Possession fa-5

by J. R. Ward

  Turning to look at the janitor—

  He was gone, as if he’d never been … nowhere in the crowd, not walking away down an aisle, not standing off to the side. It was as if he had just disappeared into thin air—and yet, Adrian was nodding his head as if he approved of something someone was saying to him.

  Looking away from the angel, she focused on the altar, and it was at that moment that the organ let out another powerful surge of harmony … and a guy she vaguely recognized, who had a ponytail and was wearing a black suit, walked out from behind the velvet curtains.

  Her only other thought, as he began to sing strong and true … was that he had a halo, too.

  Chapter

  Fifty-one

  Duke was so done with the silent-type peanut gallery that was riding shotgun next to him. The son of a bitch just sat there in the passenger seat, lighting up every once in a while, as they went from park to park.

  All without saying a fucking word.

  Ah, hell, it could be worse, Duke supposed. Someone with a chatty streak would have done his nut totally in.

  “Last one,” he said, talking mostly to himself.

  Pulling in between the cast-iron gates of Pine Grove Cemetery, he checked the clock on the dash: three thirty. Good.

  The guy next to him finally showed a reaction, sitting up in his seat and frowning. “Hey, you mind if we go right here at this lane?”

  “No difference to me. We have to case the entire place.”

  Following the winding road, Duke looked over the headstones without seeing them. Instead, he was focused on the cedar trees and the maples, the oaks and the pines, looking for downed limbs, or branches that were hanging half-dead. The cemetery had been bleeding money for the last five years, and on the brink of ruin—at least until the city had stepped in and taken over the heavy-lifting maintenance.

  And there was an internal logic to that Robin Hood routine: Rumor had it the mayor’s mother was buried somewhere on the grounds—no way he was going to let things go into the shitter on his watch in office.

  So, yeah, muni workers were now responsible for snow removal and large projects, with the mowing left to a skeleton crew of groundsmen.

  Whatever. More hours for him, which he—

  He knew even before they got close what burial was happening … Cait’s Lexus was among the row of cars parked off to the side of the lane.

  Long, long, long line of vehicles.

  Duke drove past them and intended to keep going—except then he saw someone he recognized. And no, it wasn’t his woman that got his attention. It was the motherfucker standing next to her.

  He hit the brakes.

  “What the hell are they doing here?” he heard his wingman say.

  Funny, he was thinking that very thing.

  The two of them got out of the truck at the same time.

  The burial had obviously just concluded, people breaking off into little somber groups and talking quietly as they dispersed into the sunlight.

  It was with a sense of utter unreality that Duke watched from across the way as Cait’s blond head turned to a man who had long, dark hair pulled back from a face that belonged on a magazine cover. The pair of them went over to a group of three who were standing directly over the grave, and after a suitable period of hugging, they turned away and began walking in the direction of her car.

  Duke stepped forward before he was aware of moving. And then he was walking a path to intercept them.

  Cait saw him first, and her expression changed instantly, recognition replacing her sadness. “Duke! Hi,” she called out with a wave.

  Look at me, Duke thought. Look at me, you son of a bitch.

  His brother’s eyes swung around, and it was so satisfying to watch the bastard’s whole body tighten up as if he’d been slapped. There was also a moment of confusion as he watched Cait rush forward, her arms out and ready for an embrace.

  As she came up to him, Duke was more than happy to oblige, pulling her against him, staring over her head at his godforsaken brother.

  A flash of epic fury made G.B. seem downright ugly, but of course he covered it up fast. He’d always been good at that. Very few knew what he was really like.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” Cait said against Duke’s pecs.

  He bent down and kissed her, right on the mouth. “Just doing my job. You okay?”

  “It’s been rough. I didn’t expect it to be this hard.”

  G.B. walked right up, his eyes burning, his face as relaxed as ever. “Hi.”

  Duke smiled with his teeth. “Hey.”

  Cait frowned. “You two know each other?”

  “Yes, we do.” G.B. put his hand out. “How are you?”

  The only reason Duke shook the goddamn thing was that he didn’t want Cait involved any further in what was going on between them. She’d made her choice, and it was the right one—and that was the extent of her entanglement.

  Also, as soon as he could, he was going to tell her everything—he’d already decided that over the course of the day. But not here, at the frickin’ cemetery, two minutes after she’d buried her student.

  G.B. smiled like the motherfucker he was. “So, Cait, can you take me back to my car? I have to go to rehearsals.”

  She stepped away. “Oh, yes, of course.” She glanced at G.B. “Will you give us a moment?”

  Yeah, G.B., run along there, asshole, would you.

  Only Duke knew exactly how pissed off the guy had to be as he nodded like nothing was doing and sauntered away.

  Cait turned to him and rubbed his arms. “I’m glad to see you.”

  “Me, too. Lucky coincidence.”

  “Listen, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to go home and finish my work tonight. With everything that’s been going on, I’m worried about getting behind, and the deadline is coming soon. If I press through, I can get it all wrapped up, and then…”

  “Yeah. Absolutely. You just call me, okay? I’m around.”

  “Perfect. Thank you.” She lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him briefly. “See you very soon?”

