Downtime

by Tamara Allen

  I had a feeling I hadn’t heard the last of it from either Kathleen or Derry. They were protective of Ezra, and I hadn’t brought him home in the best shape. Pale, bruised, and exhausted, he was nearly falling asleep, the teacup in his hand precariously close to tipping onto the quilt. I took it from him and he started awake.

  “Hey, it’s okay.” I gave him a quick kiss and handed him the ice pack. “Get some sleep. God knows you’ve earned it.”

  He collapsed wearily onto the pillows. “Don’t you intend to?”

  “Sure. Just as soon as I write a few things down.”

  He yawned. “Do all FBI agents keep such dreadful hours?”

  I dug through his desk for another scrap of paper. “Nah, usually I’m in bed at ten and up with the sun, bright and ready for each new day.” I threw a glance over at Ezra and grinned. “Sully’s not here, is he?”

  “No, but I am quite capable of being skeptical on his behalf.”

  I laughed. “Dead tired and you’re still beating me up.” As I settled on the bed, I took the other gooey cinnamon roll. “Consider this revenge.”

  “Kathleen will never forgive you,” he said around another yawn and closed his eyes. As he drifted toward sleep, I ate his cinnamon roll and started a new case file with a scrap of paper from his desk. Sighing at the lack of laptops and pocket cameras, I wrote down everything I could remember. As I folded my file and tucked it near the bedside lamp, I caught a pensive gaze watching me over the swell of the pillow. My first thought was not a pleasant one. “She didn’t follow us home?” I was whispering again, though I felt sure ghosts could hear even a breath of sound if they wanted to.

  “She may as well have.”

  I knew where he was coming from. I had a few horrific images lurking in my head from crime scenes, images I hadn’t been able to shake even years later. “The other murders you’ve investigated with the police, you were never at the crime scenes, I’m guessing.”

  “No, the police ordinarily ask for my help when they’ve exhausted other means of finding their man. It was some months after the murders that anyone came to me and it was a matter of luck that I was able to assist them. Not every murdered spirit lingers here. Some find the strength to go on.”

  “The spirits you did see….”

  “Were nothing like this. Of course it would not have occurred to her that I might be frightened to see her in the aspect of her death, because her own terror consumed her so.” Remorse lined his tired face. “I can’t recall saying a word. I only remember running from the sight of her.”

  I didn’t want his terror consuming him. He might need to talk about what he’d seen, but it could wait until the rational, reassuring light of day. I moved closer and snaked my arms around him, pressing a comforting kiss on his cheek. “You reacted exactly like anyone would under the circumstances. If she’d popped up in front of me like that, I’d have run like a jackrabbit,” I finished with a faint grin. “So don’t beat yourself up. You’ve had one hell of a day.”

  “Interesting day.” Nearly asleep, he’d lost the ice pack as his grip on it loosened. I took the pack and held it to his cheek myself.

  “Ez?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re a good guy?”

  Brown-gold lashes fluttered as he tried to wake enough to process that unexpected question. Finally he smiled sleepily. “Derry,” he murmured. “And Charlotte.”

  “Add me to the list.” I put my hand over his, to discover fingers chilled to the bone. Deciding we’d had enough of the ice pack, I dumped it onto the empty plate and hauled the quilt higher over us both. I rubbed his icy hand between mine, then blew a hot breath over his fingers, which won me a questioning murmur. “You’re a Popsicle,” I whispered. “Come here.”

  I wrapped an arm around him, which was all the encouragement he needed to practically crawl on top of me and tuck his head under mine. Even if it was only a semiconscious quest for body heat on Ezra’s part, I found it agreeable. Usually when a physical attraction gained an emotional edge, it set off my internal alarms. But Ezra and I had been through a long day and even longer night in an ugly area of town, dealt with arrest and police brutality, and after he’d endured something that would have had even a few street-hardened agents bringing up their lunch, he’d been ready to follow me through more of the same. Bonds always developed under those circumstances and, coupled with the physical attraction we hadn’t been able to ignore, what was happening between us had turned more intense than I’d planned on.

  I couldn’t afford to become any more attached; the problem was, I didn’t want to avoid him. In fact, I wished he weren’t so dead tired because, as beat as I was, I wanted him. I wanted to do everything we’d done the night before, and then some.

  “Ez?”

  “Mmm?”

  “No problem going to sleep now?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Good. Because you know, if you have any trouble, you can count on me to help you out. Just say the word and I’m your man—”

  “Morgan, do shut up.”

  I grinned in the darkness. Maybe tomorrow morning, then.

  Chapter 16

  But I woke up well past noon—and alone—and mused that maybe, thanks to me, Ezra had found religion and gone to church with everyone else. Rising, I bathed and dressed and went downstairs to hunt for some sign of life or, at the very least, lunch. A sleepy-eyed Hannah was seated at the kitchen table with an open bible in front of her, but I had a feeling that before I’d walked in, she’d been using it as a pillow.

