Nightwalker. Part 6

And then he wasn't.

She must have come to a dead halt, stunned, because Aaron Beaton, playing the role of Captain Gray-specked Blackbeard, started prompting her. "Bonny Anne, Bonny Anne, have ye found it? Have ye found me treasure?"

She stared at him without any idea how to respond as her blood grew cold.

He hadn't been real.

She had simply conjured him up in her mind's eye.

Or he had had been real, just someone else. Someone who only been real, just someone else. Someone who only looked looked like a dead man. like a dead man.

After all, a man had died on top of her last night; she had a right to be traumatized. To be seeing things. There was nothing odd about it at all.

"Bonny Anne?" Aaron said sharply.

"Your treasure? treasure? My My treasure!" she insisted, dragging herself back into character. treasure!" she insisted, dragging herself back into character.

Her declaration started a mock battle that was really a carefully ch.o.r.eographed dance piece. She battled gamely, whirled and jumped, then looked back to the doorway and almost missed a beat.

He was back.

And he was watching her with huge eyes and an expression filled with both tragedy and remorse.

Since the promo poster Dillon had seen the night before pictured Jessy Sparhawk, it was a reasonable a.s.sumption that if he headed to the Big Easy she was likely to be working.

She was.

The pirate party was scheduled daily from one to six, giving the parents a full afternoon of worry-free gambling. Dillon wondered how many of them forgot to come back at closing time, but he a.s.sumed the casino had a plan for dealing with that.

The theater was surrounded by gla.s.s walls, and the outer vestibule was decorated with pirate paraphernalia and wall paintings. Inside the room, the stage held an impressive pirate s.h.i.+p that seemed to float above s.h.i.+mmering blue water, an effect caused by lighting under a gla.s.s stage floor. There were interactive areas for the kids, and each seating section sported a different-colored pirate flag, dividing the kids into teams so they could root for their color-matched "champions" onstage. There were huge treasure chests around the room that held soda, candy and chips, along with healthier soy snacks and natural iced teas. It was a top-quality production, designed to appeal to kids of all ages-along with the occasional adult he saw in the audience. He noted that the smaller children were together in one area, and there seemed to be at least three employees wearing pirate-themed casino uniforms to attend to every nine or ten children.

Onstage, the pirates were going at it.

He recognized Jessy right away, despite her wig and makeup and pirate attire. The kids were shouting to her, laughing, and even the almost adults in the room were having fun and shouting right along with everyone else for her to find the treasure.

Then she froze. Just...froze, staring at the doorway.

It was only for the blink of an eye; then she jerked her gaze away and responded to one of the male actors. A sword battle ensued, then somehow turned into a dance.

Then, once again, Jessy Sparhawk froze.

Dillon felt a tap on his shoulder and thought it might be the big security guard who was keeping an eagle eye on the room.

But it wasn't. Ringo was at his side.

"Over there," Ringo said quietly.

Across the lobby, standing near the guard, stood another man. A big man in a suit.

Tanner Green.

Dillon started toward him, moving quickly but casually, keeping his eyes focused on the guard, as if he was just going over to ask him a question about the show.

But Tanner Green sensed him, and he was having none of it. He turned and stared hard at Dillon.

And then he disappeared, fading like mist taken by a sudden wind.

"You scared him!" Ringo said accusingly.

Inwardly, Dillon cursed himself. He should have watched the man a while longer. He should have been patient. But if Tanner Green was walking around in some spiritual limbo, it was imperative for Dillon to reach him. Speak with him.

And he had moved without menace. This was one spooked ghost-no pun intended, he thought with a grin.

The guard looked at him and nodded, mistaking him for a parent. "Kids will be out in a little while, maybe twenty minutes or so. A lot of them hang around to get their pictures taken with the cast."

"Thanks," Dillon said, turning away from the guard and putting his hand up to his face as if rubbing his chin, so he could speak softly to Ringo without being overheard.

"Why was he so frightened of me?" he asked.

"Duh. The man was murdered," Ringo pointed out, as if pointing out the obvious to a three-year-old.

Irritated, Dillon chose not to respond to his ghostly companion's sarcasm. Ringo might be from the Old West, but he had adopted the modern vernacular with enthusiasm, as if that somehow made him more a part of the earthly world.

"Maybe he was afraid of you, you, then," Dillon asked. "You're the one carrying a gun." then," Dillon asked. "You're the one carrying a gun."

"That actually makes sense," Ringo admitted. "He probably hasn't seen many other ghosts, and, if he has...well, I guess an old gunslinger might be a bit too much for him to handle. And he probably doesn't want to believe that he's dead, either. Probably hasn't accepted it yet."

Whatever the cause, Tanner Green was scared.

Even so, he had come out in the open to stare at Jessy Sparhawk, the woman he had been lying on top of as he breathed his last.

And she had seen him. Dillon would swear to it.

The play finished and the kids rushed the stage. The performers posed for pictures, laughing, talking, signing miniposters that seemed to come out of nowhere. He watched Jessy pick up a toddler for a photo, then talk to the little girl and sign a poster. She seemed totally at ease-until she glanced back toward the door and an uneasy look crossed her face.

Then she saw Dillon and was visibly startled. After that she looked...frightened, rattled, though she continued to smile as she interacted with the kids.

