The Sullivan Gray Series Box Set

by H. P. Bayne

  “No. Lars came by himself. Maybe he’d figured it out, too, what was going on between them.”

  If so, there was another solid motive for murder.

  “One other thing. Did you know Tessa was a teacher?”

  “Yeah. She taught at Pintlake. Carter had a class there. I think that’s actually how he met her.”

  “Do you know if Lars was dating Tessa by then?”

  “Actually, I think Lars met her through Carter. Tutoring sessions, Carter used to call them, when he and Tessa would meet up. For I while, that’s all I thought it was, the two of them getting together so she could help him study. Now I know better. Anyway, Lars probably came into the picture sometime along the way. And let’s face it, if she had a choice between a high school kid and a good-looking, athletic guy with a decent income and his own place, no way she’s going with option one.”

  Or option two, Sully thought. She’d eventually ended up with the judge, after all, trading everything in for a life of luxury.

  Lars might have had his reasons for wanting Carter dead. So too, perhaps, had Evan and Roanna.

  But Tessa might well have her own horse in this race. If she was worried her affair with a student might become public knowledge, it could be she was willing to go to extremes to prevent it—especially if she had her eye on a more lucrative relationship with someone who wouldn’t readily accept a partner with a disreputable past.

  Instead of clarifying the situation, Sully’s conversation with Roanna had only served to complicate matters. He now had three suspects instead of one, and no real clue how to proceed without police involvement.

  He needed to talk to Dez.

  “I appreciate your time,” he told Roanna. “I know this isn’t easy to talk about.”

  “It isn’t. But as hurt as I was over what Carter did back then, that’s in the past. I’ve grown up. He didn’t get the chance. I know it might not seem like it, since I didn’t call you back right away, but if there’s something I can do to help, I’d like to try.”

  “You have helped,” he said. “Now I just need to figure out what it all means.”

  “You’re serious?” Dez asked. “You’re saying Theresa Hanson and Tessa Montague are the same person?”

  Sully had dialled Dez’s number as soon as he’d left Roanna on the bench—making sure to get her number first, so as to take Evan out of the picture as the not-overly helpful middle man. He’d managed to get as far as the photo when Dez interrupted.

  “Well, she identified the brunette as both the teacher Carter was involved with and as Lars’s girlfriend,” Sully said. “So unless Lars has been involved with two Tessas, I can’t think of any other possibility.”

  “That’s all we need is two of them,” Dez grumbled. “Listen, from my end, it’s not making sense. The judge told me his wife wasn’t a teacher. He said she was involved with a PR company when he met her. She was helping to put together some sort of educational video for the court website, he said.”

  “Give me a sec, and I’ll text you the photos.”

  That done, Sully waited a moment for the pictures to pop up in Dez’s messages.

  “Holy hell,” Dez said at last.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. That looks like her, all right. I mean, the hair’s way different, but the facial features are the same. I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t her husband know about her teaching past?”

  “Maybe she didn’t tell him,” Sully said. “He met her while she was doing PR, you said? Well, she taught commercial art, or at least that’s what she was teaching Carter.”

  “She was teaching him a little more than that,” Dez said. “Could be that’s what all this is about. I mean, if she was trying to hook the judge, how better than to bury all possible connections to her bad behaviour? I mean, if Montague ever found out she’d been screwing a student, he’d have dropped her faster than she could bat an eye.”

  “You think she could have just hidden the fact she was a teacher? What if he’d decided to show up at her work to take her to lunch or something?”

  “Montague doesn’t strike me as the type for romantic lunch dates,” Dez said. “Anyway, maybe she could have been doing both. Let’s say she was just teaching commercial art. Could be she was brought in on a half-time basis or something. That way, she could have had a job working with a PR firm, and been supplementing it with teaching income. I’ll check in with Lachlan, see if he can get us some info on that. Are you still on campus?”

  “Yeah, just trying to figure out a next move.”

  “Food would be a good one. If you’re anything like me, you haven’t eaten much today. I’ll come pick you up.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Sully said. “I might see if Marc’s around. I wanted to ask him about something.”

  “Okay, then I’ll head home, grab something to eat and take your dog for a quick walk.”

  “He prefers a run.”

  “I’ll bet he does.”

  Sully grinned into his phone. “Don’t act like it annoys you. You love Pax more than you love me.”

  “Hell, yeah,” Dez said. “He doesn’t talk back or bring an endless stream of dead people into my life.”

  Marc was still in a class, so Sully picked up a couple of sandwiches at one of the campus delis, eating one on his way back to Marc’s office. By the time he arrived, the professor was striding down the hall, bag slung over one shoulder and a widening grin on his face.

  “Now here’s a sight I missed,” Marc said as he ushered Sully into his office. “Young Sullivan with something on his mind, come to see me for answers I’m only half-equipped to provide.”

  Sully handed Marc a sandwich. “You know way more than you ever admit. And you know that too.”

  Marc chuckled as he dropped his sandwich and book bag onto the surface of his desk, inadvertently scattering a few papers. Sully snagged two before they left the desk, and picked up a third that had fluttered to the floor. Marc was many things, but tidy, meticulous and organized were not among his positive attributes. Sully wondered sometimes how many students had received above-average grades simply because Marc didn’t want to admit to losing their term papers.

