by Natasha Deen
“I also told her that Nancy and Gregory were here and helping,” he said.
Nell held her thumb and forefinger millimetres apart. “That’s a little better, but—”
“I should have led with that. Her energy is fear. Pure terror.” Serge rubbed his head. “I think she was going nuts by the time I got to that.”
“We need to see what we can find about Carl and Savour, and if they’re connected to the soul-eater,” said Nell. “That should make your mom feel better.”
I glanced at the clock. “It’s too late to start hunting down bad guys.”
“Tomorrow, let’s start with my aunt,” said Nell. “She’s more likely to be sober—more sober—first thing in the morning.”
I nodded. “Then Mrs. Sinclair and—did Principal Larry have any friends, other than the reverend?”
Craig folded his arms. “I guess we’re about to find out.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Nancy was at the coffeemaker the next morning. “Serge said you had a rough night.”
I glanced over at the living room. Craig was crashed out on the big couch, Serge snored in the recliner. “Where’s Nell?”
“She went home to check in with her folks. She’ll be back.”
“Communicating with my mother proved harder than I thought.”
“Join the ranks,” she said. “I feel the same way about mine.”
I helped myself to a mug of coffee. “Did Gregory Ryan get in touch?”
She nodded. “Can’t say I’m happy he showed up at the house unannounced, but I guess it’s special circumstances.”
“What’s your read on him?”
She walked to the table and I followed. “Hard to say. He obviously knew your dad and he has military background, but I’m looking at everyone like they’re a potential murderer.”
I sat down. “Same.”
“He asked me to give you his number, said he’d like to meet for breakfast and talk more about your dad.”
“Where does he think we’ll be able to talk without gobs of reporters surrounding us?”
“The police station. He said he’d bring pastries.”
“Fair enough.” I drained my cup. “First things first. Nell and I are visiting her aunt.”
“Debbie-Anne? Why?”
“Because I think someone local did in Amber and the principal.”
She nodded. “I do, too. But Debbie-Anne?”
“That lady knows everything. I’m sure she’s got info.” I gulped down my coffee. “Where are you on the investigation with Amber and Principal Larry?”
“Same place I am with your dad’s,” she said. “Nowhere.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Is Serge awake?”
I shook my head.
“I didn’t want to say anything because I don’t want him to feel bad, I know he was trying to help. But when he hacked the phone, he accidentally reset it to the factory default. I have—Frank has—the tech guys working on it.”
“If her stuff was stored in the cloud, then it shouldn’t be an issue. It can be downloaded.”
“Except Amber changed her password and May doesn’t know what it is.” She passed her hand over her face. “We have to do this by the book, but it’s another delay we don’t need. The more days that pass, the harder it is to find the leads.”
“We have a lead with Dad: Gregory”
She snorted. “Hearsay from an ex-military guy who can’t give out too much information because of state secrets hardly qualifies as a lead.”
“Still better than going to interrogate an alcoholic.” I stood. “But we do what we can.”
“Take her some coffee and hazelnut creamer. She’s a sucker for that stuff.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Half an hour later, I walked out of the house and into a confrontation.
Carl waved at me from his spot at the top of the driveway. “Hello, Rabbit.”
The slam of a car door was followed by Savour’s running footsteps. “I’m sorry.” He grabbed Carl by the arm. “I thought we handled this.”
“I don’t know what game the two of you are playing,” I said. “But quit it. I’m not falling for the con.”
“Working together? Working with him? You’ve got to be kidding,” said Carl. “I wouldn’t work with him if my life was on the line. Do you know what he did to me?”
“You did it to yourself,” said Savour. “All the drugs and drinking—”
“I was grieving. You should have helped me, not called the cops and—”
“Take your history off my property. Nancy’s home and she’ll have no problem arresting either of you.”
“How can you do this?” Carl asked me. “How can you be so selfish and deny the world your gift?”
“I haven’t denied the world anything,” I said. “But if you’re looking for an answer about why I prefer my privacy, then look at how you’re acting.”
“I want answers—” Carl yelped as Savour grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him to his car. There was a scuffle, then Savour shoved him inside, leaned in, and said something. Whatever the conversation was, it worked. Carl drove off.
“He’s right about one thing,” said Savour as he came my way. “We’re not working together.”
“You just magically show up to help me out every time he’s around?”
He slipped on his gloves. “My sister had the gift,” he said. “Nothing like yours. She never dealt with the kinds of ghosts you do—”
“I don’t—”
“I saw the video,” he said. “I grew up with a psychic. I know what is real and what isn’t. My sister—she tried to do what Carl wants you to do. She tried to help. But she couldn’t withstand the skeptics, and she was consumed by those who were never satisfied by the answers she gave. She killed herself.”
