The Lingering Dead

by J N Duncan

  So? We change tactics. Subtlety can be just as effective as strong-arming people. You have other tools at your disposal now. We’ll figure out new ways to do things.

  You’re right, of course. I just miss how things were.

  You’re better now. Stronger.

  Wish I felt that way. I can’t even manage to have a real date without falling to pieces.

  Laurel sighed. You’ll figure that out, too. Nick’s a patient guy. Just tell him what you want. He’ll gladly take whatever you have to offer.

  Laur? What if—

  A knock on the door interrupted them, and Shelby opened it, sticking her head in around the edge. “We got Chinese. Conference room.”

  Go eat. I can tell you’re hungry, and no ‘what ifs.’ You have lots to offer.

  It was show-and-tell over dinner, as Nick brought out the equipment he had gathered for the nighttime excursion to Thatcher’s Mill. There was camo gear, long-range photographic equipment, infrared goggles, and tranquilizer guns.

  Jackie swallowed a mouthful of shrimp-fried rice. “You just happened to have all of this handy?”

  “I am a PI,” he said, and smiled, “who happens to have money. It was part of our initial procurement for the new Special Investigations. You never know what a situation might call for.”

  “You have a secret stash of spy equipment somewhere?” She was trying to be glib, but Nick’s smile answered the question. “Shit, Nick. I hope it’s all legal.”

  The smile broadened. “Pretty much.”

  She laughed. “I want to see it. Why didn’t I know about this?”

  Cynthia folded her hands on the table. “You did, Jackie. It was in the packet of info I gave you on your first day here.”

  Laurel snickered inside Jackie’s head. Paperwork. Get used to it.

  Shut up, you.

  Nick pushed his carton of food aside. “Cyn, you have the map set up?”

  She grabbed a remote off of the table and pushed a button. A large LED screen on the far wall lit up. It was an overhead map of Thatcher’s Mill.

  Nick laid out the vantage points from which they could have unobstructed views of the house and how best to reach them. They would need to get pretty close in order to avoid the trees. Even without the foliage, it would be too dense for a clear photo op, and they needed clear views of all the windows. They would come in from the north this time so they would not have to come in on Main Street and increase the risk of being seen.

  “That all looks good,” Jackie said. “Any luck and we’re in and out in an hour, but let’s assume neither girl goes looking out any windows on her own volition.”

  “Then we knock on the damn door,” Shelby said. “Wouldn’t hurt to try asking them anyway. We might not need the photos at all.”

  “I hate putting those girls at any more risk than we have to,” Jackie said.

  “We’ll ask about the police chief,” Nick said. “Keep the topic off of the family. We might get an indication if he’s a threat to them.”

  Jackie pointed her fork at Nick. “That’s good. We need to check into him regardless. That’s as good a starting point as any.” She scraped at the bottom of her carton, fishing out the last bits of shrimp among the rice. The plan was simple, straightforward, and ran a decent chance of not getting screwed up over something random or stupid.

  Shelby had her feet kicked up on the table while she finished off her beer, and Laurel sat quietly beside her in a chair. Talk about an odd couple. How frustrating would it be to be in love with someone you pretty much could have no physical contact with? Laurel looked across the table at Jackie and smiled, and she glanced away. A lump of guilt balled up in her throat, and she swept aside the image of Laurel lying on that stainless steel table, arm hanging limply over the side with its single trail of blood running down from the crook in her arm, and the echo of Drake’s laughter resounding through that cavernous warehouse.

  Jackie tossed the fork into her carton and pushed it away. “So, when do we leave?”

  They assembled their gear and headed for the airport, Cynthia remaining behind for quick informational access via the computer, plus the fact that she had no training or experience with these sorts of operations. Once on the plane, Jackie leaned against the fuselage and stared out at the darkening skies. Laur? How much do you love Shelby?

  How much? That’s kind of a relative question, don’t you think? Why?

  I don’t know. I just can’t imagine how hard this must all be for you, putting up with all of my bullshit and then being in love with someone you can’t really interact with at all.

