It was only nine-thirty when Vanessa opted for bed. She lay awake, watching the patterns of the low-burning fire playing upon the canvas roof of her tent. She thought about the ridiculousness of filming the moviethe hours of getting the characters into makeup and how, to save money, they had all taken on so many different tasks. Jay and Carlos had played the vengeful pirates, coming out of the sea, and she had supplied some of the sound effects and acted as the kidnapped and murdered Dona Isabella.
Her script was honestly good, based on history and legend. Once, the Florida Keys and the Bahamas had been areas of lawlessness, ruled by pirates. An infamous pirate captain, Mad Miller, and his mistress, Kitty Cutlass, had gone on a wild reign of terror, taking ship after ship, or so legend said. Then all had gone wrong. They had taken a ship bearing the beautiful and rich Dona Isabella. They had sunk her ship, killed most of the crew and, presumably, planned on ransoming Dona Isabella. She had been sailing from Key West to Spain, back to her wealthy husband, when she had been taken. But nothing had happened as planned. Legend said that Kitty Cutlass killed Dona Isabella in a fit of rage, and on Haunt Island, Mad Miller went really mad and massacred the remaining crew and many of his own men. Finally, his pirate ship had sunk off Haunt Island, caught in the vengeful winds of a massive storm. Vanessa had based her script on the legend, doing what research she could, with contemporary teenagers finding themselves victims of bitter ghosts risen from the sand and the sea. As a screenplay, the story provided amazing fodder for the imagination. Filming had actually been fun. There had been some amusing accidents along the way, but none that had caused any harm. Bill had fallen into one of the buckets of blood, and Jake had come bolting up out of the water once, terrified of a nurse shark. She liked the people she was working with, and so, for the most part, it had been enjoyable. A crash shootall of it done within three weeks. And Jay was rightit could hit big at the box office.
She still felt disturbed and uneasy, although she wasnt alone. The tents were no more than a few feet apart. Jay, who had been bunking with Carlos, was next to her. Bill and Jake were on her left side. Lew, as secure a figure as anyone might ever want to meet, was just beyond Zoe.
But she was still afraid. It was as if Georgias gut-wrenching scream had awakened something inside her that knew something was coming, something that she dreaded.
At eleven oclock, she was still staring at the canvas. She didnt have anything really strong to help her sleep, but she decided on an over-the-counter aid. In another half an hour, she was asleep.
It might have been the pill. She slept, but she tossed and turned and awakened throughout the night. And she dreamed that Georgia was standing in front of her, giant tears dripping down her cheeks. I told you, I told you there were monsters!
Georgias image disappeared.
She dreamed of giant shadow figures rising over her tent and of seaweed monsters rising out of the ocean, growing and growing and devouring ships, boats and people, and reaching up to the sky to snatch planes right from the atmosphere.
She awoke feeling better, laughing at herself for the absurdity of her dreams.
She didnt believe in seaweed monsterssea snakes, yes, sharks and other demons of the real world, but seaweed monsters, no.
When she had nightmares, they were usually more logic-basedbeing chased in the darkness by a human killer, finding out she was in a dark house alone with a knife-wielding madman.
It had been Georgia. Georgia and that terrifying scream.
She blinked, stretched and rose. Taking off the long T-shirt nightgown shed worn, she put on a bathing suit, ready to hit the beach. There were showers in the heads on both boats the crew had been using, the Seven Seas and the Jalapeño. Of course, one boat wouldnt be back until Carlos returned. It was a bright and beautiful morning, and she felt that a good dousing in the surf would be refreshing.
She stepped out of her tent. The morning sun was shining, but the air retained a note of the nights pleasant coolness. The sea stretched out before her, azure as it could only be in the Bahamas. Jay and Zoe were already up, and one of them had put the coffeepot to brew on the camp stove.
Morning! Jay called.
Morning! she returned. How long till coffee?
Hey! As fast as it brews! Jay told her.
Zoe giggled. What? Did you think this film had a budget for a cook?
Vanessa walked on out to the water. It was delightful; warm, but not too warm. So clear she could easily see the bottom, even when she had gone out about twenty-five feet from shore and the depth was around ten feet. The current of the Gulf Stream was sweeping the water around to the north; she decided to fight it and swim south, then let it bring her on back offshore from the campsite.
