by H. P. Bayne
“So? What’s wrong with that?”
Dez studied Sully another moment, before wrapping an arm around him and giving a squeeze. “Nothing, bro. I’m happy for you. You deserve this.”
Sully patted Dez’s leg. “Thanks, D.” The smile fell away gradually. “Unfortunately, we’ve got less-happy things to focus on now, so let’s get to it. Sarah told me we only have until five. We can come back tomorrow, but I want to get as much done today as possible.”
Dez smirked and gave Sully’s back a solid clap. “Come on. You know damn well you’re thrilled about the idea of coming back here tomorrow.”
Sully’s smug expression was his silent way of not denying it.
Dez left the typing to Sully. While neither of them was much good at the keyboard, Sully was more experienced at internet research than Dez was. Dez sat back, letting Sully go to it while remaining in a position to check out anything he turned up.
A couple of minutes in, any lingering smile Sully had possessed was long gone. “Sarah was right. All I’ve seen so far are articles about people being sentenced for murder.”
“Terms have to be exact, right? Maybe try ‘murder’ instead of ‘murdered’ or something.”
“I have. I’ve tried both, but same thing.”
“Let’s try something easier,” Dez said. “Let’s start running names of the people executed and the guards who were killed. If nothing else, we can figure out some details about them.”
Sully nodded and changed his search terms. For the next hour, they ran down each of the names, printing off articles without bothering to read them. Not yet, anyway. That much they could do once they left the newspaper office.
Not all of the names came connected to a large write-up. A handful of the historic executions, while covered by the paper, hadn’t generated a lot of ink. Plenty of modern-day cases—the vast majority, in fact—went without media attention, Dez knew. While newspaper resources were more plentiful in the past, no doubt loads of crimes hadn’t garnered much public attention—even ones that would eventually be addressed with capital punishment. Execution was a big deal and would have been covered in some capacity each time. But details of the offences and of the offenders weren’t always provided—possibly for no better reason than the newspaper didn’t have them. This was probably especially true for crimes committed outside the city, whose offenders had also met their fates at Pineview.
At the end of the hour, they’d located and printed off articles on all but nine of the executions, and they’d found stories about the riots where the guards had been killed.
Sarah returned promptly at five. “You guys doing okay?”
“As well as to be expected,” Dez said. “You’re right. It’s a bit of a mess.”
“So you’ll be back tomorrow?” she asked.
Sully nodded. Despite the frustrations of the past hour and a half, he didn’t look anywhere near as put out about the idea of returning tomorrow as Dez felt.
“We could all go for lunch somewhere tomorrow if you’re around then,” she said. “As long as you’re paying your own way.” She eyed Dez, meaningfully. “I’ve never seen anyone eat as much as you and still stay in shape.”
“I’m a big boy.”
“You’re not kidding.”
Sully patted Dez on the chest. “Luckily, everything he eats goes straight to his fat head.”
Dez grabbed Sully in a headlock and ruffled up his hair, leaving him to fuss over it while Dez addressed a laughing Sarah. “Don’t worry. Lunch will be on me. Two of you eat like birds, anyway.”
One parting kiss between the happy couple later, Dez and Sully headed outside and back to the vehicle.
“Why don’t you come to my place for the evening?” Dez suggested. “It will give us time to go through this mess.” He held up the chunk of papers and flapped them between them.
“I guess so, yeah.”
“Not into that plan?”
Sully scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know where this is going to get us realistically, is all. I mean, sure, we can find out more about all of these people, but how is this going to help us narrow down who’s in that cell and what they need to cross over?”
Dez shrugged. He had no idea. Short of concrete answers, researching seemed like the only option they had—even if it wasn’t an entirely great option. If nothing else, it felt as if they were at least doing something, which beat sitting around and waiting for a long night of ducking both numerous ghosts and a crew of obnoxious TV personalities. Dez had to admit to harbouring a hope they’d figure this out beforehand, thereby cutting back on the time they’d need to spend inside. Get in, get rid of a nasty ghost, then leave everyone else to do their thing relatively risk-free.
