Talking with the Dead

by Shiloh Walker

  Too hot. Too deep—too much, too much… “Stop,” she gasped out, curling her hands over his shoulders. She pressed the heels of her hands against him but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

  “Stop?” he whispered, sliding his hand over one sweat slicked thigh, cupping the curve of her rump in his hand. “Why?”

  Staring blindly up at him, she said, “I can’t…I can’t…”

  He just smiled. Lowering his head, he kissed her just below her ear and then he murmured, “You can.” He reached between them and touched her clit. That one light touch did it. The orgasm ripped through her with an intensity that left her screaming breathlessly. And Michael continued to thrust inside her. Even as she came moaning back down to earth, he pumped inside, lowering his head to suckle on her nipples, first one and then the other.

  “You still think you can’t?” he whispered when she had her breath back.

  “Huh?” she whimpered, staring up at him with blind eyes. Hunger and need left her uncomprehending. Her sex clutched greedily around his cock as he thrust against her. She clung to his arms, trying to make sense of his words.

  He laughed, lowering his head to kiss her roughly.

  Gathering her up against him, Michael buried his face against her neck. With short, deep thrusts, he rode her. Daisy rocked up to meet him, another climax building low in her belly even though she was still reeling from the first one. When he raked her neck with his teeth, she moaned raggedly. The brush of his fingers down her arm was like live electricity touching her skin.

  The pounding of his hips against her grew more desperate—he shifted against her, slamming his hands down into the mattress by her head, rising up over her. With glittering eyes, Mike stared down at her, watching her so closely, staring at her so intently.

  Daisy reached up, closing her hands over his biceps, digging her nails into the taut skin there as she lifted her hips up. The thick, steely flesh of his cock stroked over the sensitive, slick tissues of her sex—her heart slammed against her ribs while the heat built inside her, stretching her skin, threatening to spill out.

  “Come for me,” he whispered harshly, sliding his hand down her thigh and catching her knee, lifting it up over his hip. “Come for me, Daisy…”

  As he pushed into her one more time, she did, clamping down around him and climaxing with a ragged scream. Her nails raked down his flesh, and she writhed under him, bucking in his arms.

  He throbbed inside her—she felt the rhythmic jerking sensations of his cock. Moaning, her hands slid limply from his arms and he sank down against her, his head resting between her breasts.

  Once she was able to breathe again, she whispered weakly, “How’s your state of mind now?”

  “I dunno,” he murmured. “Maybe we should do that again and then see what happens.”

  “Again just might kill me,” Daisy said, snickering.

  “Ummm. Me, too. Hell of a way to go.” Michael had to admit, he felt a hell of a lot better than he had been in a very long time. He could feel the furious pounding of her heart against his cheek, and the smell of hot woman filled his head.

  The hot, snug silk of her sex still gloved his cock and he groaned as the tissues convulsed around him. “Gotta tell ya. I feel pretty damned good right now,” he muttered. Sliding his hand up her side, he cupped her breast in his hand, rolling her nipple in his hand and watching it pucker.

  She made a sound, that half moan, half laugh. “Don’t do that—I’m practically dead already.”

  “I’m telling you—it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.” Her nipple was pink and tight and if he could just manage to move, he wanted to lick it again and taste her. Mike figured he could spend the next fifty years tasting her and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Bad. This is bad.

  Daisy sighed. “I’d agree—but I’ve got a case to solve before I can think about dying.”

  “Yeah, you do. We do. She’s mine—I have to help you finish this.” He stared into her eyes and murmured, “I hope you understand.”

  A gentle smile curved her lips. “I do. And I have to tell you, I’m glad.”

  Working his arms around her, he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. She sprawled on top of him and lifted up on her elbow, staring down at him. “This isn’t the best way for you to spend your afternoon,” he said. Her soft hazel eyes looked entirely too serious now.

  She smiled a little. “Hey, I’m entitled to a lunch break.” The smile faded. “I’ve got to find this girl, Michael. If we go around when I get off of work, do you think you might… Hell, how does it work?”

