by J. B. Lynn
"Oh, honey, it's not that he's ignoring you, he just can't hear you. It's not his fault. Most people can't. He's not doing it on purpose."
"But he doesn't believe Halley or you that I'm even here," she wailed.
I didn't know how to respond to that. If I could have hugged the poor child, I would have, but I was pretty sure that embracing a non-corporeal being is impossible. I reached out my hand and patted her knee. The cold jolt of the contact vibrated up my arm like I'd just hit my funny bone.
I glanced in the "objects may be closer than they appear" mirror just in time to see Smoke climb out of Lacey's car.
He didn't look happy.
"What is it you want to tell Smoke?" I asked Angel, hurriedly, knowing that once he returned to the car, I wouldn't be able to talk to her.
"I wanna tell him that I'm not mad at him for being dead."
I whipped my head around to look at her. "Why would you say that?"
She gave me a one-shoulder shrug. "Cuz it's his fault I am."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Smoke opened the door of the Jeep and climbed in, shivering as Angel passed through him and then disappeared.
I almost called out to her to come back, desperate to know how he was responsible for her death.
Smoke cranked up the heat, a scowl weighing down his features.
"Everything okay?" I squeaked.
"According to Lacey, there's a lot of pressure coming from On High to close the college kids' case."
"And you believe her?"
"Why shouldn't I?"
I shrugged. "I dunno. She seems to keep showing up."
He'd been putting the car into drive, but he slipped it back into park and turned to stare at me.
I swallowed hard. It occurred to me that it might not be the best idea to piss off a guy with a reputation for anger issues who's responsible for a little girl's death. I immediately felt guilty for the thought.
"Reed keeps popping up, too," Smoke said.
"But it's his case."
He rubbed the back of his neck, signaling his agitation
"I'm just tired," I said to soothe him. "I don't know what I'm talking about."
Turning away, he started driving.
Neither of us spoke for the rest of the trip to his apartment. I was too busy wondering how poor Angel had died. I didn't want to think about what he was ruminating about.
As he parked the Jeep outside the carriage house, a man rushed toward the vehicle.
"Get down!" Using a hand on the back of my neck, Smoke pushed my head toward my lap, as he reached over me, popping open the glove compartment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of metal.
Frightened, I hugged my knees, praying it wasn't the guy who had threatened me earlier.
Smoke threw open his door. "Jesus! I coulda shot you. What were you thinking, rushing me like that?"
"I called and told you I was waiting for you," a familiar male voice said.
"Sit up." Smoke tugged at my arm. "It's okay. You're safe."
I sat up and saw Bernie standing outside the Jeep. I gave him a weak wave.
He didn't look happy to see me. "We talked about her," he said to Smoke.
"She's in trouble." Smoke climbed out of the Jeep, walked around to my side, and opened my door.
"You may be in trouble," Bernie said.
"I'll deal."
Bernie shook his head. "What kind of trouble is she in?"
"She was threatened. Twice. After her tires were all slashed." Smoke led me from the Jeep to his front door. Unlocking it, he nudged me inside.
"What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into, young lady?" Bernie followed us inside even though he hadn't been invited.
"Triple murder," Smoke said.
"I know that," Bernie said.
"Then why ask her?"
The two men glared at one another. I had the distinct impression that whatever they were really fighting about had nothing to do with me.
"Let's sit," Bernie suggested. "Maybe a fresh perspective will be helpful."
Smoke nodded. "Do you want something to drink?"
"Coffee would be good," Bernie said.
"I was asking Victoria."
I shook my head. "No thanks."
Bernie and I sat at the kitchen table while Smoke busied himself making coffee.
"Tell me how this whole thing started," Bernie prompted.
I looked to Smoke for guidance. He nodded. I looked back at Bernie, wondering what he'd done to earn Smoke's trust. "I run a crime scene clean up company. A couple of days ago, I got the job of cleaning up the frat boy job."
Bernie nodded encouragingly.
