southern ghost hunters 02 - skeleton in the closet

by Angie Fox

  Maisie lay snoring on my futon in the parlor, her shotgun nestled nearby, along with an old camping lantern, turned down low. I was not all that surprised to see her cuddled up with my skunk. Not many people warmed up to Lucy so fast. Then again, I supposed the little critter had a head start with Maisie. There wasn't that much of a difference between a skunk and a baby bunny.

  Lucy stirred when I approached, the white stripe on her head twitching as she tried to bury her nose deeper into the crook of the old woman's arm.

  She knew who had been petting her, and who had been hanging out with ghosts instead.

  "Good girl." I stroked her soft little head. "You two take care of each other."

  Lucy jerked to attention, and a second later I heard what had earned her notice. A car crunched over the gravel driveway at the back of the house.

  "Stay here," I said as she wriggled out of Maisie's grip and followed me. The older woman sighed and rolled onto her back, letting out a loud snore.

  I took my cell phone from my bag and stuffed it into my pocket as I peeked behind the edge of my kitchen curtain.

  Ellis was just cutting the lights to his police cruiser. Thank God and hallelujah.

  Lucy and I headed out onto the porch. I rushed down the steps to greet him as he exited the car. "You're okay!" I said, throwing my arms around his neck.

  "Oof," he protested as he caught me, but he didn't move away. "Your neighbors might see," he said glancing behind him.

  "The backyard is large," I told him. And dark. And if I did have a crazy neighbor with binoculars and a Peeping Tom attitude, he or she would have seen much stranger happenings than me hugging a Wydell. "How are you?"

  He looked tired, rumpled. Gorgeous.

  "It was a hell of a chase," he said. One arm wound around me; the other touched the curve of my neck. "You're pretty scraped up."

  "I am?" I suspected most of it was from digging out a thorny rosebush. Although my knees probably looked pretty bad after falling into that grave. It had been a busy night.

  He ran his fingers over my bare skin and I felt it down to my toes. "I'm sorry I wasn't there with you."

  The police radio crackled from inside the car: Confirmed location of suspect.

  It was Marshall's voice.

  Ellis closed the door. "Let's go inside for a minute."

  "What was that?" I asked, glancing back at my darkened backyard as we headed into the house. From the sound of it, he was still in the middle of a manhunt. "You found the shooter? Who is it? And why are you here instead of arresting him?"

  "Give me a second."

  Ellis and I entered the kitchen silently. "Maisie's asleep," I whispered.

  "She could sleep through the Normandy invasion." He stopped when he saw the trash can rosebush. "What is this?"

  "We're trying to unground Frankie." The gangster still sat on my kitchen island, gazing at our trash can monstrosity as if it were a museum display.

  Ellis's gaze caught on the urn sticking out of the dirt. "Is it working?"

  "Not yet," I said, watching the gangster roll his eyes at me as he disappeared.

  Ellis turned to me, suddenly uncomfortable.

  "I can't stay," he said, "I just came because…" He stood in front of me, somehow at a loss for words. "I needed to see you, make sure you made it home safe." He sighed. "What you heard on the radio… I was able to ID the car I pursued."

  Fantastic. "And?"

  He dipped his chin. "I can't tell you any more."

  "Then why are you here?" I asked, my words coming out harsher than I intended. I touched him on the shoulder and felt him stiffen. Something was wrong. I knew that slant of his mouth, the regret in his eyes. "Ellis? I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."

  He appeared torn, and I positively ached for him. If he'd just learned it was his mother, or even one of his brothers… I wanted to help.

  "I'm sorry too, Verity. I've got to go in to work." He touched my cheek. "I just wanted to stop by to let you know…you're going to be okay."

  "Of course I am," I assured him. He worried too much. "Is there anything you can tell me?"

  "Just that we'll get through this," he said, drawing close. He brushed a kiss over my lips.

  It was brief. Simple. It also gave me warm fuzzies and butterflies and it scared me to death.

  "Now I'm really worried," I said, enjoying the warmth of his skin. "The only other time you kissed me, you thought we were dying."

