CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

J ENNY NEEDED TO TALK TO N ELL . T HOUGH SHE'D ENJOYED HER DINNER with Nell and Cain the night before, they hadn't discussed the murder. It wasn't an appropriate topic for a special, welcome-home supper for Cain's grandmother.

With Cain already gone, Jenny had showered in his fancy marble bathroom, dressed, and headed for the Copper Star. She wouldn't be sleeping in his bedroom tonight. Their relationship was too new for those kinds of assumptions.

She'd planned to talk to Nell when she went back to the Grandview later that day, but Nell was out, spending the afternoon with friends. Needing to stay busy, Jenny put in extra hours, telling herself not to think of Cain and what he might be doing in Scottsdale. Telling herself it didn't matter that Anna Hobbs lived there. Or any number of other beautiful women.

Back at the Star, she relieved Troy and bartended the late shift. By eleven o'clock, when the saloon closed up, she was so exhausted it didn't take her long to fall asleep. It wasn't until well after midnight that a sound in the room nudged her awake and her eyes cracked open.

Her pulse beat faster. She glanced around but didn't see anything. No orb, no ghostly faces floating at the foot of the bed. She relaxed and began to drift back to sleep.

Then she heard it. A gasping sound, followed by heavy, labored breathing. It seemed to be coming from inside the very walls of the room. Jenny clutched the blanket tighter around her. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend none of this was happening.

Maybe it wasn't.

She heard the notes of a music box playing and what sounded like children's laughter. Then abruptly, everything stopped.

The bedroom went eerily silent. All she could hear was the rapid beat of her heart pounding in her ears. For an hour, she lay awake, listening, waiting for something to happen.

Eventually, her tired body overruled her fears, her eyelids drooped, and she fell asleep.

Nothing disturbed her until sunshine streamed through the curtains at the windows. Jenny had never been happier to see the dawn.

* * *

She was meeting Nell Barrett for lunch at the Grandview, then she and Millicent planned to work on the grand-opening party. Cain wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Jenny tried to pretend she didn't miss him, but like it or not, Cain Barrett was rapidly becoming an important part of her life.

It wasn't what she wanted. The thought of falling in love with him was nearly as terrifying as what had happened in her room last night.

She glanced at her watch. Though the dining room wasn't officially open, Opal was cooking, trying out different daily specials, which she'd been serving to the construction crew. Schnitzel, sauerkraut, and mashed potatoes topped today's menu.

"I appreciate your joining me," Jenny said to Nell, digging into the mashed potatoes, which were delicious. "I'm desperate to talk to someone who might be able to help me."

Nell swallowed the bite of schnitzel she had taken and delicately wiped her mouth with a white linen napkin. Her fine white hair was neatly pulled back in a bun, and there were tiny pearl earrings in her ears. She always dressed well, perhaps a holdover from an earlier time, but Jenny thought the look worked exactly right for the older woman.

"Is this about the murder that happened in your hotel?" Nell asked.

"Yes, it is. I mentioned some of this to Cain, but he wasn't exactly receptive to my thinking."

"Which is . . . ?"

"That something evil exists in room ten."

Nell's snowy eyebrows went up. "Well . . . I certainly didn't see that coming."

"I'm hoping you won't think I'm crazy, but I believe the man who was killed was under the influence of some kind of evil spirit or demon or whatever it is that lives in that room."

"Based on what evidence?"

"Brian Santana attacked Leslie Owens, the girl he was dating, and tried to strangle her. It was totally out of character. He had no record of any former violence, nothing that would indicate he was capable of something like that. Leslie said it seemed as if he had turned into another man."

"If you believe that, I'm guessing you're no longer renting out room ten."

"No. The thing is, Nell, this isn't the first time something like that happened in that room."

Nell took a sip of water from the short-stemmed goblet Millicent had chosen, a good choice, Jenny thought—elegant, yet it fit into the big stainless dishwasher.

"I know I'm getting older," Nell said, "but I don't recall another murder happening in the hotel. At least not while I was living in Jerome."