  When she started to get up, I waved her back. I knew my way around the kitchen well enough to come up with eggs, toast, and coffee. Hannah watched me like a hawk, dubious at first, but impressed by the time I sat down across from her to eat.

  “I ain’t never seen a gent cook his own breakfast,” she remarked, leaning thin, dirty elbows on the Good Book. “Your mum teach you?”

  “She tried. The rest, I picked up on my own, out of necessity.” When Hannah looked confused, I explained, “I lived on my own. It was either cook or starve.”

  “Mr. Cotton and Mr. Tenpenny, they sup at their clubs when they don’t sup at home.”

  “Marry a guy who knows how to cook,” I told her with a grin. “That way, you’ll never have to.”

  Borrowing some cocoa powder from her, I broke the seal on my evidence bag and eased out the tin, setting it on a handkerchief. As I poured the powder onto a piece of paper I’d brought down with me, Hannah leaned across the table in puzzled fascination.

  “I’m dusting for fingerprints,” I told her and explained the process as I went step by step with my primitive materials. The only thing resembling lifting tape I had was a piece of cellophane tape I’d wrapped around my cell phone when I’d dropped it once too often and broke the battery casing. Hoping I hadn’t already covered it with my own prints, I carefully unwound it and found enough clear space to lift two prints and transfer them to the paper. Both were partials but worth hanging on to, if I came up with comparison samples—and I could eliminate the victim’s prints, which wasn’t too likely. It would mean a trip to the morgue and talking my way into viewing the body, and no one had any reason to let me do that.

  After packing up my evidence, I went in search of Ezra. In the garden, I found Derry on his knees in a flower bed, pulling weeds. There was an unusually serious light in the brown eyes regarding me from under the wide straw brim of his hat. “You’ve eaten? Kathleen said I was to be sure you had a bite.”

  “I did. Thanks, Derry.” I sat on the end of the bench that bordered the flower bed and scanned the garden, then saw Ezra snoozing in the hammock under a pair of shady oaks. “Is he doing all right?”

  Derry rose with a grunt and sat beside me. He shucked off his gloves and gazed across the lawn. It occurred to me that he was angry about last night, after all. I had difficulty imagining Derry ever really angry, but he and Ezra were close. He could probably get pretty pissed on Ezra’s behal
f.

  “Did he tell you about yesterday?” I ventured, wondering if I should take a shot at explaining what I’d been thinking. Or that I hadn’t been.

  “He did. You know, it’s a terrible power you have over him. He’s taken you from home and family and he feels it keenly—so much that he would let you lead him a merry chase if you but asked.”

  “You think I took advantage of that.”

  “I think you meant no harm,” he said without hesitation. “I know you’ve the desire to see justice done. It’s a good heart you have, at odds with a hard head,” he added, softening the assessment with an affectionate grin. “It’s a failing of my own, if you’ll ask Kathleen. But you and I, we’ve only to contend with ourselves and each other. The Lord’s entrusted Ezra with a wider circle of souls to look after, which is why, I think, we’re meant to do a little more looking after him.” Derry leaned forearms on his knees and idly beat the gloves together, sending a cloud of dirt into the air. “I’m that glad to see the two of you have called a truce.”

  I read in his sidelong glance a suspicion that we’d done more than shake hands and promise to play nice. I didn’t know what Ezra had told him, so I smiled noncommittally. “We’re tolerating each other.”

  He chuckled. “It’s a fair sort of tolerance when a man can relate an adventure like the two of you undertook, with nary a downcast note in the telling of it.”

  “You know Ezra. He takes things in stride.”

  Derry was quiet, waiting for me to stop acting like an asshole. Now seemed like a good time. I blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not happy with me. I’m not too happy with myself.” I looked him in the eye, hating the troubled expression I saw there. “I’ll take better care of him. It won’t happen again.”

  Derry nodded soberly. “Whatever you may think of Ezra, he’s come to like you. And to trust you. I won’t have him hurt nor come to harm. He’s weathered enough.”

  I’d never enjoyed it when Sully was pissed at me, genuinely pissed as opposed to generally fed up, and I found myself not liking Derry’s wrath either, even though it was way more low-key than Sully’s. And he was right. Ezra wasn’t an agent. He had no business prowling crime scenes with me. “I like Ezra too. Even if it doesn’t really look like it,” I added with a wry grimace. “Give me another chance?”

  Derry’s eyes warmed as he put an arm around my shoulders. “There now, I’ve told Ezra not to give advice to constables that much bigger than he, nor to give you your way so much, no matter the devilish smile you call up to coax him. Besides, I cannot fault you all around. I never saw him in such good cheer as he was this morn. You’ve a knack for scaring off his ghosts.”

  I had a knack for a little more than that, but I couldn’t give Derry the details. I didn’t think he would throw me out, but it would be another secret he’d have to keep from his sister. I’d caused enough of a problem already in that regard.

