CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

"I ' VE GOT TO GET GOING ." J ENNY HEADED FOR THE ELEVATOR IN the entry of Cain's suite.

"I'll see you this afternoon," Cain said from his seat on the sofa, his laptop on the coffee table in front of him so he could continue working on his list.

"I've got an appointment this afternoon. I won't be over till later."

Cain's head came up. "What kind of appointment?"

Jenny smiled. "I'll tell you about it when I get back." She walked over and kissed his cheek, turned and started back toward the door. She could feel his eyes on her, feel the heat, remembered last night, and knew what he was thinking.

Exactly what she was thinking. She forced herself to keep walking.

Jenny picked up her pace as she made her way down the hill to Main Street. The sun was out, but it was chilly. Cleopatra was already there when Jenny arrived, a big woman, late sixties, close to three hundred pounds, with breasts the size of melons beneath a white sweater with flowers on the front.

No more than five feet tall, she wore a pair of baggy jeans that ended above her ankles. White sneakers covered her feet.

Cleo hoisted herself up off the burgundy horsehair settee in the lobby. Thankfully, it was a sturdy piece that had lasted for over a hundred years.

Jenny smiled and walked toward her. "Mrs. Swift. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's Cleo, and you're late. I don't like to be kept waiting."

Jenny's face colored as she glanced down at her watch. Two minutes after the appointed hour. "Sorry. I appreciate your time."

"In that case, let's get going." Cleo hoisted her huge bulk off the settee and headed for the stairs. There was an old service elevator in the kitchen that had been there since the last remodel back in the 1990s. It was used to bring up sheets and towels, mops and buckets, vacuum cleaners and the like.

Jenny thought about asking Cleo if she wanted to use it, but one look at the stubborn way the woman attacked the stairs and she kept her mouth shut.

At the top of the stairs, Cleo stopped to study the recently opened hallway. "This is the new section," the woman said, though Jenny hadn't told her.

"That's right."

"Charlie kept it closed off."

"Yes, he did."

"Charlie Spencer wasn't a fool. You should have paid attention."

If only she had. "Uncle Charlie never told me why he closed it. It didn't seem important at the time. I guess I should have asked." Jenny felt a sweep of guilt. "Now it's too late."

Cleo grunted. "Well, maybe we can figure it out." Turning, the heavyset woman headed down the hallway, pausing every now and then, cocking her head as if she were listening for something or trying to sense something she couldn't quite grasp.

Jenny felt nothing. Maybe she was completely wrong. Maybe none of it was real.

Cleo paused outside the door to room 10. Everyone in Jerome knew about the murder, but the news hadn't reported the room in which it had happened. Perhaps Nell had told her.

Cleo reached for the doorknob, turned it, and walked into the empty room. It was completely clean, the bedding replaced, carpet pulled up, hardwood floors polished to a sheen, no trace of the gruesome murder that had taken place in there.

Cleo stood in silence at the foot of the bed. She turned. "There's . . . something."

Jenny's pulsed kicked up. "What is it? Is it in here now?"

"Not now. What's here now is like a whiff of smoke in the air. It's what's left after, only a sign something's been here." Cleo's gaze pinned her. "Is this the room where the murder happened?"

"Yes."

Cleo nodded, moving her triple chins. "I need to come back tonight, try to make contact."

"You can't do it now?"

"There are different kinds of spirits, same as there are different kinds of people. Some of them exist only in darkness."

Jenny felt a chill. "Are those . . . evil spirits?"

"Yes." Cleo turned and stomped back out the door. Jenny followed her down the hall, down the stairs to the lobby.

At the bottom of the stairs, Cleo turned back to her. "This place be closed by midnight?"

It was a weeknight. The weather was bad, business slow. "Earlier, if that's what you want."

"Midnight. Meet me here." Cleo's big body swayed back and forth as she turned and walked to the door. She opened it, ringing the bell above, and disappeared out onto the sidewalk.

Jenny's shoulders sagged as a rush of tension left her. Had Cleo really sensed something upstairs? It certainly appeared that way.

Jenny glanced over at the lobby desk. On Monday morning, she had put the most recently used leather journal, half full, back out on the desk, where it now sat open. Things were happening. She needed to know what was going on. She needed to know the truth.

Maybe she would find out tonight.

* * *

Cain wasn't happy. Jenny had called and told him she'd be working late, spending the night in her suite at the Copper Star. When he'd told her he'd pick her up after she closed up, she had stumbled through a string of excuses.

Cain wanted to know why.

He thought of the guy with the Italian loafers and two-hundred-dollar haircut, but he didn't believe Jenny had any interest in the man. He trusted her, he realized, just as he'd said.

Something else was going on, and Cain intended to find out what it was.

He left the Grandview around the time he figured the saloon would be closing, drove the Jag down the hill, and parked on the street out front. It was eleven-thirty. Some of the lights were still on inside. Even after the customers were gone, it took a while to close the place down.

He walked up to the front door and knocked, heard movement inside the bar. Jenny's voice came back to him from the other side of the door.

"Sorry, we're closed."

"It's Cain. Let me in."

"Cain . . ." He heard the hesitation in her voice, then the rattle of locks, and the door swung open. "What are you doing here? I told you I had to work late and I was going to spend the night upstairs."

"That's what you said."

She clamped her hands on her hips. "You don't believe me? You think I'm going off with some stud muffin I met in the bar?"

Cain grinned. "No, I don't think that." He forced her back a couple of steps as he walked into the saloon. "I told you I trusted you, and I do." He glanced around the empty bar. "The question is what else is going on tonight? Because I'm beginning to know you well enough to realize you were only telling me part of the truth."

Jenny sighed. "I'm not sure I like that."

