by Paige Tyler
Presley fell asleep a little while later. Even though he’d fulfilled his promise to stay with her until she did, she looked so peaceful lying on his chest Logan couldn’t find it in himself to disturb her. From the sound of it, she hadn’t gotten much sleep lately and he didn’t want to wake her by getting out of bed. Besides, he wasn’t going to get any more research done tonight anyway. Closing his eyes and drifted off to sleep, his arms still wrapped protectively around her.
* * * * *
It had been ages since Presley had woken up like a normal person she almost forgot what it was not to bolt upright terrified and screaming at the top of her lungs from some awful nightmare. But then her brow furrowed as the events of last night came rushing back and she remembered she hadn’t gotten off as easily as she thought. She had the nightmare, only this time Logan was there to comfort her.
Embarrassed he’d seen her like that, Presley tugged the blanket up higher and snuggled into the pillow, wondering how long she could stay in bed before he came in to check on her and she would have to face him again. That was when she realized she wasn’t lying on a pillow. She was lying on something a lot firmer and a lot warmer than a pillow. She was lying on Logan’s chest. Crap, she’d fallen asleep on him last night and he let her stay there. Talk about awkward.
She lifted her head ever so slightly, hoping Logan was still asleep and she could slide off his chest without him noticing. No such luck. Not only was he awake, but he was smiling at her as if it were the most comfortable position he’d ever slept in. Considering he’d obviously spent the whole night leaning back against the headboard, she doubted it. The poor guy probably had a kink in his neck.
She reached up to push her hair back from her face and felt a wet spot on her cheek. Oh great, she’d drooled on him, too. Not that Logan wasn’t droolworthy, but this wasn’t what they meant.
Blushing, Presley pushed herself upright with as much dignity as she could muster and gave him a shy look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
His mouth twitched. “Don’t worry about it. Being an emergency pillow is one of the many services we at Paranormal Investigations Unlimited provide. It’s covered under the unlimited part of the company title.”
Despite how embarrassed she was, Presley couldn’t help but laugh. “I should go clean the drool off and freshen up.”
She didn’t wait for him to reply, instead climbing out of bed without getting all tangled up in the sheets and ducking into the bathroom. Of course, freshening up was a little difficult to do without any makeup, so she couldn’t do much more than wash her face and run his brush through her hair. She was going to have to go back to Jennifer’s apartment and pick up some stuff.
The thought of going back there made her shiver. What if Del Vecchio’s ghost was waiting for her? Maybe she should go shopping and pick up what she needed instead.
Giving herself one last look in the mirror, Presley pulled open the door and walked back into the bedroom. Logan was changing into a fresh shirt and she had to stifle a groan as she caught a glimpse of his well-muscled chest and six-pack abs. She remembered the assumption she had that first day about him being a model and wondered if she should mention it to him, but then decided maybe she’d better not. He might think she was trying to come on to him. Not that she wouldn’t have done just that if they’d met somewhere else. Flirting with the paranormal investigator who’d saved her from the deranged ghost trying to kill her probably wouldn’t be a good idea.
“I was going to grab some breakfast,” he said as he buttoned his shirt. “Do you want some?”
Presley let her gaze linger on his magnificent pecs before the shirt covered them completely. “Sure.”
When Logan suggested breakfast, she’d thought he meant a piece of toast, so she was surprised when he took out another box of leftover pizza from the fridge and set it on the counter. He must have seen the look on her face as she perched on one of the bar stools because he mumbled something about having a box of cereal somewhere.
While the Cheerios were a little stale, they were still crunchy enough. And certainly better than pizza in the morning for sure, even if she had to eat them without milk. Logan didn’t come around the counter to sit with her, but instead ate his cold sausage pizza standing up. At least he didn’t have beer with it. Presley shook her head. Cold pizza for breakfast and a motorcycle in the living room. Damn, this guy needed a woman around to straighten him out.
“Did you learn anything helpful in those books you were reading last night?” Presley asked as she dumped more cereal into her bowl.
He shook his head. “Not a whole hell of a lot. And unfortunately, none of the other hunters I talked to after you went to bed have ever encountered a ghost like Del Vecchio’s, either. Since the salt stopped him, everyone agreed the thing still follows some of the basic rules other spirits do, which means I should be able to send him back to hell where he belongs using the traditional method.”
“Which is?”
He glanced at her as he reached for a second slice of pizza. “Find out where Del Vecchio is buried, dig up the body, douse it with salt that’s been blessed, then burn it.”
Presley looked at him incredulously. “You’re joking, right?”
“No. That’s the only way to get rid of a ghost.”
She frowned. “Isn’t digging up a grave illegal or something?”
“Pretty much,” he agreed. “Which is why I do it at night when no one is around. Don’t worry, I haven’t gotten arrested yet.”
That was reassuring. “Okay, so how do we find out where Del Vecchio is buried?”
“I’ve got a friend who works at the ME’s office in Stamford. He should be able to tell me which funeral home picked up the body from the morgue. I’ll give him a call after breakfast and see if he’s in. If we’re lucky, we can have this situation wrapped up by midnight.”
