When the Dead Speak

by Bailey Bradford

  A snort was Zeke’s immediate reply, then he added, “I guess I’ll have to sit here till you do have something to say. I’m not an idiot, Laine. And…” Zeke sat up straight, looking a little flustered, his gaze darting around the dull gray walls of the room before finally settling back on Laine. “Brendon’s not the only one worried, okay? He didn’t even have to bribe me.” Zeke seemed as mortified at the admission as Laine felt.

  Shit, he must look pretty bad if even Zeke was worried. But what could he say? Laine was scared that if he said one thing, admitted to one problem, everything would come tumbling out—and his pride could not survive that. But, he rationalized, there was something he could admit to Zeke. He owed the man, didn’t he?

  Laine sat up straight and lifted his chin. “I’m sorry. I should have done more to keep you safe. This”—Laine gestured with his hand at Zeke’s cane—“shouldn’t have happened. I made a mistake by not putting Eva in jail for making threats against you and Brendon.” That was one weight off his shoulders, but it didn’t take the guilt away.

  “You think that would have stopped her? Seriously?” Zeke slapped the desktop. “You don’t think she would have posted bail and been back out on the street immediately? Or that her freaking holy husband wouldn’t have tried to kill me anyway? Because he was in that car, too, Laine, don’t you forget that.”

  “How could I?” Laine wanted to shout, to strike out and hit something, but there was no reason for that something to be the man in front of him. Laine struggled to keep his voice low, calm. “If I’d have done my job right, they’d both have been in jail.”

  “Bullshit. That’s bullshit and you know it. If, if, if! If I’d filed charges on any of the numerous occasions Eva had threatened me or assaulted me. If your predecessor, Sheriff Rawlins, had been a half-assed decent sheriff! You don’t get to carry that by yourself, you don’t. So tell me, why are you wallowing in it, Laine? Or are you?” Zeke narrowed his eyes and Laine would have sworn those eyes could see into his soul. “What’s really eating at you?”

  Laine wouldn’t answer, couldn’t. Besides, wasn’t that bit he’d shared enough? He knew Zeke was right to an extent, but it was Laine’s job to take care of everyone, keep the people of McKinton safe, and he’d failed spectacularly where Zeke was concerned. Whether or not he’d screwed up by not tossing Eva in jail, he’d failed to keep Zeke from harm.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d let someone down. At least this time, he’d been aware of the problem and someone he cared about—though he thought that might just be stretching it—hadn’t died regardless. A slight ruffling of his hair had Laine closing his eyes in defeat. What was it with him drawing the dead now? Was it even happening, or was he just fucking losing it, bit by bit? If it was real… But if it wasn’t, that was surely worse, right? His hair was carded again, a soft caress. It firmed a lump of rigid fear in his belly even as he almost enjoyed the otherworldly—or imaginary—touch. Words slipped out, pushed up by a need to know what, exactly, was reality. “Zeke, can’t you tell your mama that now isn’t the best time?”

  Silence cloaked the room for minutes. That’s it, I’m hallucinating or something, and now, Zeke knows I’m losing it. Christ. And I’m still feeling imaginary fingers in my hair… That’s it, I am fucked. It took several deep breaths before Laine finally had the nerve to open his eyes. Zeke had gone pale as the proverbial ghost, and was staring at Laine with startled eyes.

  “I don’t know who that is, Laine.” Zeke shook his head and Laine didn’t miss the fine trembling in Zeke’s hands as he reached for Laine’s hands on the desk. “But I swear to you, that isn’t my mama’s spirit playing with your hair.”

  “Shit.” Irritation warred with relief. After all, if Zeke saw it, too, then Laine wasn’t making it up. Relief was stomped down quickly as those ghostly fingers tugged smartly. Laine had had about enough of this. He stood and grabbed his Stetson, pushing it down on his head. It didn’t surprise him in the least when his hat was batted to the ground, his hair once again carded by whatever determined spirit had decided to show up.

  Zeke, on the other hand, looked like he was on the verge of a meltdown. He was reaching blindly for his cane, his gaze never wavering from Laine’s head. Laine stooped down, picked up his hat and hurried to Zeke’s side before the man could hurt himself trying to get up.

