Life was beautiful. Being together like this was part of what could be amazing between human beings. Casey briefly thought the future didn’t matter. They had bonded in their brief time together, and this...between them...was somehow right. She would never regret this time.
They moved, tossed, arched, writhed, and a rhythm rose and fell between them, becoming sweetly frantic and urgent. Then the world seemed to explode, and it was beautiful. As if honeyed crystals filled the night air around Casey. They stilled and lay together, entwined, touching, breathing, just holding tight.
“Casey,” Ryder murmured softly.
Suddenly, she was afraid. This had been her choice. She didn’t want the night marred by any regrets or worries on his part.
She leaned against his chest and teased lightly, “Premeditated sex. Wow. I really liked it.”
He smiled. “Liked? I loved it. I loved it so much, I’m willing to take a chance and go for it again.”
She laughed and snuggled against him, caressing his cheek.
But he was serious. They made love again, and finally, regretfully, he said, “We need to get to the Marceau house.”
She nodded. “And I need to get my book.”
With a deep sigh, she rose and hurriedly gathered up her clothing and dressed as he did the same. She raced down the stairs before him, finding the book she wanted. She waited for him at the front door and then locked it behind them as they moved on to the main entrance.
Miss Lilly’s door opened, and the woman peered out. “Take care, my young lovelies!” She looked at Ryder with a straight face. “I do hope your calls went well.”
“My calls were great. Well, at least on my end, they went great.”
He looked at Casey. She kicked him, hoping Miss Lilly couldn’t see the motion.
As the door to Miss Lilly’s apartment closed, Casey heard her laughing softly.
She sighed.
“Don’t forget, we have her approval,” Ryder reminded her.
They went out to the car.
“You know,”—he paused before opening her door—“premeditated is great, but it doesn’t always have to be that way.”
She didn’t quite know how to respond as he ushered her into the car and closed the door. It took a few minutes of driving for her to form the question. “What does that mean?”
He looked at her and grinned. “You know where the door to my room is.”
“Ryder, it’s Stephanie’s house—”
“I think she’d approve. But your call,” he told her.
They’d reached the mansion.
“And now, Jackson Crow is here—”
“Jackson is always telling me to get a life.” Ryder put the car into park and turned to her. “And what you said tonight is all too true. Life doesn’t come with guarantees. For anyone.”
“We should live,” she said softly. “But I do need to read and shower. And you need to see Stephanie and Jackson—”
“And, therefore, we seize the moments,” he said, grinning.
She might very well do that.
But then...
They approached the house. The historic home where Lena had lived.
And died.
Casey looked up at the house and made a silent vow.
She would be like Ryder. She’d never let it go. She’d do anything she could to help find whoever had stolen the beauty and life and goodness of Anthony and Lena Marceau—and William Marley.
Lena had come to her.
And she would not fail the gentle ghost.
Chapter 8
Ryder had poured his second cup of coffee in the morning when he turned to see that Lena’s ghost was in the kitchen.
“Hello,” he said softly.
“I’m learning, but I’m afraid I’m just slow as a ghost.”
Stephanie walked in then with the baby. Annette immediately smiled and laughed and said, “Mama!”
Stephanie looked at Ryder with hope in her eyes. “She’s here? Lena’s here?” she asked.
“Tell her how much I love her, and thank you,” Lena said, striding across the kitchen to take her sister in her arms.
“That’s her, that’s her! Right, this feeling?” Stephanie asked.
“It is,” Ryder said softly.
Lena Marceau then wrapped her arms around her daughter. Annette giggled.
“Casey is here, right?” Lena asked Ryder anxiously.
He nodded. “She’ll be down soon.” He looked at Stephanie and said, “She asked about Casey.”
Ryder had left her sleeping. They’d had a long night. He hadn’t gotten much sleep himself, but he felt better this morning than he had in...a long time. Everything about this situation screamed that life—and love, human kindness, caring—were not to be taken for granted.
“Thank goodness,” Lena said. “I never meant to make her life a nightmare. First, I popped in on her. And then, I popped out. Oh, Ryder. I am so sorry. It’s just the strangest thing. I mean, I can feel it when I’m appearing and when I’m not, and it’s almost like being alive. You have to rest sometimes to get your mojo going so the living can see you and...anyway.”
“What’s she saying?” Stephanie asked Ryder anxiously.
“She disappeared on us the other day, and she’s explaining that it’s difficult to appear when you’re a new ghost,” Ryder said. “I’m going to fill her in on what we’re planning for the day.” He turned back to where Lena stood. “I’m going with Stephanie to the board meeting today. She’s going to insist they find another way to improve profits. There will be no charges above cost for necessary drugs. I’m going to watch for reactions from the foursome around her.”
“But the baby—?” Lena said worriedly.
“That will be me,” Jackson Crow said, entering the kitchen. “Lena, I’m Jackson Crow, field director for—”
“Oh, I know who you are,” Lena said and smiled. “And you see me so clearly and hear me, and...well, of course, you do. Ryder told me all about you when he started with the Krewe. He was so excited. I didn’t understand. In life, I had what Steph has, a sense, but nothing more. But I believed Ryder and I was so happy when he found work with people like him. But—wait! You’re going to watch the baby?”
