by Paula Graves
All his firmly held, highly logical beliefs had just been blown apart. Abby was alive and well, and Lily had been dead on target. His whole sense of reality was probably off-kilter right now.
Agents Brody and Logan entered the kitchen behind her. Brody glared at Lily. “What’s she doing here?”
“We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” McBride pushed himself away from the table edge. “Has anyone called Walters?”
Brody ignored Lily and smiled at Abby, his stony face softening. “You must be Abby.”
The little girl tightened her grip on Lily.
“It’s okay.” Lily stroked the child’s tousled curls. “Mr. Brody just needs to ask you some questions.”
“About Gordy and Skeet?” Abby asked solemnly.
Lily threaded her fingers through Abby’s hair. “Yes, honey. Let’s go sit at the table and talk to Mr. Brody and Mr. Logan.” She carried Abby to the table and set her in the chair.
“Ms. Browning?” Logan took Lily’s arm as she started to sit by Abby. “I have some questions, if you don’t mind.”
“She was with me all night,” McBride interjected.
Brody and Logan both turned to look at him, then back at Lily. A blush rolled up her neck and into her cheeks.
“Humor me,” Brody said finally.
McBride started to protest, but Lily put her hand on his arm. “It’s okay.”
She followed Agent Logan to the parlor. He waved at the overstuffed settee by the window and took the paisley armchair across from her. His broad shoulders knocked awry the lace doily draped over the chair back. “Ms. Browning, tell me what happened after you left your house this evening.”
“At least part of what I did is none of your business.”
She was pleased to see that some men were still capable of blushing. “So tell me the part that is my business,” he said.
Stifling a smile, Lily complied.
“YOU ACTUALLY HEARD LILY in your room, Abby?” Brody’s voice was gentle, but McBride detected the steely edge.
“She wasn’t really in the room.” Abby’s mouth tightened with impatience. “She was in my mind, helping me hear her.”
“Did Lily tell you she was just in your mind?”
“Yeah, ’cause at first I thought she was a ghost voice and I was scared. But then she said she was in my mind, and I wasn’t so scared. She hugged me and made me feel better.”
“Hugged you? You felt her touch you?”
Abby frowned. “Well, sorta. It was like butterflies, you know? Like a hundred hundred butterflies flapping their wings against me. But it made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”
“And she helped you find this house?” Brody asked.
“She and Casey did. Lily said go knock on the door and tell them I was Abby Walters and to call the police.” Abby nodded solemnly. “And I did.”
McBride drew a shaky breath. Had Lily been with Abby in her mind, helping her find safety? What other explanation was there? Lily hadn’t been out of his sight for fifteen minutes. Short of thumbing a ride on a passing helicopter, she couldn’t have gotten to these woods and back in that short a time.
“Who’s Casey?” Brody asked.
“She’s this kid who came to visit me. I couldn’t see her, either.” Abby spoke as if she were saying nothing unusual.
Goose bumps rose on McBride’s arms.
Brody glanced up at him, one brow cocked so high it almost reached his hairline. He looked back at the little girl. “Abby, are you sure Lily was never really in your room?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Neither was Casey. I told you.” Abby’s bottom lip puffed out and tears welled in her red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I wanna go home.” Tears trickled from her eyes. “I want to see my mommy.”
“Come on, Brody, she’s had enough for tonight.” McBride put his hand on the fed’s arm. Brody motioned for McBride to follow him while Mrs. Marlin entered the room and comforted Abby.
“Who do you think this Casey is?” McBride asked as they stepped into the dark hallway.
Brody ignored the question. “Is Mr. Walters on his way?”
McBride nodded. “I sent a uniform to drive him here. He sounded too shaky to get here under his own steam.”
“Good.” Brody nodded and walked toward the open parlor door, a rectangle of light in the narrow, gloomy hall. McBride followed him. Inside, Lily and Agent Logan sat across from each other, both silent and tense.
“Mike, I’d like to see you out here for a minute,” Brody said.