  “Cut it out already.” Laine wasn’t sure if he meant the grabby ghost or Zeke, who had knocked his cane to the floor and was trying to get up and, no doubt, out of the office immediately. Laine reached for the cane and handed it to Zeke, placing his arm around Zeke’s waist and making sure the man had a steady grasp on the cane before Laine let go. He kept close to Zeke as they skirted around another chair and made their way out of the office.

  Doreen was on the phone, chatting away to some friend or relative, and waved to them as they left the building. Laine was grateful for that bit of luck. Neither he nor Zeke was fit to hold a conversation with Doreen just yet. They stepped out into the hot Texas day and just stood there, letting the sun chase away the spooked feeling. Well, Laine wasn’t so spooked any more. It was sad to say that he was kind of getting immune to being creeped out by ghosts, or spirits, whatever they were called. At least now he knew it was all real. He found himself actually grinning as he glanced over and saw Zeke’s shaken expression.

  “The hell are you smiling for? That was creepy as all get out!” Zeke was looking at him like he was crazy, but Laine wasn’t, was he? That little encounter in his office just proved it. He slapped Zeke on the back, careful not to knock the man on his butt since he still seemed unsteady. Laine felt his grin blossom into an unfamiliar, wide-lipped smile.

  “Zeke, I thought I was going crazy, but you saw it, too.” Laine couldn’t hold back a relieved chuckle. “You don’t know what a relief that is. I was ready to set up appointments for some MRIs or something.”

  The expression on Zeke’s face made it clear he thought Laine had blown past crazy and into stark raving insane territory. “That makes you feel better? Because I saw it? Maybe you should still have your head checked.”

  Laine looked at him and raised both eyebrows. “You saying you didn’t see it now?” Laine knew he did!

  “Oh, I saw it all right.” Zeke shook his head, frowning. “But how can you feel better knowing you have some…unknown spirit…hanging around you? At least there’s probably some medicine around to clear up hallucinations, but that, back there?” Zeke shook his head again. “I don’t know what the fuck you can take to make that go away. Unless…”

  Laine nearly jumped when Zeke reached out and placed his hand on Laine’s shoulder. Zeke was never that friendly with him, that familiar.

  “Do you know who that was? In your office?”

  “Nope. Not a clue.” Laine mulled over what Zeke had said about medicine curing hallucinations and decided that, given the choice, he’d rather actually believe in ghosts than be hallucinating, which worked out well since that was exactly what was happening. “Don’t know if that’s the same one that’s been hanging around, or if there’s more than one, either,” he added as an afterthought. He hadn’t really been checking for any sort of familiarity when the odd visits occurred.

  “More than one?” Zeke’s voice sounded strained, and Laine had to fight down another grin. “There’s more?”

  “I don’t know. Guess it could be the same ghost. I usually just have a silent meltdown when it happens.” Seeing the unsteady sway of Zeke’s body, Laine slipped his arm back around Zeke’s waist. He felt a little unsteady himself now, knowing the spirit, or spirits, popping up around him were real—and he couldn’t help but wonder, would Conner…could Conner be one of them? It was too painful to dwell on, and Laine shoved those thoughts aside. “I don’t know why this is freaking you out so much. Your mama has been visiting you since she passed.” Laine turned them with a slight pressure to Zeke’s hip and began leading Zeke to the café. “Shouldn’t surprise you that she isn’t the only one around.”
<
br />   “But you said you don’t know these, ah, spirits, right?”

  Laine nodded. It was mostly true—he hadn’t been interested in finding out who or what was messing with him. Better to ignore it and drive himself crazy with worry. Now that he knew they were real, he just might start naming them. Or numbering them, if there was more than one, but that could get hinky if the number got too high…

  “So why are they, or it, coming to you then? It makes sense, Mama visiting me, but that, back in your office?” A shudder worked through Zeke’s body.

  “I don’t have an answer for that, except to tell you it started not too long after, ah, I met your mama.” Laine had thought about it a lot—there had to be some correlation. “All I can figure, now that I know I’m not going crazy, is somehow, meeting one spirit, seeing it or accepting it, I guess, opened up something inside of me that made me receptive to… Well, now I sound like some new age guru, don’t I?” Laine laughed, laughed, for the first time in a long while. He felt Zeke’s tension drain away under his arm.

