Cold Touch

by Leslie Parrish

  That didn’t help. His whole body stiffened, his head jerked and a small groan emerged from his throat before he muttered, “Well fuck me.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s Liv,” he said, his deep voice not much more than a whisper. “Young. Just a kid. But it’s her, no doubt about it.”

  Shocked, Julia followed his stare, even though she knew she’d see nothing.

  But Derek definitely did. He was focused on what had once been the side of the barn. Where, she knew from hearing Olivia’s story, there had once stood a large barrel full of water. His eyes were narrowed, his teeth clenched, judging by the stiffness of his jaw, but he wouldn’t look away.

  “I don’t understand. She’s not dead,” Julia said, confused, as she often was by the abilities of these people she worked with day in and day out.

  “No, but she was,” he replied evenly, not a hint of doubt in his voice. “Remember, these aren’t ghosts, they’re visible memories of violent deaths. She might have been brought back, but I’m telling you, I am watching her being murdered . . .” He lifted a hand and pointed. “ . . . right over there.”

  The horror of it hit her: Olivia was someone he knew, someone he worked with and liked. “Will you be able to focus in spite of that?” she asked. “I mean, is it going to stop?”

  He finally dropped his hand, then turned his head to look at her. “No, it won’t stop. It’s like the world’s most gruesome instant replay, a loop, happening over and over again.”

  His friend. Their friend. Being murdered. And he was the eternal witness.

  Awful. Oh, God, it was so awful, she didn’t know how he stood it. How did any of them stand it? Mick was exposed to every ugly thought that had crossed the minds of every person who’d touched anything he touched. Derek had to watch people die. Olivia kept getting murdered, for God’s sake. And Aidan, though his psychic gift was slightly less brutal, was forced to feel helpless, getting impressions from people in trouble, knowing he couldn’t always find them in time. Couldn’t save them.

  She wouldn’t want to be them. Not for anything. She had her ghost, and that was enough.

  Something suddenly occurred to her, and her heart skipped a beat. “Wait. If you can see Olivia and she’s still alive, maybe those other people are, too!”

  Derek simply stared at her, long and hard, silently asking her to think about what she’d just said. It did sound impossible. Olivia had survived because of the boy. But there was no way one boy could have saved them all.

  Seeing her shoulders sag as she acknowledged that, Derek muttered, “I need to walk.”

  She knew he was experienced at this, that he’d dealt with it all his life, but before he left, she still had to ask, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  He nodded once. “Yeah. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  He didn’t wait for a response but simply walked away. Alone. Like always.

  Except, of course, when he was in her bed.

  Funny how well they’d gotten along there, though it hadn’t happened very often and hadn’t for quite a while. But their affair had been nice, the sex fantastic, the lack of expectations of anything more, on either side, great as well.

  They’d eventually acknowledged how tricky it was to sleep with someone you worked with, especially since Julia was the boss. So it had ended. That had been a little poignant but not heartbreaking. Especially because they weren’t in love with each other and knew they never would be. But every once in a while she found herself wishing Derek would find someone he could love and would come out of the self-imposed exile he seemed to have chosen.

  “They’re not, you know.”

  She jerked her attention from Derek’s retreating back to the man she saw standing beside her. He’d waited until Derek was out of earshot, knowing that if he showed up sooner, she wouldn’t talk to him.

  When this whole thing had started eight years ago, she’d gotten her fill of looks from people who’d thought she was crazy, talking to herself or to thin air. So she’d laid down some ground rules, one being that she wouldn’t even acknowledge Morgan if anybody else was around. He’d had a grand old time doing crazy stuff in the periphery of her vision, trying to distract her, but had found her a tough nut to crack. Finally, he’d relented.

  “Who’s not what?” she asked.

  “They’re not still alive.”

  Oh, hell. If anybody would know, it would be him. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Because they’re all still here.”

  She caught her bottom lip, looking around. “You mean . . .”

  “Uh-huh. Not what your friend is seeing. The real deal.”

