Chapter 4

Rooney thanked the librarian and headed for the parking lot. She slipped behind the wheel of the rental car, donned a pair of sunglasses and spoke to the rearview mirror. "Bat-crap stupid is what I am."

Stuart's voice from the passenger seat drew her attention. Lovely day for a drive, isn't it?

As before, he appeared as a semi-transparent visage, and of all things, boasted a smile. "I suppose, if someone must take a drive."

Exit left out of the parking lot and head toward the NY Thruway. We'll take that all the way to Rochester.

"This Taurus is equipped with GPS." She flipped it on and gasped. "You've got to be kidding. Two hours to Bath and two hours back to Victory? I have a commitment tonight at eight-thirty, another séance."

No worries. It's eleven o'clock now. It shouldn't take long to let Stephan know what's going on once we get there.

"Says the intrusive ghost who stalks me and has invaded my somewhat stress-free life."

I meant to ask you about your life. Where are you from and do you have anyone special, you know, like a boyfriend?

"We're from Milwaukee and the other question is none of your damn business."

Ah, so that's a no then on the boyfriend.

Rooney kept her eyes on the road, but affected her ticked off voice. "It's not a no, okay? I've had plenty of boyfriends. It just so happens, the last one couldn't keep his dick in his pants."

Sorry to hear that. I hope you kicked his tires to the curb.

"Yes, I did." A long pause ensued while she thought about the pain of finding out, from Jared's new lover, no less, that Jared had been sleeping with the woman for almost a year. "Just because I agreed to help you—as it pertains to Stephan—you don't get to ask me questions about my personal life, got it?"

You're right. I confess I might have ulterior motives for asking about your love life.

"What love life?" she said under her breath. "What do you mean by ulterior motives?"

As I said before, Stephan and I are ten years apart so that makes him thirty…close to your age.

She sneaked a peek at Stuart out of the corner of her eye and shook her head. "Oh, no you don't. I have no interest in getting mixed up with a man again, any man, much less one who just returned from several tours in war-torn, no man's land."

Sure, but don't say I didn't warn you.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Stephan is what most women these days call a hunk. Always has been. He was homecoming king in high school and an all-star athlete…football, basketball and baseball.

Palm open, she extended an arm. "Stop! I don't care if he once graced the cover of GQ. I don't want to hear or know anything about him."

Understood. For an extended time, the ghost kept his thoughts and words to himself. He spoke again about the time Rooney saw the green sign for Rochester. We're coming up to Rochester. I'll let you know where to turn off but you'll want to take 390 South to get to Bath. We live on an old farm about ten miles before the town.

"Perfect. I rather liked the silence, so why don't you sit back, close your eyes, and your mouth, and I'll wake you before we get to Bath?"

She couldn't be sure but thought she heard a disgruntled huff. Her mind wandered during the final leg of their road trip. She mulled over Stuart's words about his brother and couldn't dispel her curiosity about the homecoming king turned army vet. How would Stephan receive her? Would he believe her fantastic tale about his brother's murder? Most of all, she wondered if Stephan would be able to see or hear Stuart.

At last, Stuart spoke again from the passenger seat. Take a left at the next exit. We'll come upon a country road called Crow's Nest. Turn right there and follow that all the way to the end.

Rooney took in the property as she navigated the long, gravel driveway. Rural, somewhat wild and definitely beautiful. Towering oaks and lush sugar maples grew in abundance here. The gorgeous trees lined the private road and also banked the two-story farmhouse on all sides. If one longed for privacy and seclusion, one could find it here.

Rooney turned off the engine and stepped out from the car. She advanced toward the wide front porch and sensed Stuart walking forward beside her. So far, so good, she thought drawing a deep breath.

Before she could form another thought, she heard a screen door near the house open and slam shut. Shielded from the harsh rays of the sun by an overhang, a man stood on the porch. Tall and lean, one broad shoulder hugged a pillar in dire need of fresh paint. A white t-shirt hugged his well-muscled torso, and faded jeans clung to his long legs like second skin. She knew if she looked at Stuart, he'd be wearing an I-told-ya-so grin, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction and besides, she couldn't seem to command her eyes to stop staring at the man the ghost called a hunk.

He had to be Stuart's brother, yet he looked nothing like the fair-haired, slender built ghost, not with the tangle of black hair covering part of his forehead, an exact match to the dark stubble on his firm, square jaw. His passive expression unnerved her, as did the blue eyes studying her with collective wariness. A bottle of Jack Daniels dangled from the fingers of his left hand. His right hand was poised over the waistband of his jeans near the handle of a gun. His entire mien, from casual stance to buff build, screamed pure male sexuality. And some kind of danger she'd rather not mull over.

After finding her tongue again, she eked the words out. "Good afternoon. You must be Stephan, Stephan Granger?"

"Yep, and you are…?

"Rooney Fontaine. I drove here from—"

He gave her a lopsided smirk. "Rooney, as in Mickey?"

She blew a breath of air, ruffling the damp hair on her forehead. "Yes, as in Mickey. My name is Veronica but Vanessa, my youngest sister, couldn't pronounce—"

"What do you want Rooney Fontaine?"