She swam a hard crawl, relaxed with a backstroke, worked on her butterfly and went back to doing the crawl, and then decided that she had gone far enough. She had angled herself in toward shore, so she paused a minute, standing, smoothing back her hair.
It was then that she looked toward the shore.
She would have screamed, but the sound froze in her throat.
She stood paralyzed, suddenly freezing as if she were a cube of ice in the balmy water.
The bonesthe bodies
Georgias terrified words of the night before seemed to echo and bounce in her mind.
Then she did scream, loud and long. And she found sense and logic, amazingly, and started shouting for the others to come.
The bonesthe bodies
They were there. There was no sign of the boat, but Georgia Dare and Travis Glenn were therein the sand. Their heads, eyes glaring open, were posed next to one another, staring toward the sea. Inches away from each, arms stretched out of the sand as welljust as props had done in the filming. It was as if they desperately reached out for help as the earth sucked them down, leaving only those pathetic heads, features frozen in silent screams.
Jay had reached the scene. He was shaking and staring, in shock and denial. He shouted. Travis, what is this, damn it! Georgiano! No, no, no! Where is Carlos? What kind of a stunt is this? Jerking like a mechanical figure, Jay went to touch the actors head, as if he could wake him up or snap him out of whatever game he was playing.
The head rolled through the sand. The body wasnt attached.
Jay himself began to scream.
Frozen still, shaking from a sudden cold that threatened never to leave her, Vanessa remained just offshore. She didnt move until Lew had gotten the authorities, until a kindly Bahamian official came and wrapped a towel around her shoulders, and led her away.
Chapter One
2 years later
Key West
Before him, frond coral waved in a slow and majestic dance, and a small ray emerged from the sand by the reef, weaving in a swift escape, aware that a large presence, possibly predatory, was near.
Sean OHara shot back up to the surface, pleased with his quick inspection of Pirate Cut, a shallow reef where divers and snorkelers alike came to enjoy the simple beauty of nature. It was throughout history a place where many a ship had met her doom, crushed by the merciless winds of a storm. Now only scattered remnants of that history remained; salvage divers of old had done their work along with the sea, salt and the constant shift of sands and tides and weather that remained just as turbulent through the centuries.
It was still, he decided, a great place to film.
He hadnt opted for scuba gear that dayit had been just a quick trip, thirty minutes out and thirty back in, early morning, just to report to his partner, David Beckett, so they could talk about their ever-changing script and their plans for their documentary film.
Because Sean was an expert diver, he seldom went diving alone. Good friendssome of the best and most experienced divers in the worldhad died needlessly by diving alone. But a free dive on a calm day hadnt seemed much of a risk, and he was pleased that he had taken off early in the morning. Most of the dive boats headed out by nine, but few of them came to Pirate Cut as a first dive, and it wouldnt get busy until later in the day.
And out in the boat, he wasnt exactly alone.
Bartholomew was with him.
Climbing up the dive ladder at the rear of his boat, Conch Fritter, he tossed his flippers up and hauled himself on board. His cell phone sat on his towel, and the message light was blinking. Caller ID showed him that hed been called from OHaras, his uncles bar.
I thought about answering it, but refrained.
Sean turned at the sound of the voice. Bartholomew was seated at the helm of the dive boat, feet in buckle shoes up on the wheel, a National Geographic magazine in his hands.
Bartholomew was getting damned good at holding things.
Thank you for refraining. And tell me again, why the hell are you with me? You hate the water, Sean said, irritated. He pushed buttons on his phone to receive his messages, staring at Bartholomew.
Love boats, though, Bartholomew said.
Sean groaned inwardly. It was amazingonce he hadnt believed in Bartholomew. Actually, hed thought the ghost might have been one of his sister Katies imaginary friends. He realized he either had to accept that she was crazy or that there was a ghost. At that time, Sean couldnt see or hear Bartholomew.
But that had been a while ago now. While solving the Effigy Murdersas the press wound up calling themhed ended up with his head in a bandage and stitches in his scalp.
It was the day the damned stitches had come out that hed first seen the ghostas clearly as if he had physical substancesitting in a chair next to the hospital bed.
