Chapter Sixteen

Carly had barely keyed the engine before she realized that someone was sliding into the passenger’s seat and she smiled. Only one soul she had seen here could slide through a closed door to join her.

“Hello,” she said softly.

“Yer goin’ after yer friend,” he told her.

“I am,” she said determinedly, setting the car into Drive.

“Then I am with ye, lass! Kenneth Menzies, at yer service. I’m not much with me fists, but I’ve eyes that ha’ seen the evil of centuries, and thus can warn one well of danger in the offing!”

“Thank you, then. Luke meant to talk to you—”

“And talk later, we can!” he assured her.

“Do you believe that Liz is in danger?”

“Aye! They watch. Now, yer friend might not fall for a scam, but...they ha’ nails aplenty in the parking out there, unknown by the pub, mind ye, but they’re there.”

“Ah, they puncture tires of the unwary? And if they puncture the tire on a car full of brawny men, they just let them call for a tow?”

The ghost at her side nodded. “I’ve been tryin’, but...until this day...well, none saw me.”

“No one?” Carly said, surprised. “But I had assumed that—”

“Oh, that I died many a year ago? Indeed, lass, I did. The Battle of Stirling Bridge, and a fine and nobly glorious way fer a man to give his life! Wallace was a true friend to Scotland, no braver or more loyal a man to his people e’er lived, and, as I am now, I saw the Bruce, and while imperfect as all mortal men, he rose to the status of countryman as well.”

“The Battle of Stirling Bridge!” Carly murmured. “But, sir—”

“That was the year of our Lord 1297, a lovely September, and we set the stage! Only so many of the enemy could cross the narrow bridge at a time and our Wallace had us wait until a number were over and then we attacked and they were cut down and led into the marsh. Their companions watched from across the water and ran, broken...and it was brilliant the way it was taken and...” He paused, shrugging. “One day, one day soon, when my time is done, I will join my brethren from that day and my sweet Jane, lost ere the battle began.”

“But you’ve been here...since?”

“Aye.” He shook his head. “William Wallace was not so poor a man, not elite, yet educated by monks and supported by an important bishop. And it was true that he murdered the English Sheriff of Lanark and led men to take the entire garrison, but, lass, you kin, the sheriff killed the Wallace’s wife and deserved all that was done. Alas, I saw the battle lost at Falkirk, and knew of the betrayal by Sir John de Menteith that led to his capture, and then...”

“I’m sorry,” Carly murmured. “And I do know that the wars for independence went on for almost sixty years, which must have been brutal for you to see. But then, and in all the centuries to follow, Luke and I are the first among the living with whom you’ve been able to speak?”

“Nay, lass, nay! I have met...six of those like you with the strange and special ability, but none until you and your lad in this century,” he told her.

Carly smiled. “Wow. So...” She paused, wincing. “Then, sir, I’m afraid you saw the castle here change hands many times and I’m so sorry. You know about Wallace and—”

“Hanged, drawn and quartered, and yet that very face created a nationalism as perhaps nothing else might have done. Ah, William. The hangin’...they don’t let you die. Ye must be alive until they rip yer heart and guts from yer livin’ flesh! Aye,” he said, shaking his head, “but now the great Wallace rests in peace!”

“I can’t even imagine how horrible such an execution might be,” Carly murmured. “Or how any human being could do that to another.”

He arched a thick dark brow at her. “And, lass, we must keep it that way!” He hesitated. “When it came to the time when the Bruce had been pushed back save for Stirling Castle, it had been sworn that the garrison would surrender if reinforcements didn’t come. Now, William Wallace always fought King Edward I, one of the greatest kings and commanders any country ever saw, ruthless, beset, fierce and a warrior like few others. He died as the wars went on and Bruce faced off against Edward II, not so great a warrior! But he sent reinforcements because he darednae lose Stirling Castle, but the Bruce prepared and caught the English at the Battle of Bannockburn. He was far outnumbered, but again, he used the river, he set traps, he forced the landscape. English archers couldnae fire on their own men—he finally found one advantage point, but Wallace sent in his light horse cavalry and continued to fight on the front, and in the end...”

“Edward II barely made it out alive,” Carly put in.