  He reached up, pushing a silken lock of golden hair behind her ear. “Hard to explain that part. Kind of like a radio signal, sometimes. Best way to explain it. Sometimes I pick things up. Sometimes I don’t. And yes. We can go whenever you’re ready to.”

  She lifted a brow. “Ready? That will be exactly never. How can you be ready…” Daisy closed her eyes. “She was just a baby.”

  “I know. I wish I could make this easier. But nothing will.” Michael held still as she lowered her head and pressed her lips to his.

  “I need to do it now. But I’d have a hard time explaining it. I’ve got a meeting at one and five hundred other things I’m supposed to do before quitting time. Bureaucratic bullshit. I’ve got a killer to catch and I’m attending a committee meeting to discuss the need for a new stoplight.”

  “Hey, a town this small, isn’t a new stoplight like a big step?” Mike teased.

  It worked. A faint smile tipped up the corners of her mouth. “Yeah. A very big step.” She sighed and cuddled against his chest. “You know, it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder to concentrate on any of it now.”

  Ten minutes later, he watched as she climbed out of the shower, long streamers of dark brown hair dripping water down her sleek body. “Aren’t you worried that people saw you come in here?” he asked, propping his shoulder against the door.

  “I’m sure fifteen people saw me come in here. And I’m equally sure most of them have already called the majority of their friends and told them I’m here. So either you’re my prime suspect, or we’re having a torrid affair,” Daisy said with a wry smile. “Either one is much more believable than the truth.” Her voice broke off and she flashed him a wicked grin. “Well, I guess the torrid affair could be the truth now. But I can’t exactly make it public knowledge that you’re some sort of psychic bloodhound, can I?”

  Michael ran his tongue along the surface of his teeth, watching as she started to dry off. “You aren’t real big on beating around the bush, are you?”

  She shrugged. “No. Wastes time.” Slowly, she straightened, hooking the towel around her neck. “You know, I can’t say I’ve had a lot of torrid affairs. Does one encounter count?”

  Arching a brow at her, he said, “I’m not sure.”

  The blood drained out of his head, pooling in his groin as she moved up and pressed her nude body against him, wrapping her arms around him. “Well, I think maybe we might want to try for a repeat. If you’re interested. That way, we can at least give truth to the torrid affair thing.”

  Chuckling, he trailed his fingers down her spine, he said, “Interested?” Nudging his cock against her belly, he asked, “What do you think? Am I interested?”

  She hummed softly in her throat. “I think that’s a yes.”

  Chapter Five

  The darkness had been hanging over his head all afternoon, like a damned cloud.

  Ever since Daisy had left.

  When the phone rang, he answered it with a short, “Yeah?” He knew he sounded pissed, but he couldn’t help it. Even the sound of Daisy’s voice didn’t help.

  “Hey. You okay?”

  Michael tried to force himself to sound a little less distant as he responded, “Sorry, Daisy. Just feeling—odd. Are we ready?”

  “Yes. I’m out front.” Her voice was neutral, not quite mad, but…cautious.

  Hell, he couldn’t blame her.
A few hours ago they’d been in bed together and he answered the phone sounding like a bear with a hangover. He couldn’t help it, though. Something was wrong. It hung in the air, a storm waiting to break.

  Grabbing his jacket, Michael started to head out of the room, but then he turned back. His bag was in the closet. His gun was in it. Slowly, he crossed over to it, taking the bag down and withdrawing the Glock and the holster. He slid the holster on and buckled it into place, staring stonily into the distance.

  “Things are getting ready to go down, brother.”

  “I know that.”

  Lucas came walking into view, appearing out of the corner of his eye, his face blank. “You don’t like guns.”

  “No, I don’t. But I carry one when I have to.”

  “The pretty sheriff the have-to this time?” Lucas asked, leaning against the table. “I got some vibes earlier.” He wagged his eyebrows and grinned.

  Michael studied his brother with narrowed eyes. “You picking up eavesdropping?”