"The other incident didn't end up with anyone dead, but the attack came very close." Jenny told Nell about the journals and what Mrs. Dennison had written fifteen years ago about her night in room 10.

"Mary Dennison described her husband's behavior exactly the way Leslie Owens described Brian Santana's. Both men committed vicious attacks on the women they were sleeping with in that room. I brought the journal so you could read Mary's account."

Jenny pulled the small, leather-bound volume out of her purse and set it on the table. Nell drew out a pair of silver half-glasses, slid them on, and settled them on her nose.

She took her time reading the entry, removed the glasses, and folded them up. "I can see why you're concerned."

"Leslie Owens's story was almost exactly the same. Except that she fought back and Brian ended up dead."

Nell shook her head. "Such a terrible thing."

"Uncle Charlie closed that section of the hotel, but he never told me why. He did it not long after Mary Dennison wrote that entry in the journal. I-I'm really starting to believe the entire hotel is haunted."

Nell arched a silver eyebrow. "There's not much doubt of that, dear girl. Half the town is haunted. The spirits, however, are mostly harmless, even playful. This sounds like something more."

Jenny didn't mention the strange noises she had heard in her room last night. She didn't want Nell to think she was imagining all of this.

"I have a friend," Nell said, as the meal came to a close. "Her name is Cleopatra Swift. She was named after the mountain this town is built on."

"Cleopatra Hill."

Nell nodded. "Cleo has a gift. She doesn't talk about it to most people, but Cleo can sense the presence of spirits. She's sensitive to their thoughts and emotions. Sometimes she can help them pass into the world beyond, where they're supposed to be."

Seconds passed as Jenny absorbed the information. "So you don't think what I'm telling you is crazy."

"Not in the least. I was raised in Jerome. I've heard ghost stories all my life. Some of them could make the hair stand up on the back of your neck. I learned to be less skeptical than most."

"This friend of yours . . . Cleopatra. Will she help me?"

Nell set her napkin next to her empty plate. "Cleo might agree to help. If she does, she'll come to the Copper Star, see if she can make some sort of contact. In the meantime, I suggest you do some research. Try to find out what might have happened in the hotel in the past. Perhaps you'll even find mention of something in room ten."

Jenny smiled for the first time since she and Nell had been seated in the dining room. "I've been meaning to do that."

"The museum on Main Street would be a good place to start. They have lots of books on early Jerome. Maybe someone who works there will have information that could be useful."

"Yes. And the library. I'll start tomorrow."

Both of them rose from the table. Emma appeared out of nowhere to help Nell into her wheelchair for the trip up to her suite. Whenever she wasn't with Nell, Emma entertained herself with a bag of knitting that was always close at hand.

"I think I'll take a nap," Nell said. "I'll call Cleo a little later and let you know what she says."

"Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me yet." Nell gave her a stern look down the length of her nose. "And until we figure out what's going on, stay out of room ten."

As Emma rolled Nell's wheelchair toward the elevator, Jenny thought of the evil that could have possessed Brian Santana, and goose bumps crept over her skin.

* * *

James Randall, the president of Barrett Enterprises, had a family emergency. His mother had been in a car accident and was rushed to the local hospital. Cain had canceled the rest of today's meetings. Fortunately, the doctors believed the woman would be okay.

Though it was only six o'clock, Cain was tired to the bone. Heading straight home, he pulled into the driveway and opened the garage door. He needed to get a decent night's sleep.

The Jag idled quietly. Though the outside lights softly illuminated the carefully constructed desert-landscaped yard, the house looked as empty and lonely as it had the night before.

His breath came out on a sigh. He needed to finalize the work they'd been doing and close the Titan deal. But they had all worked hard today and managed to accomplish most of what they needed to do.

Cain studied the uninviting interior of the house. The meetings had gone well, better than expected. Tomorrow, if necessary, a Zoom call could handle the rest.

He checked his heavy gold wristwatch. He could be back at the ranch before nine. Or he could be back in Jerome.

Cain put the Jag in reverse and backed out of the driveway. There was a convenience store on the way to the freeway. A quick stop at the Circle K, a hot cup of coffee, and he was on his way.