As Agent Logan came out of the parlor, McBride went inside and crouched next to Lily. “Everything okay?”
She nodded. “How’s Abby holding up?”
“She’s doing great. She thinks you’re the best, you know.” He didn’t ask about Casey. Not in front of the agents. He’d save that for later.
Lily smiled. “I’m just glad she’s okay.”
“McBride, can I see you a moment?” Brody asked. He and Logan stepped away from the doorway, forcing McBride to follow them. Brody’s grim expression made McBride’s gut coil into an aching knot. The FBI agent lowered his voice. “We just got a call from your men. They found the trailer where Abby was being kept. We also found Debra Walters’s missing Lexus.”
McBride could tell there was more. “And the kidnappers?”
“Dead from gunshot wounds.”
McBride remembered Lily’s earlier words. A man with a gun.
Lily had seen a killer.
HE’D NEVER KILLED BEFORE.
It wasn’t like he’d thought it would be, the kick of the gun in his hand or the sound ringing in his deafened ears. And the blood. God, the blood.
He’d had to do it. Make a mess to clean up the mess.
Blood spatter dotted his clothing, a fine red spray on the dark wool. But he’d been prepared for that possibility. He stripped off his latex gloves and wadded them up with his sweater, pants and shoes, shivering as the cool October breeze whipped across his bare skin. Tucking the bloodstained clothes into a small garbage bag, he tossed them into the Dumpster in the alley.
Donning the spare clothes he’d brought with him, he closed the top of the trash bin and returned to his car, his heart pounding with growing apprehension.
Had Abby seen him? He didn’t think so. Even if she had, she was just a little girl, easily confused. And his alibi, should he need one, was rock solid.
Maybe it was finally over.
WALTERS ARRIVED at the Marlins’ house around the time that Brody and Logan were briefing McBride on the two murders, so McBride missed the reunion between father and daughter. Walters was bundling the sleepy little girl into his arms when McBride and Lily reentered the kitchen.
Walters looked at Lily, his eyes bright with tears. “I don’t know how…”
She shook her head and squeezed his hand. “Not necessary.”
“Mr. Walters, I’d like to put you both in protective custody until things get settled.”
Walters’s blue eyes narrowed. “Settled how?”
McBride glanced at Abby, who’d already fallen asleep on her father’s shoulder. Quietly, he told him about the murders.
Walters looked shocked. “My God. Why?”
That was the big question. Who would want to kill the kidnappers and why? “We’re looking into that right now.”
“And you think Abby’s in danger?”
“She didn’t see whoever shot the men, and as far as we know, he didn’t see her. But we shouldn’t take any chances.” It was possible the sandy-haired man didn’t consider Abby enough of a threat to go after her, but McBride wasn’t ready to risk her life on that assumption. “We can provide twenty-four hour guard at your hotel room.”
Walters shook his head. “I don’t want her to stay in another strange place. Debra’s sister agreed to take Abby until I can settle everything here. I’ll send half my security detail with them. It’ll free you up to find out who did this and why.”
McBride would hav
e preferred to keep Abby where he could make sure she was safe, but he understood Walters’s need to get the girl into a familiar place with someone she knew and loved. “We may need to talk to her again.”
Walters didn’t look happy, but he nodded. “Understood.”
McBride motioned Theo Baker over and briefed him on the plan, making it clear that he was to treat the trip back to the hotel as a protective detail.
McBride and Lily walked Walters and Abby out to Theo’s car. The sergeant headed back around to the driver’s seat. “You coming in to the office now?” he asked.
“I’m going to see Ms. Browning home.” McBride didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone, now that she was a murder witness.
Theo grinned. McBride’s stern look only made his grin widen. “Just leave your cell phone on, Romeo.”
When they’d left, McBride slid his arm around Lily’s waist, leaning his head against hers. He was overjoyed to see Walters and his daughter reunited, but couldn’t suppress a tinge of jealousy and resentment. Why hadn’t he had a happy ending, too? He took a deep breath, careful to hide his feelings. “Hell of a night.”
