RetroCog

Chapter Nine

On the computer, Noah scrolled through another edition of the Brownville Voice from twenty years ago. To his relief, the library seemed deserted. This early in the day, none but the most avid readers were looking for material. He had the computer section all to himself.

For the next few hours, he read through the histories of Brownville that related to Cecilia Fine or Finn Fury. Nothing stood out from his research, so he moved on to more current history. No time like delving into the seedy underbelly of Brownville’s fire chief and deputy extraordinaire.

Something about Mike’s and Bill’s connection nagged at him. History repeating itself… He glanced at the table, where he’d piled the books detailing the relationship between Cecilia Fine and Finn Fury. What was it that connected Cecilia and Finn to Mike Buckman and Bill Knowles? What had he missed?

A whisper of sound drifted over him in a cold breath. The cloying pressure of psychic phenomena settled over him like a suffocating blanket. Shit. He’d never liked these rare occasions when the past reached out and smothered him. Knowing what he did about the violence and negative energy in town made his unease worse.

Then a woman’s hand stroked his shoulder. “Beware the jealous lover.”

He tensed and turned, expecting to see Cecilia Fine. To his astonishment, a giant of a man wearing a gun belt, two pistols, and the look of a killer stared at him from a few feet away. He looked familiar. “I ain’t gonna let you hurt her again.”

Noah wondered if he’d fallen into the past or was seeing what he and Lara had witnessed earlier at the inn. A ghost.

“She’s mine.” The bandanna around the man’s neck shifted, revealing a scar, and detail poured into him. It was as if watching an artist fill out his creation. Finnegan Fury.

Noah studied the outlaw. Like Noah, he possessed a large frame. His arms were corded with muscle, his legs firm on the ground, his stance ready, eager. Finn looked poised to take on any comers. His ghostly face might have been called handsome, but to Noah the scar on his chin and the one that slashed through his left brow gave him a demonic appearance. He had short black hair, a square jaw, and ice blue eyes that didn’t blink. A stone-cold killer.

“I’m talking to you, asshole.”

Noah blinked. “Hell, you’re here with me, aren’t you? You’re not the past.”

Finn drew his gun and shot through Noah’s chest. Then Noah heard a body thud to the ground behind him.

His heart beat so hard, he was surprised it hadn’t leaped from his flesh. Christ, the man was fast. If he’d shot real bullets, Noah would be dead.

“The next one will be in your gut. Blood or not, I’m done with you. And so is she. That’s the last warning you’ll ever get.” Finn kept his weapon trained on the body behind Noah and backed from the room before he vanished.

Eager to see who’d been shot, Noah turned. On the ground lay the body of a man, and blood stained his light-colored trousers. To his immense frustration, Noah couldn’t see any more than that bloodied leg through the fog of the past. He could almost feel Cecilia pushing at him to look closer, to use his abilities and see the truth in front of his face. But something blocked him from doing so.

“Fucker. I’ll get you. Cecilia is mine. That whore is mine,” the downed man screamed. He stumbled to his feet, and Noah took a hard look at the man he suspected had shot and killed Finn and Cecilia. He concentrated until his head hurt and wiped at a bloody nose. Damn if he hadn’t pushed himself to the extreme to penetrate the curious vision before him.

Tan trousers, a dark vest over a black work shirt, and scuffed brown boots appeared like magic. Standard western apparel, with the exception of the gun belt slung over slim hips. Noah concentrated and noted the man’s dark hair reached his shoulders. His face remained a blank canvas, which was odd. Noah had never before witnessed a partial scene of the past.

Cecilia appeared and prodded him. She wore the same scarlet dress, the same earrings and bound hair, but her eyes held a worry that reminded him so much of Lara. “Hurry, before it’s too late. Catch him.” Not a vision of the past, her ghost.

She reached out and grazed his cheek. He shivered at the touch and studied the cursing man as he limped from the room and dragged himself down the stairs.

The stairs?

Noah looked around him, stunned to suddenly see the Lady Fine Saloon in all its antiquated glory. Light spilled in from the outside, brightening the scarred and stained tables, over which a few drunken patrons still gathered. Dust floated in the sunbeams, landing on the gnarled hands of miners and men who’d been alone for too long. Men who’d rather drink than find a warm woman to curl up next to.

