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Chapter Three

Teeth bared, Valerie jammed her shoulder into the bathroom door and grunted. She’d barely connected with the wood when the door burst open, and she tumbled into Nick’s arms.

His hands held her forearms in a vise-tight grip to keep her from colliding with his chest. Even through the wool blend of her blazer sleeves, the vibrating heat of his anger burned her.

“What on earth are you doing?” he asked.

“The door was stuck.” She spied the wooden doorstop in his hand. This little thing was what had caused her full-blown panic attack? She snatched the offending piece of wood from his hand and held it up. “It’s going to take a lot more than locking me in the bathroom to discourage me.”

Even if his cheap bathroom trick had worked at scaring her—momentarily—it wasn’t going to make her disappear.

Guarded tension stretched his features taut. He pushed her away, breaking the heated hum of contact where his hard fingers had dug into her forearms. “Trust me, Val, if I choose to intimidate you, you’ll know.”

“Valerie.” She rubbed her arms against the sudden need to bury herself deeper into his embrace and breathe in the alluring scent of citrus and sandalwood of his aftershave. How crazy was that? One little scare, and like a two-year-old, she was ready to seek solace in the first pair of arms that turned up.

“So if you didn’t lock me in the bathroom, who did?” The woman with the braid? These people’s overprotective-ness of Rita Meadows made Valerie’s mother’s watchful smothering seem like neglect in comparison. “How many people work here?”

“That’s none of your concern. Val.”

“Valerie,” she insisted, narrowing her eyes at him. Had someone bribed the staff in the past? Was that where his wariness was coming from? “And it does concern me when someone locks me in the bathroom. What if you hadn’t come by?”

“You made enough racket. Someone would’ve heard you eventually.”

“That’s not the point—”

“I’ll handle the matter.”

She stuffed the doorstop in the kerchief pocket of his suit and gave it a pat. “Fine. See that it doesn’t happen again.” She didn’t really have a choice other than to let him “handle the matter.” She wasn’t here to investigate the staff’s juvenile intimidation tactics. She was here to conduct interviews. “How is Ms. Meadows?”

His eyes softened for a second. “Just a cold. She’ll be fine.”

But something in his expression told her he was more worried than a simple cold would warrant. “I’ll come back tomorrow, then. When she’s feeling better.”

“That would be best.”

Valerie buttoned her blazer, adding an extra buffer between them. “The photograph? From the agenda? Why does Ms. Meadows have it?”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. “It’s an age progression. She has one done every year on Valentina’s birthday.”

Valerie’s heart went out to Rita. Had she had the photo done as a way to watch her baby grow? No, Valerie decided. So she’d know what Valentina would look like if she saw her on the street somewhere. Maybe airing the segment would provide Rita with the resolution she needed.

“It, uh, looks like me.” The resemblance was uncanny and the memory of that likeness sent a shiver prickling over her scalp. Had Rita thought that Valerie was her daughter? Was that why she’d asked the personal questions? Although what height had to do with anything was a puzzle.

Nick’s gaze hardened and bored into her with a warning that seemed to aim straight at her heart. His voice rode a flat line that reverberated with threat. “But it isn’t you, Val. Something you’d best remember. Valentina is dead. I have proof. There won’t be a fat payday. Not if I can help it.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Is that why you’re being such a jerk? You think I think I’m Valentina? That’s ridiculous.”

“What’ll it take to make you disappear?”

“What?”

He whipped out a checkbook from the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket. “How much?”

One hand covered her heart. “You can’t be serious. You think I want money?”

He stepped closer until his breath was a warm flutter against her lips. “That’s all they want in the end.”

Her mind was blurring again. No, Nick, no. You know that’s not true. “They?”

“All the other girls over the years who’ve come knocking at the door pretending they’re the long-lost Valentina. ” He lifted a strand of her hair, rolled it between his fingers, then tucked it behind her ear. She leaned into his hand as if she’d done this very thing before. As if he had. Jeez, Louise, she really needed some food before she went totally over the edge.

His thumb skimmed the outline of her cheek in a way that let her know that he could kill her just as easily as kiss her. Wow, where had that come from? As if she’d ever want a kiss from someone who thought she was using her job to extort money.

“I’m not like all those girls. I’m not like anyone you’ve ever met.” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She searched the hard planes of Nick’s face, looking for…what? An explanation as to why she thought he would know her? Even stranger, that she should know him? That if she could just squeeze the right place on his waist, he would double over in helpless laughter?