  “You got me, lady.” He tucked some of that hair behind her ear. “Anytime you want me.”

  He watched her walk off toward her car, pausing to let a minivan by before crossing the lane.

  When she left, G.B. was in her passenger seat.

  Across the distance that separated him from his brother, Duke could feel the hatred like an ice pick going into the side of his head—and for a moment, he nearly shouted after her.

  But his brother was a shit, not a killer.

  And this was quite a moment, wasn’t it. Without meaning to, it looked as though Duke had won the game he’d taken himself out of.

  As Cait drove them back to wherever they’d been, Duke couldn’t imagine the conversation. At least G.B. had nothing on him, though; he’d always kept his nose clean. What was the guy going to do? Tell her how Duke had been with a woman and G.B. had come along and knocked her up and left her and the kid high and dry?

  Yeah, that would reflect well on the SOB.

  So strange … G.B. had been full of hate since the day they’d been born, almost as if there had been a set amount of morality that had had to be split between the pair of them—and Duke had gotten the largest balance by far of however much there was.

  And it wasn’t like he himself was a rabid Good Samaritan or some shit.

  Look what he’d been willing to do to Cait.

  Until he’d come to his senses, that is.

  Jim strode across the lane toward the grave site. As he closed in, he was cursing himself. Of course Sissy would want to be at her own funeral—and he should have been the one to take her. He hadn’t known when it was though … and the criminal thing? He hadn’t thought to find out.

  Most of the people who’d come were wandering off, but not Sissy or her family. The grave was a square hole cut in the earth, a yawning mouth set to claim the remains in the coffin. Sissy’s mom and dad and
sister were on one side … Sissy on the other. And whereas her family were looking down; she was staring at them.

  Adrian, who was off to the side, gave a nod.

  “How’s she doing?” Jim asked as he came up to the guy.

  Dumb fucking question.

  Adrian shrugged. “She’s amazing. That’s how she’s doing.”

  “Oh.” Jim cleared his throat. “Yeah. Good.”

  Talk about inappropriate. He wasn’t actually chaffing at his buddy over here because the bastard had taken the girl to her funeral.

  Wow. Classy.

  With tangible sorrow, her parents put their arms around their remaining daughter and the trio turned away, leaving Sissy behind.

  “Gimme me a minute, would ya?” Jim asked.

  Not waiting for an answer, he went over to Sissy. “Hey, there.”

  She jumped as if surprised. “Oh, hi.”

  Instantly, he recognized that something was off with her. But come on, like this was happy times? “How you feeling?”

  “Good. You know, fine. Okay. I’m all right.”

  He wanted to put his arms around her and pull her into his chest. He wanted his body to be what she held on to as she struggled to find her footing. He wanted to be the guy she turned to when she needed something, anything.

  Instead, they just stood side by side, as her eyes clung to her mother, father and sister. The emotion in her face was so powerful, it was like a tangible object, something with heft and substance and a handle to grab onto.

  God knew she was going to be carrying that shit around with her for a very, very long time.

  Just as he was about to tell her how sorry he was, she shook her head and met his eyes. “So, how’s work?”

  Bizarre thing to ask about, considering what she was going through, but maybe she needed the distraction?

  “Good. Fine. You know.”

  Guess two could play at that game.

  She nodded over at the tall, dark-haired man Jim had been tailing for the past twenty-four hours. “Is he the soul?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh.”

  “Listen, Sissy, I can …” Do what? Take some more time off? Not going to happen. Devina might not have shown up here, but she was, as always, a busy little bitch.

  You can’t blame a girl for trying.

  God, he couldn’t believe she’d somehow infiltrated the spell around the mansion. And crap, he needed to tell Adrian what had happened. It was just so damned embarrassing. He had, however, redoubled the protection at the house. Maybe it had weakened because he’d had his head up his ass—

  “… was he an angel, too?”

  He shook himself back to attention. “I’m sorry?”

  “The other guy? Who’s with my old teacher over there?”

  Jim pivoted. “I’m so not following this. What?”

  “Over by the Lexus. That singer with the ponytail. He’s got a halo, too—but everyone can see him.”

  About twenty-five yards off, a blond-haired woman was getting into an SUV with a man who was tall and had long black hair. Neither one appeared to be particularly happy, but there was certainly no glow or anything around either of their heads.

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Jim said gently. Damn it, he wanted to go home with her—

  “The guy has a halo, like you and me.”

  Cranking his head back around, Jim frowned. “Halo?”

  Sissy rolled her eyes and made a little circle around her skull. “Can’t you see mine?”

  “No. There’s nothing there.”

  “Oh. Well, I see them. And you’ve got one, too.”

  Sure, fine, whatever. “Listen, I hate to do this, but I’ve got to go.”

  Duke Phillips was looking around as if searching for him, and if Jim didn’t make an appearance in the next nanosecond or two, the guy was going to be convinced he was losing his mind—not a good thing, considering Jim had been getting fucking nowhere with this soul yet.

  “It’s okay, you do you.” Sissy glanced back at Adrian. “I think he and I are going for a drive. I need to clear my head. I feel … really weird … right now.”