“I have two children of my own, thank you very much. I can play an excellent game of This Little Piggy Went to Market with a variety of ages. Annette and I will be fine,” Jackson assured her.
“Plus, he has a Glock and is an excellent marksman. Not to mention, we’ll still have one of the friends I hired to watch the cameras, and our suspects will be in the CBD,” Ryder reminded Stephanie. “I’ll be with you—every second,” he told her.
Lena shook her head.
“What about Casey? I never meant to—I was just getting so desperate. But she’s in danger now, too.”
“We’re going to see her to the shop. She’ll be there with her friends and co-workers and Detective Braxton Wild.”
“The detective believes in all this now?” Stephanie asked.
“He’s known about ghosts for a while now. Comes with the territory of knowing about the Krewe. And he always did believe that what went on with Anthony and Lena was suspicious. He just didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Ryder said. “And the case is now in the hands of the FBI. So, you’ll have us, and Braxton and the NOPD on this until it’s solved.”
Stephanie sank into a chair and looked around the table. “Thank you,” she said. Then tears formed in her eyes, and she said softly, “Hug me again, Lena. Hug me, please. I miss you so much. So very, very much.”
“Oh, Steph. I miss you too,” Lena said and hugged her sister.
Jackson cleared his throat. “I’m here with Annette. The rest of you need to get going. Casey should be delivered safely to the French Quarter, and then Ryder and Stephanie need to get to the Marceau offices.”
“I’ll go up and make sure that Casey is ready,” Lena said.
He hadn’t wanted to move.
“I’m tak
ing the baby to the safe room. If anything should happen, she’ll be protected,” Jackson murmured. He looked at Ryder, shaking his head. “This operation never took brawn. They play on people. Anthony was either pushed off the building after being lured to the roof or was told it was his life or Lena’s or the baby’s. I don’t believe anyone will be getting through me.”
“I don’t believe so either,” Ryder assured.
“But my baby is the key,” Lena whispered. “She was always going to grow up privileged. Anthony and I wanted so badly to continue with Elijah’s legacy, using all he had for good. I knew I could trust Stephanie to raise her. Anthony and I chose Stephanie and asked her the day the baby was born... We never thought we were putting her in the path of homicidal maniacs.”
The killer—or killers—aren’t maniacs, Ryder thought. They had a clear agenda. A takeover of Marceau Industries. They were organized, devious, and cunning.
“Lena, stay with us and have faith in us,” Ryder said.
She smiled. “I do have faith in you,” she said. “So...”
“We begin the day,” Ryder said.
* * * *
Lena was back.
Casey saw the woman’s ghost floating up the stairs just as she came down the hallway.
“Casey!” Lena said.
“Hey. You’re good, huh?”
“Well, I’m dead, but I’m a stronger ghost now.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“I’m joking. I mean, it’s not a joke, just...well, a sense of humor helps us get through almost anything, huh?”
“True,” Casey said softly. A sense of humor was...human.
Love, enjoyment, friends—all of those were human gifts. Longing to be held...
And to take it other places. That was human, too. And okay, she told herself.
The situation remained tense and dire. But it was okay to have had a beautiful night. She’d awoken feeling as if the sun were radiating through her and from her.
Lena’s ghost hugged her, and she felt the strange yet comforting almost-there sensation. “I can’t apologize to you enough—”
“Lena, it’s all right. I’ve met wonderful, interesting people. And Detective Wild will be looking after me all day. Everything is good.”
“‘Sundrops, lollipops, and rainbows,’” Lena said dryly. Then she grinned. “Lemon drops! I always loved them. I still feel like I smell them now and then. Anyway, I’m holding us up. Time to go.”
The baby was safely with Jackson.
Stephanie and Casey got into the car with Ryder, and Casey offered Stephanie the front passenger’s seat.
“Lena is still here, isn’t she?” Stephanie asked. When Ryder nodded, she added, “I’ll sit with my sister.” She crawled into the back and asked, “Lena can hear me, right?”
“She can,” Ryder assured her.
“Lena, give me another hug. I love hugs,” she said. Then, as Ryder pulled the car out into traffic, she said, “I can feel hugs. I can’t do what you two can, but I can feel hugs.”
Casey was happy as they drove to the French Quarter, where, while it was almost ten, there was still parking available.
Ryder wanted to make sure that Detective Wild was at the store.
He was. The detective greeted Ryder and Stephanie and had a special smile for Casey, telling her it was going to be a great day. He planned to sit in one of the chairs and look at the art and smile at all the people who came in. “I’ve been by here before. We’ll get your friend to play and enjoy some good music,” he said. But then he looked at Stephanie, his expression full of remorse. “I swear, we tried everything in our power.”
Stephanie smiled at him. “I know. It’s okay. I had nothing, either. Only the fact I knew my sister.”
Lena’s ghost gave Detective Wild a hug. He shivered.
“This is a really good guy,” Lena said. “I know he tried to do the right thing.”
“All right. If all is well, we’re going to head over to the Central Business District and the Marceau building,” Ryder said, but he was looking at Casey.
