by Multiple
“Wow. You’ve had it pretty rough. I guess I should be grateful I’m not a suspect.”
I shook my head. “Loss is loss. There’s no hierarchy saying one type of loss is easier than another.”
“I see your point.” He spun his glass in slow circles between his hands and we both watched the liquid swirl and eddy. “Well, where do we go from here?”
“The police. I need to make a report. After that, the ball is in their court.”
“And my brother?”
“I’ll try to track his body after we deal with the police. Who knows maybe they’ll find it…” I paused realizing I had just relegated Jacob’s brother to a thing as opposed to human remains. I took a breath and corrected myself, “I mean, him before we do.”
Jacob gave me a hard look. “I get the feeling you don’t want to look for my brother.”
I avoided his gaze and looked at the napkin in my lap brushing off imaginary crumbs. Never mind no food had been served yet. The charade didn’t matter so long as it kept the tears from pouring out.
“Are you going to say something?”
I flinched at the sudden anger edging his voice. Despite my fight for control, my bottom lip began to quiver and tears started the long, slow slide down my face, so hot, they burned.
“What is it?” This time his voice was gentle.
I looked up at him then, and opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t. Jacob stood and slid into the booth next to me, his arm going around my shoulder. He rocked me back and forth making shushing noises while I convulsed against him in silent sobs. His shoulder felt strong and the smell of his Djinn made aftershave enveloped me. I cocooned my face in his chest, letting him hold me until oxygen-starved sobs turned into gaspy sniffles. Our embrace became awkward instead of comforting then. We might share common circumstances, but we didn’t really know each other well enough yet to be this close.
I pulled away and blew my nose with a tissue from my purse. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s just…” I hesitated. “It’s just that all I’ve ever found are dead bodies. And when I’m not finding them, I’m making them.”
Jacob remained silent and watched me with his steady brown eyes, his arm still wrapped around me.
I gave a nervous laugh and looked down at the napkin in my lap, hyper-aware of his eyes on me. He had beautiful eyes. Like rich chocolate and right then they were melting with empathy for me.
“Even search and rescue dogs are given a live person to find because otherwise they get depressed. Everyone around me ends up dead.” Another wave of crying threatened to consume me, but I fought it back. “I just don’t want to find any more dead people.” I pressed a hand to my eyes hoping to stop the tears, but they seeped through anyway. I had yet to be successful at stopping them once they started.
“I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry.” He squeezed me against him and I briefly let my head rest on his shoulder again.
“Thanks. There really isn’t anything you can say.”
“Why do you do this then?”
“The PI thing was always Mark’s idea. I prefer antiques, but the word is out now and people keep finding me.”
“And I was one of them. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind helping, that’s the part I like. It’s the other stuff I can’t take.”
The waitress arrived with our food, and, taking one look at us, said, “I’ll get another round from the bar.”
I reluctantly pulled away from Jacob. “Sorry for the meltdown.”
“Perfectly understandable. To tell you the truth, human contact felt pretty good.” Jacob moved back to his side of our booth. “I don’t have any family left to speak of and it was nice to connect with someone.”
“I know how you feel. Sometimes it’s just nice to be touched.” I twirled spaghetti around my fork inhaling the rich basil-tomato-oregano aroma. If comfort had a smell, this was it. “Thanks for the hug.”
“Any time.” He watched me raise my fork to my mouth and reached across the table to touch my free hand. “Maybe we should make it a regular occurrence.”
I paused, looking at his hand on mine. I lowered my fork and considered his offer. Jacob watched me, hopeful. If we had been normal people, this would be when he would ask me out on a date, but we weren’t normal. Far from it. Still, through all the grief and stress, there was a spark between us and I had to admit, maybe there could be more to Jacob and I than just a client/psychic relationship.
With a slow, almost hesitant, smile, I said, “Maybe we should.” It felt good to acknowledge that I might let another man after Mark into my life. Something in my chest lightened and I took a deep breath marveling at the sudden freedom. That is, until I caught sight of Mark loitering by the bar, an expression of pure jealousy on his face. It appeared my dead boyfriend wasn’t ready for me to move on.
“I’d like that.” Jacob matched my smile with a tentative one of his own, unaware of Mark’s death glare. “So, you were saying we needed to contact the police.”
I shifted in my seat, pulling my hand away from Jacob’s, and putting Mark out of my line of vision. I really didn’t need a guilt trip. “Do you know which detective is working on your brother’s case? That’s who I need to talk to.”
“Sure. I think I have his card.” Jacob set down his knife and fork to fish his wallet out of his pocket. After a quick search, he pulled out a business card. “Here it is. Detective Wallace.”
I took the card and found my cell phone buried, as usual, at the bottom of my purse. The detective picked up on the first ring with a curt, “Detective Wallace.”
“This is Sofia Parker. I’m a PI retained by Jacob Waltz.”
“Yes, I remember him,” the detective said, his words measured as if he weighed them carefully before speaking.
“Do you have some time? I’d like to talk to you about the case.” I took a sip of water while I waited for his response.
