by D. G. Swank
I decided to call his bluff. “Then arrest me.”
“If you give me your confession first, I’ll guarantee you a lesser charge.”
The logical, law-school-dropout part of me knew he likely wouldn’t arrest me yet. They needed to find evidence tying me to the murder. Everything he had so far was circumstantial and speculation. He’d wait for hard evidence. But he wouldn’t find it. There was absolutely nothing in that house to tie me to Gill’s murder. The only things I’d touched were the doorknobs on the front door and the door to the basement.
“Funny,” I said. “I thought you were interested in apprehending the real murderer, not taking the lazy, sloppy way out. I came here of my own free will. I had every right to refuse your vague request to come to the station, yet here I am.”
“I don’t believe for one minute that you can talk to ghosts. I can arrest you for fraud.”
Wow, he was desperate. Why was he in such a hurry to lock me up? I wouldn’t be considered a flight risk. But if Gill’s murder was as brutal as he’d suggested, there would be a lot of freaked-out people in this town who would feel a whole lot calmer if the murder was announced along with the name of the murderer and the assurance that he—or in this case, she—was locked up tight. “None of my clients have come forward accusing me of fraud, and no one will testify against me. You have nothing.”
“But I’ll hold you long enough to make sure you’re still in jail when the evidence comes through.”
“It won’t link me to his murder. I didn’t kill Gill Gillespie, and you’re wasting time when you could be looking for the real killer.” Although I had no idea how he’d apprehend a demon.
Good God. Was I really considering that a creature out of a dark fairy tale had killed my ex-boyfriend? Maybe I had lost it.
Detective Lawton stood and pulled a pair of handcuffs out from behind his back. “I guess I’m willing to take that chance.”
“I want my phone call,” I said, trying not to panic.
“And we’ll take care of that as soon as we get you processed.”
I stood and took a step back. “You’ve got the wrong person! This is crazy!”
He smiled. “Not as crazy as what you did to Gill Gillespie.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine. What the heck happened to Gill?
The door opened and a woman stepped in. She wore black slacks and a blazer with a white button-down shirt. Her medium-length, dark hair was pulled into a short ponytail at the nape of her neck. She shot Detective Lawton a look of disgust. “Let her go, Steve.”
His mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s got an alibi. Let her go.”
Detective Lawton turned to face me. “You said you were home alone from nine o’clock until the officer showed up at your door.”
I was just as confused as he was, but I sure wasn’t going to admit it. “I have nothing else to say without my attorney present.”
“Who’s her alibi?” he asked the woman.
“A guy who says he spent the night with her.”
Detective Lawton’s eyebrows rose. “A boyfriend?”
“Tinder date,” the woman said. “He’s in the interrogation room next door.”
Tinder date? I’d never set up a Tinder profile, let alone gone on a date through the service. Had Hudson found out I was here and showed up to get me out? If the police found out we’d been friends since sixth grade, I’d be in even more trouble.
Detective Lawton turned to me. “What’s your Tinder date’s name?”
I had no idea who was in that room, and I wasn’t going to try to guess.
The detective seemed to read my thoughts. “You don’t know?” he asked with an air of disgust.
“Hey!” the woman said, pointing her finger at him. “She can sleep with whoever she wants, whether she knows his name or not. There’s nothing wrong with a hookup.”
His eyebrows lifted and he gave her a look that suggested he was seeing her in a whole new light. “How do we know this guy is legit? And what made him come into the station at four in the morning to give a statement? In fact, how’d he even know she was here?”
“He said he was still at her house when the uniformed officer showed up and he followed her here because she accidently picked up his car and house keys and put them in her purse.”
“If she has his keys, then how’d he get here?”
“Uber.”
Detective Lawton scowled. “You believe the joker?”
She held out her hands. “Why would he lie?”
“Why would she?”
“Maybe she didn’t want to deal with judgmental assholes like you.” She turned to me. “Ms. Lancaster, we may want to ask you some follow-up questions at a later date.”
“Fine,” I said. “But only with my attorney present, so keep that in mind if you decide to invite me in for another three a.m. chat.”
She gave me a stern look. “In the future, I suggest you don’t keep information from the police, no matter how much you wish to keep that information private.”
“Am I free to go?” I asked.
“You can go,” Detective Lawton said, “but I want to meet your date.”
So did I.
Chapter Seven
The woman who’d interrupted my arrest led me down the hall in a different direction than I’d come when I’d first arrived at the station. As if sensing my hesitation, she glanced over her shoulder. “I’m taking you out to the waiting room. I’m sure Detective Lawton won’t keep Mr. Abel long.” She stopped and opened the door at the end of the hall.
Mr. Abel. Did I know a Mr. Abel? For a second, I wondered if he was a client who’d somehow gotten tipped off, but the name wasn’t the least bit familiar.
“Okay,” I said, walking into the waiting area. “Thank you.”
“I’m Detective Powell, by the way.” She pulled a business card out of her jacket pocket and handed it to me. “If you think of anything that might assist with our investigation, please give me a call. You can skip Lawton.”
