ratlike face animated, dark eyes glinting in the lights of the flashlights. “That burst of cold, feel how it radiates. All around. Almost like a cold wind.”
It was a cold wind, Joss thought, bored. A cold front was projected to move through, and he had a feeling that had something to do with the sudden cool wind.
But he couldn’t blame everything on the weather.
Plenty of weird, though, could be laid at the feet of the guide. If anybody with eyes had bothered to look, they would have seen the clues all over the place. At least, he had.
He’d seen where the dry ice had been used.
He’d caught it when the guide had signaled one of his coworkers, too, and not a second later, there had been mysterious banging sounds when they’d stopped in the middle of an open field where supposedly hundreds of Seminoles had been slaughtered four hundred years earlier.
You can almost hear their cries, can’t you . . .
If the guide hadn’t had the timing wrong, Joss might not have been so skeptical.
All in all, he’d definitely gotten his money’s worth, he supposed. Joss took his amusements where he could, and they weren’t even at the highlight of the tour.
The Oglesby Cemetery.
Every step pulled him closer. Closer. Closer. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he heard the echo of her laugh. But then it was followed by the harsh, broken sound of her screaming. Pain. Darkness . . . torn away from her . . .
You’re going crazy, he thought wearily.
And if anybody knew why he was here, they just might try to get him committed. He certainly sounded crazy, he knew. Here to keep watch over the grave of a woman who’d died more than a century earlier.
Keep watch—just as he’d done dozens of times over the years.
* * *
“YOU, sir, have the aura of a man in need.”
Joss looked down to see the psychic-wanna-be standing in front of him, an anxious look on that skinny face, his hands clasped in front of his chest, his eyes hopeful, shining.
Aw, shit. He wasn’t the target for the night, was he?
Then the man lifted a hand . . .
Yes. He was the target.
Each time he’d done this tour, the guy had picked somebody out of his group to focus on. He seemed to think it added something to the show, Joss figured. Hell, Joss could really add something to the show. But he wasn’t in the mood to have some fake playing tricks on him, and he damn sure wasn’t going to go along with the gag, either.
Instead of responding, he just stared at him.
“And you’re so closed off,” Larry “Cap” Rawlings said, his voice heavy and mournful as he peered up at Joss.
Joss stood six-feet-five. Most people had to peer up at him. Normally, people kept some distance, but this guy was practically standing on his toes, so close that Joss could smell the garlic he’d eaten. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. Cap had his head tipped so far back, one push against his chest and he’d be off balance enough to end up on his ass.
Joss amused himself with that image but didn’t let it show on his face as he continued to stare at the con artist. “What is it?” Cap asked again. “Why are you here? What draws you here? What do you seek?”
Oh, that’s a good guess . . . not. Most of these people here were seeking something. Either they wanted some sort of proof of life after death, or they wanted a thrill, or they just wanted something to do. A million other excuses, and a person didn’t have to be psychic to figure out the people here were seeking anything.
If this guy was a psychic, Joss was a prima ballerina.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joss said, keeping his voice flat, his face blank, and his eyes shuttered. He also deliberately crossed his arms over his chest and looked away—keep out, keep out, keep out—the body movements said it all. Assuming the guy knew how to read body language and had half a brain, maybe he’d just walk away and call it quits.
The guy didn’t have half a brain. Joss was guessing he was running on about a third.
“Oh, yes. Yes, you do. You seek answers, but you don’t even know if you believe in what you see before you. You don’t believe in the . . .” He paused dramatically and looked all around. “Gift.”