  Zeke shook his head and laughed as well, raising his free arm and slipping it over Laine’s shoulder, surprising them both. “You sure sound like something, Laine, you surely do.”

  Chapter Two

  “Your boyfriend already cheating on you?”

  Brendon looked at the waitress standing beside his table, her pinched face lit with malicious glee. He must have looked as confused as he felt by the comment, because she thrust a thumb over her shoulder and snickered. Brendon sat back and looked out of the window, smiling when he saw Zeke and Laine walking down the sidewalk. His smile started to slip when he saw Laine’s hand around Zeke’s waist and Zeke’s arm over Laine’s shoulders, but not for the reason the waitress implied. Didn’t they understand it wasn’t safe to walk out in town like that?

  But it should be, they’re just friends… Hopefully, they’ve become friends, anyways. Neither man should be ostracised for that. Brendon firmed his smile back up and batted his lashes at the waitress.

  “You’re just seeing gay people everywhere, aren’t you? Sheriff Stenley isn’t gay.” Brendon didn’t feel guilty for the lie, not when it could keep Laine from losing his job, or worse, his life. He let his smile drop away, all teasing cast aside. “But he’s obviously secure enough to be able to help out someone who is and not worry about it. I’d think even you wouldn’t begrudge an injured man some help.” He flicked a borderline bitchy look over her, debating whether or not he’d be risking something nasty in his food if he said anything else. A voice from the table behind his took the risk for him.

  “What’s the matter, honey, he turn you down, so he must be gay?”

  Brendon turned and looked at the man sitting behind him. How’d he miss this guy when he walked in?

  “Not that I’d blame him,” the stranger intoned.

  Brendon grinned. The man already had his food—he could be a smartass and not worry about it too much.

  The waitress glared and walked off, muttering some very politically incorrect words that made Brendon want to break the cardinal don’t-hit-a-woman rule. Instead, he flicked a glance at Zeke and Laine as they made their way closer then turned in his seat, as much as he was able, and looked at the man who’d spoken.

  Definitely attractive, definitely not his type, either. Zeke was exactly his type. This man had large, startling pale green eyes that were offset by the soft brown color of his skin and Brendon had no problem admitting the contrast between skin and eyes was stunning. He winked one of those gorgeous eyes at Brendon and grinned.

  “So, is he?”

  Brendon felt one of his eyebrows winging up his forehead. “Is which he what?”

  The man’s laugh almost sounded musical. “Let’s go with is he running around on you?” The man laughed again, but his eyes seemed to be asking the other question. Brendon shook his head. He wouldn’t discuss Laine’s sexuality with anyone other than the man himself—and Zeke, of course.

  “Why would he give this up? The man’s not stupid.” Brendon stood and stepped over to the man’s table, offering his hand. “I’m Brendon Shanahan, and the man with the cane is my partner, Zeke. I’ll introduce you when he gets here.”

  The man slid from his seat and Brendon hoped he didn’t look as surprised as he felt. The guy was smaller than he’d seemed with his deep voice and big personality. Maybe only five-six or seven.

  “Severo Adulio Robledo,” he said, shaking Brendon’s hand firmly. “Everyone here so friendly?” His gaze flickered over the sneering waitress standing at the register before finding Brendon’s as their handshake ended.

  “I’m still trying to sort out who is and who isn’t, but there’s been some history of hate crimes.” Brendon turned when the bell fastened to the door tinkled and watched as his lover and Laine made their way into the café.

  “Is that what happened to your partner?” Severo’s voice was a low rumble. Brendon looked back at him and watched the man finger a silver necklace that had been hidden by his collar. Severo wasn’t looking at Brendon as he spoke, and if Brendon wasn’t mistaken, he wasn’t looking at Zeke, either.

  “Something like that,” Brendon murmured, trying to gauge Severo’s line of sight. It was, he mused, latched onto one very big sheriff. Interesting. This should be fun.

  Except it wasn’t, because Severo was tossing some bills down on his table and striding past Brendon.

  “Another time, perhaps,” Severo offered with a faint smile and a subtle glance at Laine, then the smaller man made his way to the register.