“Thanks,” I said as I reluctantly took the card and read her name: Detective Olivia Powell. There was little chance I’d ever call her, but I stuck it in my purse so I didn’t look rude.
She gave me a sympathetic glance. “I’m not sure why you hid the fact you were with Mr. Abel last night, but if you don’t want to face him, I can give him his keys for you.” She made a face, then tipped her head to the side with a grin. “I’ve been there before, although from what little I saw of him, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Was she messing with me? Playing the good cop/bad cop shtick to get me to let my guard down? “Thanks, but that would be the coward’s way out.”
She nodded. “He should only be a few minutes. Plenty of time for you to call someone to pick you up.” She winked. “Unless you want Mr. Abel to take you home.” Then she turned around and let the door close behind her.
Did I want to let Mr. Abel take me home? That would be a firm no. He may have saved me back there, but that didn’t mean I was getting into a car with some stranger. Still, I wanted answers.
I sat down on a chair and waited for my mystery alibi to appear from the back. Several minutes later, the door opened and a man walked out, his dark gaze finding mine.
Everything else about him was dark too—from his black hair to his dark brown eyes to his dark gray—almost black—suit. Even his short beard, which was too well-trimmed to be scruffy. He looked too serious for someone who appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties.
A shiver ran down my spine as our eyes locked, and I felt drawn to him in an inexplicable way—as if my future was intertwined with his.
And then I realized I’d seen him before. This was the man who’d been watching the ambulance yesterday afternoon. What the hell was he doing here?
I stood to greet him as Detective Lawton walked out behind him.
“Thank you for coming in, Mr. Abel,” the detective sai
d, but he didn’t look very happy about it. He’d just lost his big lead.
My mystery man nodded, his face expressionless. “Piper is from an old Asheville family. Her grandmother would be horrified to find out she’d used a hookup app. I don’t expect you to keep this confidential, but I hope you don’t toss our names around either.”
How did he know about my grandmother? He could be the grandson of one of her cronies, but if so, how had he known to find me here? And, most importantly, why would he care enough to lie to the police?
Detective Lawton shifted his weight. “Ms. Lancaster is no longer a person of interest, so there’s no need to release either of your names to the public.”
“Thank you, Detective. We both appreciate it, don’t we, Piper?” Mr. Abel asked.
“Yes,” I said, but I couldn’t bring myself to thank the butthead detective.
Abel turned to face me. “I’m sorry for any embarrassment you might have suffered on my behalf, Piper. Why don’t we walk out together, and you can give me back my keys?”
“Yeah. Of course.” I was eager to get my answers.
He gestured to the door and I headed that direction, all while Detective Lawton watched with more than a touch of suspicion.
I still wasn’t in the clear. Lawton considered me a suspect despite what he’d just said.
I walked out into the parking lot while Mr. Abel tapped on his phone.
“You should retrieve my imaginary keys from your purse and pretend to give them to me,” he said as he slipped his phone into his jacket pocket. “I’m sure we’re still being watched.”
I reached into my purse and acted like I was searching for them. “Who are you? How did you know I was here, and why did you come here—” I stepped closer and held my fist out toward him as I lowered my voice to a whisper, “—and lie that you were with me last night?”
He pretended to take something from my hand and put it in his jacket pocket. “None of those things are important, but you would have been in danger if they’d locked you up.”
“What do you mean those things aren’t important?”
“You need to focus on the danger, Piper.”
“Danger?” I asked. “What danger?”
His dark brown eyes held mine, and I felt that maddening pull again, as if something rooted deep in my soul was reaching out to his. But the hard look on his face suggested the feeling was one-sided. “Dark and ugly things have been released into the world. Created of ash and spirit. Things that will seek you out and try to end you.”
The blood rushed from my head and pooled in my toes. “What are you talking about?” But even as I asked the words, I realized that somehow he knew. He knew about the things I’d seen.
“How many have found you?” he asked.
I purposely gave him a blank stare. “How many what?”
His eyes narrowed. “Have they not come to you yet?”
“Tell me what you’re talking about.”
A dark sedan pulled around the corner, and I shrank back a little, realizing I was standing in the police parking lot at four thirty in the morning, talking to a man who had just given the police a false statement about me.
He reached into his other jacket pocket, then held out his hand toward me. “This will protect you. Wear it.”
I took a step backward. “I’m not doing anything until you tell me what’s going on.”
“Have you found the daggers yet?”
I shook my head. “What daggers?”
He gave me a look so piercing my breath caught in my chest. “I was under the impression you had been given the codicil.”
I gasped. “How do you know about the codicil?” Then I remembered that he’d mentioned Nana. “Did my grandmother tell you?”
The car pulled closer and stopped in front of us. A man in a suit jacket and tie sat waiting in the driver’s seat. Why were both of these guys dressed up so early in the morning?
My rescuer ignored him. “Are you following the codicil’s instructions?”
I scrunched up my face. “What? No! It’s insane.”
He leaned closer, irritation hardening his face. “Follow it or forfeit your life.”