Kenneth nodded with a smile. “And thus those wars ended at Bannockburn and Robert the Bruce was truly king of the Scots. Ah, lass. Mankind does not change! There came the Jacobite Uprising, wars over religion, the horror of witchcraft trials, countries always seeking to take other countries, and if that is not enough, you have human monsters preying upon innocents!”

“Such as our would-be H. H. Holmes,” Carly said. “But, Kenneth, if you haven’t really seen anything happen, how do you know where it might be happening and who might be causing such a thing?”

“I’ve suspected the Vicky Inn of being...a bad place. I have gone, I have watched, I have waited. But...”

“You haven’t seen anything solid yet.”

“But those these folks encounter are not always seen again. And as I am...there be little I kin do!”

“Sir—”

“Nor a ‘sir,’ lass. Kenneth of Clan Menzies.”

Carly lowered her head and smiled. “Kenneth, the term in this century is one of respect. But, the point is, Luke and I—”

“Yer not from here.”

She smiled. “No, we’re from America. Now, if you’ve been here for hundreds of years—”

“Yer American. Aye.”

She smiled and said, “Yep! American. Kenneth, I need to make a phone call.”

“Aye, as ye need, lass!”

She gave Liz a call.

Liz answered cheerfully.

“Everything is all right?” Carly asked her.

“Lovely. Beautiful drive.”

“Listen, I’m following you—”

“What? Why? I just left you at the pub!”

“We’re a bit nervous about the amount of people who may be involved—and that they might know that you’re alone.”

“Oh, aye, Campbell rang me. Said I’d have a police escort soon. You needn’t—”

“I’m following until you’re with the police.”

“Fine. But you needn’t—I’m an excellent driver.”

“Just stay on the road until someone is with you.”

“Aye, then. I’m slowing down—you can catch up.”

“There’s a plan. If officers are there to assist you, call me back and I’ll head on to Vicky Inn.”

They ended the call.

“The lady is with Police Scotland?”

“The National Crime Agency. But she’s with the computer—scientific data analysis—department. She’s not a...”

“Warrior?” Kenneth asked.

She nodded. “But Luke and I are here working with Police Scotland and the National Crime Agency—”

“Ye’ve some power, eh?”

“We do. And we thank you for any help. You will know so much about this area that we don’t. You’ve been here many years and seen many changes, I’m sure—”

“Others go. I ha’ stayed. Perhaps it is now my place to help end the reign of a monster!”

She glanced at him. “If you haven’t seen anything that—”

He laughed softly. “Ah, lass! I’m fond of the pub—they ha’ a lovely TV. I see the world around me and I know what’s been a-happenin’.”

Carly kept her eyes on the road but smiled and nodded to him. It was possible, of course, to find the spirits of the deceased in cemeteries in which they were buried—but she also knew that they weren’t bound to those cemeteries and often preferred to be elsewhere.

“Now, lass, what’s that mischievous grin about?” Kenneth asked.

“Many friends I’ve met like...pubs. And their homes, fairs...” She turned quickly to smile at it. “Places where they enjoyed before...”

“Death. ’Tis not an evil thing but the natural end to the life of the flesh,” he told her. “Ye need not dance around, lass. I know I’m dead.”

He said it in a way to make her laugh and she did.

“Thank you,” she told him. “Thank you for coming with me. You are a true delight to know.”

“May I return the compliment?”

She smiled. “You may!” She let out a sigh, frowning suddenly. “You have been to Vicky Inn?”

He nodded. “I have been there, other places...through the woods.”

“And nothing has happened?”

“Nothing that I have been able to see,” he said.

“But you’re sure—”

“Lass, I was a scout and a warrior. There is almost something in the air when evil is about. I told ye, I see the telly. And,” he added, “I was there, at the pub, when a bloke came lookin’ for his lass. She’d told him she was headed to Vicky Inn. But that pair swore they never saw her.” He looked at Carly. “Ye rang up yer friend. She knows that there is danger. She wouldnae stop to see the woods, to take pictures?”

“No, no, Kenneth. And remember, members of Police Scotland are looking for her, too,” Carly assured him.

They were driving along a lonely stretch of road surrounded by hills and forests. It was beautiful scenery, green and touched by the sun, scattered with wildflowers and rich shrubs.

“Such a landscape,” she murmured.

