Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Missy had been absolutely brilliant. She’d been stunning, perky, and a natural on camera. She’d known just how to play up each dramatic moment, and by the time she’d finished relaying what had happened, Connor had had chills on his arms. The councilman had been here, with the women, while he’d been chasing his tail in the old orchard.

It was the first time the ghost had ever made an appearance in front of the Celestes. Why now? Was he rattled by Connor’s presence? Was there some other shift that Connor wasn’t yet aware of?

They’d wrapped up filming at nearly one in the morning. By then, Holly and her aunts had disappeared. Usually he was so focused on interviews that a hurricane could blow through and he wouldn’t notice, but he’d been vaguely aware of Holly’s presence the entire time and he’d instantly noticed when he’d no longer felt it.

Connor had offered to walk Missy and Winter back to the house, to which Missy had scoffed and replied, “I ain’t afraid of no ghost.”

“Like I haven’t heard that one before, Ghostbuster.”

After they’d disappeared into the orchards, he’d spent the next hour wrapping up with his crew before hitting the hay. He’d wanted to sneak into the house and find Holly, to hear what had happened from her own lips, because he suspected Missy was leaving out a few key moments, but he wasn’t sure he should be prowling around their house in the middle of the night after the scare they’d all had. So he’d lain awake in bed for hours before finally drifting off at dawn.

At noon the next day, he was buried in paperwork at the small table in his trailer when someone gave a rap on the door and pushed it open.

“Char, did you find any other articles on the microfiche?” he asked.

“Nope,” Holly answered.

Connor started, then removed his black-framed glasses and tossed them aside. “Holly.”

She shut the door behind her and wandered in, looking around at the laminate counter and the yellow chintz curtains that framed the tiny window over the miniscule sink. The “dining” area consisted of a bench seat, a square table, and a folding chair—all of which were stacked with papers and books, his laptop, his charging cords, a tablet, and legal pads. At the rear of the trailer, long yellow curtains separated the sleeping area—a full-sized bed and closet with a three-foot rod—from the kitchen.

“Don’t take your glasses off for me,” she said, running her fingertips over an embossed book of fairy tales. “I think they’re sexy.”

Connor leaned back and stretched out his legs. “I’ll remember that. How are you doing after last night?”

She shrugged and propped a hip against the counter. She’d left her hair loose and curling around her shoulders. Come to think of it, she looked different all around: tight black jeans, a gray shirt with flirty sleeves, and sandals. This was not her usual work attire.

“I’m doing all right. I don’t love that we actually have a ghost. How was Missy’s interview? She’s been talking nonstop about it and has taken to wearing sunglasses indoors. She thinks she’s a star.”

“Oh, she was definitely a star. She could be an actress if she wanted. Even with her amazing acting skills, I’m wondering if she may have left out a few key details for the cameras.” He watched her expression closely, but there was no attempt at artifice. She simply nodded in agreement.

“The councilman said a couple things about Autumn being a witch, and I already told you I don’t want this turned into a witch hunt, so Missy didn’t mention anything.”

“Come sit. Tell me about it.”

“There’s nowhere to sit.”

He patted his lap, and she looked down her nose at him. He laughed and got up so that she could take his seat, and then he moved the stack of papers and books off the folding chair and set them on the counter. “So what really happened last night?”

When she finished telling him how the councilman had mistaken her for Autumn and promised she’d die, Connor sat in thoughtful silence, his fingers steepled under his chin.

“You look worried,” she joked.

“I am, Holly. Ghosts can physically hurt people.”

She seemed gobsmacked. “He was translucent .”

“It doesn’t matter. No one knows for sure how it works, but just as spirits can take physical form, alter temperatures, and speak, they can also touch. Not all, but some are able to. From what we’ve already observed the councilman do, I’d say he has the ability.”

Holly bit her bottom lip, and Connor’s gaze fell to her mouth. Her perfectly kissable mouth.

“Connor!” Holly snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Stop looking at me like I’m a snack. You just told me this ghost can hurt me.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. Priorities, Grimm. “His hatred is what has tethered him to this world.”

“He thinks Autumn poisoned him with an apple like he’s in some stupid fairy tale.” She gestured to the fairy-tale book on the counter.

“We don’t know what happened,” he said cautiously, because he thought it was just as likely that Autumn had poisoned him as she hadn’t. The Celeste women were strong and loyal. If someone they loved was threatened, he had no doubt they’d be fearsome defenders. Autumn had clearly felt concern over what her husband would do if Councilman Miller didn’t stop his witch hunt. It was possible she’d taken matters into her own hands to protect her husband.

