him. She rose. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to lunch.” He might have realized that she was about to say that she would just stay in the house while they went, because he thwarted her attempt before she could make it. “It’s important. I want everyone to have a chance to connect away from here, to get to know one another as much as possible.”

She nodded. But when he turned away, she paused.

This room. She had “seen” the children here, and Regina Holloway had been here before walking out on the balcony.

And then dying.

“Angela!”

Jackson Crow was waiting for her.

“I’m going to move into this room,” she told him.

“Oh, no,” he said.

“Oh, yes. It’s going to be important that I do.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said. “I respect your abilities, but it’s just not a good idea for anyone to sleep in here. Especially not you.”