Had she really only known him for two days? Had they really just spent an incredible night together?
A premeditated night?
She wanted to touch his face. She wanted to respond to the light—and the worry—in his eyes. She refrained.
He didn’t. He pulled her into his arms and held her for a minute, then lifted her chin and tenderly kissed her lips.
“They’ll know,” Casey whispered.
“Yeah, they will,” he answered.
They were both startled when Stephanie and Detective Wild—and Lena’s ghost—applauded.
“I could have told you that you two would hit it off. In fact, I was going to bring you here, Ryder, the next time you came to see me. At least...well, I put Casey in danger, but at least I put the two of you together,” Lena said happily.
“And now, we will get going,” Ryder said.
“You need to open the door to the shop,” Detective Wild said. “They frown on police opening doors without probable cause.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Casey said. She turned the bolts as Ryder and Stephanie turned to go back to the car.
Ryder turned again and waved. Casey waved back. She wondered if she’d have a chance—with Detective Wild in the shop—to tell Lauren she’d taken her up on the concept of premeditated sex, and it had proven to be an excellent idea.
She walked in and told Detective Wild to make himself at home. He did. He looked around and enjoyed the art and the little souvenirs before sitting down in one of the chairs by the coffee service. Casey pulled up the computer and unlocked the cash register and card reader.
She noted it was after ten, and neither Lauren nor Jared had arrived.
They were seldom late, but maybe they’d met up at ten to head to a music venue. They did that now and then.
She was rearranging a jewelry display when her phone rang.
She didn’t usually answer numbers she didn’t know, but with Lauren and Jared both running late, she was worried.
“Hello?” she said.
“Miss Nicholson, don’t hang up, and don’t let that cop in there know anything is wrong at all. Just listen...”
The voice, coming through a distortion machine, broke off.
Then, she heard a scream. A terrible shriek of pain. And then Lauren’s voice, “Casey, don’t do whatever it is...they can’t get away with it. They can’t—”
“No.”
The word came out as a whisper.
“Shut the hell up and quick! It would be so easy for me to kill her in the blink of an eye. You’d better not even make the kind of face that cop can read. I will kill her. I have a knife at her throat. If you tell the police? You may be fine. But I promise you, this little artist lady will be dead. Escape the cop somehow in the next few minutes. Get to the cemetery. And if you alert anyone—cops or FBI—we’ll know. Do you want to hear the guy scream, too? I can make that happen. Get out of the shop and get to the cemetery unseen if you want these two to live.”
Whoever it was hung up.
Casey stood there, frozen. She sank onto the stool behind the counter and tried to remain impassive.
This was how they got away with murder. They used a person’s loved ones against them.
Casey had known that. And she knew that obeying the voice would be doing exactly what they wanted.
Be at the cemetery. New Orleans had dozens of them.
But she knew which one.
Call Ryder! her subconscious screamed.
She wanted to call him. Desperately. But someone was watching. And she knew she couldn’t risk Lauren’s life. Or Jared’s.
She couldn’t save her own...to risk theirs.
* * * *
“None of this has made any sense to me,” Stephanie said. She was still riding in back. Ryder had assured her that he didn’t mind looking like her chauffeur. “I mean, why would they want to get rid of all of us? Oh, I know thos
e guys want to increase the prices on a lot of necessary drugs. But still, if something happens to Annette, it’s not like the money goes to one person.”
“Stephanie, do you remember if Anthony—or you, Lena—ever offended any of them personally?” Ryder asked as he drove. They’d been over the question before with Stephanie, but it didn’t hurt to revisit the situation. Stephanie had been so lost and in such deep mourning when Lena died, she hadn’t been thinking straight.
Lena might remember more now.
“Anthony was the nicest man in the world,” Lena said. “He was so careful never to offend anyone.”
“I can’t think of anything,” Stephanie said and then sighed. “I do know Barton Quincy thought Anthony was a flake. I heard him telling Anthony one time that he couldn’t run a major corporation and act like St. Theresa at the same time.”
“But Barton wouldn’t just get everything,” Lena protested. “Not even Justin would get everything, and he’s a Marceau. And besides, Justin isn’t like those guys. He’s a free spirit.”
Stephanie couldn’t hear Lena, but her mind must have worked along the same lines. “Not Justin. I can’t see it, I just can’t.”
“Money can do very strange things to people. And I don’t think one person could have managed all this alone,” Ryder said.
“Conspiracy theory?” Stephanie asked. “Seriously, Ryder. You think that many people can be that horrible?”
“If frightened for their own well-being, possibly,” Ryder said.
“But all four of them?” Stephanie asked.
“Maybe not. I don’t know. But I believe with my whole heart that at least one of them is guilty. None of this makes any sense at all otherwise,” Ryder said. “Maybe one is seriously psychotic—death means nothing to them.”
“Trust me, it means something,” Lena said bitterly.
“When you have a person like that, and others who have an agenda and are willing to go along with something heinous if they don’t have to perform any bloody acts themselves, you can easily have a conspiracy.”
The Dead Heat of Summer: A Krewe of Hunters Novella Page 12