It was also possible she was being unfairly blamed, as so many women had been over the centuries. He wasn’t going to speculate on air about her part in the murder until he had proof—he owed Autumn that much.

“We might never know,” Holly said in exasperation. “In the meantime, I can’t have this guy haunting our orchards, scaring our customers, and threatening to kill me. Going along with the haunting for business reasons is one thing; having a real malicious spook on the property is another. How do I get rid of him?”

“He’s stuck in a loop.” Connor shifted in the uncomfortable chair and knocked over a stack of newspapers. He gathered them up and shoved them behind the phone charging pad. “He shows up in the same place over and over again. Your bonfire was the first time he appeared elsewhere, the first time he conversed with anyone apart from Amy, that we know of. Something has shifted—there’s been a catalyst of some sort. It could be my presence here; it could be that you’ve finally given validity to his existence.” Connor shrugged. “We’ll likely never know. What I do know is that the encounters tend to escalate after the catalyst. He believes you are Autumn, and there is no point in trying to reason with a ghost.”

Holly lifted her hands, which sparkled with a number of silver rings. “So what now? I have to live with this nut? Isn’t it bad enough that he tortured my great-great-grandmother? Why does he get to harass another whole generation of Celeste women?”

It really was disgusting that a man like Miller could continue his hateful, sexist agenda, Connor thought, but it wasn’t like they could put a restraining order on a ghost.

“The most effective way to get rid of a ghost is to break the cycle it’s stuck in. Usually this means helping it find the closure it was denied in life. In the past ghosts have disappeared after their murder was solved, after their loved one was safe, after they saw whatever perceived injustice was rectified. In Councilman Miller’s case, he likely won’t leave until he thinks Autumn has paid for what she’s done for him.”

Holly shook her head slowly, the black onyx necklace shifting across her shirt. “No, I don’t think so. Men like him won’t be satisfied so long as any of the Celestes exist. He won’t tolerate difference. He won’t tolerate powerful women.”

The hairs stood on the back of his arms. He knew she was right. “We’ll find a way,” he said at last.

“No, we won’t. After you finish filming, you’re leaving. Unless you also evict ghosts.”

“It’s not generally in my job description.”

She shrugged. “So then it’s my problem. I just thought I’d get your opinion on it.”

He hated that she was shutting him out of her life, even as he knew she was right. It could take years to exorcise a ghost, and he was leaving in a few weeks at most. They already had enough material for one episode, and they were working on a second. With a three-show max per their contract, that didn’t leave him a lot of wiggle room. That indeed made the vengeful ghost Holly’s problem, and he didn’t like that one bit.

“We found Mary,” he said, searching for the photocopies of the property deeds and the newspaper articles Charlotte had assembled.

Holly tilted her head. “Mary?”

Connor filled her in on his visit to his mystery caller, Ryan Miller, and although she was annoyed he’d gone without her, she was visibly excited when she looked at the photo of Councilman Miller’s list.

Ask Mary to write down what she saw through her window that night.

Mail our accounts to the newspaper. Will it be enough? It will be their word against ours.

Cut down the apple tree for proof.

Suggest to Thomas that I may be willing to forget what I saw in exchange for his signature.

“This is the Mary you found?” she asked, handing his phone back. Outside, a lawnmower started up.

“Charlotte did. She’s spent a lot of time at the historical society and the town office. In 1820, a man named Thomas Tukey owned the property next to yours, and he was married to Mary Tukey. Mary Tukey was also a member of St. John’s congregation, which was also Autumn and Councilman Miller’s church.” He passed her the stack of photocopies.

Holly scanned the newspaper article on top, her eyebrows pinching together. “The paper printed a complaint from Mary Tukey about the Celeste cows getting into her corn.”

“Yeah, they used to publish stuff like that. Look at the next page.”

The next several pages were photocopies of various newspaper clippings: the wedding of Autumn Celeste, a notice of a church fair where both Autumn and Mary were mentioned as the women who’d knitted the most shawls, and the death of Councilman Miller by “unexplained circumstances but suspected convulsions due to the foam about his mouth.” The second to last sheet of paper was a survey done on the Celeste farm and the adjoining property.

“What’s this?” Holly asked, holding up the rough map.

“In 1820, the massive grove of pines and oaks that separate your property from the former Tukey residence wouldn’t have existed. And if they didn’t exist …”

“ … then anyone looking out from the Tukey house would have been able to see the Celeste property,” Holly finished for him, “which means Mary really did see whatever it was Miller also claimed to have seen on the night in question.”