"After speaking to the parents of one of the boys, I started to suspect that it wasn't a murder-suicide like the police seemed to think." I spoke slowly, choosing my words carefully. "First the tires were slashed, then I got a threatening phone call, and tonight a man…" I hesitated, shaken by the memory. "Tonight, a man threatened me at my home."
"And what have you discovered about the case?" Bernie asked.
"You forgot about the guy who attacked you in the kitchen of the frat boy house," Smoke interjected. "And that you handed over the damaged computer memory card to Reed." His annoyance that I'd given it to Alan was obvious.
"Who's Reed?" Bernie asked.
"The police detective assigned to the case," I said.
"The police chief's son," Smoke said, his tone loaded with meaning.
Bernie raised his eyebrows at that but didn't comment. Instead, he nudged, "Have you come up with any evidence concerning the case?"
"Besides the memory card?" I asked. "I don't think so."
"But you're convinced it was a triple homicide?"
I nodded, wishing there was a way I could tell them that I knew Martin hadn't killed his friends.
Bernie rocked back in his seat, fixing his gaze on Smoke. "What do you think?"
Smoke settled into a chair, stretching out his legs and crossing his arms over his chest. "Somebody seems to think she's going to find something." His expression was guarded, but his tone was matter-of-fact. "And now, word has it that there's a lot of pressure coming from higher up the chain to close the case."
"Do you think this Reed fellow will do it?" Bernie asked.
"He's the chief's son." He tried to deliver the line casually, but I heard the stress in Smoke's tone as he mentioned the chief.
"Not everyone follows in their parents' footsteps," Bernie said.
"That's true," I agreed hurriedly, unsure whether I was defending Alan Reed or myself.
Smoke's gaze narrowed thoughtfully at my words. After a moment, he nodded slightly, signaling his acquiescence.
"And you're not going to drop this?" Bernie asked Smoke.
He shook his head.
Bernie sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll see what I can find."
"No one's asking you to," Smoke said.
Bernie chuckled. "I've got too much time in to let you do this on your own." He got up and walked toward the door.
"What about your coffee?" Smoke asked, standing to follow him.
"I'm an old man. I can't drink coffee this late. It plays hell with my acid reflux, and I need all the beauty sleep I can get." He winked at me as he said the last part.
Smoke walked him out, and I sat at the kitchen table, unsure of what to do. I could hear their muted voices, arguing just outside the door, but couldn't make out their words. I twisted in my seat to see if Angel was in the vicinity, but I didn't spot her.
"Bernie thinks you're hiding something," Smoke announced, re-entering the apartment and locking the door behind him.
I remained silent. Bernie was right, but seeing how Smoke had reacted to the talk of ghosts, even after being faced with Delia's antics, I couldn't see trying to explain myself.
Smoke turned off the now full coffee pot. "Sure you don't want any?"
"No, thanks."
He slowly and deliberately poured the entire thing down the
drain.
I braced myself, knowing he was getting ready to grill me. Instead of just waiting for him to start, I took the initiative and asked, "So, is Bernie really your uncle?"
Chuckling, Smoke slid into the seat across from me. "He's a family friend. And don't think that changing the subject is getting you off the hook."
"Can't blame a gal for trying," I quipped weakly.
"Hey, this is two friends talking over a kitchen table, not some sort of inquisition." He smiled reassuringly.
It didn't make me feel any better. "Friends don't fire friends for no reason," I muttered, looking away.
"Tell me why you're so hung up about parents."
I looked back at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"You sacrifice your own happiness to keep your folks happy, and when Bernie suggested Reed might not follow his daddy's lead, you rushed to support him."
I shook my head.
"I'm not a mind-reader, Tori. You've got to give me more than that to go on."
I hesitated. This wasn't usually something I shared with people. I'd never told my ex. Pretty much the only people alive who knew, were Mom, Dad, Grandma, Mike and Venus…and of course, Jerry…if he was still alive. Yet, for some reason, I found myself wanting to tell Smoke.