Her nerves frayed, she ran her sweaty palms down her thighs. "I'm here to talk to you about your brother, Stuart."

"Reporter, huh? Like the others that came snooping around here they couldn't read very well either."

His emphasis on the last word wasn't lost on her. "Reporter? No, no, I'm not, I swear, but what do you mean 'they couldn't read very well either?'"

"The No Trespassing sign nailed to a tree by the road."

Standing beside her, Stuart scratched his head. An oversight on my part. Damn, I hung that sign, didn't count on it applying to me one day.

"Sorry, I didn't see it, but I assure you, I won't take much of your time. I'll say what I've come to say and be on my way before you know it."

Lips pursed, he continued to study her.

"I know this is going to sound as crazy to you, as it did to me at first." God, this is much harder than I thought. "See, the thing is, your brother didn't commit suicide. Two men tossed him off the balcony at the La Bonne Chance Casino."

The Adonis look-alike rolled his eyes.

"He's been wandering around the hotel for two months until-well, until he showed up in my room last night."

"Thanks for dropping by Rooney Fontaine but I'll thank you to haul your sweet little ass back into that car and get the hell off my land."

He thinks my ass is sweet?

Stuart chimed in. I knew you were his kind of woman. Under different circumstances he might even—

"Stuff it, Stuart." Her head swimming with convoluted thoughts, not to mention words from both brothers, she shifted and faced the ghost. "This is hard enough without you speaking up from the peanut gallery."

The man on the porch cocked his head. "You talking to me, lady?"

"No, I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to—"

But I must speak up, Stuart said in a whiny voice. He'll never believe you otherwise. Ask him about the scar on his left thumb. He was six, we went fishing at the Mill Pond and I hooked him in the thumb. Never shed a tear when I dug that hook out with my pocket knife.

"Not only is your sight bad but your hearing sucks." Stephan gave her a dismissive wave and pivoted toward the house. "Oh, hell, do what you want but Jack Daniels and me are going back inside to pick up where we left off."

"The scar on your left thumb," she blurted out. "Stuart hooked you at the Mill Pond when you were six. He said you never cried, not even while he dug it out with his knife."

Stephan came to a halt and turned to face her again. "You knew him, didn't you? He told you about that."

She crossed her heart. "No, I didn't know him, not until last night. He-he's standing beside me now and told me what to say."

Blue eyes narrowed. "You expect me to believe my brother is a ghost and is here right now?"

Tell him when he was ten he had a lop-eared mongrel named Snoozer who followed him everywhere, tell him our mother's middle name was Gertrude and our father's Harrison. Stuart snapped his fingers. At eight years of age, he stole three red licorice sticks from Brueger's Mercantile. I made him march back in there and apologize, pay for the candy. Mom and Dad never knew about that and old man Brueger is long passed on now.

"What about Snoozer, your dog?" she said with a triumphant lilt to her voice. "Your mother's middle name was Gertrude, your father's Harrison." She advanced several steps. "You stole three pieces of red licorice from Brueger's when you were eight and Stuart made you apologize. What about all that, huh?"

"This is insane, and you're starting to piss me off."

"How about this one? Your mother loved all of Stewart Granger's films, The Man In Grey, Fanny by Gaslight, Caravan, The Magic Bow." She rocked back on her heels. "What do you have to say about that?"

"I say, how do you know about all this shit?"

"Because your brother is standing beside me telling me what to say. Look, I know it's insane. That's what I said when he showed up in my hotel room, but I swear on my mother's grave, Stuart has been stuck in some kind of limbo and is …well, he's a spirit, a ghost and can't move on until he knows you're safe."

"Why wouldn't I be safe?"

Now we're getting somewhere, Stuart said. Keep talking.

The holster of the gun glistened as Stephan descended the porch steps. Rooney shoved an arm out. "Hold on, what are you doing, and why do you have that gun tucked into your waistband?"

"Squirrel hunting." He gave her a wink that made him look so damn cute she almost swooned. But could she trust him? In reality, she knew nothing about the man, other than he was Stuart's brother and might be wrong in the head. "So where is he, my brother, the ghost?"

"Right here." She extended an arm. "Crap, I was hoping you could see him, hear him, like me."

"Sorry to disappoint you. I might be fit-shaced but I'm not…" Eyes narrowed again. "Crazy like some people."

"You mean shit-faced, and thanks so much for the crazy compliment."

"What would you call someone who showed up one day insisting your brother, the ghost, accompanied her to the old homestead?"

Inches away from her now, she looked up into his eyes. Blue…definitely blue and shining like sapphires. A rush of heat pedaled through her body and her tongue felt thick again. "Probably crazy. I get that, I do, and I didn't want to get involved in any of this. Once I saw Stuart, heard his story, I didn't know how to turn away. Believe me, I'd rather be anywhere but here right now translating for a ghost…your brother."

He cupped a hand over his brow, looked skyward and then back at her again. "That sun's a bitch today. All right, come on in. Can't wait to hear the rest of this fairytale. When I say it's time to go, I mean it, got that, Rooney Fontaine?"

We're in! Stuart did a fist pump. Well played, girl.

"Got it."

Afraid Stephan would change his mind about inviting her in she ignored Stuart and followed the hunk up the steps of the porch and into the kitchen.