Ghost Night by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online

school. When needed, I can handle any kind of a camera. I’m fit so I can tote and carry. The filmmaker in you must see what there is here—a legend that remains a mystery, historical and contemporary. You can look for the Santa Geneva, you can really follow the path of those who came before you. And if you leave out piracy, and the stamping out of the pirates, and the supposed massacre on Haunt Island, you’re doing a disservice to everyone.”
    He leaned back. “If this is such a great documentary, why don’t you do it yourself?” he demanded.
    She leaned back, biting her lower lip. “Well, forone, I don’t have the kind of money you need for a documentary. And…”
    “And?”
    She leaned forward. “Look, I’ll work cheap. I’ll work harder than anyone you ever imagined.”
    He leaned back, shaking his head. “I’d like to help you, I’d really like to help you. But it seems as if you’re chasing something, and I’m not—I’m not what you’re looking for. If these murders haven’t been solved, you need a private investigator. You need—”
    “Have you ever tried to look for a private investigator who specializes in water, legends and boats?” she asked irritably.
    He hesitated for a moment. “Look, from what I understand, every agency possible was involved in that case. If there are no clues, there are no clues.”
    “No one wanted to follow through on the legend—or the history,” she said, exasperated.
    He felt his fingers tense around his coffee cup and he stared at her. “You’re trying to tell me that pirates returned to massacre your friends?” he asked.
    Something about the tightening in her lips and the way that she stared at him caused him to feel as if he should be ashamed—as if he had spoken out of turn.
    But he hadn’t. And he couldn’t explain to her that he knew what ghosts were capable of doing, and what they weren’t. As a matter of fact, he knew a few of them….
    “That’s not what I’m suggesting at all,” she said.
    “Then?”
    “I—don’t know, exactly,” she said, looking away. “Here’s the thing. We’ve had this movie stowed since it happened. But…people know about it. I’m afraid we’llget an offer from a major distributor. My partner would gladly sell. I don’t want to sell—not unless I can get some justice for those who were involved. I don’t want to make money on sensationalism, on something…something unsolved. I’ve gotten Jay to agree that I can try one more time to discover the truth.”
    “I—”
    “Please. Please just tell me that you’ll consider doing it?” she asked.
    He stared at her, not knowing what to say.
    No. A flat-out no would be a great answer. He and David hadn’t set anything in stone as yet, but…no. This one had to be a no. They both had their individual exemplary careers, they knew what they were doing. They could write themselves.
    “I’m sorry. I just don’t think my partner will agree,” Sean said.
    “Will you ask David Beckett?” she queried stubbornly.
    He smiled. “Will you quit asking if I talk to him and he says no?”
    She smiled. “You’re—Look, I know I’m asking a lot without much to offer. But I am really good at what I do, and if you give me a few weeks, I promise, I’ll help to make anything you want to do come out as brilliantly as possible. I’ll be slave labor, I swear.”
    “I don’t want slave labor.”
    “I’ll be the best damned assistant you’ve ever had,” she swore.
    “Take her up on it!” Bartholomew said. “Hell, my boy! Take her up on it just for the pleasure of having her upon your wretched little boat.”
    “I’ll talk to David,” he said.
    “You really will. And…and if he’s hesitant, if there’s any chance, will you let me try to persuade him, as well?” she asked.
    He forced an even smile. No, just say no!
    He asked himself if he would be so torn, so tempted, if the person asking him wasn’t this young woman, not just beautiful, but…strong.