CHAPTER TWO

Jerome, Arizona October, Modern Day

T HE C OPPER S TAR S ALOON AND H OTEL ON M AIN S TREET BUZZED with activity. Tourists came from all over the country to visit the remnants of the old mining boomtown the New York Sun had once described as the Wickedest Town in the West.

The town, a city of fifteen thousand at its peak, was now an infamous ghost town with a population of less than five hundred. It had been falling in ruins until the sixties, when artists and shopkeepers began moving in, keeping the town alive.

Built in the 1890s, the Copper Star had been ravaged by fire four times, but had always managed to survive. The molded tin ceilings, batwing doors, long wooden bar, and ornately carved back bar looked the same as they had more than a hundred years ago.

The owner, Jenny Spencer, worked behind the bar, comfortable in a business that had been family-owned for as long as she could recall. After her father had died, her uncle Charlie had run the business, then six months ago, Uncle Charlie had also passed away. Though Charlie had a son, the sad truth was, Eddie Spencer wasn't capable of running the place. He'd been into booze and drugs since his teens.

Instead, Jenny had inherited the saloon and hotel she had been running ever since her divorce.

Behind the bar, Jenny drew beers and made drinks for the tourists, smiled, and made conversation. The place was usually peaceful in the daytime, but when the town was full of summer visitors, the bars and saloons could get rowdy. Fortunately, she was well known in the small town, where everyone seemed to watch out for each other. So far, she had managed to take care of herself.

Setting two beers on the counter and retrieving the patron's money, Jenny looked up to see her tall, lanky brother shoving through the batwing doors. Breathing a sigh of relief, she rounded the bar and hurried toward him.

"I didn't know you were coming, but I'm really glad you're here."

"You look a little harried. Everything okay?"

"Unfortunately, no. The hotel's full. It's time to clean the rooms. I'm down to one girl, and the bartender didn't show up." She glanced at the customers seated at the wooden tables scattered around the saloon. "Could you possibly take over till I get things worked out?"

Dylan just shrugged. "Sure, no problem."

"Thanks. You're a lifesaver." Jenny went up on her toes and kissed his cheek, knocking aside his dark blue baseball cap where the words PRESCOTT FIRE gleamed in white letters on the front. She was far shorter than her brother's six-foot-one-inch frame, her long, curly hair a lighter shade of brown.

"Sorry." She tugged the cap back down over his forehead. "I promise I won't be long."

Jenny headed for a door on the other side of the saloon that led to the hotel lobby. Halfway there, she spotted the regular bartender coming in.

"Sorry I'm late." Troy Layton was sandy-haired and good-looking, a real ladies' man, good for business in the saloon. "Had car trouble this morning. Carburetor problem. I figured you could handle things till I got here."

"A phone call would have been a good idea," Jenny said. "At least you finally made it. I've got work to do upstairs."

"Like I said, I had car trouble. I'll call next time."

Jenny didn't bother to reply. Troy was a pain in the neck, but he was a good bartender. In a town as small as Jerome, not an easy guy to replace.

As Jenny walked through a door to the original hotel lobby, one of the guests was on her way down the stairs.

"I want my money back!" the woman demanded. Short and round-faced, pretty much round all over, she was Mrs. Friedman, Jenny recalled.

"What's the problem?"

Angry spots of color pinkened the woman's cheeks. "The problem is I paid good money for a room and didn't get a wink of sleep. People arguing in the room next door, footsteps in the hallway at ungodly hours. I'll never spend another night in this hotel! Either you give me my money back, or I go on the internet and give you a one-star review, warn people what they're in for if they book a room at this hotel!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Friedman, there shouldn't have been a problem. All the rooms in that section were recently remodeled. We had them soundproofed. It shouldn't have been noisy in there."

Mrs. Friedman ignored her, just dug through her purse, pulled out her wallet, and slid out her American Express card. "I paid for the room online. Please refund the amount on my card."

Dylan walked through the door just then, and Jenny cast him a beseeching glance.

"Refund the lady's money," he said. "You don't need a bad review."

"Fine." But Jenny wasn't happy about it. As soon as the woman grabbed the handle of her carry-on and marched out through the etched, half-glass front door, ringing the bell above, she turned to her brother.

"There is nothing wrong with the rooms in the new section. That woman just wanted a free place to stay."

"You just opened that section, right?"