  Lucas laughed. His image seemed to fade away for a minute and then he refocused, a little clearer, a little more solid. “No, but damn, if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You’d just find a way to spoil my fun. It would be about the closest to living I’ve been in twenty years.” He shrugged, staring out the window as he added, “I just know you, Mike. She’s different—she means something to you.”

  “Yes.” That was all Mike would admit to. He didn’t want to think about it, much less talk about it. The idea of caring about somebody was just too damn foreign to him. He’d given up on those kinds of emotions a long, long time ago.

  “You know who you’re looking for?”

  Shaking his head, Michael methodically loaded his gun. That done, he slid the Glock into the holster and then pulled his jacket on. “No. If I did, you think I’d just be standing here?”

  Michael lifted his eyes and stared at Lucas. “Do you know anything?”

  Lucas smirked at Michael and said sardonically, “If I did, do you think I’d just be standing here?” The smile faded and his eyes closed.

  Tension swelled in the room and Michael clenched one hand into a fist as Lucas wavered in and out of view for a moment. “Things are changing around you, Michael. I don’t understand what it is, not completely. But be careful—I made myself a promise and I can’t move on until I see it done. Eternity is a long time to spend trapped here.”

  Before Michael could form a single word, Lucas was gone. Snarling in frustration, he stalked out of the room. Ghosts—the most frustrating creatures on the damned planet.

  They came, they went, they dropped ominous little comments like that and then before a person could ask so much as one damned question, they disappeared.

  And Michael couldn’t exactly stick a beeper on them, either.

  Jogging down the steps, he slid silently out the door before Mrs. Maria Cambridge even saw him. No doubt she’d have fifty questions—she did every time she saw him. Michael would have loved to have stayed someplace else but Mitchell wasn’t exactly a hotbed of tourism trade.

  This small B&B was about all the town had to offer other than a hotel ten miles down the highway. And Michael’s gut instinct had insisted he stay here. Crossing the sidewalk, he ducked into the car just as the door to the B&B opened behind him. He saw Daisy waving and he grinned.

  “She’s going to be so damned mad you slid past her again. She always manages to pin her guests down for interrogation…I mean friendly conversation, but you’ve evaded her entirely too well.”

  Michael shifted in the seat so that he could look at Daisy while he talked. “I doubt I have anything too interesting to tell her.”

  Daisy arched a brow, but remained silent.

  “Okay, I don’t have anything interesting I would tell her.”

  “Hmmm.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that disinterested hum. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. Michael said softly, “I pissed you off, didn’t I?”

  She smiled brightly. “Why ever would you think that?”

  Staring at her, he just waited. She pulled away from the curb, driving slowly down the busy street. People were leaving work, or coming into the small town for dinner at the diner. About as busy as this small place ever got.

  She remained silent under his watchful gaze for long moments and then finally, hazel eyes slid his way. “I don’t care to be brushed aside so quickly.”

  “You’re talking about when I answered the phone just now,” Michael said softly.

  She didn’t respond but the look in her eyes was answer enough.

  “I wasn’t brushing you off.” Michael closed his eyes. “And I’m sorry if I made you think that.” His gut started to churn and he didn’t know if it was from the conversation’s path, or something darker.

  She slowed to a stop at the light and Michael could feel her watching him. He had to force the words out as he said, “There’s just…something—”

  Something cold brushed down his spine.

  Turning his head, he found himself staring at a parked squad car. It was painted the same beige and browns as hundreds of other sheriff’s deputies’ cars throughout the country.

  Nothing at all ominous about it. It sat parked in front of the bank, and Michael watched, unable to breathe, as a slender girl with short, spiky red hair came walking out. She passed by the deputy’s car and paused to wave.

  Michael couldn’t see the man inside, but it didn’t matter.

  “That’s him,” he rasped hoarsely.

  Blood seemed to flood his vision. Thick oozing red streams of it that poured across his line of sight like some bizarre Hollywood effect. Voices started to whisper. Then scream.

