“To be fair, I think news outlets would report on cannibalism no matter who the family was,” Tina said. Her light brown skin had a sickly gray undertone. “But yeah, this isn’t the sort of thing stock markets like to hear.”
“Whatever Ms. Montague’s reasoning, we need to tell her we’re done.” Oscar folded his arms across his chest. “I might be able to understand hiding the cannibalism bit, but not about the murders. She hamstrung us by not telling us everything we needed to know about the ghosts here.”
Nigel nodded. They should have cut ties after the Van de Graaf generator at the asylum. But she’d seemed repentant, and Dr. Lawson believed her, and…
And if Dr. Lawson had known about this…
He’d respected her from the first moment he set foot in her classroom. She was a no-nonsense instructor, but not cruel, never that. Before they’d study any case, she reminded her students that everyone involved had been a real person, just like them. Had hopes and dreams, loved and been loved. They weren’t just a spooky noise or cold spot, not simply a gray lady photographed on a staircase or a ghostly handprint on a wall.
She’d shepherded him through his graduate studies, given him advice when he ultimately took over her position at the Institute of Parapsychology. Rushed to his rescue during the first investigation with Oscar and the rest, when they’d gotten in over their heads.
He stood up. “I need to talk to Dr. Lawson.”
“Should we come with you?” Oscar asked.
“No. You start packing things up, so we can get the hell out of here.”
He crossed the gap between house and trailer, like a messenger traveling between enemy camps. The sun had passed its zenith, somewhere on the other side of the thickening clouds, but it might as well have been early evening with the amount of light that reached the ground.
He swung open the door without knocking. Montague and Lawson sat at the table, while Ethan stood in front of them, all of their expressions tense.
“Taylor, there you are.” Dr. Lawson turned to him. “We were just discussing the storm. I’m sure you’ve noticed its moving even faster than predicted, and?—”
“I need to talk to you.”
Her brows rose in surprise at his tone. “All right. Come in?—”
“Alone.”
Montague sighed heavily. “Dr. Taylor, I’m sure whatever you have to say to Ruthie can wait. There are more important matters at hand.”
He ignored Montague, simply kept his gaze fixed on Dr. Lawson.
Frowning, Lawson started to stand up. “All right, if it’s that?—”
Montague caught her hand. “Don’t go out in the rain, honey. You two can talk in the bedroom.”
“Alone,” Nigel growled in a voice he barely recognized as his own.
“Dr. Taylor—” Montague started, her voice and expression icy, but Dr. Lawson pulled her hand free.
“All right, if it’s that urgent.” She turned to Montague. “It’s okay—Taylor doesn’t just make demands for no reason, you know that.”
Nigel retreated back outside, forcing the matter. If Montague tried to argue further, it didn’t matter, because within a minute Dr. Lawson emerged, pulling a raincoat on as she did so. “I swear, this had better be important.”
He didn’t answer, instead starting toward the house. But he didn’t want Ethan to spy on them, and he didn’t want anyone else to overhear, not even Oscar. This was between him and Dr. Lawson.
So he led her around the back of the house, to the veranda. Where Robin had died.
Lawson’s steps slowed, and a seed of guilt began to send out shoots in his chest. He stopped and turned to her.
“Did you know about the bodies?”
The rain streaked his glasses, but he could still see her frown. “Bodies? What are you talking about?”
“The ones buried in the dunes. The ones from the early 1900s. The ones with bullet holes and cut marks on the bones.” He swallowed hard. “Gloria’s ‘buried treasure.’”
Lawson’s mouth dropped open for a long moment. Then she shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