A woman like Lara. Conscious of the thought that didn’t belong in the past, Noah trailed the bleeding man out the door. He couldn’t manage a glimpse of his face, for all that he tried. But he swore he knew the man, the way he moved, the way he spoke. He’d seen this guy before. Going on the premise that the murders were cyclic, if this was the same man who’d killed Finn and Cecilia, his present incarnation had to be Mike or Bill. Or was it someone else?

“Mr. Fury?”

Expecting to see Finn again, Noah watched the injured man spin around with his gun in hand. Fury? But this wasn’t Finn. Finn’s brother, maybe?

Fury swore and clamped down on his thigh with his free hand. “What the fuck are you followin’ me for?”

The slight woman shivered and held out his hat. “Sorry, Michael. You dropped this.”

Michael? Michael Fury? Or Mike Buckman? The past and the present felt all jumbled up. Noah tried to break free from his vision, concerned because he’d left Lara just as Mike had entered the inn. To his alarm, he couldn’t stop watching history unfold. Stuck with whatever he needed to see, he mentally followed Michael Fury down the street and onto his horse. They rode for what felt like several hours, though he knew only seconds had passed. And all the while, Noah fretted about Lara.

Michael found a drunken doctor on the outskirts of a mining shanty who happily removed the bullet and sewed him up for a few coins. As a reward, Michael shot him between the eyes and took back his money and everything else of the doctor’s he wanted. The few miners yelling for help scattered when Michael put a few bullets in their asses.

He grunted and stared down at his leg. “Fucker.” He took a swig of what the doctor had been drinking. “Little brother thinks he owns her. That he can tell me what to do. Like I’d let that sniveling little pissant run me around the way he does Mama.”

Noah frowned. A family connection between Michael and Finn, and a family tie between Mike and Bill. First brothers, then cousins. Blood. He could feel the answer within reach, but something was still missing. He wanted to see Michael Fury’s face. That he couldn’t bothered him.

“Little brother, I’m comin’ to git ya. You and that whore o’ mine.” Michael took another drink and slumped to the ground, passed out. The bottle emptied into the sandy ground, its contents absorbed in seconds. The sun shone on the glass, and a ray of light lit Michael’s face. In that moment, it wasn’t Mike Buckman Noah saw…but himself.

He blinked and stared once more at the computer monitor. It was all he could do not to throw up. The nausea gripped him and wouldn’t let go. This wasn’t a past like any he’d ever seen. Spurred by a ghost to see the truth, he’d seen something that made no sense. Noah was the danger to Lara? He would rather shoot himself than ever harm her, but what if Lara had been closer to being right than she’d thought?

What if Noah wasn’t possessed by Finnegan Fury, but by Michael Fury, Finn’s brother? That scene in her office might not have been Finn, but Michael whom Cecilia had pleasured. In hindsight, he realized she’d called him Fury, but never by his first name.

Jesus, what a nightmare. Not sure what to do, he stared without seeing at the computer monitor before a name popped out at him from the screen. Knowles Tragedy Kills Two.

Ida Knowles owned the Lady Fine Inn; her nephew Bill remained a top suspect. Or did he?

Stop and focus. Panic later. Follow your gut. He refused to let the vision throw him and read the old news report. Twenty odd years ago, Nancy and Brenda Knowles had perished in a fire. Nancy had died from a fall when she’d jumped to escape the flames. They’d found Brenda’s charred bones days later in her bedroom. Faulty wiring had been the suspected cause, though no one had ever concretely proven what had started the fire.

Noah’s gut churned, his confusion about the past mired with this information. Cecilia flashed in and out of his vision behind the computer, nodding like crazy. He could no longer hear the words coming out of her mouth.

A gasp behind him told him he wasn’t the only one to see her. At least he hadn’t completely lost his mind.

The librarian stuttered and pointed to where Cecilia had been standing. “My God, I saw her. I did! You saw her too, didn’t you? Oh my God!”

The raised voice roused the handful of people in the library, and Noah hurried to close the file he’d been looking at. No need to arouse suspicion about Mike and Bill, not when he had no fucking clue what to do with what he’d just learned.