  We interact a lot, actually. We watch movies, play games, talk about books, tell each other our life stories. Other than the fact that we can’t physically touch, we have a pretty normal relationship, I think.

  Don’t you miss it though, not being able to touch her, hold hands, any of that kind of stuff?

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. I miss it more than anything else, but it is what it is, hon. I’ll take what I can get because this is the fate the Blessed Mother has given me.

  Jackie was silent for a long moment. I wish it could’ve been different for you, Laur. I’m sorry.

  Don’t be. You had no control over that, so quit going there. No more blame. I’m actually pretty happy all things considered.

  Jackie closed her eyes. I just wish there was something I could do for you. You’ve done so much for me.

  “You all right, Jackie?” Nick asked.

  She opened her eyes, finding Nick staring at her from across the table between them. “Yeah, thanks. I’m fine.” He kept watching her, the hint of a smile on his face. He knew she was bullshitting him, but respectfully declined to press the matter any further. “What’s your favorite book?”

  The smile vanished. He gave her a perplexed look. “Favorite book? Why do you ask?”

  “No reason, just curious I guess,” she said. “You have a library in your house. I was wondering if you had a favorite book in there.”

  “I have a signed first edition of Stoker’s Dracula. He signed it for me himself.” Nick laughed at Jackie’s slack-jawed disbelief. “I know, a bit ironic, don’t you think?”

  Jackie tried to keep a straight face, but could not. She began to laugh. “That’s ... God, I don’t even know what to say to that.”

  Shelby walked by as the FASTEN SEATBELT light dinged on. She patted Nick on the shoulder. “Vampires have a twisted sense of humor, don’t they, babe?”

  “I thought it an appropriate purchase at the time.”

  Jackie sat back up and buckled her seatbelt, still chuckling. “Actually, I think that’s kind of awesome. I would’ve never guessed that in a million years.”

  Shelby’s voice floated up from the back of the plane. “That’s OK. We’ll wait.”

  Laurel giggled away inside Jackie’s head. I forgot about that. She makes me laugh.

  Jackie watched Nick shaking his head at Shelby’s remark. I suppose she does at that.

  They landed at the Dubuque airport, instead of the tiny airfield to the south, so they could approach from the north. Nick drove this time, pulling off the highway on the north edge of Thatcher’s Mill behind the local barbershop. The spot only obscured them from the main road, so they hoped that nobody would come wandering around. Given what Jackie had seen thus far, the odds were good no foot traffic would happen upon the SUV.

  After gathering up their equipment, they moved to the base of the hill, which provided some cover as they walked among the heavy blanket of leaves through the stand of oak and maple. Nick led them up the hill, his large pack slung over his back, when they got in sight of the drive leading up to the Thatcher’s. Jackie could see the house, lit up from a porch light and the soft glow emanating through the curtained windows. They were making their way to a low embankment at the edge of the clearing that would allow them some relative, low-lying cover.

  “Right up there,” Nick said in a hushed voice, pointing to a spot between two t
ree trunks that stood only a few feet apart. “That should give us a good view of the whole front of the house.”

  Jackie nodded, eyeing the spot, and began to trudge forward again when, one by one, all of the lights in the house winked out. “What the hell?” Finally, the porch light went out, leaving them in almost complete darkness. “Could they have alarms out here?”

  “Possible,” Nick said, “but unlikely. Robert Thatcher did not strike me as the high-tech type. Maybe someone saw movement down here. We’ll wait a few minutes and see what happens. Let’s crawl up to the spot.”

  He dropped down into a crouch, hugging the ground as much as possible, and Jackie followed suit. The house vanished from sight over the edge of the embankment until they reached the edge and could see over once again. A soft breeze sifted through the trees, but things were otherwise silent and unmoving. Nick shrugged out of his pack and began to unload equipment.

  “Here,” he said, and handed her and Shelby night-vision binoculars. “You two see if you can spot anything while I get the camera situated.”