Sean listened to his messages. The first, from David Beckett, asking him what time he wanted to go out. Sean grinned. David was in loveand sleeping late. Sean was glad, since it seemed that his old friend was in love with his sister, Katie, and she was in love with him. Theyd both seen some tough times, and Sean was happy for them.
The next message was from his uncle just asking him to call back.
He did so. Still, he didnt learn much. His uncle just wanted him to come to the bar. Sean told him it would take him about forty-five minutes, and Jamie said that was fine, just to come.
So whats up? Bartholomew asked.
Going to the bar, thats all, Sean said. He was curious. Jamie wasnt usually secretive.
Can you keep a hand on the helm? Bring her straight in? Sean asked Bartholomew as he brought up the anchor. Securing it, he added, Jeez, am I crazy asking you that?
Bartholomew looked at him with tremendous indignation.
Really! That was absolutelychurlish of you! If theres one thing I know, its a lazy mans boat like this!
Sean grinned. Ill be in the head in the shower for about fifteen minutes. Thats all you need to manage.
Itll be great if we pass the Coast Guard or a tour boat! Bartholomew cried.
Sean ignored him. He just wanted to rinse off the sea salthis uncle had him curious.
He showered, dried and dressed in the head and cabin well within his fifteen minutes. In another twenty, he was tying up at the pier.
Duval Street was quiet.
As he walked from the docks to OHaras, Sean mused with a certain wry humor that Key West was, beyond a doubt, a place for night owls. He was accustomed enough to working at nightor even partying at nightbut he was actually more fond of the morning hours.
What do you think Jamie wants?
Sean heard the question againfor what seemed like the tenth time nowand groaned inwardly without turning to look at the speaker. Imagine, once he had wanted to see the damned ghost!
Oh, he could see Bartholomew way too clearly now, though when he had first come home to Key Westhearing that David Beckett was in town and worried for his sisters safetyhe had come with his longtime fear for Katies mind. She had always seemed to sense or see things. But that had been Katie, not him.
Bartholomew had apparently wanted to be known, though at first he proved his presence by moving things around.
Then Sean had seen him in that damned chair in the hospital room. Now he could see the long-dead privateer as easily as he could see any flesh-and-blood, living person who walked into his life.
He cursed the fact.
He had never believed in ghosts. Hed never wanted to believe. In fact, hed warned Katie not to ever talk about the fact that she had strange encounters or had been gifted or cursed from a young age. The majority of the world would think that she should be institutionalized.
He wasnt pleased that he saw Bartholomew. Now he had the fear that he would one day wind up institutionalized himself.
And he was far from pleased that the dapper centuries-old entity had now decided to affix himself to Sean.
I will not answer you. I will never answer you in public, Sean said.
Bartholomew laughed. You just answered me. Then again, were hardly in public, you know. I think the whole island is still asleep. Besides, youre a filmmaker. An artiste! People will happily believe that you are eccentric, and its your brilliance causing you to speak to yourself.
Right. Dont you feel that you should go and haunt my sister? Sean asked.
I believe shes busy.
Im busy, Sean said.
Look, Im apparently hanging around for something, Bartholomew said. Others have gone on, and I havent. You seem to be someone I must help.
I dont need help.
You will, Im sure of it, Bartholomew said.
Sean kept walking.
So what do you think he wanted? Bartholomew persisted.
I dont know, Sean said flatly. But he wanted something, and thats why Im going to see him. He cast a glance Bartholomews way. The privateerhanged long ago for a deed he hadnt committedwas really quite a sight. His frock coat and stockings, buckle shoes, vest and tricornered hat all fit his tall, lean physique quite well. In his lifetime, Sean thought dryly, he had probably made a few hearts flutter. Sadly, he had died because of the death of the love of his life, and an act of piracy blamed upon him. However, after haunting the island since then, he had recently found a new love, the lady in white, legendary in Key West. When they filmed their documentary, Sean meant to make sure that he covered Bartholomews case and those of his old and new loves.
Hed heard once that ghosts remained on earth for a reason. They wanted to avenge their unjust deaths, they needed to help an ancestor or they were searching for truth. There were supposedly ghosts who were caught in time, reenacting the last moments of their lives. But that was considered residual haunting, while Bartholomews determination to remain on earth in a spectral form was known as active or intelligent haunting.