“That a place would hold a memory of the dead, I could believe,” Eric said. “Hell, I have to believe it, with the experiences I’ve had. But the idea of a ghost, of anything that can actually affect things in the world, I cannot buy.”
“This valley is a strange place in a lot of ways.”
“So it is. But there’s strange, and then there’s the idea of active ghosts. You don’t believe in the latter, do you?”
Kellen smiled. “I’m going to quote old Everett on this one, brother. ‘I ain’t a superstitious man, but I know better than to walk through a graveyard after dark.’”
Eric laughed. “It’s a good line.”
They looked at each other in silence for a while, as if neither one really knew how to redirect the conversation now that ghosts had become a focal point of it. At length, Kellen nodded at the phone, which was now blinking red.
“You got a message.”
Eric picked up the phone and played the message. Anne McKinney. He was listening with half attention at first, but then her words clarified and he focused. What the old lady was suggesting was a hell of an idea, actually. He wrote her number on the pad beside the desk, deleted the message, and turned back to Kellen.
“Remember the woman I told you about who came by to see the bottle? She’s got a match. Same bottle style, same year, never opened.”
“Let me guess,” Kellen said. “It ain’t covered in frost.”
“No. But her idea was that I could take that water and mine somewhere to have them compared. Chemically.”
Kellen tilted his head and pursed his lips in a way Eric was beginning to recognize as one of his habits and nodded slowly. “That could be worth trying. And I might be able to help. Well, my girl might. She was a chemistry grad student at IU, spent the last semester studying for the MCATs. If there’s somebody local who can run an analysis on it, she might know who.”
“Fantastic,” Eric said, and though this suggestion of Anne McKinney’s was a small thing, it felt bigger, because it gave him some kind of action to take. Because it gave him some sense-or some illusion, maybe-of control.
“You might not have the need for it, running on ghost-water the way you are, but I could stand to get a meal,” Kellen said.
“Actually, I need to eat. Haven’t had a damn thing all day. But do you care if I run up to get the bottle from this woman first? I’d like to have it.”
“Nah, man, I’ll drive.”
Eric called Anne McKinney back, thanked her for the offer, and said they’d be by to pick the bottle up. She told him that was fine, but she sounded different than she had that afternoon. Less spark. Tired.
The sun was low and obscured by the hills west of the hotel as they came outside and walked to the parking lot. There was a blue minivan beside Kellen’s Porsche. Eric didn’t pay it any mind until the driver’s door opened and a man in a sweat-stained polo shirt stepped out and said, “Slow down, Mr. Shaw. I’d like to have a word.”
The driver was a short but well-muscled guy of about forty, bald except for razor-thin sidewalls of dark hair above his ears. He stood ramrod straight and with his shoulders back, a military bearing. Cold blue eyes, a BlackBerry in a leather case clipped onto his belt.
“Should I know who you are?” Eric said, coming to a stop as Kellen walked on to his Porsche and leaned against the hood, watching them, curious. He had his sunglasses on, and when the stranger glanced in his direction, Eric could see his reflection on the golden lenses.
“Mr. Cage,” the guy said, nodding.
“Wow,” Kellen said, “he knows everybody.”
“Just need to take a minute of your time if I could.”
“Then you better tell us who you are,” Eric said.
The bald man took out a business card and passed it to Eric. Gavin Murray, Corporate Crisis Solutions, it said. Three phone numbers and a Chicago street address.
“I don’t have a corporation,” Eric said, “or a crisis.”
He moved toward Kellen’s car and when he did, Gavin Murray held up a hand, palm out, and said, “You may be headed toward a crisis, though, and I’d like to help you avert that. We should have a quick talk about what you’re doing for Alyssa Bradford.”
Eric stopped short and looked back at him, got a cool stare in response. Kellen slid his sunglasses off and clipped them to the neck of his shirt and looked at Eric with raised eyebrows.
“Like I said, he knows everybody.”
“I do, Mr. Cage. I’m awfully quick when it comes to getting to know people. Congratulations on your brother’s success, by the way. Hell of a ballplayer. And your father-in-law, Mr. Shaw, why, he’s sold a lot of books, hasn’t he? Oh, I know you’re separated from Claire, but until the divorce is final, he’s still your father-in-law.”
He gave them an empty smile. “Now, how about that talk?”
“All right,” Eric said, reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck, the headache seeming to be lodged there now, driven toward his spine. “Let’s hear it.”
“Good. But much as I’ve enjoyed meeting Mr. Cage, this is a private discussion. So if he’ll wait for you for a few minutes, let’s take a walk down there to the gardens.”
Eric hesitated, but Kellen said, “Go on, man. This boy’s got a pretty clear plan. Hate to get in his way.”
“Appreciate that,” Gavin Murray said, and then he turned and walked away from the cars, leaving Eric to follow.
25
I WASN’T PLANNING ON grabbing you in the parking lot like that,” Gavin Murray said as they walked away from Kellen. “Was going to go into the hotel and ask them to send you down, but before I had a chance, you walked out. Figured now was as good a time as later.”
Eric said, “I’m guessing Alyssa didn’t send you.”
“No.”
“Who, then?”
“I can’t answer that question,” Murray said. “I’m in a confidential business.”
“And what business is that?”
“CCS is an investigations and solutions firm. Think of us as troubleshooters.”
“Traveled all the way down here from Chicago instead of making a phone call. This must be some trouble you’re shooting.”
“We like to conduct business in person. The discussion I need to have with you is important, and it’s actually to your benefit.”
“Is that your opinion or your client’s?”
“Both, in this case.”
Eric was silent. They were walking into the gardens now, toward the fountain.
“I understand that you’re down here working on a video history,” Murray said. “Sounds like an interesting line of work. Must be fun. But this isn’t the project for you.”
“No?”
“No.”
“I think that could stand some clarification. Like who sent you.”
“I’m really not at liberty to disclose that. I’m sure you understand.”
“Sure,” Eric said. “You’re doing your job. Respecting your client’s wishes, fulfilling their requests.”
“Exactly.”
Eric stopped walking. They were beside the fountain now, and a strong wind pushed fine drops of spray across his skin.
“Well, that’s what I’m doing, too,” he said. “And it’s what I’ll keep doing, Gavin, old buddy. I’ve been paid, and I’ll complete the job.”
Gavin Murray didn’t look up at him. He took a pack of American Spirits from his pocket and pulled one out, pausing to offer the pack to Eric, then sliding them back in his pocket when Eric shook his head. He lit the cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled smoke through his nose, gazing back up at the hotel.
“How much is she paying you?”
“That’s both irrelevant and none of your business.”
“I’ve been authorized to give you fifty thousand dollars to cease the endeavor.”
“Hell,” Eric said, “that’s less than I’m making on it.”