Audrey Claire - Libby Grace 02 - How to Blackmail a Ghost

by Audrey Claire

  Clark took in each of us in turn, but when he looked at me, I saw the speculation. I hadn’t helped Ian in admitting what he had done he did for me.

  “What was this all about?” Clark said through clenched teeth. I clicked my own teeth together. I had said enough. Clark’s temper seemed to rise when no one answered. “Well?”

  “Ask her,” Bart snapped and nodded to me.

  “Shut up, Bart.” Sharon gave him a shove, but he ignored her.

  “If I can’t get answers here,” Clark told us, “then we can all go down to the station and have a chat.”

  The crowd groaned in disappointment.

  “Go on. Get out of here,” Clark shouted. “There’s nothing more to see.”

  Taking their time, the crowd dispersed, and Clark spun toward his vehicle parked at the curb. I had picked a great spot to question Sharon, just the right place to get into trouble with the law.

  “Do you need a ride, Libby?” Clark asked.

  Ian took my hand, and I tried not to wink out in shock. “Liberty and I will meet you at the station. My…uh…car is parked nearby.”

  Do you have to antagonize him more?

  I wasn’t aware Ian owned a car even though I had once used the excuse of borrowing it myself. Clark looked at Ian’s hand holding mine and then at my face. Then he made a rude noise, spun on his heel, and charged to his car.

  “Don’t make me come looking for you two. Five minutes!” He drove away.

  I waited by Ian’s side while Bart led Sharon down the street without a backward glance at either of us. I assumed he would drive the two of them the short distance to the station. I started walking down the street, and Ian moved with me.

  “You don’t have a car, do you?” I asked.

  He shrugged, which wasn’t an answer.

  “I have a car, which I keep in my garage. I do not need it often.”

  “I would love to drive again. Ah well, I think we better get moving.”

  He agreed, and I winked out. A few seconds after I blinked in not far from the station, Ian whooshed up beside me. We waited in the shadows while the humans arrived one after the other. Clark, Bart, and Sharon strode into the building, and a beat after, Ian and I joined them.

  I realized several truths—as a cop, Bart was probably capable of violence. He was overly protective of Sharon, and not in a good way. He might have killed Sadie, and worst of all—he was definitely the one who knew my secret. That meant Bart might also be my blackmailer, assuming not more than one person had uncovered my state of being.

  Clark first asked Sharon into his office and had the rest of us wait in the lobby. Bart stomped toward his boss. “I want to go in with her.”

  If a look could wither a person, Bart would have died right then. Clark pointed to a foldable chair against the wall, not even toward the area where his officers normally worked. “Sit there and wait.”

  Clark’s fury must have at last penetrated Bart’s thick skull. He spun toward the chair, clumped toward it, and took a seat. However, the second Clark’s office door closed, Bart jumped up to pace. I glanced over at the second officer on duty, then in the direction of the dispatcher. Neither were close enough to overhear my words if I lowered my voice.

  I approached Bart and blocked his path. He scowled at me but made no move against me. Straightening my back and shoulders, I asked, “Did you send me threatening letters?”

  Bart blustered, and the other officer eyed him. Ian stepped closer to me.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bart growled.

  I was not deterred, nor did I believe him. “Did you kill Sadie to keep her quiet about the baby?”

  This time he burst out laughing. “You’re more ignorant than I thought.”

  Ian spoke up behind me. “Perhaps Sharon did, and you are covering for her.”

  Bart blanched. His coloring was as good as an admission as was his fumbling over his words when I asked him about the letters. I believed without a doubt Bart was involved, but I had no proof and no motive other than the baby. The pregnancy still felt flimsy by itself. I was tempted to get Ian to force a confession from Bart, but it seemed too much like what Bart had been trying to do to me with the blackmail. I had experience with running roughshod over another person and producing results I could not take back. I didn’t want to handle things that way again. Ian had never said whether his ability hurt others. I refused to take a chance, but what else could I do? I would have to find a way, just like normal investigators did.