He flattened a hand on the door frame beside her face, caging her against the wall. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve met a hundred girls like you. They’ve all convinced themselves they’re the one.”

A restless menace lurked right beneath the suit. But as much as he growled and barked and bared his teeth, he would never hurt her. The truth of that knowledge resonated soul deep. Which didn’t mean she wanted to test that theory quite yet.

She planted a palm against his chest and pushed him away. “I have a mother and a good life in Florida. I don’t need to borrow anybody else’s. So chill, okay? You said Valentina was dead. That you had proof? What kind?”

“That’s really none of your concern.”

“Well, see, that’s where I don’t agree. Everything that concerns Valentina concerns me.”

“And you think I’m just going to hand you ammunition?”

She tipped her head and squinted at him. “To fleece Ms. Meadows? No. To help me put on the best segment I can? Yes. If you have proof that Valentina is dead, then it means I need to take a different angle with the interviews.”

He refused to yield. “Knowing Valentina is dead doesn’t stop the crazies from showing up for a handout. The body was never found. Until it is, they prey on Ms. Meadows’s hopes.”

She sighed. “I can see your point, but what if she isn’t dead?” As if drawn by a black hole, all she could do was look deep into the impenetrable dark brown of his eyes. Let me in, Nick. Let me see. That he was shutting her out hurt in a way that was beyond crazy. So was the compelling childish urge to pat his cheek and tell him that everything was going to be okay. “What if she is alive?”

“She isn’t.” End of conversation, his tone said. But something flickered in his eyes, leaving her with the impression he was lying. Or at least not telling her the whole truth.

A door slammed somewhere down the hall, startling Valerie out of her strange connection with Nick. Never before had she been so aware of someone. The give-and-take of his breath. The galloping pulse of blood at his neck. The prickly hint of beard along his tense jawline. And that sadness, that heavy sadness that was eating at his soul and made her want to cry.

“It’s time for you to leave now.” Nick straightened, yawning a canyon of space between them, and Valerie ran her hands over her arms to keep warm.

Heavy boots tromped on the floor, heading their way. A stout man with a white lion’s mane poking out from a well-worn khaki fishing hat stepped into the hall. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Took me a while, but I’ve got the gentleman under control like you asked. He’s in the car with the doors locked.” He grinned, showing off square, white teeth. “Chomp is watching over him. He won’t go anywhere he ain’t supposed to go.”

“Thanks, Lionel.”

“My pleasure.” Lionel doffed his fishing hat and swept it in front of him, showing Valerie the way to the front door. “I’ll escort you out now, ma’am. Chomp, he don’t take too kindly to strangers.”

She pointed toward the library. “My things.”

Nick nodded his permission, and she held her breath until she reached the library. She shook her head as if the simple gesture could release her from the grip of Nick’s presence still clinging to her skin. The way he’d short-cir-cuited her usually ordered thinking wasn’t normal. Especially when it came to work.

You only have to deal with him for a couple of days, Valerie. And she’d be too busy with all the details; she’d forget he was even around.

She slipped Valentina’s photograph out of her portfolio, took one last look at the woman who could be her twin and tucked it back into Rita’s agenda. As sick as she was, Rita would need the comfort of her daughter’s picture. “Definitely spooky, though.”

But Valerie Grace Zea was born on May 13, not October 31. She was six months older than Valentina. She owned a baby album filled with pictures that featured Marissa and Ludlow Zea cradling her in the home where she’d spent all of her life, until four years ago when she’d bought her own little shoe box of a house just a mile from her parents’.

Her memory was crowded with snapshots of her life in Florida. No mansion. No fog-shrouded landscape. No Rita Meadows.

A creak made her look up and sweep the room with a glance.

Nothing there to warrant the itch between her shoulder blades, but she couldn’t help trying to roll away the feeling of being watched. Portfolio clutched to her chest, she hurried back into the hall where Nick’s long shadow loomed, waiting for her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” She adjusted her purse over her shoulder and yearned for a cup of coffee. “To look through the archives.”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven it is.” She slanted her head and gave him her most serious look. “I’ll do a good job.”

His mouth flattened. “Valentina needs to be buried, not revived.”

“To bury her, you have to find her. Someone out there knows where she is, and airing those segments could bring you the information you need for closure.”