“Some just as it was in me day,” Kenneth said. “Aye, the very ground here, the cliffs, the glens, the country. Cool rivers running, and Stirling itself, twixt the Highlands and the Lowlands.”

“Stirling itself,” she repeated. “And this drive! So lovely.”

But it was along that stretch of the road, soon after she had spoken, that Carly almost froze.

Liz’s navy SUV was pulled up on the side of the road, parked neatly and clearly on the embankment.

“I told her not to stop driving!” Carly muttered.

She immediately slowed her pace and veered toward the embankment, too.

“Lass? That’s the car she took?” Kenneth asked.

“Liz, yes, it’s an unmarked police vehicle and it’s what we came up in. Kenneth, with all these woods... Oh, my God! Where is Police Scotland?” she wondered, slamming the door behind her as she leaped out of the car.

The spirit of Kenneth Menzies was quickly at her side. He glanced at her. “Is she in the thing? Perhaps restin’?” he asked hopefully. “Ah! There’s a tire down. The lass had to pull over. She couldnae drive it farther.”

Carly was already by the car, hoping against hope Liz might still be inside.

It was empty. She pulled out her phone and dialed Liz.

She heard the buzz.

Liz’s phone was on the front passenger seat of the car.

“There be trails ahead, almost as old as time. Both rise to that mound—one to the southwest, the other to the northwest. Put a call in to the police. Ye may need a good hound or two.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, dialing Campbell’s number and quickly explaining to him where she was to the best of her ability—her directions were probably good enough.

Kenneth helped her as she spoke. She knew she needed to call Luke, but Campbell told her he would do so; he also suggested that she wait for backup.

“Time could be everything, sir. And—” she glanced at Kenneth but couldn’t tell Campbell she wasn’t alone “—I am a trained agent, sir. I will be careful.”

She ended the call and looked at Kenneth. “That is the truth! She had a good head start—a good twenty-minute head start on us,” she said to him. “And the others left the pub soon after Liz, all of them, the older woman, Kaye Bolden, and the couple, Terry and Jim Allen, and...Green. That’s what he’s going by, the man we believe to have started all this and to...supervise and/or partake in all the scams and the killing.”

“You know, I am quite amazed, lass. You can hear me so easily, girl? As if I spoke in a live man’s voice?” he asked her.

“Yes, I can. It’s—”

“A trait, aye, passed through families and generations, a sense,” Kenneth mused. He winced and said, “I saw a few condemned as witches, aye, in a very bad time, and those not even so gifted taken for naught. I ask, though we’ve talked long, because I must make sure that I am loud and clear. I will shout for ye and ye must take care—”

“I really am a trained agent,” she said.

“Any man and woman may be taken by a worthy opponent,” he warned. “And if anything, me lass, scream bloody murder, for that’s well what it may be!”

It wasn’t much of a great pep talk, Carly thought. But he was truthful. That was what made a partner who always had one’s back so critically important.

This time...

Her partner was already dead. But Liz was a brilliant analyst—not a “warrior.” She had never been trained for what might have befallen her.

“Let’s move!” she told him. She started to walk and felt his hand on her arm. She felt it strongly, and for a ghost to have such a powerful physical manifestation was rare, but then Kenneth seemed to be incredible and rare already as a ghost as he surely was when he was a living man.

She paused, looking back at him.

“Ye know the legend of the Bruce and the spider?”

She smiled and nodded. “He was taking refuge in a cave on an island off Ireland. He watched a spider as he wondered if he would ever prevail. The spider patiently spun and re-spun its web. And Robert the Bruce knew that he needed patience and never to give up. Don’t worry, Kenneth. We don’t give up.”

He nodded at her and they headed to their separate trails.

Carly moved almost silently, taking great care as she followed the narrow trail that had been forged by foot through the centuries. She left the glen, climbing, encountering a rich backdrop of trees and shrubs. But as she moved, she studied the path itself.

There was no indication that others had been there just before her. No recently broken branches appeared before her and she began to wonder if, perhaps, Liz hadn’t been forced into another car, taken...

Back to Stirling?

But as she wondered at her own foolishness in not suspecting that as the first possibility, she heard Kenneth calling out to her.

“Lass, this way, come careful, fer...they may be close!”

