Cast the Cards

by Shyla Colt

  No, gaining control of the situation wouldn’t be worth the friction it’d cause. She knew what she was doing, and her finger prints were all ready on it, so technically the evidence was already tampered with.

  “This is personal.” She turned to her bag, dug inside, and came out with a pair of gloves.

  “You carry them around with you?” He snickered. The noise eased the tension rapidly gathering like a storm.

  “This is my work bag.” The pop of latex made him grit his teeth. She worked the blue gloves onto her hand and carefully peeled back the layers of tissue. Rustles filled the air. Time slowed. He held his breath when the last piece was removed.

  “A card?” he asked. Was this a prank?

  “A Tarot Card.”

  She straightened, dug in her bag once more, and produced a small, gray voice recorder. Bending over the card without further disturbing it, she pressed play.

  “The suspects have sent me a Tarot Card, the Lovers. The interlocked male and female on the card have been personalized. He’s acquired pictures of his victims, Clark Carr and Savannah West, cut out their faces, and placed them on the male and female at the bottom of the card. The winged, angel-like creature with the body of a female and wings has had its face blacked out. Possibly, because it represents Clark, or because they hate love and females. At first glance I can’t tell if anything else has been altered. We’ll have to locate an original and compare. The removal of Clark’s heart makes sense now, because I got away. The note within the package tells me the Killers have been doing this a long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if their murders match the same amount of cards in the tarot deck.” She clicked pause.

  .

  He was impressed by her ability to compartmentalize. Despite the mental anguish she had to be going through, she remained professional. Her face was a mask of concentration and her eyes blazed with intensity and passion. I see why they call her Sheriff West. I wouldn’t want to be placed on the wrong end of her gun.

  “We need to call my people and see how they’d like to proceed. I know this is your jurisdiction, but it was sent to me personally. I’m going to request they let me proceed from here.”

  “Do you think they’ll agree?” Everything hinged on her answer.

  “I can be persuasive.”

  Okay that was kind of hot… in a scary, not-to-be-messed–with, woman kind of way.

  “I get the feeling this isn’t going to be their last present. They’ll want to recreate that event, which means returning to Dale.”

  “Why would they risk it?”

  “Because it’s their last hurrah. Getting caught is irrelevant. Completing their masterpiece is what matters.”

  “I don’t get that.”

  “These killings are their life’s purpose. The same way we feel about our jobs and bringing justice is the way they feel about murder… I’m just not sure why yet.”

  “What do you need to figure it out?”

  “Time, analysis… more information. I’ve already begun to draw up a profile, but I need to dig deeper, search the database to see if I can get any hits on similar murders.”

  “You think you see a pattern?”

  “They talked a lot about fortune… I see a white male. Two actually. Close, maybe even family members. They’d need to have near identical upbringings. This obsession with the Tarot is very strange, even by my standards.”

  “That’s not reassuring.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be. It’s a ticking time bomb. We need to defuse before it explodes.”

  “What’s the first step?”

  “I’ll call my people.” She pushed away from the table. “I know this goes without saying, but don’t let anyone touch this.” She dug her phone from her Mary Poppins bag on the counter. “I’m going to take this outside.”

  He nodded and watched her leave. “Clark, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I could use some guidance right now.”

  “Hey.”

  Carey jumped. Clark stood to his right. “Can’t you give a warning or something?” Ghost Clark creeped him out slightly. The apprehension made him feel bad. Come on, it’s my brother.

  “Like what? The whole angel and bell thing is a myth.”

  “So you’re an angel?”Awe filled him as he studied the face similar to his, but frozen in time.

  “Uh-uh.” Clark shook his finger. “I can’t go into details. I was just using that reference as an example.”

  “Why can’t you talk about anything?” He frowned. Sounds suspect. Had he gone rogue to do this? Risked being banished from the afterlife?

  “You aren’t meant to know too much.” Clark looked up. “They don’t like it. Change the subject or this will be cut short.”

  “I don’t know what to do with Savannah.” He ran a hand over his face.

  “Umm... help her solve this case.” The expression on Clark’s face said duh.

  “Obviously. I mean how to act. She’s putting up a great front, but I know she’s hurting. Do I treat her strictly as a partner or as a friend? We’re walking very narrow lines here.”

  “What do you think?” Clark tilted his head.

  “I think she’ll always be Vannah to me. However, I don’t want to piss her off. If I did something to jeopardize this investigation, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

  “Sometimes you have to rock the boat to get where you need to be.” Easy to say when you weren’t the one doing the rocking.

  Oka,y Buddha. “I asked for advice not cryptic comments.”

  Clark sighed. “She needs to be challenged.”

  “Have you seen the guns on her these days?”

  Clark laughed. “Are you going to tell me you’re scared of Vannah?”

  “I’m not, but my penis is. She looks like the kind to bring you to your knees with a strategically placed kick, followed by a right hook. My balls hurt just thinking about it.”

  All humor faded. “She’d never hurt you, Carey.” His fast-paced switch of gears made Carey wary. To have been dead for so long, he seemed to know a lot.