“Don’t you think that if anyone knew where she was, they’d have said something by now? Claiming the one-million-dollar reward is much easier than pretending to be a dead child all grown-up.”

“So we’re back to that, huh?” Actions spoke more clearly than words. In the end, he’d see she was true to her word.

His voice, low and rough, rumbled with warning. “Secrets are called that for a reason, Val. And sometimes people want to keep their secrets buried.”

Oh, yeah? What’s yours? “I’m not her. But I’m not one of your pretenders, either. I’m just a woman trying to do her job.” Why was it so important that he believe her?

A terrifying flicker of a smile sprang to his lips. “Make sure that’s all you do.”

NICK STOOD TO ONE SIDE of the window, surveying the scene below him. Valerie walked with both a dancer’s grace and a sprinter’s efficiency. Although she couldn’t see him standing in the shadows of the third-floor tower room, she paused before entering the car and looked up. Not at Lionel and the barely controlled Doberman the caretaker held by the studded collar on the doorstep. But at him. Their gazes met across the barrier of glass and shadows, and she seemed to shiver before she disappeared into the safety of the car.

Good. She should be afraid. Fear would keep her from following through on her plan to blind Rita with her likeness to Valentina.

He wouldn’t be as easy to fool.

He’d already paid a hefty price for his mistake. He picked up the floppy-eared dog that had been Valentina’s favorite and buried his nose in the fur that had long ago lost its little-girl smell. In its place came the remembered sweet-and-spicy ginger scent Valerie wore. He hurled the dog back to the storage chest and scraped a hand over his face. His weakness had cost him his best friend and the only person who’d understood him.

Protecting Rita, protecting Valentina’s memory were the most important things in his life. A man had to take care of his own.

He followed the track of the car down the driveway until the fog devoured it. This woman was good. Better than the rest, judging by the instant connection she’d made with Rita.

It’s her, Nicolas. I can feel it. Rita’s words echoed in his empty soul. She’d been ready to open her arms, her home and her heart to the charlatan. That’s why she didn’t come before. She doesn’t know.

He couldn’t bear the toll the inevitable pain would cost Rita. It’s not her, Rita. It can’t be.

His gaze zoomed in on the golden pine of the floor, and that horrible night sucked him back into its darkness. Rita had had the floor sanded and refinished, but Nick could still see the dark stain spreading.

The blood, he’d never stop seeing all that blood.

Or her eyes. Those half-closed, dead eyes.

His fault that she was gone.

Yet there was something about Valerie that seemed to reach back too far to be faked. His chin dropped to his chest and his eyes closed. How could she possibly have learned the quirks that were Valentina’s? Little things like the half dimple that creased her right cheek when she smiled. The way her fingers played unconsciously with the hem of her blazer when she was nervous. How many sweaters had Valentina unraveled with that nasty habit? The way she tilted her head and looked at him with implicit trust. He’d never been able to scare Valentina, except with ghost stories, and then she’d looped her arms around his neck, pressed her cheek against his. Are they gone, Nick? Are the ghosts gone?

And he really didn’t like the way looking at her kicked up his blood.

Could Rita be right? Could Valentina have finally come home? Or was Valerie pulling the ultimate con by pretending she wasn’t Valentina, but seeding all the right clues?

No, Valentina was dead. He had proof—the DNA, the blanket, the deathbed confession of Rita’s former chauffeur. For crying out loud, there was even a guy in prison, serving time for the kidnapping.

And the blood. All that blood.

He rubbed his eyes to blot out the sight.

Damn Valerie for showing up.

And damn him for doubting what his own eyes showed him.

Nick stalked away from the window and marched to Rita’s office. He ripped the phone from the cradle and dialed the P.I. he had on retainer.

Joe Aveni might as well have called himself Joe Average. Brown hair, brown eyes in an unmemorable face. Under the layer of fat he cultivated, he hid hard muscles he exercised five days a week. He dressed forgettably and appeared no threat to either males or females. All of which rendered him incredibly efficient at cajoling information from even the most unwilling of sources. No would-be Valentina had ever been able to stand up to his scrutiny.

“I need a background check,” Nick said when Joe answered.

“Hey, man, I’m backed up. It’ll take me a couple of days to get to it.”

“I’ll double your rate.”

“Ah, shoot, Nick, don’t tell me you got another Valentina.”

“The twenty-fifth anniversary is going to bring out all the crazies.”

“Give me what you’ve got.”

