Read Online Bone Island 03 - Ghost Moon by Heather Graham - Free Book Online Page B

Why was Cutter’s death investigated as a crime?”
    “It wasn’t. I chose to come out—old times,” he said with a shrug.
    “I see. Thanks.”
    When they left the house, she turned one key in its lock. “I think you ought to be locking both locks,” he said. “In fact, I don’t think you should actually be staying here.”
    She looked at him with amusement. “I grew up in the house. I’m not afraid of the mummy or the coffin—or even the shrunken head.”
    “Kelsey, I came out here tonight because the house was broken into twice. The first time, a pack of kids came in. The second time, two local lowlifes were looking for something to steal. That’s why I told Joe Richter to get a locksmith out here and change the locks. The lowlifes said that the door was open when they got here, but I knew that it had been locked the night before. I’m not sure I feel good about this place,” Liam said carefully.
    She offered him her dimpled smile once again. “Well, obviously, there had been a key out there somewhere. The locks are brand-new. Honestly, most thieves wouldn’t break into this place. It’s supposed to house evil spirits,or something of the like. There’s so much to be done here. It’s ridiculous to own a house and go rent a room. Trust me, I’ll be fine. The house likes me, honest!” she said teasingly. “Actually, though, it was a long trip. I’d love a good Guinness—and my dad always said that O’Hara’s kept the cleanest taps in the state.”
    She was a grown woman, and maybe, Liam thought, his unease was unfounded. “Okay, then. Let’s go. I’ll drive.”
    He saw that Bartholomew was standing at the edge of the porch and seemed thoughtful. He prayed the ghost wouldn’t start talking to him, distract him and make him appear crazy.
    No such luck.
    As he walked to his car, slightly behind Kelsey, Bartholomew fell into step beside him.
    “I don’t like it,” he said.
    You don’t like what?
    The words were on the tip of Liam’s tongue. Somehow, he refrained from saying them aloud.
    Bartholomew followed them to the car. He’d known the ghost for some time now; it still unnerved Liam when he simply misted through doors. The physiology was intriguing. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t want to believe in ghosts. Bartholomew could sit on a chair, but he misted, blended, faded—whatever!—right through doors. He loved boats, hated the water. He’d been around nearly two hundred years, and he knew the answers to many questions, but he didn’t know a great deal that Liam felt a ghost should know. It was a different existence, Bartholomew believed. He didn’t know everyghost—just as Liam didn’t know every living, breathing human. Ghosts were still the essence of people. They were good, bad, clever, dedicated, lost…greedy, generous, loyal, traitorous. That’s the way it was. But most of the time, they stayed behind because of a passion or a need. A passion for revenge, or justice—to save the life of a loved one or to right a terrible wrong.
    Liam liked Bartholomew. But he wasn’t sure he wanted him around right now.
    As he pulled the car around the circular drive, he caught a glimpse of the ghost in the rearview mirror.
    Bartholomew was staring solemnly at the house, his gaze intent. He was searching for something.
    Liam paused and stared up at the house himself.
    He thought of the other night. The house seemed to have a life of its own. Beneath the moonlight, constantly shadowed by clouds, it seemed to breathe, and to watch, and to wait.
    “What is it?” Kelsey asked him.
    “Nothing.” He paused, his foot on the brake. “You’re sure you want to come back here, stay here alone?” he asked.
    “It’s my house now,” she said quietly, staring at it. “With all that it holds!” she added, and smiled.
     
    O’Hara’s was charming, and it hadn’t changed a bit—at least, not in Kelsey’s memory.
    They entered a large open area with high-top tables scattered toward