He waited, leaning forward expectantly.
I balled my hands into fists to strengthen my resolve. I took a deep breath, aware that the leap I was about to take was the equivalent of an emotional bungee jump. "Ruth and Artie Spring aren't my biological parents."
Smoke sat back in his chair, shocked. The fact that I'd manage to surprise him made me chuckle.
"But…but…" he said, obviously trying to wrap his head around the bombshell revelation. "You look so much like your mom."
I shook my head. "I look like my aunt."
"Your aunt?"
"My biological mother, Maureen, the one Grandma is always mistaking me for, is…was…Ruth's sister."
"She died?"
I shrugged like the answer didn't matter to me. "Who knows? The state terminated her parental rights when I was five. Mom and Dad started the adoption proceedings soon after."
"It's not easy to terminate a mother's rights," Smoke said quietly.
I didn't respond. I knew he was asking what horrible thing my birth mother had done that had resulted in me being removed from her care, but that was information I didn't share. With anyone.
Sensing my unwillingness to discuss the matter, Smoke asked, "So is Jerry your biological brother?"
"No. He's Mom and Dad's real child."
Smoke fell silent, processing the new information.
I forced myself to unfurl my aching fingers. "Most people don't know what I told you, so I'd appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself."
"Your secret's safe with me." Reaching across the table, he caught my left hand under his right. He squeezed it reassuringly. "Your folks love you."
My throat constricted painfully. "I know."
"They'd be devastated if anything happened to you."
I nodded, using my free hand to nervously brush my hair off my face.
"But what?" he asked, puzzling through it aloud. "You think you owe them?"
"I do owe them. They gave me a home. A life. Love. I owe them everything."
"Which is why you won't let Jerry's dream die? As repayment of some debt you had no say in taking?"
I ducked my head, not wanting him to see the tears burning my eyes. "When you put it like that," I forced past the lump in my throat, "it sounds ridiculously stupid."
Releasing my hand, he sat back in his seat. "No. It doesn't sound stupid. Misguided, maybe? Ridiculously loyal, extremely loving, but definitely not stupid."
I released a breath I hadn't even been aware I'd been holding, suddenly feeling like a weight had been lifted off my chest.
"I do think it was ridiculous you fired me because you're so defensive about it," Smoke teased gently.
Ashamed, I bowed my head.
"Which is why," he said quickly, "I think we should pretend it never happened." His smile invited me to agree with him.
It would have been easy to leave things there, but he wasn't the only one who was looking for answers. I looked him in the eye. "What about the whole ghost thing?"
His mouth flattened to a straight line. "I'd forgotten about that. Everyone's entitled to their beliefs, but I—"
"Oh crap!" I cried, interrupting him. I scrambled out of my seat, trying to get away from the angry ghost advancing toward me.
He got to his feet. "Stop fooling around. There are no ghosts here."
Heading straight for me, the ghost barreled right through him.
He shivered. "What the hell was that?'
"Tell him," the ghost demanded. "And while you're at it, tell him it's your fault I'm dead."
"A g-ghost," I told him.
"C'mon, Tori," he said. "There are no—"
"It's Lacey!" I blurted out.
Suddenly he looked like he was the one who'd seen a ghost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
"That's not funny," Smoke said to me. "Why would you even say something like that?"
I couldn't respond to him because all of my attention was on Lacey.
"I had plans," the newly-minted ghost bitched. Her long blonde locks didn't hide the angry bruise that ringed her neck.
"I'm sorry," I told her.
Thinking I was speaking to him, Smoke said, "Sorry?"
Lacey tried to shove the kitchen table at me, but she fell through it.
I let out a shaky sigh of relief, having forgotten in the moment that ghosts couldn't harm me.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of gold. Juliet hovered in the doorway, wringing her hands. "I shoulda never told her you could see her."
"It's okay," I assured Juliet.
"It's not okay!" Lacey screeched.