Nick gave the information he’d found on Valerie in the agenda he’d brought up from the library along with the empty take-out coffee cup.

“I’ll have a quick-and-dirty for you by the end of the day,” Joe said.

“Sooner.”

“You realize it’s already past three, don’t you?”

Nick swallowed a growl. “Soonest you can.”

“How deep do you want me to go?”

Nick sought the age-progressed picture from the back of Rita’s agenda. Valerie’s face superimposed itself on Valentina’s dead eyes and stiff smile in a way he didn’t like. Alive, so alive. Her blond hair rippling with light, her eyes blue beams of determination, her teasing mouth taunting him in a too-familiar way. He squeezed the tension at the back of his neck and willed the mirage to disappear. “I want to know everything about her from the first breath she ever took to what she had for breakfast this morning.”

Joe cleared his throat. “Going that deep’ll mean travel and a couple of days’ delay. Maybe a week, depending on what turns up.”

“Bill me.”

The click-click of Joe’s pen pecked at Nick’s eardrum. “Can I ask what’s different about this one?”

What about Valerie had made him fall for the illusion in a way none of the other frauds had?

The con, he realized. Too slick. Too choreographed. “She’s too good.”

Joe bellowed out a laugh. “I’ve got to meet this woman who has Nicolas Galloway all tied up in knots.”

Nick had known only one person who could slide so smoothly through a lie and make anyone believe it was the truth. He still bore the scars of that misplaced trust, and he wasn’t going to let anyone add to them.

Was he back? Because of the anniversary?

A deep, disturbing gush of anger spewed up and shook Nick to the core.

“What you have to do is get me the ammunition I need to stop her cold.” Nick picked up the empty take-out cup that, even through the brown paper bag, still smelled faintly of vanilla and coffee. “Can your DNA guy extract what he needs from a cup of take-out coffee?”

“I’ll find out.”

“And while you’re at it, I’ll need a financial on Simon Higgins. He’s the executive producer at WMOD-TV in Orlando.” Nick took a deep breath. “And find me Gordon Archer’s current whereabouts.”

What Nick needed was facts. Basic, logical, hard facts. With those he could fight them all—Archer, Higgins and Valerie. Especially Valerie.

She’d come back in the morning. And he’d have to be ready for her.

AT THE OTHER END of the phone, the woman burst into tears. “Valerie’s gone.” Was there no end to the river she could cry? “I tried everything, but she still went.”

He slapped a stack of reports into his briefcase. “I’ll take care of it.”

A nervous tick of nails clicked against the phone. “You won’t hurt her, will you?”

He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and shook his head. “What do you take me for?”

After all he’d done for her, the least she could do is show him a little respect and gratitude. He wasn’t an idiot. Why would he want to bring attention to a mistake when he was so close to payback?

“I’m sorry.” She sniffed. “I didn’t mean…”

“Of course you didn’t.” He softened his voice. “Trust me. I’ll take care of everything.”

She swallowed a large bubble of air.

“Everything’s fine,” he insisted.

“But what if—”

“She’s just doing her job.”

“But…” She sighed. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” He hung up, snatched the brochure from the desk and sneered at the mansion used as a logo. They’d airbrushed out the weeds and the neglect, but they couldn’t quite hide the self-important haughtiness. He pitched the brochure into his briefcase, snapped it shut and locked it.

Valerie was at Moongate.

He reached for the custom-tailored suit jacket on his bed. She’d been warned. If she couldn’t take a hint, if she got in his way, she’d have to suffer the consequences.

Then a zing of new possibility burst in his chest. He smiled as he adjusted his tie in the mirror. On the other hand, if he couldn’t keep her away, maybe he could use her to his advantage.

He’d get his chance. He’d always known it would come.

Briefcase in hand, he hummed as he left the room. This time, he’d get it right. This time, no one would mistake him for shoe scum—least of all the high-and-mighty Rita Meadows.

Chapter Four

When Valerie arrived at Moongate the next morning, she’d expected to give Rita Meadows a quick greeting, then get down to the archives while Mike taped his interior shots. But plans had a way of twisting themselves around, especially when time was at a premium. Really, if a shoot ever ran smoothly, she’d think the end of the world had arrived.

She stifled a sigh. One out of two was better than none. At least Mike was on his way up to the tower room escorted by the burly Lionel.

A whippet-thin and rumpled man sat with Rita in the library. The only plus side Valerie could see to the delay was that Nick seemed even less happy to see the new arrival than he’d been at seeing her.