He darted around the librarian and left the library in a hurry. Needing a shortcut, he used the alley behind the building to return to the inn as fast as he could. Cecilia Fine. Finn Fury. Michael Fury. Lara. What the hell did all of it have to do with him? Noah knew in his bones his history had nothing to do with the Fury brothers. He could trace his lineage back to his Scottish ancestors all the way to the early 1500s, so why the hell had he seen his face where Michael Fury’s had been? Unless Cecilia and Finn weren’t the only ones haunting this town.

He stopped in the middle of the street, shocked at the thought. If Cecilia could overtake Lara the way she had in Lara’s office, might a determined ghost do the same to him? Which would mean that vision of the past could have been manipulated. He’d never run into this before, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. He needed to talk to Chloe again. Maybe her voices could help.

A sound penetrated, but by then, it was too late. In his haste to return to the inn, he hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings. So it was no one’s fault but his own when the truck knocked him from his feet.

Hours later, Chloe sat with Lara by the register. Frank had gone to find Noah, and worry continued to grow as Noah remained absent. Her lover wasn’t the only one not present. At the thought, Lara stilled.

“What’s wrong?” Chloe had kept up a steady stream of chatter that amused and relieved Lara at the same time. A pleasant woman with a keen intelligence, Chloe had shared more than a few humorous stories about Noah and his tendency to zone off into space.

“I just realized I haven’t heard Cecilia in a while.” Ever since Noah had arrived, she’d heard Cecilia’s voice several times a day.

With no one around at present, Lara and Chloe had the downstairs of the inn to themselves. Only the occasional phone call from interested visitors interrupted them.

“How often do you hear her?”

Chloe put her at ease, especially because the woman took for granted that the voices she heard were real. She hadn’t batted an eye about Lara seeing Cecilia.

“It started a month after I first arrived in town. Five months ago, I guess. I’d hear her whisper. Usually bawdy stuff. The woman has a sense of humor and a sex drive, I can tell you that.”

Chloe grinned. “Yeah? My voices aren’t as fun. The stuff they tell me usually leads to a death or an arrest.” At Lara’s look, she added, “I used to be a cop before I joined the PWP. Now I’m a manager for a gym. Very exciting stuff.”

Lara snorted. “Yeah. Your leap from exercise equipment to theft and murder wasn’t as far as you’d imagine.”

“I like you, Lara. You roll with it pretty well.”

“I do?”

“Most people would be sincerely freaked out by all this. Ghosts, voices, Noah and his freaky ability to see the past. You’re taking it all in stride.”

“Not as well as I’d like.” Noah, where are you? “I’m not as comfortable with the voices as you seem to be.”

Chloe shrugged. “Why not? They’re a part of you.”

“A part that made my life hell when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, we all seem to go through that. Me, I didn’t hear them until I was six or seven. They warned me to keep quiet. I tested them by sharing with my brothers, who didn’t believe me. Then I shut my mouth and kept their company a secret.”

“I wasn’t so smart.” It felt good to share with someone who understood. Noah could, to an extent. But Chloe had gone through something very similar. “My parents have always been really open with things. I shared everything with them. Unfortunately, they couldn’t get it. My voices never told me things I could prove. No secrets of lost treasures or the answers to whodunits. I’d simply provide them company. Like an invisible friend only I knew was real.”

“So everyone thought you were a kook. Happens to all of us with skills.”

“You’re lucky to be with people who understand.”

“I am now, but I wasn’t always.” Chloe gave her an odd look. “Noah seems to get you.”

Lara blushed. He sure did get her. “I like him a lot. I feel like I’ve known him for more than—jeez, it hasn’t even been a week.”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes.” Chloe smiled, and then her pleasure dimmed. “I wish the big ox would hurry his ass back. He’s starting to get on my nerves with this research nonsense.” Chloe sighed. “I hate worrying. So you heard these voices all your life?”

Glad to change the subject from her anxiety about Noah, Lara answered, “No, only until I graduated high school. I’d been ignoring them for a long time; I was sick of always being the school freak.”

“How did other people know? Did you or your family tell them?”

