He frowns. “So, you don’t want to make a profit?”
“No.”
“What information do you believe the documents contain?”
She shrugs. “That I don’t know, but I would like to be kept in the loop where they’re concerned.”
DiCesare frowns. “And what if there are no documents?”
“Then I still expect my investment refunded but there will be no other requests made upon you.”
“You’re from out of town, aren’t you?” he asks, peering over his glasses now, and giving his eyebrows a break.
“We are. From New York.”
“Can you stay? I need my lawyer to formalize this, and he might not be able to see me right away.”
When he clears his throat, Jayce asks, “What’s the problem?”
“I owe him money. That’s why he might refuse to see me.”
She holds out her hand for the phone. “Dial the number and let me deal with him.”
And like that, Jayce has another man under her spell and doing her bidding.
Chapter Thirteen
Jayce
Amish country didn’t suck as hard as I feared it would.
In fact, at some point I can even see myself living there. I mean, hell, there were barely any ghosts.
Leading the simplest of lives must make it easier for ghosts to cross over… what a place to retire to, Jesus.
Sure, the place is old-fashioned and über traditional. I can’t imagine the folk there would be happy for me to call in an order at my local pizza place in my pajamas, but beggars can’t be choosers.
For no ghosts, I’d be willing to put on pants every now and then.
“What’s got you thinking so hard?” Drake asks, as he drives us out of the borough we’ve been staying in for the past two days. Everywhere, there’s greenery. It’s like upstate New York but prettier.
Here, this is salt of the earth land.
Pure. Untouched.
“I like it here,” I tell him, when I look over and see he keeps flashing me glances. “It’s peaceful.”
“I thought that’s exactly why you wouldn’t like it here. Too quiet.”
I shrug. “Sometimes, I guess. But you know what I’m like. Not exactly a party person. Plus, there are hardly any spirits here. That puts a huge plus in the pro column.”
He snorts. “I can really see you fitting in among the Amish.”
My lips twitch. “I could try. For peace.”
“Seriously?” His brows lift.
Yup, I’ve stunned him.
“Seriously.”
“Well, you’ve amazed me, but as that’s something you’re constantly doing, it shouldn’t come as too much of a shock.”
I snort. On the brink of replying, my cell buzzes.
“Arroyo,” I tell him.
“Where the hell have you been, Ventura?” The demand hits me before anything else.
“No greeting, Arroyo? I’m hurt.”
The detective grunts. “You can’t just leave town and stop answering your phone. You were supposed to tell me what happened to Paula, dammit! I’ve got my Captain breathing fire at me for daring to impugn Harold Dietrick’s good name when we have the culprit caught red-handed.”
I close my eyes at her words. Drake told me what Red Bull said. It doesn’t make this any easier.
“I’m so sorry, Arroyo, I’ve been busy.”
“Holding seances? This is life-and-death shit, Jayce. You can’t pull stunts like this if we’re going to work together.”
Stunned by that announcement, my mouth works for a second.
Do I want that?
To work with the cops again?
If that had always been the end goal, I’m fortunate that bitch reporter’s article didn’t shove that in the works.
I read that POS editorial. I’m kind of impressed by the fact she didn’t try to asslick me, but I don’t like the fact she made up shit about me either.
Kudos to her for sticking to her guns, but lying? I wish plenty of bad karma her way.
“Arroyo, you’re not going to like what I have to say.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” she snaps.
“Did you look into your grandmother’s case? I know you’ve been busy, but was what she said true?”
Silence comes down the line. Then, a reluctant huff. “Yeah. It’s looking to be true.”
“How do you know?”
“I had one of the pathologists look at her autopsy. Either someone paid the guy who worked on her body to not see the bruises and defense marks, or he was incompetent as fuck.
“Considering the era, I actually think it’s the latter. They looked for what they expected to find.
“A struggling émigré, one with a new kid, new husband, and in a new country that wasn’t accepting or as forgiving of her heritage as easily as her husband was.”
“So, you believe me then?” My throat thickens with the need for her to trust in me.
“Yeah. I believe you. Why’d you think I said I want to work with you in the future?”
“What I have to say might change that.”
At my words, the car swerves to a halt. Toots and horns fire around us as Drake pulls off the highway at a dangerous point.
“What the hell?” I shriek, slamming my hands into the dash to stop my face from connecting with it. “What are you doing?” I yell at him.
“Stopping you from doing something stupid. I told you what Red Bull said.”
“She wants to work together in the future, Drake. I can’t endanger that, not when I could help so much. She believes in me now. Her grandmother was murdered how I said. She might listen to me.”
“What if she doesn’t? What if Red Bull comes after us? You saw what he can do. That fucking pizza could have been my body if I’d stayed much longer in the elevator!”
“Jayce? Ventura! Ventura!” My name is a tinny squeak from my cell which is somewhere in the footwell of my seat.
Ignoring it, I whisper, “I think she’ll listen. The Captain still doesn’t think Dietrick has anything to do with it.”