Unfortunately, it seemed less and less likely they’d be able to pull it off.
By the time they called it a night, Sully was slumped sideways on Dez and Eva’s downstairs sofa, asleep amid a handful of papers while Dez nursed a hell of a headache.
Dez picked up and straightened the articles, placing them on the coffee table. Thinking better of it, he took them over to the TV stand and put them in one of the drawers. Out of sight, out of mind. He’d rather Sully slept than started digging through them again in the middle of the night. If they were going into the situation blind—which increasingly appeared to be the case—Dez wanted Sully rested and alert. If he wasn’t at the top of his game in there, it could lead to significant problems.
Dez lifted Sully’s legs onto the couch, covered him with an afghan, and flipped off the lamps. Pax the dog, curled up at the end of the sofa, awoke briefly as Dez brushed past but made no move to follow. Dez patted him on the head and made his way upstairs from the basement.
Eva was curled up on the main floor couch with a cup of tea and a book. Dez flopped down next to her, before lowering his head purposefully into her lap.
“Rub my head?”
She glared down at him. “I’m in the middle of an exciting scene.”
“Then you’re doing better than I am.”
Eva chuckled and placed the book to the side. Dez made a humming sound as Eva began to massage his temples and scalp.
“Your blood pressure’s up again,” she said.
“Tell me about it.”
She smiled down at him. “That’s my line.”
He told her, filling her in on the job and what they were up against. “So Sully’s got no idea who this ghost is, and we’re not any closer to finding out,” Dez said. “Which means when we go back in, we’re flying blind.”
“You’ve done that before, and you’ve gotten by.”
Dez sighed. “I haven’t said this to him, but I’ll tell you. I’m worried. I feel like the ghosts he’s been getting lately are nastier somehow. Not all of them, but plenty are.”
Eva’s fingers massaged at a spot on the crown of Dez’s head. “I’m sure the thought has crossed his mind too. Kind of hard for him, of all people, to miss.”
“Yeah, no doubt,” Dez said. “Thing is, though, it’s the attacks on him that bother me.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“They’ve become more frequent over the past couple of years. Part of it’s to do with the nature of the cases, I know. Still, it scares the crap out of me. Not just because ghosts are involved, but because I’m the one who’s supposed to make it stop. What if I can’t one day? Then what?”
Eva’s hand shifted, fingertips rubbing along one side of his scalp while her thumb squeezed gently on the other side. “First of all, Sully’s a lot stronger than he used to be. Could be he’s getting thrown tougher cases because he’s tougher himself. As for you, you’ve never not been able to step in. Why do you think you won’t be able to later?”
Dez tried to shrug though it was difficult, pressed against Eva’s legs.
She gave him another reassuring smile. “Marc Echoles told me something when he was explaining the whole aura-reading thing he can do. Once he finished describing me and Kayleigh, he told
me what he sees in you. You’re a protector, Dez. You always have been. It’s who you are and not just because you’re built for it physically. You’ve always looked out for people. It’s what drew you to police work and now private investigation. It’s sure as hell what’s made you so incredibly annoying as a husband, a dad, a son and a brother.” She smirked, revealing she meant the final statement to be taken lightly.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“You know what I’m saying. Marc told me the reason you and Sully work so well together is that Sully’s made to take on some hard stuff in the spirit world. He can handle a lot of it himself, and he does a really good job of it. But sometimes, he needs help. That’s where you come in. It’s where you’ve always come in.
“I believe in fate, in certain things being preordained for us. It’s how I know you and I found each other. And I think it’s how Sully came into your family. This is part of the reason, Dez. Whatever powers exist out there, they made you so you’re fully capable of being the backup Sully needs.”