  Very interesting, indeed. Zeke and Laine made their way over to Brendon and Severo slipped out of the door with a tinkle of the bell.

  * * * *

  Severo had to press a hand to his chest, his heart was beating so rapidly. He risked a quick peek over his shoulder and saw the sheriff taking a seat with Brendon and his partner. What the hell was wrong with him, getting all fluttery and flustered like some chittering virgin? Severo’s shoulder smacked into a lamppost and he turned back to watch where he was going before he did some serious damage to himself. Geez. At least the big, sexy sheriff hadn’t seen that. Severo would prefer not to come across as a klutz in front of the man.

  Not that it should matter. He wouldn’t let it matter—he hadn’t come here looking for a fuck. Severo didn’t know why he had come here, except that he’d been told to, nagged until he’d packed his things and taken the bus to this dinky Texas town. Now, here he was with no idea why he was here, not a single clue, and the only thing that stirred him, spoke to him, was the tall, lean man who’d been helping Brendon’s partner—Zeke, that’s his name, and he has a guardian. Maybe he’s why I’m here? It didn’t feel right. Severo was sure the reason he’d been led here didn’t have anything to do with Zeke or Brendon. Who, or what, then?

  Zeke disappeared from Severo’s mind as the image of the sheriff rushed to the forefront. He’d tried his best not to stare, and had ended up devouring the man with his eyes. First as he had spotted the man helping Zeke to the café, then as he’d stood talking to Brendon, and yet again, as Severo had paid his bill.

  He couldn’t not look at the man. The sheriff was long and built just right, not too muscular but definitely ripped, at least a foot taller than Severo—not his usual type at all. He’d never cared to feel smaller than he already was, or like his lovers could easily overpower him. The sheriff could, of that Severo had no doubt, but as he’d taken in the man’s sexy body, the sharp angles of his cheeks and the quicksilver flash of his eyes, it wasn’t the sheriff’s physical strength had had scared the crap out of Severo. No, it had been the fact that Sev sensed something wounded about the man, the strength and intelligence mingled with pain that called to Severo, that whispered into his ear this man can shatter you.

  Severo didn’t want to be shattered, didn’t want to risk any kind of emotional pain. For this reason, he had always kept his affairs brief and light-hearted, a mutual understanding of hey, this is fun and it feels good, that
’s all it’s gonna be. He didn’t doubt that sex with the man would be phenomenal, though he didn’t think it would be something as trite and shallow as fun. Nothing that simple.

  There was a reason he didn’t play around with men like the sheriff. They were too intense and wanted too much from a lover. They didn’t play. Men like that, they demanded everything from a lover, and sometimes, they even gave as much as they took. It was too deep, too dangerous, and too permanent for someone who went from place to place whenever the whim hit him. Or whenever he was nagged to go. And Severo couldn’t imagine someone like the sheriff understanding what drove a man like Sev. Yes, Sheriff, I commune with the dead… He’d probably end up locked away in the little jail if the sheriff found out what he did.

  Then again, the sheriff would, Sev suspected, check him out. He just seemed like the protective and suspicious sort. The man would want to know who Sev was and why he was in McKinton. Maybe it would be best to get their introduction over with—though not under the prying eyes of that waitress. And, damn it, for some reason, the sheriff stirred up all sorts of lustful feelings in him. It was weird, a little intimidating, and Sev would have sworn he’d felt the man checking him out with more than a hint of interest. Not gay, Brendon had said. Sev didn’t think so, not at all. Turning, Sev walked around the block, avoiding the front of the café, and made his way back to the Sheriff’s Department.

  Sev pushed open the door to the Sheriff’s Department and stepped inside. A woman sat at a desk off to the side, talking away on the phone. She nodded at Sev and held up a finger. Sev smiled and nodded back, then wandered over to a row of uncomfortable looking chairs. He sat and crossed his legs at the ankle, one arm flung across the back of the chair beside him. The place wasn’t too bad, he decided, with unfinished wood paneling and bright lighting keeping the windowless room from being dark and oppressive. Well, Sev thought, it might be oppressive regardless if one was here under different circumstances. He was trying to figure out whether the Ficus trees were real or not when the lady at the desk hung up the phone.