  He played with a lock of my hair that had curled near my neck. "We're not dying," he promised.

  "No?" I teased.

  He kissed me again, just as sweet and sexy as before, the way every girl wanted to be kissed. I found myself positively lost in it until I heard a pounding at my front door.

  "Verity," a harsh voice demanded.

  Beau.

  Ellis pulled away as if one of us were on fire. "What's my brother doing here?"

  "I don't know," I said, heading for the front door, "but he's about to wake up Maisie and get a shotgun pointed between his eyes." Not that he didn't deserve it.

  "Verity," Beau called. "I know you're in there."

  Icy panic seized me. "Sneak out the back," I told Ellis.

  It was the wrong thing to say. I could tell by the way Ellis immediately bristled, as if I'd straight-up told him he was the one who didn't belong. "Not a chance," he said, passing me in the hall as he strode for the front door. "I want to know why he's showing up at your house at ten o'clock at night."

  "He wouldn't stop calling." Ellis had seen how clueless his brother had been. "So I did call back and leave a message." It certainly shouldn't have prompted a visit.

  Then again, this was Beau.

  Ellis turned. "You…what?"

  "Calm down," I assured him. "I only told your brother to stop contacting me."

  He glanced back as Beau started pounding on the door again. "I don't think he got the message."

  I slipped around him. "Let me go first."

  This isn't awkward and uncomfortable. No, not at all, I told myself, as I opened the door to Beau with Ellis standing right behind me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  BEAU DREW ME out onto the porch, hugging me before I had a chance to think. "I missed you, pumpkin," he said, enveloping me in the familiar scent of Tom Ford Tuscan Leather. "I'm so glad you called."

  "Whoa." I jerked back, knocking his chin with my head. "Did you listen to the message? I said, 'don't talk to me anymore.'" This was way worse than talking. This was showing up and manhandling me.

  He drew back, still holding me. "My mom said you visited her." He wore a Confederate uniform with dirt on the sleeve and a stylish streak of blood highlighting his left cheekbone. He saw me noticing and grinned. "I know we're forbidden to see each other now, but I think that makes it hotter, don't you?"

  "No," I said, ducking out of his grip.

  He straightened his shoulders. "I'm playing Colonel Vincent Wydell. Mama says I'm good enough to be a soap opera star if I want."

  Oh, brother.

  "My mom told me what happened at the house," he said, with a slight wince. "Then, when you called, you sounded different."

  "Harsh." That's what I'd been going for.

  "Flustered," he answered.

  Great.

  To be fair, he appeared more concerned at that point than cocky. Guilty, from what I could tell in the glare of the yellow porch light. "I had to see if you're all right."

  "I'm fine," I said, putting some extra space between us. "You can't come by every time your mom is out of line." He'd never leave. "You do realize it's over."

  His gray-blue eyes held pain, regret. "It doesn't have to be."

  "Get a clue, little brother."

  Beau's head whipped up and he went slack-jawed when he saw Ellis leaning against my doorframe like he owned the place. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  When Ellis didn't make a move to explain, I did. "Maisie had an…incident at her house tonight," I said, telling him as little
as possible. "She's staying with me. Your brother was here just checking up on us."

  Ellis shifted his stance, as if he didn't appreciate my toned-down assessment of the situation. Well, tough. We'd agreed to keep our relationship a secret.

  And he was the one who'd worried about what my neighbors might see.

  "Okay," Beau said, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. "For a minute, I thought…" He smirked. "Never mind. It would never happen."

  A horrible snarl echoed throughout the house, making all three of us turn. Maisie. She snored like a lumberjack.

  "Maybe I should take you to a hotel," Beau mused, innocently enough.

  "Do it and I'll remove your liver with a fork," Ellis said.

  "Relax." Beau scoffed. He shot me the same sweet expression he'd used often when we first started dating. "You don't have to protect me from my girl, big brother. Mom is wrong." He doffed his wide-brimmed uniform hat and gave a slight bow. "Verity's a sweetheart. Always was and always will be."