"Comes with familiarity, sweetheart. Now tell me the rest."

"Okay, the truth is I knew you wouldn't like what I'm doing tonight so I didn't tell you. Plus I figured if you were here, your disbelief might affect the outcome."

He surprised her by pulling her into his arms and kissing her. She resisted for an instant, then slid her arms up around his neck and kissed him back.

Cain reluctantly broke the kiss. "You can tell me anything, honey. If I don't like it, I'll say so."

She smiled up at him. "All right. But the same goes for me. If I don't like it, I'll tell you."

Cain smiled back. "I figured. Now what's going on?"

"I met Nell's friend, Cleopatra Swift, today. Cleo is able to communicate with spirits. She took a look at room ten. Cleo thinks there could be something evil in the room. She's coming back tonight to see if she can reach out to whatever it is."

Cain just shook his head. "Ms. Spencer, you never cease to amaze me."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I knew you wouldn't believe it."

"I've never seen a ghost, but half the population of Jerome is convinced the town is full of them. I'm willing to keep an open mind."

"You are?"

"Yes."

Jenny relaxed and smiled. "Cleo will be here at midnight. I need to finish up so I'll be ready when she gets here."

"What can I do to help?" Cain asked.

"Seriously?"

"Sure, why not? It's not like I've never washed a dish before." Cain followed Jenny toward the kitchen.

By the time Cleopatra Swift arrived twenty minutes later, they were finished and waiting for her in the hotel lobby. Cain had known Nell's friend since he was a kid. She was even bigger and rounder than she'd been back then.

Cleo eyed him up and down. "Well, look who's here. Mr. Success himself, Cain Barrett."

Cain just smiled. "Hello, Cleo. It's nice to see you."

Her gaze flicked toward the staircase, then returned to Cain. "So . . . are you gonna be a pain in my ass tonight, or are you going to be quiet and let me do my work?"

Cain bit back a laugh. "I won't give you any trouble. I'm just here for Jenny. And there's nothing I'd like better than to actually see a ghost."

Cleo harrumphed. "We'll see about that." Turning, she adjusted the strap of the big quilted, blue-flowered bag slung over her shoulder and headed up the stairs. Cain and Jenny followed.

"The hotel's only about half full," Jenny said when they reached the top. "I think everyone who's staying here is in their rooms by now."

"Good." Cleo marched down the hallway of the new section and stopped in front of room 10. Jenny reached out and turned the knob, and the door swung silently into the darkness beyond.

Cleo walked into the room. Resting her big, quilted bag on the queen-size bed, she pulled out three white candles and carried them over to the dresser. She struck a match and carefully lit each one. Candlelight flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

"Close the door," she commanded.

Cain closed the door.

Cleo walked over and made herself comfortable in the wooden chair at the table near the window. It creaked in distress at the heavy weight. Cain hoped it wouldn't collapse.

"What now?" he asked.

"Now we wait." Cleo flicked him a warning glance. "And you both stay quiet while I work."

Cain sat next to Jenny on the bed. He noticed the room had been thoroughly cleaned and the quilt replaced. It still felt as if death lurked in the shadows. Jenny's hand brushed his as she reached for him, and he laced his fingers with hers.

Minutes slipped past. At first, his mind was restless, thinking of things he needed to be doing, thinking of the ranch and Sun King, going over the list of possible enemies he had made, wondering if there were people he should have added.

Time crept past. Midnight turned to one. Jenny sat quietly. Nothing was happening. His restlessness slowly faded as drowsiness set in, and his eyelids began to droop.

"Who are you?" Cleo asked, and Cain's eyes shot wide open. "Tell me your name."

Jenny's fingers tightened on his. Her breathing quickened, and he could feel an uptick in her pulse. Nerves burned through him, heightening his own heart rate. In the candlelight, he could read the tension that had crept into Cleo's fleshy face.

As the minutes ticked past, the room seemed to narrow to the three points of light coming from the dresser. Cain shifted on the mattress, an odd pressure settling on the back of his neck. He blinked as a headache began to form behind his eyes.

"Stay away from him," Cleo warned. "I know what you're doing. I know what you've done. I can help you. Tell me your name."

An icy breeze sifted through the air, although the window was closed. An instant later, all three candles went out. Cain could hear Cleo's voice, but he could no longer make out what she was saying. His chest felt leaden. His headache increased until it pounded ruthlessly in his ears.

His heart was thudding, his mouth bone dry. He looked at Jenny, at her long, thick brown curls, her smooth skin, and plump lips. Lust swelled inside him, beating at his control. He was hard, he realized, throbbing with every heartbeat. His hands were shaking, his palms sweating.

He wanted to reach for her, bare Jenny's breasts, wanted to squeeze them, pinch her nipples until she cried out. He wanted to shove her down on the bed, rip off her clothes, force her legs apart, and plunge himself inside her.

He looked at her slender throat and wanted to wrap his hands around her neck, to hear her struggling for breath as he pounded his hard length into her again and again.

Horror filled him, and Cain shot up from the bed. He rushed for the light switch next to the door and flipped it on, then opened the door and ran out into the hall. He was shaking, breathing hard, his mind spinning, barely able to catch his breath.

Then Jenny was there, wrapping her arms around him, holding him close, telling him everything was going to be okay. For a moment, he was afraid to touch her, afraid of the man he had become in room 10. Afraid he would hurt her.

"It's all right," Jenny said. "I know what you were feeling in there. I could sense it. See it in your face. It wasn't you in there, Cain. It was someone else."

Cleo appeared beside them. Cain heard the click of the lock as the door closed behind her.

"We'll talk downstairs," she said. Turning, Cleo marched back down the hall.