  Jackie pulled them up to her face and peered out, everything becoming suffused in a green glow. No curtains were pulled aside. No figures stood watching in the windows. “It’s seven-thirty. Could they have just gone to bed?” In answer to her question, something cold ran down her spine. The breeze shifted, stirring the leaves on the ground in front of them. Jackie swore she heard someone whispering. “Did you guys—?”

  “Yeah,” Shelby said. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  Someone called for her, Laurel said. For Rebecca. I’m going to go in there in and look. Back in a minute.

  “Laur, wait!” But it was too late. Laurel had stepped out of her body and was now walking across the clearing toward the house. Out of the corner of her eye, Jackie saw something else, a wisp of fog shifting across the ground, until she realized it was another ghost.

  “Over there,” Nick said, pointing toward the Mill. It was yet another ghostly figure moving toward the house.

  “Laur!” Shelby called in a harsh whisper. She turned to Jackie. “What’s going on?”

  “She said someone called for Rebecca. She’s going to check it out.”

  “Shit.” Shelby stood up and whispered out toward the house, “Laur, get back here.”

  It was too late though. Laurel was already going up the porch steps. Jackie scanned the house but could still see no movement. “Damn it. Now what?”

  Another ghost came up from behind, passing by them within a few feet and Jackie nearly jumped out of her skin. Yet another appeared over by the mill building.

  “Interesting,” Nick said. “That answers our question about multiple Rebeccas.”

  “OK, but who the hell just called them over?”

  Nick stared intently at the house. “I don’t know. There’s so much spiritual energy floating around here, I can’t tell.”

  Jackie reached into the side pocket of the pack and pulled out one of the tranquilizer guns. “It’s time to find out,” she said. “Watch my back.” She crawled up out of the undergrowth and stepped out into the clearing, marching purposefully across the packed dirt and gravel toward the front door.

  “Jackie!” Nick called out. “Get back here.”

  She ignored him and kept moving, gripping the pistol tighter to calm her trembling hand. Laurel could be walking into trouble and she was not about to let her do it alone. At the top of the steps, she found the screen door to the porch locked, and with one deft punch, thrust the end of the pistol through the screen mesh. Jackie reached in and undid the lock, yanked open the door and moved quickly to the front door.

  “Robert Thatcher!” She pounded on the front door. “I know you’re in there.” She hammered on it again. “Mr. Thatcher, I’d like a word—”

  Laurel’s familiar cold presence abruptly bled through the door and into Jackie’s body. Go, Jackie! Now! She called Carson up here.

  “Shit.” She waited a moment, hoping that Thatcher would open the door, but he did not. Instead, one of the ghosts stepped through the wall and stopped next to her, staring in silence, her face unexpressive. Jackie forced a smile upon her lips. “Hello.” The ghost merely stood there, eyes frozen upon her. Then another came through, blocking the door. Impassive as the other, she simply stared, whether at her or through her, Jackie could not tell. It was unsettling. When another came up from the opposite end of the porch and approached, Jackie decided that was enough. She spun on her heel and fled back off the porch, heading for Nick and Shelby. Laur, what the hell was that?

  It was the sister. She saw me.

  “What?”

  “Jackie,” Nick said, grabbing her by the arm as she hopped down over the embankment. “What are you doing?”

  “Let’s go,” she snapped back. “Carson’s coming.”

  “Ah, hell,” Shelby said.

  “All right,” Nick replied. “Back down the hill.”

  They shuffled and skipped their way down the hillside. Twice, Nick grabbed Jackie by a handful of shirt to keep her from tumbling down. As they threaded their way along the edge of the wood toward the Explorer, the red and blue flashing lights of Carson’s police car sped up the drive toward the Thatcher’s.

  They slammed the doors shut as Nick gunned the engine, backing lightless out of their space and onto Main Street.

  “Well, that was a fucking bust,” Shelby yelled, slapping the back of Nick’s headrest hard enough to jolt him in the seat.