  Before Ellis could swallow his tongue, the police radio on his belt went off. He grabbed for it, but not before we heard, We got a camera team for those shots fired at Maisie Hatcher's house. He turned and spoke low into his radio. "Hang tight. I want to be there when they go in."

  "Shots fired?" Beau choked out. "Holy hell, Verity. What sort of mess are you involved in this time?"

  Requesting an ETA on the arrest.

  I couldn't believe it. "Why are you here when you're supposed to be on the verge of an arrest?"

  "Good question." Ellis muttered. He cursed under his breath. "I'll be there in ten," he said to his team. Then to me: "I have to go."

  Beau's eyes narrowed as he looked from his brother to me. "Well, I'm not leaving you alone, pumpkin. He might, but I won't."

  Oh, Lordy. "Beau, I don't need—"

  "I don't care," my ex said. "This isn't even about winning you back anymore. I'll sleep out front in the car if you don't want me in the house. Hell, I'll even sleep on the lawn. I had no idea you were in real danger. Please let me stay."

  "I hope you two lovebirds can work it out," Ellis growled before heading back through my house, toward his parked cruiser.

  "Damn it, Ellis." His temper tantrum practically screamed "jealous boyfriend." He might as well hold up a sign: We are dating. "Stay right here," I said to Beau as I ducked inside and closed the door.

  Then I locked it.

  By that time, Ellis was already halfway down the hall. I understood he needed to leave immediately, but before he did, we had to make one thing crystal clear. "I don't know what that was with your brother back there," I hissed, catching up with him, "but this"—I pointed back and forth between him and me—"what we have going on between us, this can't come out. I don't want it to come out."

  Ellis looked mad enough to spit nails. "I don't either, but I don't have to stand here and watch him touch you like he owns you."

  "He didn't—" I began.

  "He did." He stood over me, his features shadowed in the pale light streaming from the kitchen. "You do realize that if this is going to happen"—he glowered, mimicking my gesture, pointing from himself to me and then back again—"eventually it's going to come out."

  Eventually, yes. I didn't even want to think of the consequences when it did. "But not now," I insisted. "It's too soon and you know it."

  He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it spiky and unkempt. "I get it. I do." He shook his head before dropping his gaze to the floor. "We just need to catch a break. A normal date would be nice."

  "We had dinner tonight," I said, trying to shake him out of his mood. "That's kind of a date."

  He rolled his eyes.

  "What?"

  I considered it a victory when he took my hand and dragged me toward the kitchen. "Nights where you get shot at don't count as dates."

  I trailed along, enjoying the contact. "If you put it that way, then we've hardly gone out at all."

  He stopped me near the door. "I want to keep you safe," he said, brooking no argument.

  Well, then he was in luck. That's what I wanted, too. "I do feel safe with you," I said, trailing my hands up his chest.

  We met halfway for a kiss. It was sweet at first, reassuring. I nipped his bottom lip gently and he groaned, kissing me harder.

  I opened myself to him, enjoying his warmth and affection, even though I knew our time was limited. "I'll call you when I can," he said against my lips.

  "Please tell me where you're going." I needed a clue as to what was happening. It would at least give me something concrete to worry about.

  Ellis squeezed my hand and brushed his lips against mine one last time. "Stay here," he said, heading out.

  I couldn't promise that.

  "Keep my brother outside."

  That I could guarantee.

  He looked back at me as he got into his cruiser. He'd schooled his expression, kept his handsome face carefully blank, but that only worried me more. I wish he could have confided in me. It's not like I would have followed him.

  Well, maybe I would have.

  Yes, Ellis was the one who should pursue Darla's murderer. It was his job, not mine, to put his life on the line. But I didn't like it.

  Meanwhile I had Beau on my porch, ready to stay the night. My stomach twisted into a familiar knot. I'd somehow ended up with the wrong brother again.

  Ellis pulled out of my back drive and I was surprised to see Frankie standing in the spot where the police cruiser had been parked.

  The gangster hadn't quite grown back his chest, or the part he claimed to miss most. Yet he grinned, happy as a pig in a peach orchard.

  I drew in a sharp breath. "Are you ungrounded?"