"Why don't you tell me what happened?" I suggested to her gently.
"This isn't funny," Smoke said again.
"I'm not trying to be funny," I said, turning to face him. "I'm trying to figure out what the hell is going on. So if you'd shut up for just a…a…" I couldn't finish my sentence. I was suddenly freezing, and it was difficult for my lungs to suck in the air I so desperately needed.
I clawed at the invisible, icy tendrils that wrapped around my throat. Taking my attention off Lacey had been a mistake. She'd come up behind me and was doing her spectral best to choke the life out of me.
"Take that, you nosy bitch," she panted in my ear.
The memory of Martin slamming all the doors shut flashed through my head. I'd been operating the assumption that ghosts couldn't hurt me, but maybe I'd just never encountered one who wanted to.
"Stop that!" Smoke looked alarmed as he watched me trying to pluck Lacey's formless fingers away from my neck.
"Help me!" I choked out.
Crossing the room with quick strides, he yanked my hands away from my throat. "You're like ice. What's wrong with you?"
The room spun.
"Tori? Tori can you hear me?" Smoke grabbed my face in his hands, trying to get me to focus on him. He must have come into contact with Lacey because he winced, as though the cold had given him instant frostbite and jumped away "What the hell?"
"Help!" I wheezed again, not looking at him, but past him, to the two ghosts watching my battle with Lacey.
My plea broke through the paralysis that had gripped Juliet. She'd been frozen in horror at the scene unfolding in Smoke's kitchen, but now she reacted. "Stop that!"
I felt Lacey's grip on my throat slacken.
"She's not going to be able to help you if you kill her. Besides, I was here first." Juliet stamped her foot for emphasis.
"It's her fault I'm dead." Lacey reapplied pressure to my throat.
Stars danced in front of my eyes. The room started to darken.
The irony that my life had once been saved by a ghost, and now was being taken by one, didn't escape me.
<
br /> "I'm sorry," I barely managed to whisper to the other ghost in the room.
"Sorry for what?" Smoke asked, approaching me again.
I was sorry for a lot of things, but at that moment I was sorry I'd failed these two ghosts.
The unrelenting cold seeped into my bones, and I collapsed. I would have hit the floor, but Smoke caught me to him.
I hung there, sandwiched between the warmth of the living man holding onto me and the frigidity of the dead woman trying to squeeze the life out of me.
"Stay with me, Tori." Smoke's tone was desperate, but it sounded far away.
"Let go of her!" Juliet yelled, charging toward us like a bull toward a red flag.
She hit Lacey hard enough to dislodge her grip around my neck.
I sucked in a greedy gulp of air.
Despite her good intentions, Juliet was no match for Lacey, who'd been trained in hand-to-hand combat. Two quickly delivered blows made poor Juliet disappear through Smoke's refrigerator with a cry of pain.
Terror coursed through me. I'd never seen a ghost hurt another ghost before. If Lacey was capable of that, I had no doubt she'd kill me.
Lacey turned back to finish me off.
Angel jumped between us. "Leave her alone!"
"Get out of the way," Lacey growled.
The little kid held her ground.
Wrenching free of Smoke's grasp, I stumbled toward the girl, desperate to protect her. "Run, Angel! Hide!" My voice wasn't much more than a raspy whisper.
Smoke's horrified gasp echoed through the room.
I couldn't turn to see his expression, because my warning to Angel had been too late. Lacey had grabbed her arm and was twisting it behind her.
"Ow!" Angel cried.
"Let her go!" I leapt toward the empty space, attempting to free the child.
Lacey laughed at me.
"Don't hurt her," I begged.
Smoke came up behind me and grabbed my shoulders. "Take it easy, Victoria. No one's hurting anyone. I'm going to get you some help."
Lacey threw back her head and laughed. "Now that's priceless. He's going to have you locked up in a nuthouse."
Taking advantage of Lacey's distraction, Angel twisted free of her grip. She darted beneath the kitchen table as Lacey lunged after her.