Dez gave another sigh as Eva’s fingers continued to ease away tension. “This whole prison thing, it’s really putting me off,” he said. “We’re not just talking one really bad ghost—we’re talking a whole place full of them. Sure, we’re there for one in particular, but I’m worried about what being in that place for too long will do to Sully. He needs to be operating at one hundred per cent in there, and I’m worried he won’t be after a few hours around all of that negativity.”
“You need to give both of you more credit,” Eva said. “I’m not going to deny I’m worried about this too. I am. But I also have complete faith in the two of you—separately and together. You’re a great team, Dez. If things get bad in there, remember that and hold onto it. And for God’s sake, call me. Okay?”
He reached up, hooked his fingers around the back of her neck and pulled her gently down so he could kiss her. “How the hell’d I get so lucky as to find you?”
“Not luck,” she said, touching a finger to the end of his nose. “Fate.”
He grinned.
She patted his chest. “Okay. Feel better? Time for bed.”
His smile widened.
She shook her head and shoved him up, off her lap. “Nope. Head out of the gutter, Snowman. I’ve got a really early shift.”
Dez helped her shut off the lights, then trailed after her up the stairs. “I think fate’s telling us to have a little fun tonight.”
“Just for tonight, fate can go to hell,” Eva replied.
11
The following day passed as Dez feared it would, the only real breaks coming courtesy of Sarah’s occasional visits to check in on them and their lunch together.
By the end of it, they had another pile of papers about various homicides that had happened in the prison, but plenty of stories were sparse on detail. Dez guessed prisons were once able to play cards a lot closer to their chests, prior to the mandating of all in-custody deaths being subject to coroner’s inquests. What it meant, for their purposes, was they were no further ahead in determining who might have been murdered on death row.
They’d done their best to track down identities for death row inmates, but the problem became more complicated the deeper they dug. Dez hadn’t considered the reality of prison transfers, for example. It wasn’t until one article revealed a condemned criminal had been sent to Pineview from another province for execution that Dez was forced to accept they might never have a complete picture.
As the afternoon neared an end, Sarah regretfully added another nail to the coffin.
“We do have access to the archives of other papers in our chain, but I can’t imagine how much longer you’d need to work to dig through all of those besides,” she said.
Sully’s dejection showed, and Sarah closed the remaining distance so she could massage the back of his neck and shoulders.
She leaned over and whispered in Sully’s ear—although the proximity to Dez meant he heard her as well. “Why don’t you come over tonight for a bit, put all of this out of your mind?”
“Uh, guys?” Dez said with a wave. “Still here.”
Sully laughed. “So plug your ears.” He turned to gaze up into Sarah’s face. “Sounds great.”
“We could pick up something to eat on the way back, find a movie to watch,” she suggested.
“And then not watch,” Dez said. “Yeah, I know how this goes.” Or at least, he used to. Lately, his and Eva’s work schedules hadn’t been overly conducive to romance, and he was getting frustrated. Even so, he was happy for Sully. As far as he was concerned, a night in with Sarah, away from thoughts of ghosts and murdered inmates and guards, was exactly what Sully needed.
What Dez needed, he wasn’t so sure.
As another unhelpful day ended, Dez saw Sully and Sarah off at the door, then took this latest pile of paper with him to his SUV. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he had a thought.
He pulled up Marc Echoles’s cellphone number from his contacts and dialled, hoping he wasn’t in the middle of something.
Marc picked up on the second ring. “Desmond. How are you?”
“I could use a chat, if you’ve got the time.”
“For you, of course. I’m headed home. I’ll be back there in about twenty minutes. Come over anytime.”
Dez thanked him, disconnected and texted Eva to make sure she’d gotten home. Their nine-year-old daughter Kayleigh went to a neighbour’s after school, until either Dez or Eva got home, and he wanted to make sure Eva wasn’t stuck on OT. Their neighbours had been stuck making dinner for Kayleigh more than once.
But Eva was home.
Go talk to Marc, she texted back. It’s a good idea.
Thanks babe, he responded.