Drake’s fingers bleed white as they tightly grip the wheel. “You’re putting us both needlessly in danger.”
“No. She’ll listen. I believe it, Drake. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think it would work.”
He shakes his head. “Talk to her. Do what you want.”
I reach for him, put my hand on his knee and squeeze. “Please. Believe in me, Drake. I’ll do what’s needed to keep us safe.”
His jaw tightens, but he starts up the car again. Reaching for my cell, I mumble, “Sorry, dropped my phone.”
“What the fuck?” Arroyo blasts. “What’s with you, Ventura?”
“Remember I told you I was scared?”
That has the other woman shutting up. “Yeah. I remember. How could I forget?”
“Drake was attacked the other night.”
“Attacked? By a ghost?” Arroyo’s voice is a squeak.
“Yeah. He was almost frozen to death.”
“Frozen?” Another squeak. “How is that possible?”
“He was attacked by the ghost in an elevator. If he’d stayed in that temperature for much longer, he’d have…” I don’t even want to think about it.
“Is he okay now? Did he go to hospital?”
“No. We got him warmed up. But it’s what happened during that attack.”
“The ghost contacted him?” An expletive burst down the line. “Jesus, this sounds fucking insane. If my Captain overheard this conversation, he’d have my badge.”
I suck in a breath. “I know. But it’s the truth.”
“I know. I didn’t believe a word of that The Daily Press article.”
Warmth fills me. “You didn’t?”
“Nah. It was too bitter. I reckon you did the same with the reporter as you did to me, and the bitch didn’t like what you had to say. Am I right?”
“Nailed it on the head.”
“T
hought as much. You ever feel like sharing exactly what you told her to piss her off so much, I’m all ears.”
“It depends what her next step is. If she leaves me alone, I prefer for these things to remain confidential.”
“I get that. Also, considering what you told me, that confidentiality is appreciated.”
“I know. But, thing is, we were warned not to tell you the truth.”
“Why?”
The brusque retort has me tensing up. I need this to work. I want to keep on helping Arroyo. It feels like the right thing to do.
There’s so much help I can give, if I only had an in. Someone who trusts me to speak the truth. Who can believe in me and what I can do.
“The ghost threatened our lives if Frances O’Hara was released from jail.”
Silence falls on the other end of the line. “Shit. That means he didn’t do it, doesn’t it?”
“I can’t say. I won’t say.”
A breath blows down the receiver. Then, more silence.
“He’s a murderer, Arroyo.”
“Just not Paula Dietrick’s.” A hiss sounds down the line. “Dammit, Jayce. You can’t do this to me.”
“I have to. I don’t want to lie to you. I won’t lie to you. But you have to be aware that your actions will put Drake and I in serious danger.”
“Who did Francis O’Hara piss off? Jesus Christ. This is like a mob job.”
I grimace, because it isn’t too dissimilar. She’s not wrong. “I don’t know who he killed, but I’ve been told, on very good authority, that he’s a murderer. But the reason he’s on someone’s hit list is because he’s building something in LaFlore County, Oklahoma. He found a burial ground and didn’t report it.”
“What? What did he do with the bones?”
“Had them incinerated.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Yeah.”
“Oklahoma… that’s Choctaw Nation, if my geography isn’t too whacked.” She pulls in a breath. “So, that’s who’s haunting you. Jesus, Jayce. It really is like fucking Poltergeist.”
I shudder. “Tell me about it. I think Drake was hoping burying the bones or something would get the ghost off our backs, but…”
“If they’ve been incinerated, there’s nothing to bury.”
“Exactly. That’s why we’ve been told O’Hara must stay in jail.”
“Or else.”
“Yeah.” Feeling sick to my stomach, I ask, “What are you going to do, Arroyo?”
“Fuck, Ventura. Why the fuck did you put me in this position?”
“I won’t lie to you. It’s too important what we can do together.”
“You can’t hold up future justices against this injustice. I’ve sworn to protect and uphold the law, dammit.”
“I know. And I hate that I’m asking this of you, but if you don’t do it, if Francis O’Hara is allowed to walk free, then I really don’t know what will happen to me.” I cut my still pissed-off boyfriend a look. “To us.”
She hisses.
“Has Dietrick responded to any calls? Is he going to come back to America?”
“We haven’t managed to contact him yet, no. I guess that will change if we indict O’Hara for his wife’s murder though, huh?”
“How likely is that seeming to be?” I ask, holding my breath for her answer.
“Quite likely,” comes the retort, but it’s pissed. So loaded with anger I want to flinch, but I understand why she’s mad. Arroyo isn’t like the “good old boy” cops I’ve worked with in the past. She cares. She gives a shit about the law and the public
I can totally understand why asking her to do this goes against everything she holds close.
I deserve her anger.
“Thank you,” I tell her softly, feeling shaken by the admission of what she’ll do for us.
“Don’t thank me yet. I can only put in a word now. I’ve already set some shit in motion, but I’ll backtrack where I can.” She grunts. “I want to say you owe me, but fuck. How can I say that when your lives are in danger?”