“It was a friend who did it. Before I’d realized sharing everything with family wasn’t helping, I’d extended that trust to my friends. My family tried to understand me. They chalked up my voices to an odd quirk and let it go. My friends turned out to be not so friendly. Before I’d entered middle school, I was the town freak show. So I kept to myself and left town as soon as I could. I went to college far away, got my degree in hotel management, and here I am.”

“But how did you get here?” Chloe frowned. “All this coincidence, you looking like Cecilia, hearing her, working at her old place. It’s tied together. It fits.”

“I don’t know. I was moving from internship to internship and furthering my education when I was drawn to this place. Maybe an article I saw in a magazine or a news piece on TV. Remember a few years back, how anything Western was really big? They did some stories about outlaws. I must have heard about Finn and Cecilia’s doomed love affair.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

Chloe cocked her head, and Lara swore she felt another presence with them. An odd sense, to be sure, but not a scary one.

“I think you were called. She needed you here. To break the cycle.”

“What cycle?”

“The past sometimes repeats itself if you don’t break the cycle. Someone killed Cecilia and Finn a long time ago, right?”

Lara nodded. “Yeah. No one ever found their killer, and they died in each other’s arms. It was tragic. A lot of historians think Finn killed her, then killed himself.”

“And here we are,” Chloe said as she threw up her arms. “The painting of Cecilia Fine has been stolen. Two people are dead because of it, and one of them looks just like you and Cecilia. Now Noah’s here, and you’re thinking he’s Finn. Why?”

“Why do I think he’s Finn?”

“Yeah.”

Lara swallowed hard, allowing herself to admit what she didn’t want to. “Because he and I share a connection, one that shouldn’t be so strong after just getting to know each other. It kind of makes sense if it’s because of the past.”

“Yeah. Because how much of a slut would you be if you’re balling my buddy days after meeting him?”

Lara gaped, not sure how to react, when Chloe burst into laughter.

“Sorry, you had that one coming. Seriously, Lara. It’s obvious you two gel. He talks about you like you walk on water. Noah barely speaks, but I couldn’t shut him up yesterday. He went on and on about you, which was weird enough. Noah is usually so oblivious to women, I used to think he was gay.”

“He’s not gay.”

“I have a feeling you’d know.” Chloe grinned. “Noah’s a great guy, but I worry about him. He spends so much time in the past, he loses himself in the present.”

“Not with me.”

“And that’s why you two belong together. He looks at you like he’s never looked at anything or anyone. And I’ve seen you checking him out too. All morning you kept sneaking him glances. Those moon-eyed, I’m-in-love looks.”

How embarrassing.

“It’s okay to like the guy. He’s hot. No, nothing ever happened between us, and nothing will. But damn girl, I have eyes. He’s got the dark, brooding thing down to a science.”

Lara chuckled. “He does, doesn’t he?”

“So are you going to come back with us to Oregon when this is done?”

“What?”

“You know. Come back with us. Bend has some terrific Craftsman architecture. It’s a real tourist town with all the ski slopes so close. You could easily run a B and B there.”

“I’d run an inn,” she said automatically, trying to process the thought of setting up in Bend, finding a new place to explore and reinvent.

“Whatever. People always need a place to stay and a qualified person to manage it. Point is, you can work anywhere, right? But there’s only one Noah.”

“He hasn’t asked me to come with him.”

“So who says he has to ask? Though I have a feeling he will. Think about what you’ll say when he does.” Chloe nodded to herself. “Sorry I got distracted. So about Cecilia…”

She continued to talk, but Lara didn’t hear her. She had a hard time thinking about anything but Noah. What if he did ask her to come with him? Would she? How tied to the inn did she feel? And what would it be like to be around people like Chloe, others who accepted people with odd skills—as Chloe called them—without blinking an eye?

“Lara? Cecilia. Why do you think you can’t hear her now?”

“I don’t know. But it bothers me.” To her surprise, it did. Before, hearing Cecilia reminded her she’d never be normal. But not hearing her now hinted at something not right with their town. “And I don’t like not knowing where Noah is either. I have a bad feeling about him.”

“Me too.”