  "Not yet," he said, surprisingly upbeat.

  I threw open the back door. "What's going on?"

  He disappeared, and reappeared behind me in my kitchen, still grinning like a fool.

  "What?" I didn't have patience for games.

  "Tell me how brilliant I am."

  "Frankie—"

  He threw his hands out to the sides. "Tell me how I can double-cross the fuzz."

  "You say that like it's a good thing."

  He winked. "I'm a sly dog. The best." He drew his panama hat on with a smooth flick of the wrist. "Because I know exactly where your copper is going."

  Chapter Twenty

  "WHAT DID YOU do?" I demanded.

  "I lived out a fantasy," the gangster said. "I spied on the heat."

  "That's your fantasy?" At least it didn't involve stealing or shoot-outs.

  Frankie shrugged. "Better than what used to happen to me in the back of a squad car." He grew serious. "The point is, I listened in on their private radio broadcasts. They're going to arrest your sister."

  I couldn't have been more shocked if the earth swallowed me up right where I stood. "Melody didn't do anything. There must be a misunderstanding. I have to call Ellis. He'll straighten it out." And then it hit me. No wonder Ellis had been all worried. "He knew about it."

  "He's the one who found the evidence. He's going right now to put your sister in cuffs," Frankie said.

  "Where is she?" I asked, searching for my bag and my keys. Where had I tossed them?

  "Your sister's working late to reopen the library."

  I'd abandoned my stuff in a heap by the door. "I don't see what he could have found to incriminate Melody." I grabbed my things and stormed out the back. Ellis had kissed me and then gone off to arrest my sister as if nothing had happened between us. How dare he not tell me? Part of me understood it was his job, but another part, the protective sister part, wanted to kick him in the shin.

  Frankie stopped me cold on the porch. "Hold up," he ordered. "What you gonna do about the person who wants to kill your friend in there?"

  It was the only thing that could have stopped me.

  As if on cue, Maisie let out a loud, rumbling snore.

  I couldn't help it. I had to go. "I'll lock her in," I said, trying to work out a solution,
the guilt gnawing at me. "She has her gun." She was a grown woman, for goodness' sake. If she even knew I was wrestling with the idea of letting her hide out here by herself, she'd laugh in my face. Still, I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to her. "On second thought, you'd better stay."

  "Hell, no." Frankie held up both hands. "As soon as I get ungrounded, I'm out of here."

  "Please stay," I prodded, wondering what on earth I'd do if I returned to find him gone.

  "I ain't no babysitter."

  "You're not," I agreed. "You're her bodyguard."

  He drew back. "I ain't falling for that."

  Fricking mercenary gangster. "You're the only one I trust with this. I need you. In fact, I'm going to put your urn here in my bag."

  "Don't you touch that!" he ordered.

  "I'll put it back later," I promised, digging it up and shaking it off over the trash can. "But for now"—I deposited it in my bag—"you can zip straight to me if she's in danger. I can also call you if there's trouble at the library."

  "It's not a two-way radio," he ground out.

  True, but it was our connection point, and I intended to use it.

  "This isn't ideal." None of it was. "But I have to go. Ellis could very well be arresting my sister right now."

  I skirted Frankie and locked Maisie in the house. Then I raced to my car, praying I could get off the property without Beau following. The land yacht wasn't the stealthiest of vehicles under the best conditions, and I groaned under my breath as it started up with a loud rumble.

  There was no way I'd be able to go out the front, so I adjusted the plan. I heaved halfway off the seat as I turned the oversize steering wheel all the way to the right and began driving out through the backyard.

  My old Cadillac lurched over the uneven ground, the ancient suspension clanking and groaning with the effort. I passed the apple tree in the back and the small pond beyond. I bottomed out twice before coming up on the cornfield, cringing at the way the spent husks scraped at my undercarriage. It wouldn't take much for my muffler to go spinning off like a tiddlywink.

  But I'd rather chew nails than let Ellis take care of things, especially when he didn't trust me enough to tell me he was about to arrest my sister. I sat rigid in my seat and kept going.