  Morgan didn’t particularly like Derek, he’d made that clear before, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe he knew about the affair, maybe not. Julia had never mentioned it, not asking his permission or begging his forgiveness.

  She had loved Morgan Raines when he was alive. She still loved him now.

  But he couldn’t keep her warm at night.

  “You can see them?” she asked, still unsure how this worked even after all this time.

  He nodded, gesturing toward the other cleared area where she’d thought the camper might have been. “The old man is lying over there, like he’s taking an afternoon nap in the sunshine.” Pointing toward the edge of the trees, he went on. “The younger one’s leaning against that sapling.” Then a final gesture, toward where the old barn had stood. “And the woman’s walking in circles, wringing her hands.”

  Julia tried to fathom it, looking at each spot, one after the other, seeing nothing but dappled trees, scrub and grass—a typical spot on a typical day . . . in a place claimed by the dead.

  It broke her heart. Like so much about her relationship with Morgan broke her heart.

  “Are they aware of us? Or of each other?” she whispered, feeling like she’d stepped into a holy, sanctified place.

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “Or they just don’t care. They’re not going to leave until somebody finds them.”

  Almost nonchalant, as if this whole thing was utterly normal, Morgan bent down to pick up a long piece of grass. He drew it tightly between his thumbs and brought it to his lips, blowing hard as if to whistle on it. But not a sound came out.

  Sometimes Morgan seemed to forget he was dead.

  She never did. Not ever.

  Remembering what Olivia had said that morning, about the reason Zachary had given for staying around, she asked, “Do you mean their bodies? Is that why they’re still here?”

  “Yeah. It’s a thing over here, I guess. Not a rule, more like a guideline. You gotta look out for the shell, even if you’re no longer in it.”

  She peered toward the tree line. “Do you know where their ‘shells’ are? If they were here, wouldn’t the police have found them after Olivia was rescued?”

  “Not necessarily.” He stepped closer, following her stare, then looked to the left and then to the right. “I’m pretty sure they’re deep in the woods. I think I could find them.”

  Finding them, bringing them into the light, that would set them free. Which, to Julia, sounded like one of the most important things she or anybody else could ever do.

  “Will you, Morgan? Will you please?”

  “For you, babe? Anything.”

  Anything. If only he could give her the one thing she desperately wanted, the one thing she’d dreamed of for eight years.

  One more moment—one real, true moment—with him.

  When it came time for Brooke to leave, Olivia insisted on going down with her to her car. Which meant Gabe was going, too. He didn’t think he’d need to protect her from any ghosts—it appeared Liv’s one and only phantom encounter was over—but he was taking no chances.

  They’d spent the past few hours going over every name on Agent Ames’s list. Gabe had been surprised at how many of them Olivia had remembered. Just as surprising, given how young she’d been, was that Brooke was able to fill in the b
lanks on almost all the rest. So, for right now, it didn’t appear they’d need to involve the parents in this.

  They’d ruled out some names right away, based on Olivia’s memories, and Zachary’s. The women. Any nonwhite men or any under twenty; her captor had been older than that.

  Still, there had been quite a few names left. Those would require more research. Gabe intended to go to the precinct and run reports on them.

  When they reached the bottom floor, they headed out to the street, where Brooke had parked. “You sure you don’t want to go with your sister?” Gabe asked Liv. “Take a break?”

  She shook her head. “I’d rather follow you to the station. If we only have one day to work together, I don’t want to waste any of it.”

  Remembering what he’d said—about this group coming together for this single day—Gabe understood her meaning. “Listen, I’m not the type to mess with a good thing.” Boy, did that have some double meaning, like how he felt about what was happening between them personally. No matter how much he’d told himself he couldn’t get any further involved with her, not one single part of him regretted what had happened between them up in that conference room this morning. “As long as this keeps working, I’ll stick with it.”