Nick wore a charcoal suit today, and with his crisp white shirt and power-red tie, he presented the perfect picture of the successful businessman. His protective stance at Rita’s side left no doubt that, should anyone try to harm her, they would suffer his wrath.

Then there were those eyes, guarded and restrained. But an undeniable frisson of something passed between Valerie and him when their gazes connected, and she couldn’t help the hint of a smile that twitched her lips or the bubbly desire to play that infiltrated her limbs.

Do not even go there, Valerie. Nick wasn’t part of the job and was way too complex for her to deal with in three days.

“Valerie! I’m so glad you’re finally here.” Rita’s smile beamed. A strong red painted her cheeks, as if she’d gone too heavy with the blush. Her eyes had a feverish gleam to them that made Valerie think Rita should still be in bed. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” She patted her hand on the sofa next to her, inviting Valerie to sit.

Valerie’s gaze jumped to Nick, who simply scowled at her with his cool, dark eyes. She perched a polite distance from her hostess—as far away from Nick as she could, grateful the sofa’s cream fleur-de-lis back offered a barrier between them—and clipped on a smile. She’d wasted way too much of her night thinking about Nicolas Galloway to allow him to get to her today.

“This is Dr. Evan Gardner,” Rita said. “He’s come to work a little project for me.”

Up close, Evan Gardner was shades of tan from his straight dirty-blond hair to his camel tweed jacket and scuffed boots. His forty-something face had a houndish sag to it that seemed oddly familiar.

Valerie nodded a greeting, remembering where she’d met the man before. “Nice to meet you again, Dr. Gardner.”

The man might look like a fashion disaster, but he knew his stuff. She twirled her cup of take-out coffee in her hands. How long would she have to sit here before she could excuse herself to search the archives?

Nick stiffened. “You’ve met?”

Another layer of wariness clanked into place in Nick’s eyes. Going through life suspecting everyone of having ulterior motives was a tough way to exist. Did he ever untie his starched collar? Did he ever have fun?

“At a psychic fair last year in Orlando.” Valerie still got a shiver thinking about the spread of dark and gloomy tarot cards she received as part of the segment.

“Oh, that’s right.” Evan slapped a big hand on the thigh of his tan trousers and offered her a shaggy smile. “You interviewed me about paranormal investigation techniques.”

“I never knew there were so many electronic gadgets!” Valerie turned to Rita. “Do you have a ghost in the house?”

“That’s what I mean to find out.” Rita poured tea and offered Valerie a cup. Although she’d rather have her coffee, and although she’d rather just get on with the job, she accepted, aware of Nick’s gaze burning a disapproving hole right through her. “I met Evan in Chicago—”

“Chicago?” Nick frowned. “When were you in Chicago? Why didn’t I know about this?”

A flush crept up Rita’s neck. “I’ve been looking for someone reputable, someone you would have to listen to. So when I heard that Evan was going to be presenting a seminar at a paranormal convention in Chicago, I had to go.”

“At a what?”

Rita’s spoon stilled against the side of her cup. “You heard me, Nicolas. Why do you think I didn’t tell you?”

“You’re making me sound like the bad guy here.”

Rita raised an eyebrow as if to say, “If the shoe fits,” and sipped. “Evan has science behind him.”

Nick planted both hands on the back of the sofa and, though his voice was controlled, Valerie sensed an inner storm blustering in him. “Hiding behind science doesn’t mean he’s not a quack.”

Evan’s gaze ping-ponged between Nick and Rita. “Uh, should I leave?”

“No,” Rita insisted. “Evan is a professional ghost hunter with scientific credentials, Nicolas. He majored in history and archeology, which taught him methods of cor-roboration and gave him the same bloodhound approach in the search for facts that you have for investments.”

Nick sneered. “Ghosts aren’t quite as black-and-white as balance sheets.”

“Which is exactly why we need someone of Evan’s impeccable background.”

Boy, if Valerie had ever dared to speak to her mother in that tone, she’d have gotten a slap for her insolence. That Nick felt free enough to speak truthfully without fearing dismissal or a dressing-down said something about the depth of their relationship. Was that it? Was he secure in his position at Moongate because Rita treated him like a son? Would he lose all that if Valentina were to come back and claim her rightful place? Something to ponder.

