Nightwalker by Heather Graham Page A

told you how it happened, and that’s that. Came after one of the longest runs I’ve ever seen at a craps table, though.”
    The interview ended there, and the anchor announced that she would return after the commercial break.
    “Darnedest thing I ever did hear,” Timothy said, a teasing light entering his bright blue eyes. “I’ve heard of casinos sending in new folks, hoping to turn the tide when a winning streak goes on too long, but I can’t think of a casino out there that would stoop to killing a man just to stop the game.”
    Jessy gasped. “That’s horrible. And the winning streak had already ended when it happened.”
    Timothy’s eyes narrowed. “And how would you know that, young lady?”
    She didn’t want him knowing that she had been desperately playing the last of her reserves to keep him here in the home. She pointed to the television. “That’s what he said. The man being interviewed.”
    “It’s still odd as hell. A man with a knife in his back stumbles through a casino—and no one sees where he came from, not even the cameras. Like an inside job of some kind,” he said.
    “Or coincidence,” Jessy suggested.
    “Coincidence?” Timothy shook his head. “Somehow, it was all rigged. How or why, I don’t know.”
    “The police will find the killer,” Jessy said with far more conviction than she felt. “Anyway, you’re looking great, Timothy.”
    He smiled, pleased. “I feel great. We’ll go on an adventure soon, huh?”
    She gave him a big hug, thrilled with how fully in control of his thoughts he was.
    “Sure. A day trip. We’ll plan something fun.”
    Suddenly he frowned and wagged a finger at her. “You be careful.”
    “What? Why?” she asked, frowning back at him.
    “The ghosts,” he said seriously. “The ghost dancers. ”
    She stared at him, unnerved. “Timothy, I don’t think any ghost dancers can hurt me, I really don’t.”
    Timothy shook his head. “They don’t want to hurt you, they want to help you. The ghost dancers saw their ancestors and spoke with the dead because the dead brought important messages, to those who listened.”
    She sighed. “Timothy, listen to me. You know I have tremendous respect for your father’s people and their traditions, but the ghost dancers are a thing of the past, so I wouldn’t suggest putting a lot of faith in them now.”
    She was surprised when he smiled patiently at her, as if she were a child again. “Faith is the most important thing in the world, Jessy. Faith in oneself, faith in the world, in God, in the Great Spirit. We don’t see everything that happens, but the ghost dancers do.”
    She walked over and kissed him on the forehead, trying not to let him see how much he was upsetting her. “Believe me, I’m grateful for my heritage and very proud of it. For now, though, I have to live in the real world and get to work. I love you, and if I get any messages, I know you’ll help me understand them.”
    He looked up at her, his expression grave. “There’s danger when the ghost dancers speak, granddaughter, that’s why you have to listen.”
    “Of course, Timothy, of course,” she assured him.
    And then she fled.
     
    Dillon arrived at the executive penthouse at the Big Easy at ten, after calling to make an appointment withEmil Landon. He never slept late, but today, for some inexplicable reason, he had. He’d barely had time to feed the dog and let her out before he had to leave the house.
    And he didn’t know where the hell Ringo was, other than nowhere nearby, because Ringo definitely would have woken him up.
    He’d been having strange dreams of the maiden again, and he wasn’t sure why. Long ago, when he had first seen her, he’d been convinced that she had come to save his life. He’d been so bitter in those days. Ready for any fight that came along, aching at the loss of his parents—a jailbird about to happen.
    He had no idea what she was trying to tell him now. His dreams were just bits and pieces