  She nodded, looking relieved. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He meant it. Over the past several hours, hell, the past couple of days, he felt like his worldview had been gradually altered. Like he’d been wearing dark glasses, and they’d been tugged off his face, little by little, until now he was seeing things in a whole different way.

  Not just Olivia. All of it. Her friends. The supernatural. eXtreme Investigations.

  He froze for a second as the realization hit him: He’d become a believer. Him, the hard-nosed, slightly hardheaded good ol’ boy. He now truly believed that these people he hadn’t even known a week ago had an opendoor relationship with some spiritual other side. Through mind, touch, sight, or soul connection, they somehow knew things nobody should be able to know. There was no rational explanation. Which simply left the irrational one as truth.

  One thing his realization made clear was that he owed Olivia an apology. He’d said he was sorry before for the way he’d acted the other day at the police station. But he hadn’t apologized for dragging his feet, doubting her every step of the way, not allowing himself to be convinced because the things she told him didn’t fit into his worldview.

  Before he could even think how you apologized for something like that, a car pulled up into an empty spot behind Brooke’s. Mick got out of the passenger seat, Ty the driver’s. Neither of them looked particularly happy.

  “Any luck?” Gabe asked. He feared he already knew the answer.

  Ty shook his head. “That place is like the warehouse where they hid the Ark of the Covenant at the end of that Indiana Jones movie. It’s huge, full of boxes and cartons, stuff going back decades. I swear, I think I saw a section marked Civil War Murder Convictions.”

  Mick added, “We couldn’t find the paper trail, much less the evidence from Liv’s case.”

  He’d been afraid of that. With a case this old and supposedly solved, it would have been a miracle if the evidence hadn’t been destroyed. An even bigger one to actually find it.

  Ty and Mick joined them on the sidewalk, both greeting Olivia’s sister, who hadn’t been there when they’d left. Ty, in particular, had an extremely warm smile for her. “You doing okay today?” he asked, sounding solicitous, tender.

  “Yes. Thanks again for calming me down yesterday. I’m sorry if I came across as . . .”

  “Persistent?”

  “I was going to say pushy.”

  He tsk-tsked, shaking his head even as he flashed her that grin that Gabe had seen charm a lot of women. “What man wouldn’t like to be pushed by a beautiful woman every now and again?”

  Brooke glanced away toward her car but not before Gabe saw the tiny smile his words brought, not to mention the hint of color rising in her cheeks. She seemed younger than her years, maybe a little immature, without a hint of Olivia’s broader, not to mention darker, world-view. Which made her nice, sweet, but not nearly as fascinating to him as her sister.

  Ty, however, seemed to like her a lot.

  For a second, he considered putting a word of caution in his young partner’s ear; after all, Ty was very experienced, while Brooke, he imagined, was not. He didn’t figure it was his business, though. Plus, he’d never heard Ty use that gentle tone with a woman before. He was usually brash and flirtatious, not that he hadn’t been flirting with Brooke, but this seemed a little more tender, serious. Like he knew she wasn’t one of his usual conquests. And the way Brooke kept stealing glances at the man made Gabe suspect Ty’s interest was returned.

  Watching them, he had to concede that they could be good together. But they could also be heading for a world of hurt. Not only the race thing—this being the Old South—but she was also rich and engaged to a powerful, controlling lawyer. Lots of checkmarks in the “Forget it” column.

  Part of him, though—the part that liked Brooke and Ty, not the part that simply disliked her fiancé, Drew Buckman—hoped they might be able to make something of this. One thing was sure: He doubted she’d ever find a man with a bigger heart than Ty.

  Mick looked back and forth between Gabe and Olivia. “You two have any luck?”

  He told the man what they’d found out and what the next step was. Then, curious about how Mick had handled his field trip, Gabe asked, “Things were okay for you there?”

  Mick lifted his gloved hands, which was answer enough.

  “Gotcha.”

  “I have to admit, I was tempted to take them off when I saw a box filled with underwear from some panty-obsessed cat burglar,” Mick added.