  “You’re Sharon’s baby’s father, aren’t you?” I asked Bart.

  To my surprise, he answered right away. “Yes, but we didn’t tell anyone. How did you know?”

  The pointed question fell between us. I stood there saying nothing with thoughts jumbling my mind. Bart took a half step toward me. Ian spoke without moving from behind me.

  “Do you want to threaten her again?” Ian’s words were soft-spoken, deadly. A chill of apprehension raced over my being. I felt frozen to the spot, and from the look of him, so did Bart. The officer might not know Ian’s secret, but he had to sense Ian didn’t care about the law or the fact that Bart carried a weapon, or even that he might be trained to defend himself in other ways. Bart intimidated me, but Ian’s silent presence could paralyze.

  Bart looked from me to Ian. “You’re not afraid of being arrested.”

  “No.”

  “It took a lot of strength to lift me off my feet with one hand like that.”

  “You state the obvious,” Ian countered, and Bart shoved trembling fingers into his hair.

  When he couldn’t get to Ian, Bart focused on me again. “What are you?”

  I smiled. “A divorced mother who needs to get home to her son, so let’s make this quick, shall we?”

  Bart sneered. “That’s up to the chief.”

  As if on cue, Clark’s door opened, and Sharon reappeared. She seemed paler than she had been when she walked in. Bart rushed over to her and touched her arm. Sharon drew away, a crease forming between her brows. Bart whispered something to Sharon, but Clark cleared his throat.

  “Are you going to keep me waiting, Bart?”

  “No, chief, sorry.” Bart shuffled into the office, and the door clicked shut behind them.

  I blocked Sharon’s path before she could escape out the door. “Do you think Bart killed Sadie to protect you?” She swayed on her feet, and when Ian placed a hand at her elbow, she accepted his support for a moment and then straightened.

  “Bart and I…”

  “Yes?” I prompted.

  She tightened her lips and then shuffled around me, ignoring my call as she headed out the door.

  Sighing, I turned to Ian and whispered, “Do you think Bart will tell Clark about my secret?”

  Ian considered it. “Would Bart know you gave the first letter to the chief?”

  I brightened. “He might. After all, as far as Clark knew, there was no reason to hide the investigation. He may have even asked one of the others to process it. Then again, if he asked Bart, that might be why Clark didn’t find any prints.”

  “Whether he found prints and covered it up or not makes no difference. If Bart informs the chief about your secret, he will also reveal himself as primary suspect in the blackmail.”

  I thumped a fist into my palm. “You’re right. Clark is clever enough to make the connection, and Bart knows that.”

  Ian frowned, and I chuckled. He didn’t like it that I gave Clark a compliment on his intelligence. Ian probably hadn’t meant his words to come out that way. After all, Ian insisted on sticking to calling Clark “the chief” even as I called him Clark. Then again, so did Monica and most everyone else in town. I realized I had made the switch at some point and kicked myself for it.

  To my surprise, Clark allowed both Ian and me to be interviewed together. I looked at Ian to see if this was his doing, but he appeared serene as usual. He stepped aside and held the door expectantly for me to precede him. Having no choi
ce, I strode into the office and took a seat. Ian sat down beside me. Now to figure out what the other two had told Clark while keeping my own secret and making sure Ian and Clark did not get into a disagreement.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Clark didn’t question us right away. Rather he excused himself to go out to talk to the other officer. While I waited, I squirmed, wondering what I would say to him. I had already proven myself to be the blunt type. I didn’t know if it was a part of my personality or I was a product of my friends. I eyed Ian sitting at my side. He must have sensed me watching and turned to look at me. I felt like my heart should race, and I glanced away.

  “Your concentration?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  I needed to think about my plan to get either Sharon or Bart to admit which of them killed Sadie. They must be guilty. Otherwise why would Bart push me to take the blame for the murder? If the police arrested me, there would be no reason to look at anyone else. The case would close, and they could go back to expecting their little one. They did not understand I had a young child at home too, and Jake needed me.