She turned quickly, almost at a run as she retraced her steps to follow the path that Kenneth had taken. Once she reached that path, she slowed again, knowing that she needed to take extreme care.

Liz’s vehicle had been sabotaged, she was sure. But how many people—and which people—might have followed her? Were there others beyond those they had seen at the pub involved?

She was moving slowly and almost silently again, using the trees for cover, when she saw Kenneth ahead.

She was pleased to startle him when she emerged behind him; he had doubted her abilities. Maybe he would have more faith in her now.

He ignored his own reaction, pointing out ahead.

“She’s tied to a tree. The lass. I see one man and the old woman, who seems to be calling someone, waiting for a response, and I don’t think that the man has seen her yet, realized that she has a phone out and maybe she’s calling for help. Yer lass, Liz, she’s there and tied to the tree!”

“Yes, that’s Liz. The old woman was introduced to us as Kaye Bolden. She stays at Vicky Inn. Lives there, so it seems,” Carly whispered.

“A victim, one would think. With her holdings turned over to the Allen couple,” Kenneth murmured.

“Probably. But she is calling someone,” Carly whispered.

“Now...the bloke has a gun,” Kenneth warned.

“So do I,” Carly told him.

If Kaye Bolden was calling for help, help might be there soon.

Before Police Scotland could arrive.

Carly couldn’t take a chance with Liz’s life.

“Can you...?” Carly began.

“Create a distraction? Aye, that I can!” Kenneth shouted.

He moved off through the trees, managing to cause a disturbance with the branches by literally walking through them.

“What the bloody hell?” the man shouted. He appeared to be about forty, medium in height and build, but angry when he heard the noise. His accent sounded English.

Kaye Bolden had her cell phone in her hand—but she hadn’t managed to dial a number to warn anyone. She was just staring, as if stunned to hear that another person might have been near them.

“Get a hold of him. I was not supposed to be in any cross fire!” the man declared angrily. “They had promised to pick her up. I’ll not go down for this! She’ll need to die fast if it’s a copper out there or if someone sees...”

He shook his head furiously and then rushed off toward the bushes Kenneth was rattling.

Kaye Bolden stared after him. She started to lift her phone.

There was no choice. They couldn’t let the call go through.

Carly made a beeline for Kaye Bolden, throwing herself on the woman and forcing her to the ground.

The cell phone went flying and Kaye Bolden stared up at her with a burning hatred so intense that Carly almost felt the heat.

She pushed herself up, ready to rise and ease her weight from that of the older woman below her.

“Thank God!” Liz cried. “Thank God, thank God! Oh. Carly! Help me, help me, she’s down, he’s gone. Oh, my God! They were behind me, you had called me... The tire went and I tried to grab the phone but he was behind me so fast and he dragged me from the car. They were setting me up to be taken to be tortured and killed. Thank God, thank God!”

“Shh!” Carly warned.

Liz’s words of gratitude had come too soon.

Kenneth had distracted the man and lured him away, which meant Carly had been able to stop Kaye from making a call, but he must have heard the commotion by the tree.

Carly had barely lifted herself from Kaye as she saw him running back, gun out.

Aimed at her.

Carly flew up behind a tree in the nick of time, drawing her Glock from its holster at the small of her back.

The man came running back first firing wildly and then shooting right at them.

Kaye Bolden was starting to rise.

“No!” Carly shrieked. “Get down!” The woman didn’t hear her.

And one of the man’s bullets found a mark.

Thankfully, not Liz.

And not Carly.

Kaye hadn’t heeded Carly’s warning. She had kept moving and his shot caught her as she tried to rise, piercing through her back and bursting through her chest into the trunk of a tree. He was, Carly thought, firing a 9 mm loaded with full metal jackets.

He was taking aim again.

This time at Liz.

And Carly had no choice—she fired.

He went down.

She had learned early in her career that just because a suspect went down, he or she might not be disabled. She rushed silently over to the man, retrieved the gun at his side and rolled him face up.

His eyes were open. Now, staring up at the sky. He was dead.

She closed her eyes, thoughts racing through her head. She hated killing, though she wasn’t sure how she’d feel if such a time came with the man pretending to be a modern H. H. Holmes, the man who had created the Society that had caused the anguish and death of so many. She couldn’t dwell on that. She believed that Kaye Bolden was dead, too, killed accidentally by this man.