“I’m sorry—”
“We’re on this earth for a reason,” he said. “The world destroyed my sister and took her reason for joy away. I’m here to report, and I have a personal stake in anything paranormal. If the subject wants to make their gifts public, fine. But I’ve seen what the world can do, and I’m not going to let Carl hurt anyone. One girl’s life destroyed was enough.” He took out his business card. “You want to talk to me about anything, fine. You want to keep quiet, that’s fine, too.”
I took the card. Before I could say anything, he turned and walked away as Nell drove up. “Everything okay?” She pointed at his retreating figure.
“Yeah.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s talk about something important. If you’re going to entertain people,” she said. “You really should start stocking hair products. I had to go home and shower.”
“I thought you went home to check in with your folks.”
“Shower, show my face.” She shrugged. “Same thing.” She grinned. “But the priority was the hair.”
“The drugstore has fewer hair products than you.” I gave her a once-over. “But you look amazing.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“The skin of a female shark is much thicker than the skin of a male shark because the male bites the female during mating.”
She shot me a confused look.
“You said tell you something you didn’t know. Besides, didn’t you ever wonder why you’re so thick-skinned?”
She laughed. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“Yeah and you’re my best friend, so what does that make you?”
“A girl who knows how to make good decisions.” She grimaced. “Except right now. Sure I can’t talk you out of seeing Debbie-Anne?”
“We need answers. She’s got them.”
Nell put the car in gear and pointed at the sheriff’s car down the street. “Word is, Nancy’s given them permission
to shoot and arrest as they see fit, and not in that order. Word’s spread.”
“Not fast enough.” I updated her on Carl and Savour, then texted Nancy with the information.
The drive to Debbie-Anne’s was short. She was still at the trailer park, in a double-wide. Nell grew tenser with every passing mile, and by the time we reached the house, her shoulders were hunched by her ears.
“I remember when she was sober,” she said, slamming the car door shut. “I remember when she loved us more than her addiction.” She turned up the collar of her jacket. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
It took a few knocks, all of them hard, before Debbie-Anne came to the door. She barely glanced at me. “What do you want?” she asked Nell.
“Information.” Nell pushed through the door.
I followed and closed it behind me.
“The last time the two of you came to my house, it blew up. Now I’m stuck in this dump.”
This dump, unlike her previous house, had white walls, instead of nicotine-stained ones, and the faint scent of new carpet.
She turned an accusatory stare my way. “You wanted information on Serge.”
“And it helped us solve his murder.”
“He blew up my house,” she said. “Because he didn’t like me talking about what he’d gone through as a kid.” She took a long drag of her cigarette. “And when I told that to the cops, you refused to back me up.”
“The police don’t believe in ghosts,” said Nell.
“No one believed in microbes until a microscope proved their existence.” Debbie-Anne took another puff. “You’ve always been a weird kid,” she said to me. “I know you see them. I know Serge came to you.”
“And how do you know that?” asked Nell. “You have a ghostscope?”
“Because Maggie and Serge are connected, and anyone with a brain can see that. No coincidence you solved his murder. No coincidence you figured out who killed the Meagher kid, too.”
“That’s our Maggie,” said Nell. “Connected to all the ghosts in Dead Falls.”
Debbie-Anne ground out her cigarette in the ashtray she carried. “Definitely connected to the recently dead, aren’t you? Does your daddy visit?” She smiled. “You didn’t want to be up front about who and what you are. You didn’t want to back me up. Now look what happened.”
“You’re such a whack job,” said Nell. “You think that’s why her dad was killed?”
“I think truth outs,” said Debbie-Anne. “One way or another, it outs. Now, get out of my house.” She flashed yellow teeth. “See what I did there?”
“I’m sorry for what happened to your place—” I said.
“I don’t give a crap about my place. I care that you bailed on me. On Serge. This town doesn’t take me seriously anymore. You had a chance to—”
“Give me a break,” Nell said. “The town doesn’t take you seriously ’cause you haven’t walked in a straight line since 2001.”
She flinched.
“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” I said. “But people are dying, and you can help.”
She shuffled away, toward the living room. “Your dad was a good man. If I knew who hurt him—”
“What about Amber and Principal Larry?”
“What about them?”
“What was going on?” asked Nell.
“What do you think? They had both lost the centre of their existence—” She nodded at me. “—Thanks to Maggie.” She pulled out another cigarette and flicked on her lighter.
“Was Amber thinking of running away?” I asked.
Debbie-Anne held the lighter steady. “She was living with May. Wouldn’t you consider running away? That woman never met a mirror she didn’t love or a man she wasn’t sure was Mr. Right.”
“You must know something,” said Nell.
“I know you’re wasting my time.”
“Who had it out for Amber and Larry?” I perched on the edge of the couch and tried not to disturb the confetti of broken potato chips on its surface.
“The church. It’s not every day you find out the man you trusted to get you closer to God liked to seduce teenage girls,” she said.
“Larry’s family probably hated him, too,” said Nell. “He was an embarrassment to them. Their ancestors started this town, they were pillars in the community, and he upends it all by being best friends with a creep.” She gave her aunt a long look. “It’s hard for a family when one of the members lets down everyone else.”
