LITMIR.BIZ

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She had better be careful about talking to empty rooms, or letting anyone, particularly the kids, know that she was following the instructions of her long-dead lover, or else they might declare her senile and put her away into one of those horrible living facilities. If that happened, she would not be able to help anybody. Dying facilities was what they were.

      As she started to peck out the details of her nightmare onto the paper, Althea’s fear began to subside, and a welcoming calm came over her. She felt that she was doing the right thing. She still did not understand what the nightmare meant, if it really meant anything at all, but if it was important to Howard, it was important to her, too. He would not lie to her.

      He was still the one she would have trusted above anyone else on earth.

      Alive or dead.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      The tall trees blocked out a good portion of the sun, making it seem much darker, though Jack was relieved that the misty fog that had made yesterday’s visit to the woods so uncomfortable had gone. He and Dani Lindstrom had bumped and bounced their way to the spot where the road was blocked by the fallen tree and then got out. “We’ll have to fight our way through a tangle of brush a ways up,” Jack told her, “so I hope you’re not wearing anything delicate.”

      “I left my chiffon prom dress back at the motel,” Dani said, grinning.

      The hike seemed easier this time, perhaps because Jack knew where he was going, though the new day revealed nothing that Jack had not noticed before. The city hall building was now more visible from other parts of the ghost town, but that could be attributed to the lack of fog. Jack snapped pictures all the way along as they hiked into the main part of the village. Once they had reached the city hall, Dani said: “Wow, look at this place.” She started to trot up the steps, but Jack stopped her.

      “There’s no light in there,” he said, pulling out his flashlight, “and you have to be really careful. Debris is everywhere.” Holding the light in front of him, he crept inside, while Dani followed.

      “This is like a mausoleum,” she commented, her voice echoing in the large empty building.

      Jack shined the light on the back wall. “There. You can make out a woman’s face.”

      Dani moved closer to it. “She doesn’t look very happy.”

      “I hadn’t noticed that before, but you’re right.” Jack started snapping a few more shots of the exposed part of the mural. In today’s light the face did appear to be in some sort of discomfort, even pain.

      Dani reached out and touched the dull gray overcoat. “Why do you suppose they painted over it?”

      “Maybe all the figures looked unhappy,” Jack said, checking his last picture on the tiny digital screen. “Maybe the effect of the mural on the viewer was depressing, something people back then didn’t need.”

      Dani continued to explore the wall with her fingers. She pulled off a loose gray flake which revealed more of the picture. She touched the painted image, but pulled her hand back, like the wall was hot. “This is wet!”

      “That’s not surprising,” Jack said. “It’s been exposed to the elements for quite some time.”

      “Not the wall, Jack, the paint itself.” Dani held up her hand to the flashlight beam, and revealed smudges of reddish-brown on her fingers. “How can the paint still be wet?”

      “Certain kinds of paints take forever to dry, particularly if the pigment is not properly mixed with the base. The moisture in the wall might have so permeated the paint layer that it has combined with the pigment.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, and tossed it to her so she could wipe the paint off her finger.

      “Do you really believe that?” she asked, blotting her hand.

      “Why wouldn’t I? Why else would it be wet?”

      In the dim light, Dani examined her stained index finger and then said: “Don’t you feel it, Jack?”

      “Feel what?”

      “Don’t you sense that something just isn’t right here?”

      Jack smiled. “Ruined buildings sometimes have that effect on people. You said it yourself: this place is like a mausoleum.”

      “Jack, let’s get out of here, okay?” Dani said.

      “Sure. Let me take one more shot of the face in the mural, for safety, and then we’ll go.”

      “Hurry, please.”

      As Jack stepped over to the wall, camera in hand, he told himself that this was exactly why he was reluctant to let Dani in here. Like most people, she viewed a building as some kind of living thing. A house with lights and a family living in it was full of life; a house with no lights, no family, no human activity, was somehow “dead,” and therefore creepy. While he had grown accustomed to the sentiment, because it was so common, he could not accept it himself. A building was a building, period. A foundation, floors, walls, and a roof, none of which were inherently alive. Buildings were erected by men, maintained by men, and demolished by men.

      Buildings did not have souls.

      Jack crouched slightly to get a good eye-level view of the woman’s painted face and snapped the flash, then checked it to make sure he had it. But before stepping back, he reached out and lightly touched the image. Dani had been right, the paint was wet. Perhaps it had been improperly done, and had started to deteriorate, so was covered up. Maybe it was never even finished.

      “Jack?”

      “I’m coming, let’s go.”

      Whatever bad vibe Dani was feeling inside the city hall abated with each step she took back to Jack’s pickup. “You’re going back to L.A. today, right?” she asked, climbing into the passenger seat.

      “As soon as I drop you off at the motel,” he said, closing the driver’s door, but not starting the engine.

      “I think I’m going to miss you.”

      Jack desperately tried to think of a soothing, polite lie, but could not. “Truth be told, I think I’m going to miss you, too.”

      Her green eyes drew him toward her. He tried to fight it, but could not.

      “Dani, I’m not going to lie to you,” Jack said, leaning closer to her face, her body. “I’m attracted as hell to you.” His breathing was getting heavier, deeper. “When you climbed into that Jacuzzi with me last night, what were you thinking? Be honest.”

      Her lips parted. “My first thought was, ‘Maybe I should go over there and take that guy and drag him back to my room and give him the screwing of his life, because I now can. I’m free. And I want to see if I still have it.’”

      Jack swallowed hard. It seemed like the temperature inside the pickup cab was rapidly rising.

      “Then I saw the expression on your face. You looked so happy, and you said you were thinking about your little girl, and I realized you didn’t deserve to be led on, rolled, and dumped, just because I’m pissed at my ex. Okay, my soul’s bared. Now it’s your turn. Did you want to come to my room last night?”

      “Hell, yes.”

      “Why didn’t you?”

      Jack sighed. “Maybe I’m all thought and no follow-through. Maybe that’s why my wife is more successful than I am.”

      “Do you still love her?”

      “Don’t ask hard questions.”

      “How about me, Jack?” Slowly, deliberately, she started unbuttoning her blouse. “Do you love me?” She slid her blouse completely off. “Or is that a hard question, too?” With one smooth move, she pulled her bra up over her head, revealing flawless breasts.

      Jack tore his shirt off so violently he lost a couple

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