Frank entered the inn, breaking the somber mood. He wore his customary dress slacks and a button-down shirt. He had his hair tied back, a diamond stud in his ear, and his handsome face was wreathed in smiles as he entered with the Littleton couple. Lara appreciated the normalcy of the moment, grateful for the distraction. Imagine Frank—Ian Ryder—a master forger. Talk about weird with a capital W. No matter what the others said, Lara trusted him. She trusted Frank.

“Good luck with your gallery, Mrs. L. And I’m glad you like Sunrise. That piece was always one of my favorites.”

The older woman smiled, gave him a wink, and joined her husband up the stairs after a wave at Lara and Chloe.

“There you two are.”

He drew closer, and Lara noticed the strain on his face. “Frank?”

“Mrs. L. just bought one of my best pieces. One I did all by myself, not copied from anyone whatsoever.” He glared at Chloe before looking around at the empty area. Then he centered on Lara. “Don’t freak out on me.”

Beside her, Chloe tensed.

Lara panicked. “Frank, what’s going on?”

“Noah’s at the hospital. He was leaving the library and got hit by a car.”

Chloe blinked. “Are you shitting me?”

“I wish.” He stepped back as Lara and Chloe rounded the front desk. “He’s okay, just bruised and banged up a bit. The doc was putting an ace bandage around his wrist before I left. I would have called with the news but my cell died. And Chloe, you can lose the suspicious look. I ran into the Liebermans carrying my painting on the way in. I swear; I came here straight from the hospital. No side trips. I wanted you to hear the news about Noah from me.”

Lara blinked away a rush of tears. Frank had said he was fine; she wouldn’t lose it now. “What happened?”

“I’ll drive.” Frank pointed to his car. They exited the inn, entered, and sped off. “You’re not going to believe this.”

“Spill, string bean.” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest.

Lara scooted to the edge of the backseat so she could share in the conversation.

Frank frowned. “I’m surprised the voices in your head didn’t already tell you, Sybil.” Chloe scowled, and he continued. “Mike Buckman hit him with his SUV.”

“You’re kidding me!” Lara gasped. “So Mike is the killer?”

Frank paused. “I don’t think so. I followed Noah’s ambulance to the hospital. Mike seemed genuinely upset when I saw him in the waiting room. Then again, a witness saw him hit Noah, so maybe he was putting on a good show of innocence. Hard to leave the scene of an accident anonymously when someone sees you and you’re wearing a deputy’s uniform.”

“He tried to leave the accident?” Lara wanted to strangle the deputy.

“According to what I heard when I was eavesdropping, Mike tried to call for backup but had trouble with his car radio. He said he left Bill—yeah, Bill Knowles, your number two suspect—with Noah while he rushed into the library to call for help. But when he went back outside to wait, no one was there except for some old lady tending to Noah. And then he noticed his SUV had vanished.”

“No way.”

“Way.” Frank drove them to the small hospital and parked. They hurried inside, bypassing the receptionist, who waved at Frank. A few rooms down the hallway, they found Noah grumbling at Deputy Peters. Noah’s left eyebrow had a dressing over swollen skin. He wore a bandage around his wrist and upper forearm, and his chest had doctored scrapes along his left side. He still wore his jeans, now ripped in places. But the scowl on his face told Lara he couldn’t be too bad off.

“I told you already. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Next thing I know, I’m airborne. I landed hard on my arm and skated down the alley, giving me these.” Noah pointed to his ribs and upper chest. “I’m fine to leave, I’m telling you.” He opened his mouth to say more when he saw Lara and the others in the doorway.

Deputy Peters looked over his shoulder and sighed. “Hey, Lara, Frank. Come on in.” He turned back to Noah. “Well, Mr. First. I guess that’s all, then. If you think of anything else you might have seen, let me know. Here’s my card.” He left his card on the table. When he walked away, he tipped his hat at Lara and Chloe before leaving.

Lara didn’t wait a moment more. She ran to Noah’s side and ran her hands gently over his body. “Oh Noah. What happened? Are you okay?” She kissed his lips, his cheeks, and hugged him tight until he groaned. “Sorry.”

“No, no. That’s okay. You just keep doing what you’re doing.”

Chloe snorted. “Trust Noah to get himself all banged up to add to our drama.”