Lily slipped her arm around him. “A lot’s happened that you need time to assimilate.”
He looked at her. Assimilate? Nice tidy word to describe having your entire mind turned inside out. “You think?”
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
He rubbed his face, ashamed of his snappishness. He was the one who’d been wrong, after all. He’d been wrong from the beginning, accusing her of being a liar and a fraud, then later thinking she was delusional.
Well, no avoiding it now. Lily was the genuine article, a visionary, a psychic, a clairvoyant—all those words he’d struck from his vocabulary years ago.
He just wished he felt better about it. Life had been simpler when he could bury himself in skepticism.
“I’m not mad.” He touched her cheek. “I just need time.”
“To assimilate.” Her voice held a hint of amusement.
“Yeah.”
Once they were back on the road, he asked the question that had nagged him since he’d listened to Abby Walters’s story. “Lily, who’s Casey?”
Her eyes glittered in the blue glow of the dashboard lights. “Abby mentioned her?”
The hair on his neck crawled. “She said Casey’s a kid who visited her sometimes, but she never actually saw her.”
“Casey is a little girl, about nine or ten. She lives with her mother, who’s…odd.” A thread of sadness ran through Lily’s low voice. “I think maybe she’s adopted, because her mother calls her by a different name.”
A finger of unease ran down McBride’s spine. “What name?”
“Gina.”
An old, familiar ache of disappointment settled in his chest. “Where does she live?”
“I’m not sure. It could be anywhere.”
“How’d she get to Abby’s room?” He dreaded the answer.
“I think she’s clairvoyant, too.”
Great. “How many times have you seen her?”
Lily’s eyes dropped. “A few.”
“And you didn’t tell me about her?”
She slanted her gaze at him in silent accusation.
Of course she hadn’t. He’d have seen her story as proof she was a liar or a lunatic. “Why was Casey visiting Abby?”
Lily’s voice darkened. “Maybe she’s just a lonely little girl with a special gift, and she found Abby like you might find a particular radio station by flipping channels.”
He fell silent and cranked the car, too wrung out to process one more strange, impossible fact tonight. Instead, he fell back on what he knew best. “You saw the man who killed Abby’s kidnapper.”
“I know. But he doesn’t know that.”
“If he reads the papers, he knows you’re a psychic who was looking for Abby. That might be enough to put you in danger.”
Her brow furrowed. “Then so is Casey. She saw him.”
“But he couldn’t see her, right? You said she wasn’t really there.”
His words elicited a faint smile. “I don’t suppose anybody on your task force is eager to talk about her, either.”
“No,” he conceded. “But maybe you should talk to a sketch artist. Do you think you could describe the man you saw?”
She nodded. “But it won’t be admissible in court. I can’t exactly testify that I saw him in my mind.”
Once again discomfort shuddered through him. He tamped it down. “I’d still like to see what you saw.”
“So you believe me?”
The wary eagerness in her voice made his chest hurt. “Let’s just say I’ll consider the possibility,” he answered. “I’ll give Jim a call tomorrow morning and set something up.”
“Not tonight?”
“It’s almost 2:00 a.m. I think it can wait till morning.”
“What about tonight?” Lily asked.
“You’re coming home with me.”
“Under protective custody? Or do you have something else in mind?” A smile curved her lips.
He shot her a heated gaze. “Oh, I have lots in mind.”
BY THE TIME LILY ROLLED away from McBride, the glow of dawn was washing his bedroom, painting the walls and ceiling pink. Lily stared at the light patterns on the ceiling, trying to catch her breath.
McBride pushed her hair away from her face with a trembling hand. “See what you do to me?”
She smiled. “I love what I do to you. And I really, really love what you do to me.”
He laughed. “Wanton hussy.”
“I feel like a wanton hussy.” She lifted herself onto one elbow. “I don’t even know your first name.”
He made a face. “I never use it. McBride’s fine, really.”
“Oh, come on. What is it?” She ran her finger down the dark line of hair that bisected his stomach.