At this point, the seriousness of her actions was worrisome. She had fired her weapon and caused a death.

That meant paperwork and an inquiry. She was an American agent and she didn’t object to any kind of investigation or paperwork, except that...

She had to get back. She had to return to Luke, arrive at the Vicky Inn...

Set herself up and find the end to all this horror.

“Carly, please! Set me free!” Liz begged.

Of course. The poor woman had been tied to a tree, expecting all manner of horror any minute. Carly rushed over, fumbled in her pocket for her Swiss Army knife and began working furiously at the ropes tying her.

But then the ghost of Kenneth Menzies was at her side, shaking his head. “Ah, lass, ye are something of a warrior, then!”

She couldn’t answer him. She wondered if he understood much of the modern world. In his mind, killing someone who would have killed you was simply the only choice. Of course, it was, really, but as law enforcement...

She couldn’t reply because Liz was there, still mumbling about both her fear and her gratitude. But Kenneth knew she couldn’t reply.

“Sirens!” he said.

“At last,” Carly murmured.

“Ye’d best ring the lad back at the pub or the Vicky Inn,” Kenneth told her.

“Yes!”

“Yes?” Liz repeated, confused.

“I just remembered—give me a second. I need to let Luke know what is going on,” she explained.

She made certain she drew out the right phone and hit her speed dial, connecting her burner to Luke’s burner.

As she did, she heard someone was coming from cars that had drawn up to the embankment far below and she shouted as loudly as she could. “Here, up here!”

Luke, on the other end, heard her. “Carly, Carly, what’s happening there? Are you all right? Is Liz all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Liz is fine—”

“Nay, I’m far from fine!” Liz cried.

“We are alive and unharmed,” Carly corrected. “But, Luke, I killed the man who took her. He was firing at us and I had no choice. I don’t know how quickly—”

“You’ll be fine,” he told her.

“Pardon? How can you know?”

Police were coming up the trail. A tall, slim policewoman and two policemen in uniform, along with a fourth person.

Brendan Campbell.

How the hell had the man managed to get there so quickly?

“You’ll be all right. Liz was taken by them but—”

“Someone caused a slow leak in one of her tires that became a fast leak, and she had to drive off the road. It had to have been planned by someone who knew she was leaving the pub. Oh! And, Luke, one of the dead is Kaye Bolden—”

“You had to kill the old lady?”

“No, no. I just knocked her phone out of her hand. Her companion was aiming at me, I think, but he hit her and he was going to hit Liz. I had to—”

“Yes, Carly. You had to. I’ll see you when you get here. These places all seem to have libraries. I’ll be in the library at Vicky Inn—you’ll find it when you get here. Is Kenneth still with you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Keep him with you.”

“Uh, if he wishes.”

“I guarantee you, such a man will not leave you.”

She almost managed to smile. Because she believed him.

“They’re here. I’ll call on my way,” she promised, ending the call. The trio of police officers were nearing her and they paused in front of her; she nodded. They waited and so she did as well.

Then Brendan Campbell was standing before her. But before either of them could speak, Liz had catapulted herself into the man’s arms, barely coherent as she explained what had happened to her and then turned to Carly, saying, “She saved me! Oh, my dear bloody hell, but she saved my life!”

“Good to have you here,” the tall policewoman told Carly.

“Aye,” agreed one of the others. “We might not have made it in as timely a manner. I’ll start with photographs,” he told Campbell, and Carly realized he was carrying a large camera. “But Forensics and a medical examiner are on the way.”

“Observation and notes,” the policewoman murmured, walking toward the body of Kaye Bolden.

“Interviews,” the third officer said, looking at Campbell.

“I will start and I’ll be fast!” Liz said.

And she was fast, explaining how she had suddenly realized her tire was almost flat—and then it was. She hadn’t even had time to pick up her phone before the man had dragged her from the car. He and the woman had dragged her fighting and kicking up the incline and tied her to the tree. She’d heard him talking to someone about coming to pick her up. And noooooo! The older woman had not been there to help her; she had been something like a...supervisor. Then there had been a rustle in the bushes, the man had run off, and before the woman could make a call, Carly had caught her and they’d gone down together and then the man had come back, shooting! But he missed Carly, hit the older woman, kept shooting...and thankfully, thankfully, thankfully, Carly had shot back!