  Clark returned, and I pulled myself from my thoughts. Before either Clark or I could say a word though, Ian spoke up. “Your choice in an officer is questionable.”

  My jaw dropped, and Clark leaned over his desk toward Ian. The move from the big man must have intimidated many, and he probably expected a visible response from Ian. I saw his annoyance and confusion when Ian leaned back in his chair, rested his elbows on the arms, and laced his fingers together. He might as well have been in his private room sipping wine and reading a book. Clark ground his teeth and flared his nostrils.

  “I can arrest you here and now for assaulting an officer,” he boomed. “I expect your cooperation not criticism of my hiring practices.”

  The two spots of color on Clark’s cheeks and his words brought to mind how he’d had to recently fire Ken, whom he had also hired. Poor Clark. We would solve this case no matter what, and not with me taking the fall.

  “Bart wrote the notes,” Ian said.

  I shrieked and stared at the vampire who I had taken for a friend.

  “Notes?” Clark said. “What notes?” He looked at me, and dawning realization came into his expression. “Libby?”

  I twisted my fingers together, searching for a response to give him.

  “How many?” Clark demanded as he sank into his chair.

  “Three, I think.”

  “You think.”

  “Yes, three.” I glanced at Ian, but he hadn’t turned from staring at Clark.

  Ian continued. “What will you do to find out your officer’s motive for murder?”

  Clark’s chair hit the floor. The office door was flung wide, and the other officer stood in the entry, concern on his face. “Out.” Clark waved him off, and soon the three of us sat alone again.

  “Ian, we talked about—”

  He cut me off. “You understand the implications of Bart Pierce trying to get Liberty to confess to a murder she did not commit, do you not?”

  Clark seemed about to have a seizure. A vein bulged in his head, and moisture broke out on his upper lip. He raked fingers through his hair so violently I thought he might pull it out by the roots. I wanted to get Ian to stop pressing him so much, but I was angry with the vampire too. Ian had betrayed my trust, and when Clark got a handle on his temper at being manipulated by Ian, he would realize Bart held something over my head.

  “I am asking the questions here,” Clark said in a deadly whisper. He stabbed a finger in Ian’s direction. “You can wait outside while I talk to Libby.”

  “I do not think I will,” was the reply.

  “I think you should leave too, Ian,” I said. He still didn’t look at me.

  Clark started around the desk, but when Ian spoke again, I heard and felt the power.

  “I said, I will stay.”

  Clark stepped back and sat down. He shuffled papers and dragged a notebook toward him to poise a pen over an empty page. “You might as well stay, Ian. Now, Libby, do you have those letters with you?”

  Oh, Clark, you have no idea what just happened to you, and I won’t forgive Ian.

  “I’m sorry. I left them at home, but I know what they say,” I told him. Misery thickened my tone. I recited the demand Bart made but left out the part about him threatening to reveal my secret.

  Clark took down notes of what I shared and about where I had found the other two notes. I offered information about who had been inside the hardware store at the time I found the second letter. All the while, Clark kept his head bent, and he scratched away. I started to lean in to see what he wrote when he looked up and set the pen atop the page.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Libby?” Now he decided to calm down, but it didn’t bode well for me. Clark folded his hands together much like Ian had done. The affect gave off suppressed volatility in Clark’s case. “Why do you think Bart of all people is the one who sent the letters?”

  “Be quiet.”

  The command was spoken almost at a whisper, but Clark’s teeth clicked audibly together. I jumped to my feet and rounded on Ian. “Stop doing this to him!”

  Ian looked at me at last. “You promised to help him solve his cases from now on, did you not?”

  “Not like this.” I blinked in and out, but Clark didn’t appear to notice. He stared at his hands, jaw tight, eyes blank. “Please, let him go, Ian.”

  Ian unfolded from his seat and strode around to Clark’s back. He rested a hand on Clark’s shoulder but looked at me. “If you won’t possess him—”

  “I said I’ll never do that again. I won’t use him, and I don’t want you using him either.”

  “The damage is done, Liberty.”