  Olivia and Brooke both groaned. But Gabe couldn’t prevent a small grin, seeing the mischief in the other man’s expression. Mick was growing on him.

  From up the block, a horn blew, intruding on the quiet Sunday afternoon. A car approached, moving fast; then the driver pulled up beside Brooke’s vehicle, double-parking.

  “Uh-oh,” Olivia whispered.

  He realized why when he saw Brooke’s fiancé exit the car, his expression stormy. He stalked toward her. “Where the hell have you been? Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

  “I’m sorry. I . . .”

  “You left one message that you were going to see Olivia at work and then ignored me the rest of the day?”

  Beside him, he felt Mick tense, as Gabe had. But Ty, who was closer than either of them, stepped right into Drew Buckman’s path. “Can I help you, sir?”

  Buckman sneered, “Get out of my way.”

  He tried to go around him, but Ty, completely unintimidated, shifted sideways, blocking his way again. “I think you need to calm down,” Ty said, his voice low, tight and controlled.

  Protectiveness rolled off his partner and belligerence off Buckman; the tension was thick enough to feel from five feet away. It was a case of hate at first sight if he’d ever seen one.

  “Drew, I’m sorry. I was about to call you,” Brooke said, stepping toward the two men. She was twisting the straps of her purse in her hands, looking nervous, like a kid caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

  “Get in my car, Brooke,” he snapped, not even looking at her.

  “Mine’s right . . .”

  He wheeled on her, sticking out his index finger. “I said get in the damn car.”

  Gabe had grown up in a household where men who turned red in the face and yelled quickly segued into men who struck. No way in hell was Olivia’s sister getting in that car with him.

  “Brooke,” he said, his voice low yet firm, “why don’t you go with Olivia?”

  Liv gave him a grateful look, visibly relieved he’d stepped in. She grabbed her sister’s arm. “Let’s go visit Dad.”

  Perfect. He’d caught the vibe off Mr. Wainwright yesterday and knew he didn’t like his futur
e son-in-law. Buckman wouldn’t get past the man.

  “Don’t you walk away from me!” Buckman ordered.

  But Brooke did. She and Olivia headed for the entrance to the parking garage. Which meant Gabe and the other three men would be staying right there, waiting for Liv’s car to pull out and move on down the street. Buckman wasn’t leaving until the women were well on their way.

  To think he’d considered the man merely an asshole. It was pretty obvious Drew had a temper. While he didn’t imagine Olivia’s sister had low enough self-esteem to actually marry a man who’d hit her, he doubted it would take long after the wedding for that hand to fly, and hard.

  “Now,” Gabe said, walking over to block Buckman’s retreat to his own vehicle, “let’s stand here and calm down while the ladies get on their way.”

  “Damn it, Cooper, what the hell is going on here? I can’t reach Brooke for almost two days, and now you’re treating me like I’m some kind of criminal?” Buckman sounded blustery, offended. That didn’t, however, hide the underlying rage that still seethed deep inside him. He might have calmed his tone down, trying to get himself under control. But Gabe knew bullshit when he heard it. This man was holding on to his violent anger by a thread.

  “And who the hell does this boy think he is?” Drew added, jerking a thumb toward Ty.

  Gabe leaned in, grim, that word, boy, grating on him like nails on a chalkboard. He couldn’t even imagine how Ty felt about it. “That man is my partner, Detective Tyler Wallace, to whom you oughta show a little respect, if you can’t manage courtesy.”

  Brooke’s fiancé took a small step back. “I’m sorry. I’m really worried about Brooke. This is unlike her, not being in touch with me for days. I thought something had happened to her.”

  Days? Christ, was he exaggerating much? They’d all had breakfast together yesterday.

  “She talked to you four times yesterday afternoon,” Ty said, not buying that crap either.

  Buckman’s jaw fell open. “How would you know that?” He took a threatening step forward, his beefy hands clenching into fists.

  The gleam in Ty’s eye said he’d perhaps expected such a reaction.