  I saw her, Laurel said. Rebecca. I got a good look.

  “Laur got a solid look at her. We’ll get a sketch done,” Jackie said. “And I think we have a new lead.”

  Nick flipped on the lights when he took off up the highway, illuminating a sedan parked across the street about one hundred feet away. Someone stood against it, leaning on the hood of the car, watching them.

  As the Explorer passed him by, the man waved, grinning. It was Margolin.

  Jackie just shook her head in disgust. “Sonofabitch.”

  Chapter 15

  Jackie flopped onto the bed in her room of the Fairfield Inn, Dubuque. She rubbed her hands over her face and groaned at the sweet feel of the comforter her body sank into.

  “Call me in the morning,” she said. “I don’t think I can move now.”

  Shelby walked out of the bathroom, brushing her hair. “Tempting. Sure you don’t want to trade to Nick’s room?”

  Jackie growled in reply. “Do you ever stop?”

  “When life has suitably resolved itself to my satisfaction,” Shelby said and flashed a smile.

  Jackie flipped her off. “Well, I’m screwed then. I don’t think my brain is capable of resolution.”

  “Then quit using your brain so much,” she stated. “Quit thinking about every last thing that might or could go wrong.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Jackie replied. “You’ve probably already done everything that might or could go wrong or right for that matter.”

  Shelby fell onto the other bed. “I’ll tell you something, sweetie. Experience isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. Believe me. I would trade many things back to experience the newness of something all over again. You don’t appreciate it until it’s gone.”

  “Thanks,” Jackie said, “but I’d just as soon skip the irony aspects of life.”

  The cold chill of Deadworld wafted through the room and Laurel returned. “Irony is good for you, and Spindly Man is here. I’m almost getting used to this cat-and-mouse stuff.”

  “Speaking of new experiences,” Jackie said, “what the hell are we going to do about that thing? Not that I plan to ever cross over again, but if we ever had some ... issue, I do not want to run into that thing.”

  A knock came at the door, and Shelby sat up. “No fucking clue, babe. It worries me though.”

  Great. The Queen of No Worries showing a twinge of something Jackie had not seen before. Fear.

  Shelby let Nick in and walked back into the room with him. He set the lapto
p down on the desk and sat down. “You doing all right, Jackie?”

  “Tired,” she said, “and wishing things would go right just once for us ... for um, Special Investigations.” She pointed a finger at Shelby, who smiled at her with a raised eyebrow but said nothing.

  Nick eyed them both for a second before continuing. “I wouldn’t say things didn’t go right, just not as planned. We did, after all, learn new information.”

  “Laur got a good read on Rebecca,” Jackie said, “which we can hopefully translate into a decent likeness. I’ll call McManus and see if he can arrange a sketch artist for us.”

  “Laurel,” Nick said, “how did the sister react when you showed up?”

  “Surprised,” she replied, “and then angry. That’s when she dialed up Carson.”

  “What exactly did she say? Do you remember?” Nick wondered.

  “Something like, ‘Carson, we’ve got a situation up here,’ or close to it. It certainly did not sound like your panicked 911 call.”

  “So, Carson has a connection with the Charlotte sister,” Nick said. “And someone called those ghosts to the house.”

  “Why would someone do that?” Jackie asked. “We need to find out about the sisters. We need to know who they really are. Once we can prove they don’t belong there, I think I can get McManus in on this, so we can get the damn authority we need to properly investigate.”

  “I agree,” Nick said. “We can find out about the parents though. Their name changes are legal record. We should see if we can find out where they came from and how they ended up in Thatcher’s Mill in the first place. Jackie, how soon do you think we can get a sketch of Rebecca and Charlotte worked up?”

  “I’ll call McManus and see what he can arrange,” she said.

  “I had another thought,” Nick said. “What if we ask that reporter to help us to find out about them.”

  “Margolin?” Jackie could not believe he would suggest that. “Why would that asshole want to help us? He ... oh, you’re right, Nick. He just wants a damn story. Let him think we want to give him one.”