  Sully let Marc scarf down his lunch amid friendly, meaningless chatter. He waited until he’d tossed his wrapper into the waste basket and sat forward, hands folded atop the littered surface and wide, expectant eyes focused on his visitor.

  “There’s something I wanted to ask you about,” Sully said.

  “Shoot.”

  “What do you know about past lives?”

  Marc raised an eyebrow. “That’s not your usual area of interest, is it?”

  “No, not really. Something happened recently that I….” He trailed off, searching for the right way to frame the question. “Have you ever had a dream that wasn’t really a dream?”

  “I have ones where I visit with Mariel,” Marc said. “Sometimes they just feel like dreams. Other times, I wake up and I know I was with her. Not in my head, but in spirit. I know because the feeling stays with me all day.”

  “This is kind of like that, I guess, but not really. The feeling stayed with me after, but it wasn’t a good thing. It was really dark. And it didn’t feel like a dream. It was like a memory.”

  “What was it, if you don’t mind telling me?”

  “I was standing on a cart, and I was being hanged. It was a public execution, probably an official one given the large number of people there. I’d been the hangman before that; that much I knew.”

  “You saw it all through this man’s eyes?”

  “Yeah. Like I was him. That was almost worse than the hanging itself. He just felt… wrong. Evil, even. Just this swirling mass of hate and anger and darkness. And it was weird, but he couldn’t hear anything, the same way I can’t hear ghosts speak.”

  “You can’t hear in any of your visions either, can you?”

  “No, but this was different. Normally, I know it’s just my limitation that prevents me hearing anythin
g. In this case, I knew the reason I couldn’t hear was a physical disability. He was deaf.”

  “So maybe it’s just another ghost. They put their deaths in your head quite frequently, don’t they?”

  “Yeah, but this was different. I’ve always known it’s not me. Even in Lockwood, when that line between me and the ghosts disappeared during the visions, I knew coming out it was about someone else. I can’t put it into words exactly, but it was different this time. It was me. I know it was.”

  “Okay,” Marc said. “Let’s talk this out. What else were you shown?”

  “He spoke this curse. I couldn’t hear him say it, but I felt the words. I saw them in my mind as he spoke them. He swore vengeance on everyone there, and said his curse would find them all before the end. He called himself the Spirit Caller.”

  Marc’s hands moved to steeple beneath his nose. He didn’t say anything immediately, and Sully was left to wonder whether he’d finally left the man speechless.

  “You said you’re wondering whether this is a memory of a past life,” Marc said at last. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you. I don’t know much about past lives, other than that some cultures believe in reincarnation. I’ve thought about it, I guess, but I’ve only ever dealt with earthbound ghosts, so I don’t know anything about what comes after.”

  “You’re correct. There are many cultures that believe in reincarnation. I believe strongly in it myself.”

  “So this man. Is that me?”

  “We’ve always wondered why it is you can’t hear the ghosts. This might explain it. If your abilities spring somehow from this past life, from the evolution of your soul, it might be it carries with it the same limitation this man, this Spirit Caller, possessed.”

  It made sense. Too much sense. Enough that it made Sully nauseous.

  “So I am him, then. All that evil, all that hate. That’s who I am?”

  Marc dropped his hands to his desk with a thud. Two more papers scattered, but neither Marc nor Sully made any effort to pick them up. “No, that’s not who you are. I see you in a way no one else can. I see your aura, the energy around you. If this man was dark, you are the yang to his yin. I’ve never seen darkness in you, Sullivan. I’ve seen stress and pain and grief, but never hate or evil. You aren’t capable of it.”

  “But how can I share a soul with someone like that and not carry some of what he was?”

  “I talked about evolution of souls. You mentioned a cart and a public execution. That tells me this happened a long time ago. Do you have any idea how long?”

  “No, not really. But, yeah, it was a long time ago. Maybe the 1600s or 1700s. I was in England, I think. I remember thinking I was being hanged at something called the Triple Tree.”

  Marc didn’t need to check the Internet. “The Triple Tree was a term for the gallows used in Tyburn, England. The first public execution there took place just before the year 1200. The last was in the late 1700s. Whatever it was you saw, it predates the turn of the eighteenth century. A lot can happen to a soul in two hundred or more years, Sullivan. Just like people, souls learn. They evolve. Those who believe in reincarnation say each birth-to-death cycle carries with it life lessons intended to educate the soul. As wisely stated by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, we are not people having spiritual experiences, but spirits having human experiences. We will all leave these vessels one day and take with us all we’ve discovered. Eventually, it may be we’ve pulled all we can from this life experience and go on to become teachers or guides on the other side. It might be this man you saw was at the start of his spiritual journey. It might also be you’re the one who will finish it.”

  “So even if I’m carrying what he was—”

  “It doesn’t mean you are that man. You are who you are. You have made choices in your own life. You have had your own experiences. You have had plenty of opportunity to hate, Sullivan. You’ve had more than sufficient reason to fill yourself with anger and a desire for revenge. You’ve chosen the path of light. It shows in your aura. Bear that in mind if you ever feel your soul’s previous journeys revealing themselves.”