“Forfeit my life?” I scoffed. “Who talks like that?” But I couldn’t help wondering how he’d found out. And why he thought I was in so much danger.
He cocked an eyebrow. “You claim ignorance, yet I know you saw spirits before the curse broke.”
My heart skipped a beat. “You think I can see spirits?”
“It’s your business, isn’t it?”
I wasn’t about to tell him that I wasn’t a real medium, but there was a chance he really did have answers to all this hocus-pocus stuff. Maybe I should be honest.
But my expression must have clued him in because shock washed over his face. “You’re a fraud.”
I pointed a finger at him. “I never said that.”
“Can you really not see them?”
I pushed out a breath and ran a hand over my head to smooth back the loose hairs. How much should I admit? “Yesterday I saw two things I think were ghosts.”
“Only yesterday?”
“I’ve been hearing voices at clients’ homes over the past week. They were weak at first, but they’ve gotten stronger.”
“So you’re still growing into your role. I thought you were further along.” Worry tightened his mouth.
“What role? How do you know about any of this?”
He glanced at the eastern horizon before shifting his gaze back to me. “It’s late and you’re not ready.” He grabbed my wrist and put a piece of cloth into my palm. “Wear this. They’re still weak, but as evidenced by Mr. Gillespie, they’re capable of being deadly.”
Even though he was clearly ticked at me for not being ready—whatever it was I needed to be ready for—my body became fully alert at his warm touch.
“Find the daggers,” he continued. “They can kill them.”
I blinked. “There are daggers that can kill demons?”
A satisfied look filled his eyes. “I never mentioned demons, which means you have seen them.”
He was right, so I might as well admit it. “I saw the one that killed Gill.” Presuming I was right about what had happened. “It said it was looking for the demon slayer. I told the thing it was looking for Gill.”
His lips pressed together. “It was looking for you.”
“Me?” I shook my head vigorously. “I’m not a demon hunter.”
He closed my fingers around the cloth bag. “Follow the instructions of the codicil.”
I grabbed his arm. “Don’t you even think about leaving until you give me answers.”
The man in the car looked like he was about to get out and intervene, but my rescuer lifted his hand, telling his driver to hold off. His voice softened. “Piper. You’re not ready to hear what I have to say. You should have been told sooner, but there’s no going back and fixing that now. Dig into your past. Find the daggers. We’ll meet again when you’re ready.” He pulled free of my hold and reached for the back door of the car. After opening it, he looked back one final time. “Please try not to get yourself killed.” Then he got inside the car, and the guy behind the wheel drove away.
“Great instructions!” I called after him. “I’ll have you know that trying not to get myself killed is pretty instinctual, so I’ve got that one covered.” But this was wasted breath, and now I was standing all alone outside the police station at four thirty in the morning. After facing a demon and two ghosts the day before. I almost ran back into the station, but I wasn’t that desperate.
I grabbed my phone, trying to decide who to call. I considered calling an Uber, but I couldn’t handle being alone right now. It was ultimately a pretty easy decision. I’d gone through plenty of Hudson’s love life drama over the past ten years that he owed me twenty times over.
Hudson answered on the third ring. “Piper? What’s wrong?”
“Why do you presume something’s wrong?”<
br />
“Because there damn well better be something wrong if you’re calling me at four thirty in the morning.”
“I’m at the police station, and I need you to pick me up.”
“Why are you at the police station? Are you okay?” He sounded panicked.
“No. I’ve had a horrible, terrible night, but I’m not telling you over the phone. Come pick me up.”
“I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”
I hung up and put my phone back in my purse. I was still holding the pouch the mysterious Mr. Abel had slapped into my hand, so I opened the drawstring and dumped the contents into my palm. It was a necklace. From what little I could see of it in the dimly lit parking lot, the chain was silver and it had a dark oval stone roughly the size of a nickel. An intricate pattern of metalwork covered the back of the stone, but it was too detailed for me to get a good look at it in the dark.
While some of my internet searching had identified crystals as a way to ward off evil entities, I had to wonder how a necklace could keep me safe. But could I risk not wearing it? The worst that could happen was that I’d look gullible. I unfastened the clasp and put it around my neck. The chain was short enough that the pendant hit right below the hollow of my throat. I touched the stone, wondering if I should feel different.
I groaned. I was acting like a gullible idiot.
But I still didn’t take it off.
Hudson’s Mazda pulled up less than five minutes later. Not wanting to spend another minute in the vicinity of the police department, I walked around to the passenger side and climbed in.
“Oh my God,” he said, waving his hand in front of his face. “Did you bathe in whiskey?”
“I had an accident,” I said as I fastened my seatbelt.
He turned to me, openmouthed. “You got a DUI?”
“No! I know you think I’m irresponsible lately, but I’m not that irresponsible. How’d you get here so fast?”
“Piper, you called me at four thirty in the morning from the police station. Of course I showed up as fast as I could.”
“See? You do love me.” I took another look at him and realized he was wearing basketball shorts and a UNC Chapel Hill T-shirt, and the kind of bedhead that doesn’t look artfully tousled. I grinned. “You didn’t even get dressed. You were worried about me.”