Presley nodded. She still wasn’t sure she was comfortable with the idea of digging up Del Vecchio’s body, but if it was the only way to get rid of his ghost, she supposed she could put aside her squeamishness.
Luckily, Logan’s friend at the ME’s office was in when he called. As Presley listened to Logan’s end of the conversation, she wondered if the guy was one of the many people Logan had helped along the way. Probably. It seemed like the only reason the guy would be so forthcoming with information.
“Okay, the funeral home that picked up Del Vecchio’s body from the morgue is in Fairfield,” Logan said after he hung up. “Do you want to come with me or would you rather wait here?”
Even though Logan had assured her the warehouse was ghost-proof, Presley didn’t feel comfortable staying there by herself. As nervous as she was, nothing on television would hold her interest for long and reading any of the books he had on the shelves would freak her out even more.
“I’d rather come with you if that’s okay.”
“Fine by me. I didn’t want you to have to stay here by yourself anyway.”
She slid off the stool, frowning as her bare feet touched the floor. Damn, she’d forgotten about not having any other clothes with her. She couldn’t very well go out dressed in Logan’s old NYPD sweatshirt and nothing else.
Presley gave him a rueful look. “On second thought, maybe I’d better stay here since I’m not exactly dressed.”
“No problem. We’ll go to your apartment first.”
Her brow furrowed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if Del Vecchio’s waiting for me to come back?”
Logan’s mouth tightened. “Then I’ll fill him full of rock salt and whatever else it takes to keep him away from you.”
Presley had never been with anyone who made her feel so safe by saying a few simple words, but she instinctively knew Logan would do whatever he had to protect her.
She nodded. “Okay.”
“I need to load some stuff in the Hummer, then we’ll be ready to take off.”
Presley thought he was talking about his bag with t
he shotgun and was surprised when he loaded a couple of shovels, a container of lighter fluid and a bag of salt in the back of the SUV along with the duffel.
“We’re going to dig up Del Vecchio tonight?” she asked incredulously.
Logan closed the back door of the Hummer and pulled the keys from his pocket. “That’s the plan.”
She thought they’d have to check out the place first, then come up with some sort of detailed strategy for getting on the grounds after dark. Apparently, it was easier to dig up a corpse than she thought.
Presley sat tensely the whole way to Stamford. She kept expecting Del Vecchio to suddenly appear in the backseat of the Hummer at any minute. When she said as much to Logan, the corner of his mouth curved up.
“I don’t think he could find you this fast.”
She frowned as she considered that. “How did he find me anyway? I wasn’t even staying at my old place. What did he use, some kind of ghostly GPS?”
Logan glanced at her as he turned into the parking lot of the apartment building where Jennifer lived. “I’m still trying to figure that out. Most likely, there’s a connection between the two of you since you’re the one who killed him.”
“Great.” She finally had a deep, meaningful connection with a guy and it was with a demented ghost that wanted to kill her.
Presley was relieved she and Logan didn’t run into any of her new neighbors on the way up to Jennifer’s apartment. She didn’t feel like trying to explain what they’d seen the night before. The door to the apartment was closed, but leaning at an odd angle on its hinges, and she gave Logan a curious look as he pushed it open.
“I had to kick it in last night,” he said apologetically. “Don’t worry. I called a guy I know while you were in the bathroom this morning and he’ll be over today to take care of it. I told him to leave the new keys with the leasing office.”
“Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that. I could have called someone.”
“Sure I did. I was the one who kicked it in.”
She gave him a small smile. “Rescuing me.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. The guy owed me a favor.”
Apparently, a lot of people owed him favors.
Logan went into the apartment first to make sure Del Vecchio wasn’t lurking around somewhere. Though there was no sign of the ghost, Presley noticed Logan kept his shotgun out all the same. Not eager to hang around there any longer than necessary, she headed straight for the bedroom so she could change.
“You should probably pack a bag in case we can’t dig up Del Vecchio’s body tonight and you have to stay with me for a few more days,” Logan said.
More concerned with safety than modesty, Presley left the bedroom door ajar while she changed so Logan wouldn’t have to kick it in if Del Vecchio’s ghost showed up. Shuddering at the thought, she quickly pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, then shoved a few extra shirts in an overnight bag along with some underwear and her toiletries.
Logan was standing guard outside the bedroom and he turned to look at her when she came out. “Ready?”
“Almost. I have to grab my laptop.”
Picking up her computer away only took seconds and they left the apartment a few minutes later. Back in the Hummer, it occurred to Presley she should call Jennifer and tell her to stay at a friend’s place until Logan took care of Del Vecchio’s ghost. Since she couldn’t tell her sister the serial killer had come back from the grave, she told her someone had broken into the apartment and that the police advised her it wasn’t safe to stay there until they’d caught the guy.
“What about you?” Jennifer asked. “Where are you staying?”
“With a friend.”
“Which friend?”
“A guy friend. You don’t know him.” Presley gave Logan a sidelong glance. “Listen, Jen, I have to go. Promise me you won’t go back to the apartment until I call you and tell you it’s safe, okay?”