  “That’s the problem, Marc. I don’t know who I’d be if it wasn’t for the Braddocks. I might be that man.”

  “But it remains that you aren’t. You’re still you. Maybe whatever power that exists sent you to the Braddocks to give you the choice between dark and light. It was still up to you which path to take. You made your choice, Sullivan. You chose well. Give yourself some credit for that. You deserve it.”

  What he deserved or didn’t was irrelevant. All Sully could think was that Marc Echoles was another light in his life, a beacon guiding him back when he got lost in the fog.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “I spend most of my days wrapped up in fear, whether my own or someone else’s,” Sully said. “You’ve given me one less thing to be afraid of.”

  “Never fear yourself, Sullivan,” Marc said. “I’m one of the few people who can honestly tell you, without a shadow of a doubt, you are far more powerful than you know. You will come up against darkness. No one born to walk a path like yours can avoid it. But you’re equipped to handle it. You not only carry the abilities and the power within yourself, you’ve got your own little army on the outside. Desmond, Eva, your mom and me, we’re here to help you. Don’t forget that.”

  “I still haven’t told my mom, you know.”

  “Told her what?”

  “That I’m alive.”

  Marc’s head tilted, brow furrowing. “Why not? She’s your mom, the woman who raised you. She’s supported you through everything. Don’t you think she’d want to know?”

  “Yeah, she would.”

  “So what’s holding you back?”

  Sully considered not saying it out loud, but there was no stepping back now. He realized this was the other reason he’d come here, looking for clarity. “I didn’t want to admit this to Dez, but I guess I’m angry with her.”

  “Because of Lockwood,” Marc reasoned.

  “She signed the paper, the one that committed me. Lowell was the one behind it; he talked her into it, I know that. But she still went along with it. When push came to shove, she had more faith in him than in me.”

  “Or maybe she was afraid for you. We all were, Sullivan. Lockwood wasn’t the right place for you, that’s for certain. But there were so few options. You’d nearly died twice.”

  “I know. On a rational level, I get why she went along with Lowell. Emotionally, I feel like she betrayed me. I know it’s wrong, and I hate that I think it. But I can’t get past it.”

  “And you won’t,” Marc said. “Not unless you confront it head on. You worry about becoming this man from your soul’s memory. Don’t allow your anger or fear to make decisions for you. That’s the first step to losing your light. The Sullivan Gray I know has always made choices based on love, empathy and compassion. That’s who you are. I can’t tell you to forgive and forget. But talk to her at least. You trust her to keep your secret, surely?”

  “Yeah. I do. I used to tell myself I was worried she’d tell Lowell about me, but I think I was just using that as an excuse. I just didn’t want to admit how pissed I am at her.”

  “Understandable. Just don’t let it define you. Okay?”

  Sully smiled. “Okay. I’ll try to talk to her. Just as soon as I’ve sorted out the Carter problem.”

  “Yeah, one major issue at a time,” Marc said. He paused and shook his head. “You don’t believe in doing anything half-assed, do you, my friend?”

  Sully’s smile shifted to a full grin. “I’ll never be the sort of person to bitch about errors in the newspaper’s TV guide, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  22

  Dez and Pax each took all of two minutes to swallow his respective lunch, and both were eager to get outside afterward.

  Dez would have loved to blow off steam by running the dog, but his sti
ll-pained rib meant heavy physical activity was out. He’d aggravated it yesterday evening during his and Sully’s misadventures in the caves, and he was feeling it now, a pair of extra-strength painkillers doing little but taking the edge off.

  As if physical pain wasn’t sufficient, he got a mental dose of discomfort when he checked the call display of his ringing phone to discover the name “Raynor” across the screen.

  Dez muttered a curse as he pulled Pax to an outdoor patio set on display at the hardware store on the corner. He let the phone go to voicemail as he settled himself onto an uncomfortable but sturdy wrought iron chair. If he had to have this conversation, he wanted to be sitting down.

  Gently massaging his chest beneath the tensor, Dez tapped on Forbes’s number in his recent calls list and waited the single ring before the man picked up.

  Raynor wasn’t one to bother with niceties. He didn’t have much use for nice, period. “What’s going on with the investigation?”

  “We’re making progress,” Dez said. “I’d rather not discuss it in public though.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Taking the dog for a walk.”

  “Sounds about your speed.”

  If only he knew. “I told you I’d call once we had something to report. We’re not there yet.”

  “Still think it wasn’t accidental?”

  “Of course it wasn’t. We’ve already explained that to you.”

  “So have you got any suspects?”

  Dez rolled his eyes. “Again, we’ll call once we have something more concrete. We’re following a few leads. There’s no point me giving you a bunch of stuff that might not go anywhere.”

  “All right, Braddock. Get your panties untwisted. I was just checking.”

  “Well, don’t bother. We’re on it. As they say, ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you.’ ” Dez was about to end the call when something else occurred to him. “Hey, I was wondering. You’ve been around your wife quite a bit lately, right?”

  “Practically twenty-four-seven. Why?”

  “Has her family tried to contact her at all?”