  Jim ground his teeth. “Okay. Yeah, sure. I get it. I’ll check in later, all right?”

  “Sure.”

  She was the one who turned away, and she did not look back as she went over to his buddy. On Adrian’s side? As she approached, the angel’s face had a softness to it that Jim had never seen before.

  Great. Just fucking wonderful.

  Chapter

  Fifty-two

  “I was going to tell you sooner.”

  Cait put the brakes on as she came up to one of the cemetery’s fleet of stop signs. Glancing over, she did not feel good about wherever G.B. was at in his head. He was staring out the side window, chin propped up on the knuckles of his hand, eyes narrowed coldly.

  It was a reminder of how she didn’t really know him.

  “But honestly,” she continued, unsure whether he was listening, “I didn’t know where things were going.”

  Hitting the gas again, she tried to remember how to get out of the cemetery. She wasn’t so hot with directions on a good day, and this had not been a good day. Left?

  Why the hell not.

  Turning the wheel, she felt the graves press in on her, a chill frisking the back of her neck.

  “I’m sorry,” he said abruptly. “I just … I would have liked a chance to see what you and I could be together. That’s all.”

  He didn’t look at her. Just kept staring off into space.

  “It’s complicated,” he tacked on.

  “I haven’t handled this well.” She cursed under her breath. “It was so weird—I met both of you on the same night.”

  And it was odd to think they seemed to know each other a little—what were the chances? Then again, Caldwell was a small city—not as close-knit as a town, sure, but it wasn’t a Manhattan or Chicago, either.

  He rubbed his eyes. “This has just been a really strange couple of days.”

  “I’m so sorry I’ve added to the difficulty.”

  He didn’t say much else on the way back to St. Patrick’s, and though she hated to admit it, it was a relief to pull up next to the front door and put the SUV in park so he could get out.

  Turning to him, she wondered what to say.

  “Cait, I’ve got to tell you something—”

  A phone went off, and the ringing was not hers. With a soft curse, G.B. shoved a hand into his suit coat, and as he looked at the number, he seemed annoyed.

  “Hold on, I gotta take this.” He put the thing up to his ear. “Hello? Yeah, hey, Detective, how are you? You were? I didn’t see you during the service. Oh, yeah, thanks.” There was a silence. “I have rehearsals today—I’m actually in trouble because I’ve been gone for so long this afternoon. Okay. Fine. Yeah, I’ll come over again. Right now? All right, gimme a minute to get downtown.”

  When he hung up, he shook his head. “The police want to talk to me some more.”

  Boy, this day kept getting better for him, didn’t it. “That’s awful.”

  “Yeah, it is. Listen, I’ve got to go, but can we—”

  “Absolutely. Just give me a call whenever you’re free.” The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel like he was an afterthought. “I’m going to be working at home tonight, finishing up the book.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  He got out as if he were distracted, but come on. The police were on his phone about a murder. How could he not be thinking about something other than his dating status?

  G.B. walked off in a hurry, crossing the road and getting into an older-model BMW. As he tore off, he didn’t glance at her as he passed by, but she sure as hell got a good look at him—and that chill went up her neck again.

  The expression on his face was positively volcanic. He was furious, his profile shockingly ugly.

  Shaking her head, Cait got out, walked up to the cathedral’s grand en
trance and pulled open the heavy doors. Inside the foyer, Sissy’s art was still on display, and as Cait went over to start packing things up, the sound of her heels on the marble floor echoed loudly.

  Funny, the space hadn’t seemed so large with all the people in it. Empty now, the narthex appeared as big as a football stadium.

  She’d left the portfolios in the coatroom, and it took her no time at all to load up the artwork carefully and leave it out in the open. Reaching into her bag, she went for her sketchbook, intending to rip free a page and write a quick note—

  Damn it, she’d lost the thing, remember?

  How was she going to—

  “I’ll let her parents know where it is.”

  Wheeling around, she found that janitor standing right in front of the double doors that opened to the pews and the altar.

  “Oh, thank you. I don’t want Sissy’s things to get lost.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to them.” He nodded to the easels. “May I help you carry these out?”

  “I can do it. But thanks.”

  The old man helped her anyway, allowing her to make only one trip.

  As she closed her SUV’s hatch, she turned to the man and felt the oddest urge to hug him. But that wouldn’t have been appropriate.

  “May I give you a piece of advice?” he said, smiling in a way that made his eyes nearly disappear under their burden of wrinkles.

  “Please.”

  “Talk it out.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You need to talk it out. If you do that, everything will be all right—eventually. If you don’t, you’re going to miss the life you want.”

  Poor old guy. Clearly dementia was setting in.

  Not wanting to upset him, she patted his arm. “Okay, I promise. I’ll do that.”

  Getting into her car, she gave him a last wave and took off, heading for home. She’d gone about three blocks when she figured out where her sketch pad was.

  “Son of a gun,” she muttered.

  And she might as well go back and get it.

  Rerouting didn’t require a huge time suck, and she kept to the surface roads as she went toward downtown. Closing in on the thick of the city, she was relieved to find that the traffic was light; then again, it wasn’t quite the tail end of the workday yet, rush hour still about an hour off.