He caught her hand and shook his head. “That dog won’t hunt, sugar. Nobody calls me by my first name. Ever.”
“I’ll bet I can guess.” She leaned on his chest and rubbed her chin against his sternum. “Is it James?”
“Nope.”
“Jeremy, Joseph, Jud, Jed, Jeremiah, Jacob, Jesse?”
“Not even close.” His smile broadened.
She frowned, frustrated. “Why don’t you just tell me? For heaven’s sake, you’d think it was Jubal or something!”
His grin collapsed like a pricked balloon.
Her eyes widened. “It’s Jubal?”
He made a face. “Jubal is an honored McBride family name.”
“Jubal.” Grinning, she tried it out.
“Lily, nobody calls me Jubal.”
“I’m starting to like it. Jubal.” She pressed her mouth against his collarbone. “It could be my secret name for you.”
His forehead creased. “Define ‘secret name.’”
She nibbled the thick muscles of his neck. “Jubal,” she whispered, flicking her tongue against his flesh. She dropped nipping little kisses along his neck and jaw, punctuating her soft murmurs. “Jubal, Jubal, Jubal—”
“Okay, I surrender.” Laughing, he gently nudged her away from him. “You can call me Jubal. But only when we’re alone.” He held up a stern finger. “And only you. Nobody else knows.”
“Not even my sister Rose?”
He looked horrified. “Especially not her!”
“Okay, it’s our little secret.” She bent to kiss him again, groaning when the phone on McBride’s bedside table rang. “Damn it, who calls so early in the morning?”
“Goes with cop territory.” He answered. “McBride.”
Lily propped herself on her elbow again, watching the furrows in his brow deepen as he listened to whoever was on the line. “Okay, thanks. Stay in touch.”
“What’s up?” she asked when he hung up the phone.
McBride sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Let’s find something to eat. Then I’ll tell you all about it.”
> MAMA WAS ACTING FUNNY again, so Casey retreated to her bedroom, curling up with Mr. Green and escaping into Boots and Belinda, one of her favorite books. She’d read it so often now it was nearly falling apart, but if she turned the pages very carefully, she could still read it. She liked to pretend she was Belinda, who had a smart and brave cat named Boots.
One time Mama had brought home a kitten for Casey. They’d named him Patches because he had black and white spots all over. Mama had taught Casey how to hold him—not too tight, not too loose, but just right. That was back when Mama was a lot better.
But not long after that Mama started having more spells. Sometimes she’d forget to feed Patches or let him inside when it was cold. Patches finally left for good and Mama had never gotten Casey another cat.
But I’d never forget to feed a cat, Casey thought, draping the open book across her chest. I’d feed her and change her water and brush her hair like Belinda brushes Boots.
She smiled at the ceiling. She’d name her Lily, she thought. And maybe the real Lily would come visit. Then Casey could show her the kitty and say, “See, I named her after you! So you’ll have to come visit all the time and play with her.”
Casey rolled onto her side, suddenly sad. She had that all alone feeling again, now that Abby was back with her daddy and Casey couldn’t find her anymore.
“Gina?” Mama’s voice sliced through Casey’s melancholy. She stood in the doorway, her blue eyes wide and strange. “I don’t want you talking so loud anymore, young lady!”
Casey frowned. Talking loud? “I wasn’t talking, Mama.”
“Don’t yell at me, young lady!” Mama lurched toward her. “If you can’t behave, you’ll just have to stay in here.”
Casey clutched Mr. Green more tightly to her. “But Mama—”
Mama grabbed the doorknob and stepped back into the hall, pulling the heavy door shut behind her.
“I can’t take any more of your screaming!” The door muffled Mama’s voice. Casey heard a scraping noise, metal on metal. “I can’t take it anymore!” Mama’s voice rose with hysteria. Casey heard great, wracking sobs through the door.
She ran to the door and pressed her ear against it. She heard Mama’s shuffling, unsteady footsteps retreat down the hall, accompanied by loud hiccups.