“I’ve written in-depth articles for several scientific magazines.” Evan bent down to the well-worn leather messenger bag at his feet and drew out a handful of papers. “I’ve brought reprints. I want to record information faith-fully for its scientific value.” He grinned sheepishly and half rose out of the wing chair to hand Nick the articles. “I’m also fascinated by the stories I hear from the ghosts through mediums. Knowing what happened to them helps me understand the energy they left behind.”

“Oh, great,” Nick mumbled, discarding Evan’s articles on a nearby side table. “Just what we need, a medium to add to this zoo.”

Evan put a hand up. “No, no. I only bring in a medium if circumstances point to a haunting.”

Nick chuffed. “Like that’s not going to happen with Rita Meadows involved.”

Evan’s cheeks quivered. “I don’t let a name, or lack of one, influence my findings.”

Nick skewered him with his death-laser gaze, and, when Evan squirmed, Valerie was glad that, for once, she wasn’t the recipient. “How about money? Do you let that influence the extent of your research?”

“That’s quite enough, Nicolas.”

“As a matter of fact, no.” Evan recoiled as if insulted. “I don’t charge anything to investigate a possible occurrence. My expenses are all covered by a grant.”

Nick didn’t look convinced. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch is that I use my findings in my scientific papers.”

A muscle jumped in Nick’s jaw as if he were literally biting back his words.

Rita withdrew a handkerchief from the pocket of her gray wool skirt and dabbed at the pearls of sweat strung along her forehead.

“Are you all right?” Valerie poured Rita a glass of ice water from the pitcher on the silver tray.

“I’m fine, dear.” Rita accepted the glass from Valerie, but didn’t sip. “Evan’s agreed to look at the tower room and run some tests.”

“The tower room?” Valerie asked. Rita didn’t look well at all. “Valentina’s room?”

“There have been sounds, like a baby crying coming from the tower room, and I’d like to find out if there’s a physical cause for the phenomenon.” She looked pointedly at Nick.

No wonder she hadn’t told Nick of her plans. Having a television crew interviewing Rita was bad enough, but a paranormal researcher had to grate against everything Nick stood for.

Having a ghost haunt the tower room would certainly put an interesting spin on the story, though. Valerie would have to corner Evan when Nick wasn’t around and ask if she could tape some of his experiments for her segment.

“And if there is a poor lost soul wandering the tower room…” Rita’s glass shook in her hands, clinking the ice cubes like skeleton teeth. With an awkward two-handed movement, she slid the glass on the coffee table. “Then it would be nice for him to find his way home.”

His, she’d said, not her. Whoever Rita thought was haunting the tower room, she was certain it wasn’t her daughter. Did Moongate hold another secret tight in its walls? How this experiment played out would certainly prove interesting.

“I suppose that’s where the medium comes in,” Nick grumbled.

“Evan’s work is a plausible avenue for truth,” Rita insisted. She raised her handkerchief to her mouth and coughed twice.

At Rita’s distress, Nick crouched at her side and his whole face softened. The transformation took Valerie’s breath away.

Nick, Nick, Nick, her heart sang as if he were a long-lost friend, and she had to put a hand to her chest to stop the wild gallop.

A warm smile graced Rita’s lips. Her hand reached up to touch Nick’s. “I know you’re trying to protect me, but sometimes, you try too hard.”

“You certainly don’t make my job easy.” Worry lines crimped Nick’s forehead, and he studied the rose pattern on the carpet for a long time before looking up at Rita. “What if Gardner and his scientific methods find that the ghost is Valentina, won’t that prove that Valentina is dead?”

The gentleness in his voice made Valerie want to reach for him. The longing was so strong she nearly wept out loud.

What was it about this house that turned her from a professional to an emotional wreck? What made her good at her job was her ability to remain a neutral observer. These dramatic shifts of emotions weren’t like her at all.

“This is important to me, Nicolas.” Rita’s voice caught in her throat. “It’s going to generate leads to find Valentina. ”

Nick raked a hand through his hair and glanced at Evan, hard mask back in place. “What exactly are your plans, Dr. Gardner?”

“I’ll need to set up some equipment in the tower room where Rita has heard the cries. I’ve brought it all with me. It’s out in my truck.” Evan prattled on, completely unaware of Nick’s scorn. “The people most likely to see a ghost are those who have recently suffered the loss of a loved one, are considered insane, are closer to nature and farther from cities or technology, or inhabit the sites of wrongful deaths.”