“All right. I’m not available tonight. What about tomorrow morning, around nine?”
“Nine tomorrow?” I looked to Jacob who nodded. “Sure. I’ll come to the station.”
“See you then.” He hung up without saying goodbye.
I dropped my phone in my purse and handed the card back to Jacob. “We’re all set.”
“Thanks for your help. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
“I have a better idea, why don’t you stay with me tonight?”
Jacob blinked and raised an eyebrow. I flushed, realizing he thought my offer was a come-on. In light of our recent conversation, I couldn’t blame him.
I held up a hand before he could say anything. “I mean, your apartment is trashed and my place is warded against that kind of stuff. You’d be able to get a good night’s sleep…” I trailed off at the interest shining in his eyes. “On the couch.”
“On the couch,” he repeated. “I had hoped…” He stopped and took a sip of his drink.
“What?” I asked, purposely being dense.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Thanks for the offer, I’ll take it. Besides, now that we know what’s going on, I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”
“Good.” We exchanged too-big smiles, the kind that mean you really like whoever you’re looking at. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mark glowering at us, but, once again, I moved until he was out of my field of vision.
*
“How could you invite a virtual stranger to stay with you?” Mark thundered, his hands balled into see-through fists. Dark gray rolled through his aura like a thunderstorm.
We were in my bedroom where I was in the process of exchanging my clothes for an oversized T-shirt. It had been a long night and I was tired. After Pirate Pete’s, I took Jacob to buy some clothes and then stopped at Malcolm’s to see if he was home. I had questions he needed to answer, but no one came to the door no matter how hard Jacob and I knocked. I’d read the door then, but it was shie
lded as tightly as Malcolm had been. The day, overall, had been pretty crappy and it looked like my nightcap was going to be a fight with my dead boyfriend.
Superfucktabulous.
“Hey, you wanted him as a client,” I whispered back. Mark didn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing him, but I did. Jacob was out on the couch, ostensibly sleeping already, and I didn’t want to wake him with what would sound like a one-sided screaming match.
“Yes, client being the key word. I certainly didn’t intend for him to be your new boyfriend.”
I glared at Mark. “How can you say that to me?”
Mark floated back at the anger in my gaze. “What else am I supposed to think? I’ve only been dead for a year and you’re already snuggling up with some guy you’ve only met twice.”
“How about, I’m alone in all this? Or, I have no family? Your family hates me and I can’t count on you anymore?” I took out my emotions on the pillow, fluffing it with more force than was really necessary. “That maybe Jacob and I are in the same place right now? We have a lot in common. How about, you think for one second what it has been like to be me lately?”
He scowled. “Oh boo-hoo. Get over yourself already. You’re not the one who’s dead.”
I went still. “If you somehow think I’ve got it better than you because I survived, you must not be paying attention. I almost went to jail because of what happened. The media is stalking me. You walk a mile in my shoes and then you tell me how bad you’ve got it.”
“At least you have a body.”
I huffed in exasperation and yanked back the covers to my bed.“A body with no one to touch it. No one to hug me or wipe the tears from my face.” I picked my dirty clothes up off the floor and threw them in the hamper hard enough that the lid slammed shut without my help.
“That’s not true, you have me.” He reached for me, running phantom fingers over my arms until the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
I waved him off. “Mark, you can’t touch me. You can only make me cold. Face it, we aren’t in a relationship anymore.”
He shook his head. “No, I love you. I’ll always love you.”
“I love you too, but we have no future together. I’m here and you can’t manifest for more than a few minutes at a time.” I wrapped my arms around myself, seeking warmth and comfort. Talking with Mark always left me cold.
Mark looked upset. “I’ll do better. Give me some time.”
That made me snort. “And then what? We’ll get married? They won’t marry a ghost they can’t see and what will I do with a phantom husband?”
Mark drifted forward and hovered at my shoulder as I stalked to bed. “Sofia, stop…”
“What?” I whirled to face him. “Don’t you dare tell me it’ll get better. The only thing that would make it better is if you were still here and that’s not possible. They can’t bring people back from the dead and, in case you forgot, you’re dead, Mark. Dead and turning to dust.” I thrust a hand through him to illustrate my point knowing he wouldn’t like it. Human flesh was just too warm for ghosts.
Mark floated away from me, shocked at the bald truth of my words. He opened his mouth to speak and then abruptly closed it, choosing instead to fade away. I watched him go in silence, hugging my arms around my body.
A knock sounded and Jacob cracked my bedroom door open, poking his head into the room. “Everything okay in there?” He stepped inside, tugging self-consciously on the hem of his blue plaid pajama top.
Several possible answers occurred to me. I could tell him I was fine and send him back to the couch. I could admit I was having a hard time and send him back to the couch or, I could ask him to stay. For some reason, the obvious answer was no longer the right one. I remembered the way Jacob had touched my hand at dinner and how it had made me feel alive for the first time in a long time.
Jacob came to where I stood and reached out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “What’s wrong, Sofia?”