  I remained stoic, and he sighed.

  “This is the only way.”

  I longed to cry, but I could do nothing but wail. Oh for a good ghostly wail at that moment. Instead, I depended on my words. I begged Ian to listen to reason because I had no other hold over him. Ian did what Ian desired to do and didn’t care what others thought about it.

  I began to think I had been wrong about his warmer feelings. After all, he had admitted vampires lost their humanity, and only spending time with humans would delay it. Ian lived a solidary life. I was not naïve to think I could make a difference in him. Certainly not in the short time we had known each other. In fact, the span made me question my own feelings in the face of his actions tonight.

  “Let him go,” I said once more and reached for Ian’s hand.

  Ian hesitated, and hope rose in my chest. Then he leaned close to Clark’s ear. “You will investigate Sharon Roache and Bart Pierce. You will find out what they have been up to. Is that clear?”

  “Yes,” Clark mumbled.

  “Ian…”

  He straightened and met my gaze, his unreadable, mine I was sure full of hurt and anger. I studied the mark on Clark’s forehead, what I considered to be a hideous blight, a reminder of my thoughtlessness. The mark seemed to stand out more vividly against his pale skin, mocking me for the choices I had made. Not only had I possessed Clark too long and caused Death to slate him for collection, I had also associated with a cold-hearted vampire—a vampire who controlled Clark without remorse.

  While I sank into my chair, listless and confused, Ian continued to talk to Clark. At first I didn’t listen, but then I focused on what he said. Ian surprised me in that he didn’t wipe Clark’s mind. Rather he told him to forget only that Ian had been the one to push him into investigating Sharon and Bart.

  At that moment, I didn’t care what else Ian had to tell Clark. I wanted to get away. I winked out of the station and blinked into my home. Let the officers in the station wonder when I had left and how they hadn’t seen me. I didn’t care. In my front hallway, I started forward and then stopped to face the entrance.

  “Ian McClain,” I said in a raspy tone and then drew myself up. I raised my chin, pushed my shoulders back. “Ian McClain, I
revoke your invitation into my home. You are not welcome here.”

  The minute the words left my mouth, I slapped a hand over my lips. A wail rose deep inside, but I shut my eyes and held it at bay. I felt myself sinking toward the floor, and for an instant, I expected to hear his voice call to me. Ian would no longer be a support now that I had rejected him. I hadn’t felt anything when I spoke the words, but I sensed their affect.

  If I left and let myself be declared dead, the house would pass to Jake. He could as owner invite Ian in whenever he liked. Facing such a possibility was not in my mental capacity that night, so I pushed the thought to the far recesses of my mind.

  I had taken a big step forbidding Ian from entering my home. Something told me wherever he was, he knew I had done it. The dangerous part of my decision came into play if Ian decided to use his own ability to banish me. Also, what about the barrier he had placed around his house when I first met him? Would he erect it again? I told myself this didn’t matter since I had no intention of going to see him or letting Jake go there. From now on, I had to stand on my own. I had to finish what I had started and then figure out how to tell Monica and Jake good-bye.

  * * * *

  Two nights after the incident at the police station, I hadn’t heard from either Ian or Clark. I had also not heard from my blackmailer, Bart. I had shared with Monica all that I could share, but left out the part about Ian commanding Clark. I let my friend believe Clark had come up with the direction of his investigation on his own. She had in her usual way assumed Clark’s lack of questioning me about my secret stemmed from him being in love with me and believing I could do no wrong. I had allowed her to think that as well. Better for her than the truth. Besides, I didn’t want to talk about Ian even if I felt no obligation to hide his secret.

  I didn’t have doubts about Clark carrying out Ian’s order. Everyone in town had heard of Bart’s suspension from work. After I heard it, I had thought about visiting the station to find out details, but I couldn’t make myself face Clark. The situation felt similar to my mental state after I had first learned about the mark. So, as I waited, I trusted Clark would learn the truth about whether Bart or Sharon killed Sadie. Then the case would close, and I…well, I would have no reason to stay.