  “How can you know that? I need an answer of substance this time. Because the whole cloak and dagger bit is getting old, and not helping me whatsoever.

  “I can see through to heart.”

  The words rang true. “You always could,” Carey whispered. The two had an uncanny connection that kept them on the same page more often than not. It reminded him of the link they possessed as twins.

  “You could too if you tried,” Clark insisted.

  Carey snorted. “I might be in a uniform, but I still crash and burn in every relationship I attempt.”

  “Maybe because they weren’t the right women.”

  “Oh no, trust me, they were right.” He smiled at the memories.

  “Maybe to the small head in your pants.”

  “Damn, all this time and you’re still a buzz kill.” Carey grinned. The familiar banter was a balm to his fractured soul. He’d never felt right… whole since Clark died.

  “And you’re still hard-headed and stubborn.”

  “That was a trait we both shared.”

  Clark smiled. “I know, but I choose to use mine for good.”

  “Boring.” His singsong voice took him back to childhood. “I’ve missed you so much, Clark.” When he left the mystic behind it was almost like old times. Not that he could ever forget he was dead.

  “I know.” Clark placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “After this is done I’ll never see you again, will I?” he whispered.

  “Not for a long, long time.”

  Carey nodded.

  “I have to go, but remember this. The old Vannah is still in there. She needs to tap back into that. Remember who she was, and who we were.”

  “I don’t understand what that has to do with this case.”

  “Trust me?”

  “Always.”

  “Then do whatever you need to do to make that happen, Carey. The men after you are some of the w
orst evil I’ve seen.”

  The words made him slightly sick to his stomach.

  “I’m not sure… there are things I can’t remember. Bad memories they took away when I crossed over. So I wouldn’t have to bear the burden. “

  “It’s okay, Clark. I’m glad you don’t remember. You shouldn’t have to.” He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder to reassure him.

  Clark cast a longing gaze at the door.

  “You can wait until she comes back,” Carey said.

  “Why? She won’t even look at me.” Clark glanced down.

  “You know why. Don’t you?” Carey hunched down, forcing his brother to look up. This is the least I can do for him.

  “Guilt.”

  “Oh brother, you still haven’t seen what was right in front of you. She loved you, Clark.”

  “W-what? No… she couldn’t have.” His eyes were as round as bowling balls. .

  “Yes, Savannah Marie West is so in love with you it’s disgusting.”

  “Is?” Clark looked almost hopeful.

  “There hasn’t been anyone else, Clark.”

  “What!”

  Now he’s getting it. “She’s been single this entire time as far as I can tell.”

  “Bullshit.” Clark stepped away.

  “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

  “Now is not the time!”

  “Not the time for what?” Savannah asked.

  They turned as one in that way they had mastered from the moment they came from the womb.

  “To… get personal,” Carey covered.

  “What’s going on here?” Savannah crossed her arms beneath her breasts and frowned.

  “Just twin talk,” Clark said.

  “Why do I feel like you’re lying?” The unimpressed expression on her face was all too familiar.

  You wanted her to look at you, little brother. She’s definitely doing that now.

  “I—we—things between us are just so unfinished.” Clark stumbled over his words like an adorable high-schooler talking to his first crush.

  Savannah ducked her head. “Yeah, they are.”

  “Later?” Clark whispered. The unspoken communication that passed between them humbled Carey. This is what true love looks like. Even after all this time they operated on the same wavelength. Her normally cold eyes were warm and her body language had changed entirely. All it took to make her remember the good times was Clark. Carey could just step out of the equation altogether. The thought smarted.

  “Yes… its time.” Savannah looked up. All traces of vulnerability were smoothed back into the emotionless mask she wore. “But now we get the ball rolling. I have control over the operation at the moment. My people agree staying here is in the best interest of the case. Since I’m their point of contact, I have leave. It goes without saying. One whiff of emotional compromise, and I’ll be yanked off this thing faster than you can bat an eye.”

  “Where do we start?” Carey asked.

  “Show me to the lab. The proper paperwork is being typed up. They should be calling your Captain.”

  “That’s my cue. I’ll be around.” Clark disappeared once more.

  “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.” Carey shook his head. Just when he adapted to Clark’s return, he pulled a stunt like that and he was straddling the line between freaked out and happy to have his brother back.

  “Yeah, me either.” The visible pain was washed away when she blinked.

  The three of them were the walking wounded. It was time they received closure in more ways than catching a killer.

  ***

  Clark left them but the apprehension stayed. He’d petitioned for this, the right to come back and guide them now that the killers were back. Hanging on to your past was frowned upon. It kept you from fully assimilating and leaving behind earthly things.

  He figured Carey and Vannah must be pretty important for them to even care. Lives weren’t predestined the way people thought. Free will cut short plans. Warped and changed the best-laid paths. It was rare that they’d step in and change the course of things. He wanted to know more, but it was one of the stipulations of returning. As were keeping his mouth closed about the afterlife and remaining in the dark about what was going on. The temptation to alter things might be too great.