“Save it for therapy.” She snapped, then remembered she had a cigarette to light and put the flame to it.
“We know the person who killed my dad isn’t the same one who murdered Amber and the principal,” I said.
“And how do you know that?” Debbie-Anne’s question held an edge.
“Intuition.”
She snorted.
“Can you help us at all?” I asked.
“I’ve helped you all I’m going to help you,” she said.
Nell dragged me up and pushed me toward the door. “I told you this would be a waste of time.”
“Do you still see him?” Debbie-Anne called after me. “Is he still here or did he move on?”
“Just keep going,” muttered Nell. “Not like she’ll remember any of this in another few hours.”
“Tell him I’m sorry.” Debbie-Anne’s voice broke. “Tell him I tried.”
“Don’t—”
I ignored Nell and stopped. Turned. “Wherever Serge is, I’m sure he’s happy and at peace.”
Serge appeared beside me. “I feel like you’re talking about me.”
I glanced at him, then went back to talking to Debbie-Anne. “No one can hurt him anymore. And I’m sure he knows there were people who tried to help.”
Serge frowned. “She’s talking about me?”
“I tried.” Debbie-Anne cast a confused gaze at the ashtray in her hand. She stubbed out the cigarette then shoved it on the table. “You can’t always save people, no matter how hard you try. No matter what you know.” She looked at me. “But I guess you know that.” Stretching out her hand, she reached for the bottle. “Not that it matters, the knowing. You still blame yourself, you still wonder if there was just a little something extra you could have done.” She raised the bottle and drank.
“I wish I could appear to her the way Serena comes to you,” said Serge. “I wish I could tell her it’s all right now.”
“Let’s go,” said Nell. “She doesn’t need us anymore.”
I started for the door, then stopped again. “Truth outs.” I turned back to her. “Truthouts45. You’re the one who posted the video of me.”
“It can’t be,” said Nell. “Her hands shake because of the alcohol.”
“Not when she was lighting her cigarette,” I said. “Maybe she had help? Like Mrs. Sinclair. That was you she was talking to on the night Amber died.”
“May’s a wuss. She wanted my help to deflect the attention Amber was getting, then she cried like a baby when she saw what the video was doing to you.” Debbie-Anne smiled. “You can’t hide forever, Maggie. I made sure of that.”
Nell rushed her, and I had to grab and pull her back.
“Psycho! This is all your fault! If you hadn’t posted that stupid video, her dad would still be alive!”
“That’s not my fault!”
“It is your fault!” Nell was crying. “Mr. Johnson spent his whole life protecting her, hiding her, and you posted her face online.”
“I didn’t—” Debbie-Anne looked at the bottle in her hand.
Nell broke free of my grasp, grabbed the alcohol, and flung it against the wall. “You’re the reason my best friend’s dad is dead. You’re the reason she’s an orphan.”
I pushed her out the door. “Come on, it’s too late now. Let’s go.”
We stumbled into the cold, leaving Debbie-Anne standing among the broken glass and spilled alcohol.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nancy had listened as Nell told her about Debbie-Anne, held her as Nell cried about her family’s involvement in my dad’s death. Then she pushed her to arm’s length so she could look her in the eyes. “You are not your family’s decisions,” she told Nell. “You are only your own, and I’m proud of everything you are and do.”
Another hug, then we moved to Gregory who waited in the interrogation room.
“I’ll be there in a second,” Nancy called after us. She spread the slats of the Venetian blinds. News vans filled the visitor parking spots. A few brave reporters huddled together in the cold. “I’m going to bring them some coffee.”
“Actually bring them coffee?” asked Nell. “Or dump a hot carafe on their heads?”
“Actually bring it.” She sighed. “We all have a job to do. Besides, as long as I play nice, give them some info, they’ll be good about leaving Maggie alone. That’s the agreement, anyway.” She frowned. “Most of them. You seen either of the reporters around?”
I shook my head. “Not since this morning.”
She grunted. “I don’t like this. Every confrontation takes us closer to the final confrontation.”
“Why don’t we get started?” asked Gregory. He sniffed his coat and winced. “Anywhere I can air this thing out? The old mill stink is settling in.”
“Let me.” Nancy took his jacket while Nell and I led him to the interrogation room.
“Donut?” He held out the box.
“No, thanks.”
“Me either.” Nell sat across from him. “You don’t look so good.”
“You spend a lifetime throwing your body into freezing water or running through a desert and tell me how you fare.” He smiled. “These days, I worry when I’m not hurting.”
“Nell’s right,” I said. “You look pale.”
“Airplane food, airplane air. I’ll be fine.”
I didn’t say anything.
We watched each other for a moment, then he sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Truth is, I don’t have a lot of time left.”
Five minutes into this relationship and I was already going to lose the one guy who had my father’s—and my mother’s—history.