“What happened?” Frank asked. “Did Mike Buckman really run you down, then try to leave your ass in the street?”

“No.” Noah scowled. “It was my fault, but these idiots are trying to blame Buckman for it.”

“But he hit you.” Lara didn’t know why Noah would defend a man who’d tried to kill him.

“I stepped in front of his truck. Yeah, it’s hazy, but I was seriously freaked by what happened in the library.”

“What happened?” Chloe stepped closer.

Frank snapped his fingers. “That’s what else I meant to tell you two. Seems the librarian and Noah saw Cecilia Fine. Her ghost materialized in the library by Noah. You should see the crowd over there right now.”

Noah sighed. “Look, let’s get me out of here. I don’t want to talk around other people. We’ll go to Chloe’s room, and I’ll fill you in on what I found out.”

Lara put her hand on his chest to stop him when Noah tried to rise. “Explain what the deputy wanted first. Noah, are you in trouble?”

“I’m not, but I think Buckman might be. After he hit me, someone stole his SUV. Made it look like he’d tried a hit-and-run. Only Buckman was in the library calling for help.”

“So he said.” Frank shrugged. “According to the librarian, he never got through. Some other emergency had the crews tapped.”

Noah groaned. “I don’t know. I was laying there, trying to figure out what the hell happened, when I woke to see some old woman looming over me. I was a little disoriented.”

“But Mike said Bill was waiting with you.” Frank narrowed his eyes. “Was he?”

“I don’t know. But I do know that Buckman is now missing. No one can find him, and his SUV is gone as well. That’s what the deputy wanted to know, if I’d seen anyone else when Mike went into the library.”

Lara wished she understood what had happened, but the important part of it all lay in bed, still alive and kicking. “Come on, guys. Let’s get Noah out of here. We’ll talk at Chloe’s.”

Where she’d demand some answers out of this man, answers that had more to do with him and her than this case. She wouldn’t let confusion and assumption stand between them, not when she’d almost lost him. Lara had no intention of letting anyone have Noah. Not Cecilia, Finn, Mike, or Bill.

No, this man belonged to her and her alone.

He watched the group leave through a narrow crack in the door, titillated at the thought of their plans to take him down. They had no idea what they were up against. He’d killed before, and he’d kill again. The run-in with First had been a test. So easy, so very simple to protest his innocence and then disappear. First looked little the worse for wear, which he’d soon amend. But not before he had a taste of Cecilia. He’d waited long enough.

He rubbed his aching cock. It had been too long since he’d had a woman. He needed Cecilia, and he needed her now. He turned from the stairwell door and had gone a few steps toward the basement when he heard the door open.

“Hey. What are you doing in here? I think Deputy Peters is looking for you.” His girlfriend smiled at him. She had dark hair and blue eyes, but when he closed his own, he could pretend well enough.

He put his hand in his pocket and gripped the switchblade. He’d intended to wait, but he needed a fix. Turning around, he walked back up the steps to meet her. He reached around her and closed the stairwell door. Tugging her with him down the steps, he didn’t need to cover her lips. She knew well the value of discretion.

He whispered in her ear, “You won’t believe this, but I found out who murdered that girl they found a few days ago, and it’s someone no one would suspect.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? Who?”

“One of our own. A civil servant. Ironic, huh?” He pulled her down the rest of the steps, and they stopped under the basement stairwell, where the dim light barely reached. A favorite trysting spot they’d used before.

“Is it Deputy Peters?” She tilted her neck to give him better access. He sucked hard and unbuttoned the front of her white shirt, exposing the swell of her breast confined by a plain bra. The white bothered him. He wanted to see scarlet silk, not serviceable cotton.

“No. Not him.” Thoughts of what he intended to do excited him.

“You’re so hard.” Taken by his arousal, she rubbed against him, enflaming his desire. “But if it’s not Peters, who—”

“I said it’s someone no one would suspect.” Awash in his pending orgasm, he raised his hands to her neck and squeezed. Not playfully, the way they normally did, but with the intent to kill. He breathed in her terror and tightened the pressure, ensuring she didn’t have enough oxygen to cry out. “Our murderer? Sugar, it’s me.”