  He ran a hand through his hair.

  It was lonely here in the in-between. Most spirits who lingered around these parts were angry or worse, dark. He missed his friends. Think of it as being a secret agent. The concept did nothing to ease his pain. Vannah was even more beautiful than he remembered her. The gangly limbs of youth had gained curves. Her round face had slimmed and matured. It was very different from the one he remembered. He’d wasted all the time hiding his feelings because he was terrified he’d ruin their friendship. Today, he’d do anything to go back and tell her. The next time we’re alone together, I’ll come clean.

  Decision made, he shoved his hands into his pockets and wandered into the twilight.

  Chapter Four

  Savannah blinked, wincing at the gritty feel of sand behind her lids. She’d been scouring over the databases and come up empty-handed. The search was still too broad. Time to take a break.

  Since she’d officially reopened the case they’d set her up in Carey’s office. Being confined in a small space with him was strange. It wasn’t a situation she was prepared for. In one swoop she’d gone from running away from Carey and Clark to running beside them.

  Clark. Even as an apparition he had the same effect on her. Caring, sensitive, and quirky, the man—ghost—whatever the hell he was made her melt. Her body didn’t seem to differentiate the difference between alive and not, and the constant arousal was driving her to distraction. Frustrated, she pushed away from the desk.

  “You okay?” Carey’s concerned voice caressed her in places long-ignored. Her self-imposed celibacy was on shaky ground.

  “Yeah, I just need,” she gestured toward the door, “air.”

  “Sure, take your time. You’ve been at the computer for a while. Why don’t you pack it in for the night?”

  A glance down at the black sports watch on her wrist told her it was almost midnight. Keeping things simple, she’d told her parents she had a case in Dale she couldn’t talk to them about. No sense in forcing them to relive the horror a second earlier than they had to. They seemed excited to have her home for a bit, and were respectful of her wishes. Though she hated to admit it, it was nice having the both of best worlds. Family closeby and her job.

  “You know what? I think I will.” Closing out of the databases, she logged out, locked her computer, and shut it down. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Come in late. You look like you could use some sleep.”

  Inside, the words made her flinch. No woman wanted to hear she looked like shit. On the outside she smiled.

  “We’ll see.” She lifted her bag from across the back of her chair, placed it over her shoulders, and left.

  She waved at Rodriguez who was manning the front desk.

  “You out of here for the night?” the caramel skinned woman asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Have a good one.”

  “You too.” Fifteen minutes later she was in her bedroom stripping off her sports coat and draping it on the arm of her computer chair.

  “Vannah?”

  The soft spoken words startled her. She spun to face a bashful-looking Clark. Her hormones surged and she silently cursed her biological make-up. Technically he was still twenty-on,e which made her a bit of a cougar. The thought thrilled her instead of dissuaded. Fuck.

  “Clark.” Awkwardness set in and she shifted her weight. “H-How are you?” She forced herself to look at him, boxing with the urge to look away. Seeing him still felt wrong, and interacting with him made her feel a bit crazy. It wasn’t so bad when Carey was there to act as a buffer. The irony of the role reversal didn’t escape her. Carey had never been the one she went to for com
fort or understanding.

  “I’ve been better.”

  The hint of sadness she picked up on cut through her internal cluster-fuck. He’d suffered atrocities straight out of Saw in life, only to come back to warn them and be tortured in the process.

  “What’s wrong?” Whatever form he took he was still Clark, her best friend and the potential love of her life that got away. She couldn’t let him bleed out if she could patch the wound. She walked over to stand beside the six-foot-one male. Reaching out a hand, she stopped millimeters from touching his arm, snatching it back before it made contact. Can I even touch him?

  “We’ve left things unsaid between us for far too long.”

  No, please don’t do thi,s Clark. It’ll make your leaving even more painful.

  “Don’t.”

  “I’m sorry, Savannah. I have to.” He used my full name— he isn’t going to back down.

  “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “There were things I kept from you, Vannah. I was afraid.”

  “Why? You were my best friend. Nothing you said would’ve made me see you any differently.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  “Clark. You’re scaring me.”

  He gave her a small smile, ran a finger down the side of her face. The touch was real albeit a little cool. She closed her eyes, leaned into savor the feel of his flesh against her own with a chill that had nothing to do with temperature. She opened her eyes only to be snared by the blue-green jewels full to the brim with emotion. This is so wrong.

  “I love you.”

  Her mouth flopped open and closed. “Wait—what?”

  “I should’ve told you back then. I hid it for years. Played the best friend when what I wanted to be was your everything, I knew we were meant to be after your eighteenth birthday. You were wearing this peach dress that stopped at your knees. It took my breath away. Jason Mclaren was giving you the eye the whole party. The minute you turned your attention to someone else I took him aside and pretty much told him if he even tried to talk to you Carey and I would make his life … unpleasant.”

  “Clark,” she gasped. Her pulse raced. Joy bubbled to the surface like the fizz in soda.