Jenny nodded. "It's only been available for a couple of weeks. Tourism is growing in town. Jerome has plenty of business. The hotel needed the income, and you and I both thought the increased earnings would pay off the loan fairly quickly."

"And it will," Dylan said. "Just because some old bat of a woman . . ." He paused at the look on her face. "What? What aren't you telling me?"

Jenny sighed. "This isn't the first time. I didn't want to tell you. This is my business, and you have a job and a life of your own to worry about."

"You're my sister. You know I'll help anyway I can."

"I know."

Their dad had raised them after their mother had died of cancer; then he was killed a few years later in a car accident. She and Dylan were both used to being on their own.

"So tell me what's going on with the new section," Dylan said.

"That's just it. I have no idea what's going on. Guests complain about hearing things."

"What kind of things?"

"Footsteps when no one is there. Chains rattling. People whispering in the hallway."

"Chains rattling? Seriously?"

Jenny glanced away. "That's what they say."

"Come on, sis. You should be used to this stuff by now. Jerome is a ghost town, one of the most famous in Arizona, maybe the whole country. During its heyday, hundreds of people died working the copper mines. People come here specifically hoping to see a ghost. Hell, you can buy a ticket online for a ghost tour."

"I know, but this is different."

"Different how? The hotel is on the damned tour. There are stories of at least four dead people supposedly seen walking the halls upstairs."

"Those are friendly ghosts."

"Friendly ghosts?"

"I mean, if they're actually real."

He cocked a dark eyebrow, which Jenny could barely see beneath the bill of his ball cap.

"Uncle Charlie always kept those rooms blocked off," Jenny said. "Back when he remodeled the hotel, he left that section untouched. When we opened it, the rooms still had the original furniture. I had some of it refinished and put back when we were done."

"Yes, and the rooms look damned good up there."

"Yes, they do. They're as pretty as they were back when the hotel was first built, but . . ."

"But what?"

"Charlie never talked about it, but he told me once that odd things happened in the rooms in that section. Dangerous things. That's what he said."

The skeptical look on her brother's face reminded her that he didn't believe in ghosts, except the ones the kids dressed up as on Halloween.

"I always figured Charlie just didn't want to expand the place," Dylan said. "Be more work he didn't need. Until the manager quit and you took over, he seemed to be enjoying his retirement."

Jenny bit her lip. "Maybe you're right. It's probably just a result of the new construction. That part of the building is settling or something."

"That would be my guess. And don't forget how susceptible people are to suggestion. They come to Jerome looking for spirits. They find what they expect to find."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

Dylan grinned. "You didn't bring it up. Mrs. Friedman did."

Jenny smiled. As the bell above the door rang again, her gaze shifted away from her brother to her best friend, Summer Hayes. Her family owned the Butterfly Boutique, where Summer worked. She was taller than Jenny, pretty, with a willowy figure, long straight platinum-blond hair, and a shy disposition.

"Hi, Jenny." Her face lit up. "Dylan, nice to see you." The blush in Summer's cheeks betrayed the crush she had on Jenny's brother. So far, he hadn't seemed to notice.

"I thought you might have time for lunch," Summer said to Jenny.

"I'm starving, but I'm swamped." Jenny checked the ship's clock on the wall behind the old-fashioned, slotted key holder on the wall. "I've got some paperwork I have to finish. Give me thirty minutes, and we can get something here."

Summer nodded. "Okay, that sounds good. I'll be back then." She flashed a timid smile at Dylan. "Take care, Dylan."

"Will do. You, too."

The bell rang as Summer walked out. Dylan's gaze followed, lingered a moment, before he glanced away. Jenny wondered if he had any interest in her friend, or if Summer's attraction was completely one-sided.

Jenny turned to her brother. "So, what are you doing in town?"

"My shift starts tomorrow. Eight days on before I'm off again. I thought I'd check on you before I went to work." Dylan was a firefighter in Prescott, a larger town less than an hour's drive away. Jenny worried about him. Fighting fires was a dangerous occupation. She took comfort in knowing he was very good at his job.

"You didn't have to do that, but I'm always glad to see you."

They talked for a while, but Jenny had work to do, and Dylan had begun to glance at his watch. "I better get going."

"Yeah, me, too."

Her brother walked out the door, ringing the bell once more. He was such a stand-up guy, so different from Richard, her abusive, cheating, rat bastard ex-husband.

Looking forward to a short lunch with Summer, Jenny headed to her small office in the rear of the lobby.