He dropped the phone into one of the centre console cupholders and set a course for Marc’s.
Marc lived in an old stone house near the university, one of numerous residences in this area that had been built around the same time and using similar building materials as the campus itself.
An old neighbourhood, it possessed beautiful homes and mature trees. Property prices were off the charts, and few professors could afford a place near the university anymore. Luckily, Marc—who was edging closer to retirement—and his wife had bought years ago. She’d apparently had a well-paying job and great life insurance, enabling Marc to keep the place after she’d passed away from cancer years ago. Though Dez hadn’t known her, given the way Marc talked about Mariel—and given the kind of guy Marc was—Dez knew he would have liked her.
When Dez reached the front door, Marc was waiting for him with an extended hand. Dez shook, then brushed past him as Marc held the door.
Inside was as classic as the outside, Marc and Mariel having opted to keep as many of the home’s original features as possible. As a result, entering was like stepping into the nineteen twenties.
Dez started to remove his shoes, but Marc waved him off.
“I haven’t swept the floors in a while,” he said. “Come to the kitchen. I’m making us a little something to eat.”
Dez could smell it from here. No idea what Marc was cooking, but it smelled great.
“Sullivan?” Marc asked as he led Dez through the house.
Dez wasn’t sure if Marc was asking where Sully was or assuming he was the purpose of Dez’s visit. For now, Dez went with the former.
“He’s at his girlfriend’s.”
“Ah. The lovely Sarah.”
“You’ve met her.”
“He brought her by for a visit a couple of times. Lovely lady. She’s good for him.”
“Yeah, she is.”
In the kitchen, Marc ushered Dez onto one of the stools at the island. Marc had set up a cutting board there, and he went about chopping vegetables while he talked. “I take it she’s not the source of your problem, then.” He glanced up at Dez and flashed a knowing smile. “It’s clear to me something’s bothering you.”
Dez returned the smile. There had been a time w
hen Marc’s gift had creeped him out. He’d gotten past it—mostly. “Yeah, you’ve read me right. And it’s definitely not Sarah.”
He gave Marc a rundown of the case they were on and the job they’d be expected to perform tomorrow night.
“We’ve been researching like crazy, trying to find out everything we can ahead of time, but it’s a mammoth task,” Dez concluded. “We’re not going to put a face to this ghost before we have to head back over there. We’re just as blind going back in as we were leaving the other day.”
“And you’re worried about Sullivan.”
“He couldn’t breathe. Even had strangulation marks on his throat.”
“Scary,” Marc agreed. He tipped his head, holding eye contact. “But you pulled him out.”
Dez nodded. “I feel like I’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
Another knowing smile, although one with no humour behind it. “He’s very powerful, so he attracts powerful spirits.”
“Why is this one so much stronger than others we’ve dealt with?”
“I have a further monkey wrench to throw at you. Could it be the spirit you’re tangling with isn’t one but multiple?”
Though Dez wasn’t sure where this was going, he knew damned well he wasn’t going to like it. “What do you mean, multiple?”
Marc finished with one carrot, then scooped the pieces into a cast iron pan before starting on the next. “Place like Pineview, multiple deaths, all of that fear and rage. I could envision a scenario where all of that spirit juice combines to form one big, bad wall of energy. Might be it even possesses consciousness and an ability to make choices. If that’s the case, he’ll be needing to cross over not one, but multiple ghosts.”
“That sure as hell doesn’t make me feel better.”
Marc stopped chopping a carrot to fully study Dez. “We’ve all talked a lot about Sullivan’s gift over the years, but we haven’t talked much about yours.”
Dez raised a brow. “Mine? I don’t have one.”
“Not all gifts are purely psychic in nature. Your gift is your compassion, your protective nature, your willingness to put yourself between other people and threats. Your courage and strength. Yes, Sullivan’s gift has evolved and grown more powerful, but so has yours. The colours of your aura attached to that part of you are brighter than ever before.”