“What isn’t?”
He laughed. “I know the feeling. I’ve been lying out there, wide awake, thinking about everything that’s wrong.”
Making a decision, I took his hand and pulled him toward the bed. “Stay with me. There’s no reason for you to sleep on the couch.” I didn’t want to be alone, and, from the silent plea in Jacob’s eyes, I knew he didn’t either.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I just…” I trailed off as he put a finger to my mouth.
“Need some human contact,” he finished for me dragging his finger down my lip.
I nodded and Jacob folded me in his arms, lowering his head. I thought for a second he would kiss me on the lips, but, instead, he pressed his mouth gently on my forehead, and, in one smooth movement, picked me up to carry me to bed.
With my head on his shoulder and the hard length of his body against the softness of mine, I slept a deep, dreamless sleep. The first good sleep I’d had since Mark died.
Chapter Seven
Detective Wallace bore a distinct resemblance to a walrus with his large, rotund body and thick facial hair. All he needed were tusks and maybe a tan, the guy looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in a long time.
He greeted us with a scowl and rolled his eyes when he realized he needed an extra chair. With the air of a longsuffering martyr, he located a battered metal stool next to a neighboring desk for Jacob to sit on. I sat in an old wooden chair with uneven legs, its maple finish dark with dirt. I tried not to let my skin make contact with it. Although, my pale lilac suit had no choice. I made a mental note to get it dry cleaned before I wore it again. Like most urban centers, money was tight in Boston and it showed in the age of the office furniture. Everything was battered and dingy. I hoped they at least had top-of-the-line bulletproof vests.
The detective eased into the chair behind his scarred desk, and folded his arms across his stomach looking me over with a wary eye. “So, you’re a PI?”
I nodded wrinkling my nose at the faint smell of something bad. I couldn’t quite place the scent, but it reminded me of rotten eggs. “I have a lead for you.” I looked around, trying to pinpoint the smell and my nose led me to the Detective. Maybe it was something he had for breakfast.
Unaware of the ‘eau du egg’ he emanated, the detective said, “Let me see your PI license first.”
I fished it out of my purse and dropped it on his desk. He picked it up and scanned it. “You’re psychic?”
“Yes.”
“Have you found the brother then?”
“Not yet, but he was dead well before the robbery.”
“Dead.” He snorted. “How so? I’ve got him on tape robbing a bank the morning after his family’s death.”
Jacob shifted in his seat and made to respond, but I laid a hand on his shoulder to quiet him. The police didn’t like emotional outbursts, a lesson I had learned from bitter experience. I didn’t want Jacob to say something he would regret. He clamped his mouth shut at my touch and let me speak. “I know. I can explain.”
“Can you explain or make an affidavit that’ll stand in court? Which is it?” Detective Wallace raised his wirebrush eyebrows at me.
“Affidavit.”
“Good. Let me get the paperwork.” He stood and handed my license to me, his hand brushing my fingertips. That fleeting touch set off a cacophony of metaphysical alarms, and, instead of blocking it with my shields, I opened them and learned the Detective had no interest in law and order. Reading thoughts wasn’t my strong suit, usually I just caught snatches of things, like a cell phone with a bad connection. For some reason, though, the Detective’s mind was like an open book…in the horror genre.
With shaking hands, I put my license back into my purse and waited, holding my breath, until the Detective was out of sight to speak. “We have to go.”
“What?” Jacob watched me get up.
“Just trust me. We’d better be gone before Detective Wallace comes back.” I tugged on his arm. “I’ll explain in the car.”
<
br /> Jacob allowed me to pull him to his feet and propel him toward the door. “I don’t understand.”
“If you want to live to hear an explanation, I suggest we get the hell out of here.”
I broke into a trot, praying we reached the doors before Detective Wallace came back and realized I was on to him. Once we cleared the exit and made it outside, I began to run, pulling Jacob after me. He had stopped talking and matched my pace with no apparent strain. By comparison, I was already panting and sweating. If my life ever calmed down, I was going to have to do some serious cardio work. People who couldn’t run for their lives ended up dead.
Determined to be the exception to the rule, I lengthened my stride, until my narrow skirt began to creep up my thighs, and gulped air in shallow breaths. We were almost to Jacob’s car when the Detective came barreling out of the precinct, his gun drawn and shouting, “Stop!” He fired a warning shot into the air.
The cops guarding the police station entrance snapped to attention and began to run after the Detective. Not to stop him, but to help him. Shit.
“Jesus, what is going on?” Jacob asked as he fumbled with his key chain to locate the button that would unlock the doors.
“Hurry up, before he aims at us.”
Jacob found the button and the car chirped as the locks disengaged. I threw myself into the passenger seat while Jacob did the same on the driver side. He put the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. Slamming on the accelerator, Jacob yanked the wheel hard to the left and we shot into traffic. Horns blared and tires squealed as oncoming traffic fought to make room for our abrupt appearance into the usual downtown Boston gridlock. Behind us, the Detective fired off another round that hit the back of the car with a thunk.