Carly said that they’d feared something when they’d been at the pub in Stirling and she had decided to follow Liz just in case. Campbell, of course, had been notified, police had been on the way, but when she saw Liz tied to the tree and the woman about to make a call, she’d decided she had to make a stand, get the phone from her and free Liz—except that the man had started shooting and she had returned fire.

“I wonder what distracted the bloke from looking after his victim?” the officer mused.

Carly shook her head.

“A bird? Some other creature, a rodent or even a wildcat,” Liz offered.

Campbell shrugged. “But you knew the woman?” he asked, looking at Carly.

She nodded. “She was at the table with the suspect Luke was to meet. And you know, of course, that he and Luke connected, that he ‘met’ me at the bar in the pub, and he took me to the table where ‘H. H. Holmes,’ who is now Harry Green, was sitting with the woman who was introduced to me as Kaye Bolden and the owners of Vicky Inn, Terry and Jim Allen.”

Campbell nodded. “Any idea on the identity of the man?”

“I never saw him before,” Carly replied.

“That’s fine—we’ll be taking care of the scene from here,” Campbell said. “Normally, I’d take your Glock but...timing is important. You need to get to the inn.” He paused because the officer who had been taking notes had hurried back.

“Sir, we’ve an ID on the dead man. Beau Simpson, address given on his ID is in London, and he’s been arrested numerous times, just freed after a three-year stint in prison.”

“Does the name mean anything to you?” Campbell asked Carly.

“No, I have never seen him before and I’ve never heard his name,” Carly told him.

“Just another Society member,” Campbell muttered, his voice hard. His mouth was tight for a minute and then he spoke to her again. “We’ll be here with Elizabeth,” he assured her. “I have another man, Daniel Murray, joining you and Agent Kendrick at Vicky Inn. He’ll follow you back at a distance, but with this happening...”

“A third is greatly appreciated,” Carly assured him. “But I can—”

“Drive straight back,” Campbell told her. “We can’t take time with this. People are missing.”

“Yes, sir. I am going right now.”

“You’re certain that the woman didn’t start a call mentioning that you were suddenly upon them?”

“I’m quite certain.”

“And your dead man—”

“He wouldn’t have known me,” Carly said with certainty.

“Then go. This spreads like a virus—we must stop it.”

“Yes, sir,” Carly promised. She waited for a beat and then glanced at Liz.

“Go!” Liz said. Then she hugged Carly tightly. “Thank you for saving my life!”

“I’m grateful as well,” Carly assured her. “Then...yes. I’m heading back.”

Kenneth Menzies had been standing in silence the whole time.

“I am with ye, lass. Ye’ll not go alone!” he vowed.

She lowered her head because she couldn’t resist a smile. No, he couldn’t do much with his fists and he couldn’t lift a sword or shoot a gun.

But he had proved himself invaluable.

With a slight nod that was to him but might have been to the others, she turned and started back down the incline of the trail to her vehicle.

She slid behind the driver’s seat and Kenneth Menzies just glided in next to her.

Starting the car, she turned to him before heading onto the road.

“You were wonderful!” she told him. “Thank you.”

“The lass is alive.”

She smiled and nodded. It saddened her that Kaye Bolden had died, but then...she had chosen her actions. Or maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she hadn’t known what was intended for Liz. And still, somehow, it seemed sad.

Worse than that. If she had been alive, she might have saved them all from a great deal of trouble, worry and danger. She might have pointed a finger right at the people who were doing the heavy lifting when it came to kidnapping, torture and murder.

“Lass, yer not happy,” Kenneth commented.

“No, no, I am. I mean, they went after Liz. And she is alive. But—”

“Lass, ye didnae set out to kill. They did.”

“I know. But if we’d taken her alive...”

“Ye’ve the heart, girl. Ye’ve the heart. There are others—if ye had learned more from the woman, police might have rushed in. Some may have died lest they talk, while if y’go in with yer lad and find them...”

He let his voice trail hopefully.

She smiled and nodded.

“You are coming with me all the way?”

“I kin explore where y’mightnae go!”

“And so you can!”