He waved to her at one point, and she waved back.

The security guard with the broad shoulders and pleasant smile walked over to him. "You a friend of Jessy's?" the man asked. "Not just a waiting parent?"

"No," Dillon told him, shaking his head. "And yes, I'm a...friend of Jessy's."

"You can go on in if you want," the guard said.

"Thanks," Dillon said and headed toward the stage, Ringo still at his side.

He noticed a woman turn around as they pa.s.sed, a puzzled look on her face. She drew her sweater more closely around her, as if she had suddenly felt a chill. That was the way it was for most people. They didn't see the dead, couldn't communicate with them, but something inside told them that someone was there.

Dillon smiled at the woman and kept going, hoping Ringo wasn't feeling mischievous and wouldn't tease her with a tap on the shoulder or a tug at her skirt. He moved quickly, because if you weren't looking, Ringo wasn't as p.r.o.ne to act up.

Jessy was still onstage, posing with the last of the kids.

She looked at him over the head of a toddler, and he sensed she wasn't all that pleased to see him. But she was in performance mode, so she forced a smile to her lips.

"Very impressive," he told her, reaching the stage. He saw her fellow cast members glancing his way and whispering to one another. He was being a.s.sessed, he knew.

"What a surprise to see you here," she said.

He decided not to mince words. "I need to speak with you."

"Oh? This isn't a great time. I have to get out of costume, check my schedule for the next few days."

"I'll wait."

She glanced away, biting her lip. She might be a good performer, but she was a lousy liar. She didn't have a good excuse for refusing to talk to him, and she wasn't going to invent one.

"I'm not having a great day," she said. "I'm really tired."

"I won't take much of your time. And you have to eat, right? Why not let me take you to the fast-food establishment of your choice, and then I'll leave you alone, I promise."

She let out an uneasy sigh and gave in. "Sure. I need about half an hour."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it," he told her.

She nodded curtly, and he couldn't help thinking that she made a gorgeous pirate. Her costume wasn't risque, but her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rode appealingly in the cotton blouse above the top of a leather corset. Her skirt was long, but slit up one side for dancing. Her stage makeup was heavy and came complete with false eyelashes, but even so, up close, she was stunning.

And she was afraid.

He forced himself to take a step back. She was a bit too too appealing, and he had to concentrate if he wanted to get to the truth behind Tanner Green's death. And he just knew she wasn't going to be receptive to anything he had to say. Most likely, given that he had been there last night, his very presence was probably anathema to her already. appealing, and he had to concentrate if he wanted to get to the truth behind Tanner Green's death. And he just knew she wasn't going to be receptive to anything he had to say. Most likely, given that he had been there last night, his very presence was probably anathema to her already.

And things weren't going to get better.

"I'll meet you at Chen's. It's just down the Strip," she said.

"Thanks," he told her again. "I'll see you there."

He watched her head backstage. Right before she left, she looked back-and not at him.

Then she shuddered-as if she'd seen a ghost-and disappeared behind a black velvet drape.

4.

There was an incredibly simple answer to what was plaguing her, of course. She was simply seeing someone who looked like Tanner Green. It wasn't as if she actually knew the man and could be sure it was him.

Bull.

She knew his face, and that was all that mattered.

That face was etched in her mind. She would never forget it. She had been looking into his eyes as he died.

Key words. He had died. He had died.

Maybe she had been listening to Timothy too much, and now she was seeing dead people just as he saw ghost dancers in the sky.

She winced as she sat down at her dressing table. Why on earth had she agreed to see Dillon Wolf? She didn't want to, and she didn't really understand why. The man was attractive, courteous, charming and, well, hot hot, as Sandra would have put it.

But...

He was somehow connected to the extremely odd visions she was having. How or why, she didn't know. Everything was tied up in feelings of fear and unease, and she didn't like feeling this way at all. At least the cops were leaving her alone; they evidently knew that she'd had nothing to do with Tanner Green's death other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She reached for a makeup-remover pad and set to work. With her makeup gone, she looked young. And afraid. h.e.l.l, she was was afraid. And she really hated that. afraid. And she really hated that.

"Who's the hottie?" April Brandon, one of her fellow pirates, asked, grinning.

"Pardon?"

"Tall, dark and super cool," April said, sliding into her own chair in front of the long mirror.

"Oh, just a friend. No, not a friend. Not really."

"An enemy?" April teased.

"No, no, I mean, I just met him."

"Oh. Well, if you decide not to be his friend, introduce him to me, huh?" April winked at her, pulling her plumed hat from her head.

"You've got a boyfriend, remember?"

"Maybe, but I'm not blind," April said. She pulled off her earrings, then turned around suddenly to survey the room.

Jessy felt as if a million goose b.u.mps broke out over her body and asked, "What is it?"

"Footsteps on my grave, I guess," April said, shrugging. "Sorry. I just had this creepy feeling. Ice along the spine or something."

Jessy looked around, as well. She didn't see anyone, but she felt uncomfortable even so. She had to get herself under control. How was she ever going to lead a normal life if she was suddenly afraid of invisible danger at every turn?

April gave a shrug and reached for her makeup remover. "Anyway, friend to friend? I'd go after him if I were you, if only just for the s.e.x. And I'll be wanting details when you do."