Connor grinned at her. “Bingo.”

Holly flipped to the final sheet and squinted. She turned it sideways, and he knew she recognized the significance of it when she inhaled sharply. “It’s a proposal for a railway station!”

Connor nodded. “It took a lot of searching, but we finally found record of the station Autumn made reference to in her letter. In 1818, Councilman Miller introduced a proposal to build a railway branch through town. It would have connected this town to the farming town north of here, eventually hooking into what would later become the Maine–Massachusetts line.”

Holly studied the schematics with her lip caught between her teeth. Then she flipped back to the old survey of her property. “Oh!” When she lifted her eyes, they were flashing with anger. “He wanted to buy Autumn’s property and build the railway station there!”

“Your apple farm just so happens to be smack-dab in between the two towns, and there are a number of other geographic advantages, such as running water on the property, which would have aided in building the station and tracks.”

“So he wanted the town to buy the property from Autumn and her husband, except they put up a fight.” She absently held out her hand for Connor’s phone, and he suppressed a smile when he placed it in her palm. She pulled up the photo of Councilman Miller’s list. “‘Suggest to Thomas that I may be willing to forget what I saw in exchange for his signature.’”

“Whatever Miller and Mary saw that night,” Connor said, “it was enough to convince Miller that Autumn was a witch. He saw an opportunity to turn the town and church against her. Either his accusations of witchcraft would force Thomas into signing over his property in an attempt to quell the rumors, or the attacks would ruin Autumn’s reputation and satiate Miller’s appetite for revenge, because how dare a woman thwart his grand plans? Either way, he won.”

Holly lowered the papers and phone in disgust. “What a snake.”

Connor agreed, but was unsurprised by Miller’s scheming. Men with political ambitions and money rarely cared about the lives they ruined so long as they continued amassing power. He strongly suspected the railway deal would have somehow lined Miller’s pockets or otherwise furthered his political agenda. Although the town council had been comprised of three men, through various documents Connor had gleaned that Miller had essentially owned the other councilmen. As a one-man council, Miller would have been unstoppable. Except Autumn had stopped him.

“I’m impressed,” Holly said. “You guys are pretty good at this research thing. Do you have a date for the night Miller and Mary saw something?”

Connor shook his head. “No. Miller’s ghost claims he was poisoned by an apple, and the article we found states he died with froth on his mouth—so poison fits. His death was printed at the end of October, when apples were readily available. My best guess is that whatever he saw, it happened either that summer or that spring.” Connor hesitated a moment, then said, “There’s one more thing.”

Holly lifted a brow as she waited. Connor wasn’t eager to tell her the next bit, but he couldn’t imagine keeping something so important from her. “Ryan Miller is Jeremy’s cousin.”

Holly’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Jeremy never shared that with you?”

She shook her head, her earrings glittering in the light streaming through the tiny window. “You’re saying Jeremy is a descendent of Councilman Miller?” She gave a bark of disparaging laughter. “ Of course he is. Why wouldn’t I date the rotten relation of the man who persecuted my family? That’s my MO.”

“Don’t do that, Holly.”

“Why not? History is literally repeating itself. Councilman Miller tried to manipulate Autumn to advance his political agenda, and Jeremy is trying to use me to lift his visibility so he can secure a seat on the same town council two hundred years later. At least Autumn had the good sense not to date her Miller.”

Before Connor could respond, Holly’s phone chirped, and she pulled it from her pocket, startling when she noted the time. “Eek! I’m going to be late.”

“Where are you going?” Connor asked as he followed her outside. The sun was bright in contrast to the dim light in the trailer, and the smell of fresh-cut grass brought him straight back to summers visiting his aunt in upstate Massachusetts.

“Apple Blossom Festival,” Holly said, gesturing to a pickup truck parked beside his in the driveway. It was so old that the hubs of the wheels were coated in rust, and he suspected it wasn’t inspected. Packed into the back were crates, a folding table, a few signs that he couldn’t read, and chairs. “It’s our local hello to spring. You might not have noticed, but apples are kind of a big deal around here. Wicked Good Apples always signs up for a table.” Holly tucked her hair behind her ears and glanced up at him, her hazel eyes rimmed with green behind her thick lashes. “Want to come? It promises to be a long four hours of handing out free samples of cider, collecting cash, and chatting with locals.”

Connor had a thousand things he had to do for the show. There were clips to be sorted, interviews to be conducted, research to be filed, and he needed to prep for a call with his network later that night—but not a single one of those things sounded as appealing as spending the next four hours hanging out with Holly and giving away cider.

“Hell yeah, I do.”