  The voices of the dead had risen to banshee wails and it was sheer will that kept him from clapping his hands over his ears in an effort to drown the voices out. None of them made sense. There were no words, just those pain-filled, tortured cries, the mourning cries of those silenced far too soon, crying out for justice, begging for peace.

  Even those who weren’t trapped could suffer when their killer kept killing.

  A hand came up, touching his arm. “Michael!”

  Darkness swarmed up and flooded his vision—there was a roaring in his ears.

  “Damn it, Michael, what in the hell is wrong?” The hand squeezed his arm, shaking him lightly.

  He focused on that voice. That voice was alive. It was real. She was real. Sucking air in, he breathed in the scent of her. Vanilla. Wildflowers. Life. Daisy… Opening his eyes, he stared at her.

  She was staring at him with turbulent eyes. “Damn it, what is wrong?” she demanded.

  Her voice was too loud, rasping, grating on his nerves, but he seized on it, focusing on her voice, on the sound of her breathing. He forced himself to relax, made his lungs work again, forcing air in and out of his lungs, as he stared at her.

  “If you don’t answer me…”

  Hoarsely, he said, “I’m okay—will be.”

  She blinked. “Damn it, you practically have a seizure on me and you tell me that you’re going to be okay?”

  Michael ran a shaking hand through his hair. He was sweating—covered all over with that nasty sweat that only came with fear. And rage churned in his gut. All the emotion pent up inside him made it damned hard to think, to focus on anything. “Sorry—hits like that sometimes.”

  Daisy stared at him. Shit. Her hand curled into a fist and she was tempted to just swing out and pop him on the end of that cleft chin. Instead, she took a deep breath and made herself pull to the side of the road, out of the flow of traffic as she muttered furiously to herself.

  “Hits like that sometimes,” she repeated, trying very hard not to growl. “You practically have a seizure. And all you have to say is hits like that sometimes.”

  Michael slid a look her way. His eyes were glowing. That had started just when he had gone stiff as a damned poker in the seat next to her, one hand flying up to the window, pressed flat. The other hand
had briefly locked around hers, although she wondered if he remembered that at all.

  He had arched up off the seat, his eyes rolling back, teeth bared. Never made a sound.

  If his eyes hadn’t been glowing that surreal shade of blue… As it was, that was the one thing that had kept her from calling for an ambulance. If an EMT had shown up and Michael stared at him with those glowing blue eyes, Daisy would have more trouble on her hands.

  “Maybe you could have warned me about that,” she snapped. Damn it, she was still scared to death. Turning sideways in the seat, she glared at him. “Now why don’t you tell me exactly what it was that hit you?”

  Michael wasn’t looking at her though. He was staring past her shoulder, looking at something just beyond her. Or someone.

  She turned, glancing behind her, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just Mitchell on a Thursday night. “What?” she asked warily.

  “It’s him.” There was no emotion on his face. None in his voice. Yet she sensed a rage so deep, part of her wanted to hide.

  She turned again, trying to find who he was talking about. “Who?” she asked huskily, looking at the men walking by. She knew these men. Some she’d known since she was a baby—some she’d gone to school with. Hell, Marc Tanner, he’d been her first crush.

  “The deputy.”

  Chapter Six

  She turned back to him with turbulent eyes. Shaking her head, she said flatly, “No.”

  Michael whispered, “He’s stained with blood. I can’t see him beyond the blood—I don’t even know what he looks like.”

  “Look again!” Daisy said shakily. She reached for the handle to get out, but Michael leaned over and caught her arm.

  “You don’t want to believe me.”

  “You’re damned right I don’t!” she half screamed, trying to jerk away. “Damn it, that’s Jake. He’s like a brother to me. What in the hell do you know?”

  Michael looked away from her face. Looking back at the deputy’s car, he watched as the door opened slowly. He couldn’t see the man though. It was like he had just been blotted away, his image replaced with a blood smear. “Because I look at him and see blood. Nothing but blood. And I hear their screams. Tanya haunts him. She won’t leave him alone.”