Traffic was moderate. The Jag rolled north on Interstate 101, merged onto I-17, and continued north, the strong coffee and the demands of mountain driving keeping Cain alert.

An hour and a half later, he spotted the sign for Prescott and turned off the interstate onto AZ 69. Another convenience-store stop, and he was passing through town, heading up Iron Springs Road toward the ranch. He slowed the Jag as he approached the Y in the road, left to the ranch, right to Jerome. It was almost the same distance, but the drive to Kirkland took less time. Still . . .

Left to the ranch, right to Jerome—and Jenny.

Cain turned right.

There was a chance Jenny was staying at the Grandview. He should call her, let her know he was on his way, but something held him back. He drove the curves to the top of the mountain and pulled into Jerome, turned up the hill to the Grandview.

A quick trip inside told him Jenny wasn't there.

He should have figured she would still be working. When he drove up in front of the Copper Star and got out of the Jag, he could hear country music playing. He pushed through the batwing doors.

Jenny stood behind the bar. She was smiling, leaning over the counter, resting on her elbows, talking to a good-looking, dark-haired man with a two-hundred-dollar haircut, designer jeans, a cashmere sweater, and expensive Italian loafers. His buddy was romancing a redhead, while Romeo had set his sights on Jenny.

The guy laughed at something Jenny said, and she grinned. Cain felt his blood pressure rise.

As he crossed the room, Jenny spotted him, rounded the bar, and ran toward him. She threw her arms around his neck.

"You're back early," she said, smiling up at him. "Why didn't you call and let me know?"

Cain didn't hug her back. "Looks like you had plenty of company while I was gone."

"What?" Jenny followed his gaze to the guy at the bar. She frowned and took a step back. "I'm bartending tonight. Bartenders talk to people. As long as they're being entertained, they're buying drinks. You've been around long enough to know that."

When Cain made no reply, her features tightened. "You have some nerve coming in here and looking at me like I'm doing something wrong. What about you? Did you spend last night with Anna? Or was there someone new?"

Irritation trickled through him. "I was working, just like I said. I wasn't with Anna or anyone else. We made a deal. I don't break my word."

Jenny set her hands on her hips. "Well, I don't either." She was wearing a denim skirt and cowboy boots. His mind returned to the night she'd been wearing the black knit dress, the way she had looked bent over his sofa.

His body went hard. That was the trouble. He was thinking with his dick and not his brain.

He blew out a breath. "Can we talk for a minute somewhere private?"

"I'm busy. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Please," he said, catching her wrist as she started to turn away. "Okay, I'm sorry. I was jealous. It's a new experience for me. Can you break away for a minute?"

She gave him a long, assessing glance, then turned and asked one of the waitresses to fill in while she stepped outside.

Cain led her through the batwing doors onto the sidewalk. It was too cold to stay out there long. He was still wearing his navy blue suit. He took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

"You were right in there. You weren't doing a damn thing wrong."

"No, I wasn't."

He sighed. "I learned something about myself tonight. I learned that Scottsdale isn't my home anymore. I decided to drive back up the mountain to the ranch. Then I realized what I really wanted to do was to see you."

Jenny's big green eyes stared up at him. "So you stormed into the bar, making accusations."

"I was still getting used to the idea."

Her lips twitched. Then her amusement faded. "So . . . I guess this is the moment when we decide whether or not we're going to trust each other."

He nodded. "I guess it is."

"Do you trust me, Cain?"

Did he? He knew her history, knew all about her. He had trusted her even before he had hired her. "More than any woman I've ever known."

"Except for Nell."

His lips edged up. "Except for Nell." He reached out and caught her chin, tilted her head up and lightly kissed her. "What about me, Jenny? Do you trust me?"

"When you give your word, I believe you keep it."

"Yes or no?"

"I trust you, Cain."

He frowned. "Why does that sound like you still have doubts?"

She rested her palms on his chest, her eyes still on his face. "I don't trust you not to break my heart."

Cain pulled her into his arms and just held her. He wondered if, in the end, it wouldn't be the other way around.