  If Ezra felt guilty for worrying Kathleen and Derry, he had made up for it by spending the morning helping with the yard work. Coat and vest hung on a tree branch, and the hands folded over his white shirt were brown with dirt. He looked so peaceful I almost hated to wake him. “That’s the trouble with you early birds. You crash and burn by four o’clock.”

  He opened his eyes long enough to throw me an exasperated glance. “Go away.”

  “Is that nice?” I sat on the hammock, setting it rocking. “First, I’m scolded by Derry for not looking after you properly and now you’re telling me to get lost when there’s plenty of room in this hammock for two.”

  “Sunday is a day of rest and I am not chasing after….” He opened his eyes and an intrigued smile touched his lips. “Derry’s scolded you?”

  “He called me hardheaded.”

  Ezra choked on laughter that caught him off guard. “Oh dear. How terribly observant of him. Have you had any breakfast?”

  “Yeah. How come you didn’t wake me?”

  “You were so peaceful, I didn’t have the heart.”

  I grinned unrepentantly. “You’re a better man than I. How’re you feeling?” I leaned down to get a close look at his bruise. “Still hurting?”

  “I’m perfectly all right.” He studied my face with none too subtle interest. “You haven’t shaved.”

  “Takes too damned long.”

  “Still a little wary of the blade, are we?”

  “Yeah, you would be too, if you’d had as little practice as I’ve had.”

  He leaned on his elbows, which put him near enough to kiss; but I was too conscious of the windows just behind us. “I don’t mind assisting you,” he offered, “until you feel confident you’ve got it in hand.”

  “Aren’t you the soul of generosity?” I eyed him knowingly. “Gets you going, doesn’t it?”

  “Gets me going?”

  I brushed my fingers along the underside of his wrist and he sucked in an audible breath. “Gets me going,” he agreed, catching my hand as if he couldn’t stand to break contact.

  “You know, I could use a little assist with the shaving. Come upstairs?”

  “And I thought you were merely single-minded in your work,” he said, amused but unresisting as I hauled him out of the hammock.

  He hadn’t yet seen just how single-minded I could be. We still had to traverse the house and make it to Ezra’s room, a challenge with a houseful of nosy boarders. We made it through the kitchen and out to the stairs. Halfway up, a door slammed overhead and Henry appeared. Occupied with smoothing his hair, he didn’t notice us until he’d started down. Then his attention moved past me as if I weren’t even there, to settle on Ezra. “There you are. We missed you last night.”

  “Last night?” Ezra stared at him in dismay and I had the feeling Henry had effectively sidetracked us once again. “Henry, I’m sorry—”

  “I’m not sure the good it does to be sorry now. I am no longer in a position to convey your regrets to Mrs. Smethurst. But really, it is just as well, because I think the time has come to consider whether this association is of benefit to either of us. Your focus seems to be rather off of late, whatever the reason may be….” He threw me a look that wasn’t exactly shining with approval. “And as you are aware, a psychic’s reputation must be carefully cultivated and protected, as it cannot be restored once damage is done.”

  I snorted. “Why the hell would you worry about that if you could actually talk to ghosts?”

  Henry pointedly ignored me. “You understand that I require a partner who is credible, reliable, and will at least hear my advice. Going off on a tangent in the midst of a reading without even warning me in advance that you intend to do so is very disconcerting. And, well, sometimes you frighten the clients, you know.”

  “I thought that was part of the fun,” I said, propping myself on the banister, as we were apparently in for the long haul.

  There was a flicker of appreciation in the look Ezra sent my way. “I suppose I do rather unnerve people at times.” As he spoke, I recalled vividly the scare he’d given me last night. Maybe Henry did have a point, but it wasn’t Ezra’s fault.

  Henry exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “If you could simply manage to appear—well, a little more in control of your faculties.”

  Ezra’s smile faded. “So they will not think me on the verge of madness?” There it was again, that bitter note I heard only when he felt compelled to defend his sanity.

  “Guys,” I began gently and they both ignored me.

  “I did not say you were mad—”

  “Simply that I must avoid the appearance of it.”

  “Just so. Appearances are everything, you know. You do go a little far sometimes.”

  “Do you see them anymore?”

  “Do I….” Henry’s gaze narrowed. “What are you insinuating?”

  I leaned toward Henry and murmured, “I think he’s insinuating you’re a fraud.”

  “You don’t see them,” Ezra said in a quiet voice, as if it were a truth he’d just finally
come to accept, himself. “Not even Evelyn.”

  Henry’s already taut features tightened further. I’d never seen anyone fail so badly at trying not to look angry. “You are on your own, to barter your talents as you see fit. I will make an explanation to the clients.”

  “I’m sure they shall be relieved as I.” Ezra didn’t bother to try to hide his feelings. I could see the hurt and regret in his face. He went on upstairs, leaving me to toss Henry over the rail, if I chose.

  It was tempting. Instead, I settled for a warning, keeping my tone pleasant, confident that even the most egregious slang would not dim his understanding. “If you ever again state or even imply that Ezra’s mental health is not up to par, I will personally send you a hundred years back through time via a swift kick in the ass.”