“I swear, I’ll do whatever I can in future to help you.”
She lets out a grunt. “You bet your damn ass you will.”
When she cuts the call without a farewell, I decide to let the rudeness go. I’m generous like that.
“What did she say?” Drake demands.
“She’ll advise that he remain in jail.”
When he lets out a relieved breath, I let myself begin to process how scared he was. I hate that I put him in that position. By being around me, his life is in danger.
How can either of us accept that as normal?
“What do you think is down in the mine shaft, Drake?”
He shrugs as he gets onto the main highway that will take us back to the city. “Red Bull just said it was some documents that made the Union look as bad as the Confederates.”
I grimace at that. “Great. So, we might be about to reveal something that will stain Lincoln’s name. Just what I need to increase my popularity.”
He snorts. “Since when was popularity important to you?”
I shrug. “I want to work with the cops. They’ll be resistant if I get into the press too much.”
“Will they, though? Can’t you just do your thing? Show them the truth?”
“I prefer not to. Healthy respect is one thing, fear is anything but.”
“True. Bear in mind you might have to do it with Arroyo’s captain.”
“I know. Let’s hope he has a ghost following him, huh? Otherwise I’m up shit creek.”
He lets out a short laugh. “Never thought wishing someone is being haunted was looking on the bright side of things.”
I wink at him. “Stick with me, kid, I’ll show you bright.”
Though he shakes his head at me, and though he’s obviously still mad at the stunt I pulled with Arroyo, I know he’s not going anywhere.
And for that, I’ll kiss karma’s feet, because this man is what I’ve always been looking for, and have never been able to find.
This shitstorm is my life. If he can handle this, he can handle anything.
Thank God.
Epilogue
Drake
Four months later
“I guess I should be relieved.”
“How can you be relieved?” I ask her, glowering down at the tablet in my hand. We’re both looking at the same email, but she looks happy and I’m feeling anything but. “I mean, how can this do anything good?”
“We already knew about the Knights of the Golden Circle. It’s not like these documents are bringing anything new to the table.”
I gawk at her. “Have you seen some of the names on this list? These were Confederate sympathizers in the Union, dammit.” I point to one name I’d already circled. “Look at that. I mean, he owns half of fucking Chicago.”
She snorts. “No, his grandson does.”
“Jesus, Jayce, the repercussions of this…” I pull a face. “And then there’s the fact John Wilkes Booth wasn’t a damn member.”
“It was only suspected he was a part of this group.”
“It lets all the nutjobs out… these documents are going to do nothing other than create a shit ton more conspiracy theories.”
“Look, we have no say in what DiCesare does. I’m surprised he stuck fast to the contract, if I’m honest. This isn’t our responsibility. We’re just being kept in the loop.” She picks up my arm and plops it on her shoulders as she snuggles into my side. We both have our feet up on an ottoman, the TV opposite is set low, and on the coffee table at my side, there are two large hot chocolates waiting for us to drink.
It’s the setup of a cozy night in at home. Anybody looking at us would think how relaxed we seem. While Jayce is, I’m anything but.
This kind of thing never brings any good, and there’s enough of a media mindfuck going on in this country.
The last thing it needs is for questions to be raised about a past that’s already set in stone.
<
br /> We don’t need to be asking what John Wilkes Booth’s motives were again, and we don’t need to be digging into the family history of men who are richer than the Donald.
Dumping my tablet on my lap, I start to rub at my temple. An ache is gathering there, just like the storm is circling about this great nation.
A “Breaking News” screen flashes on the TV, drawing my attention away from what I’ve just been reading.
Glad to have my mind taken off the reports, I turn up the sound.
“A third body has been discovered in what the press is calling, ‘The House of Horrors.’ Police are refusing to comment on this ongoing case; however, reports are in that this third body as well as the second, were under the age of eight. More news as the story breaks.”
Before I can do more than grimace at the depressing report, which did nothing at all to cheer me up, Jayce’s cell buzzes.
We share a look when we both see Arroyo’s name flash on her screen.
“And so it begins,” she says softly, but I can tell she’s almost pleased at receiving the call.
“Arroyo?” She nods a few times, and before she cuts the call, says, “We’ll be there.”
“Oh we will, will we?” I ask, but I’m teasing more than anything.
She grins. “I know I shouldn’t be happy, and in an hour, I know I won’t be, but…” She blows out a breath. “It will be good to help again.”
I reach for her hand, squeeze her fingers. “I know. Together?”
The grin morphs into a tender smile that nearly breaks my damn heart. “Together.”
Also by Serena Akeroyd
I’d love to see you in my Diva reader’s group where you can find out all the gossip on new releases as and when they happen. You can join here.
Until I see you there, here are more of my books for you to read…
The Gods Are Back In Town
Hotter than Hades
The Sun Revolves Around Apollo
Five Points, Hell’s Kitchen
A Screwed Duet
Screw You
Screw Me
Ghost Hunter Page 15