“I won’t.”
Presley dropped the cell phone back in her purse with a sigh, grateful Jennifer had agreed not to go back to her apartment. She’d already been responsible for one friend’s death. She couldn’t take it if her sister died at Del Vecchio’s hand because of her.
With traffic, it took over an hour to get from Stamford to the funeral home in Fairfield. Located well outside of town, it was a somber looking building surrounded by a huge cemetery, and Presley let out an involuntarily shiver as Logan pulled into the parking lot. There were quite a few people standing in the cemetery, silently looking down at the headstones. Presley wondered how many of them were people, and how many were ghosts. With the sunshine obscuring any telltale glow, she didn’t know. She averted her eyes. On second thought, she’d rather not know.
“I’m going to have to feed them a load of crap in there to get them to tell me what I need to know, so try not to look too surprised by whatever I say, okay?” he said as he opened his door.
Presley nodded. She hadn’t given much thought to what Logan would say when they got there, but she supposed he couldn’t come out and tell them he was a ghost hunter and that he planned on desecrating a grave. Too bad one of the people working there didn’t owe him a favor. Not only would it have made getting the information a lot easier, but they probably wouldn’t even have had to set foot in the place. Grabbing her purse from the back seat, she pulled her leather jacket more tightly around her and got out of the Hummer.
The minute she and Logan walked into the funeral home, Presley took in the dark, gloomy furnishings and sickeningly sweet smell and remembered why these places creeped her out so much. The sconces on the wall and the morbid music playing in the background didn’t help, either. She could only imagine how many ghosts roamed the halls. She shivered and took a step closer to Logan. Maybe she should have waited outside. But it was too late. A tall, solemn-looking man was already coming toward them.
“Can I help you?” he asked in that quiet tone people always used when talking to the grieving.
Logan reached into the inside pocket of his leather coat and pulled out a badge, holding it up so the man could see. “Detective Malone. We’re looking for the funeral director. Do you know where we might find him?”
“I’m William Murray, the funeral director here. What can I do for you, Detective?”
Logan put his badge away. “I understand you handled the arrangements for Carson Del Vecchio. Is that right?”
“Del Vecchio.” William Murray’s brow furrowed as he considered the name. “Ah, of course, the serial killer. Yes, we handled the arrangements. But that was well over a month ago. Is there some sort of problem?”
“We’re not exactly sure yet,” Logan said. “We have reason to believe the recent string of murders in Stamford might be the work of someone who idolized Carson Del Vecchio and is trying to continue his work, so we want to take a look at the grave and see if anyone’s left anything there lately that could give us a lead. We’d appreciate it if you could check your records and tell us where he’s buried.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Oh dear. Yes, of course. I’ll check our records right away. If you’ll wait here, I’ll go take a look.”
Presley waited until the funeral director had disappeared down the hall before turning to Logan.
“You still flash your badge even though you’re not a cop anymore?”
Logan shrugged. “It comes in handy now and then.”
“What if he checks to see if you’re a cop?”
“He won’t. No one ever checks.”
Presley supposed that made sense. People saw a badge or a uniform and instinctively trusted the person behind it. She was the same. Which was kind of scary when she thought about it.
She wrapped her arms around herself and looked down the hall in the direction the funeral director had gone. What the heck was taking him so long?
“You okay?” Logan asked.
“I hate funeral homes. They give me the creeps.”
“I don’t think too much of th
em myself,” Logan admitted. “As soon as he tells us where Del Vecchio’s buried, we’re out of here.”
Then it’d be back to the cemetery later that night to dig up the jerk’s grave. Presley shuddered. That was going to be even worse.
It was another five minutes before the funeral director came back. He gave them an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry it took me so long. I had to take care of another matter,” he said. “As it turns out, I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to get any leads from Carson Del Vecchio’s grave because he was cremated, not buried.”
Logan frowned. “Are you sure?”
The man nodded. “Quite sure. I don’t know why I didn’t remember when you first asked, especially since his mother was quite distraught when she picked up the ashes. She said she didn’t want him cremated, but I have her signature authorizing it.” He held out a sheet of paper. “I have the documentation right here if you’d like to see it.”
Logan’s frown deepened as he read over the paper. “Could there have been a mistake? A mix-up, maybe?”
William Murray gave him an affronted look. “Of course not. We’re very careful with the deceased, Detective. We have never made a mistake—or had a mix-up as you put it—in all the years we’ve been in business. His mother gave us authorization to cremate the body.” He drew himself up and made a show of straightening his tie. “Now, if there’s nothing else I can help you with I must get back to work.”
Logan handed the piece of paper back to him. “Thank you for your time.”
Even though she knew from the tight set of Logan’s jaw that he was disturbed by what they’d learned, Presley couldn’t help but be a little relieved they wouldn’t have to dig up Del Vecchio’s body now. She wondered what that meant when it came to getting rid of his ghost and asked Logan when they got in the SUV.
“I wish I knew,” he said as he started the engine. “If Del Vecchio’s body was cremated, there’s no way he should have been able to come back as a ghost. That’s why a ghost hunter burns the mortal remains.”