Chasing Shadows

by Lila Bruce

  Jennifer.

  At the thought of the woman that she’d just seen—talked to, laughed with—a few days ago, Cam sat up in the chair. It just wasn’t possible that Jennifer could be dead. Granted, Cam had not really kept in close contact with her since high school, but…

  A cold numbness gripped Cam by the shoulders and began to brush its way across her body as her eyes fell on the manila file folder that sat before her on Hobbs’s desk. Written across the top of the folder in blocky black magic marker was the name Jennifer Morris. A series of numbers preceded her name on the folder. The case number, maybe?

  A tiny voice in the back of her mind screamed against it, but Cam found herself reaching out for the folder. Her hand trembling, she flipped open the file. A small stack of official-looking forms sat inside. Cam saw the same numbers typed across the first form, Jennifer’s name again written beside them. Her eyes were drawn to a page stapled to the inside of the file folder itself. It was a printed copy of a picture of an ID badge attached to a black lanyard. What Cam suspected wasn’t dirt smudged the left side of the badge. Cam’s throat tightened as she saw Jennifer’s smiling face staring up at her from the page.

  “I always hated that picture.”

  “Oh, goddamn!” Cam leapt from the chair, nearly knocking over Hobbs’s desk and everything on it. Heart thumping in her chest, she drew back a fist and turned to face— “Jennifer!”

  Dressed in a light cotton blouse and a pair of tan slacks, Jennifer stood peering down at the police file with her name on it. “I’m serious. It rained that morning, and my clothes got soaked running in from the car to the office.” She looked up at Cam and smiled before raking a hand through her frizzly blonde hair. “Don’t even get me started about this mess. Luckily, Monica Rubin from legal had a hair dryer in her desk. Don’t ask me why, but I was glad she did.”

  Dumbstruck, Cam could only stare back at her. “Jennifer! What the…where did…” She shook her head, willing her mind to start working again. “We’ve got to go get Hobbs or one of the other officers and tell them you’re all right. There’s been some horrible mistake.” Cam began to move toward the door to the office, gesturing for Jennifer to follow suit. “You’re not going to believe this, but everyone thinks you’re dead.”

  Rubbing the back of her neck, Jennifer glanced back down at the file sitting open on the desk. “Yeah, well, about that…”

  Cam froze in place. She swallowed back the taste of bile, barely daring to breathe lest Jennifer say the words that Cam didn’t think she could bear to hear. There is no such thing as ghosts, there is no such thing as ghosts… The words once again ran through her mind like a mantra. “Jennifer,” she said finally, her voice low, her tone almost pleading.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

  Cam turned quickly to see a tall, barrel-chested man standing in the doorway. He was dressed in civilian clothing—a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans—but he looked at home leaning against the sage green wall of Avery’s office. With his thinning, charcoal-gray hair and slightly weather-beaten skin, he reminded Cam of every grizzled police officer to have graced the silver screen.

  “I’m sorry,” he continued, peering inquisitively over Cam’s shoulder. “Were you talking to someone just now?”

  She didn’t have to look behind her to know that Jennifer Morris was no longer standing beside Hobbs’s desk. There is no such thing as ghosts, there is no such thing as ghosts… “Um, no…” She folded her arms to hide the tremble in her hands. “No, it’s just me in here.”

  He looked vaguely unconvinced by that statement but nodded his head. “I’m Detective Marshall,” he said. “I’m looking for Avery.”

  Suddenly remembering Jennifer’s file on Hobbs’s desk, Cam took what she hoped was a nonchalant step back. She leaned against the desk, hoping that Detective Marshall wouldn’t notice the file splayed open. “She’s not here,” she said, shifting so that she stood more fully between Detective Marshall and the open file. “Detective Hobbs is around here somewhere, maybe he can help you?”

  “Yeah, I passed him in the hallway,” the man nodded. “It’s Avery I was hoping to see.”

  “Well, she should be back soon. This is her office.”

  “I know,” he said, nodding toward Hobbs’s desk. “I used to sit right there before I retired.” He smiled, deepening the crow’s feet around his eyes. “This is my last night in Bethel Springs, and I thought I’d stop by one more time before we left. The wife and I are heading up north.” He looked wistfully around the room. “I’m going to miss this old place, but it’ll be good to finally spend some time with my daughter and the grandkids.”

  “Well, I’m sure Avery will be here before too much longer.”

  He glanced down at his watch and shook his head. “No, I’d like to hang around and wait, but I don’t really have the time. I’m already running late.” He grinned, flashing tobacco-stained teeth. “And knowing Jo—that’s my wife—she’ll just as soon leave without me as not.”

  Cam met his smile. “I’ll tell Avery that you stopped by?”

  “That would be great…um, I didn’t catch your name?”

  “Cam.”

  “Cam.” He nodded. “It was nice to meet you, Cam, if only for a minute. Tell Avery that I said to take care of herself.”

  “I will. And it was nice to meet you.”

  Detective Marshall gave the room once last look before heading back into the hallway. Cam waited until she could no longer hear the echo of his footsteps and whirled around to close the file folder and move it back to the center of Hobbs’s desk. That done, she stepped away and looked tentatively around the room. “Jennifer,” she whispered, “Are you still here?”

  The question was met with silence.

  She wiped a hand over her eyes and shook her head. Maybe she was just overtired. It was possible, she supposed, that the stress of Loralyn’s funeral and a lack of sleep had combined to cause her to have hallucinations. Or maybe she’d hit her head harder than she’d realized when she fell off the table the other day at Loralyn’s house. Either of those would be rational explanations for what she’d experienced today.

  The sound of Hobbs and Avery approaching the office brought Cam out of her reverie. She moved to the doorway to greet them. The two were talking in hushed tones as they walked down the hallway, Avery sporting a large white bandage around her left hand. Blood stained both legs of her khaki pants and one side of her tan polo shirt, making Cam wonder why no one had bothered to bring her a fresh uniform to the hospital. A frown creased Avery’s brow, as if whatever Hobbs was saying disturbed her. More than anything, Avery looked tired.

  Watching the pair draw closer, Cam thought about the conversation she’d had with Avery back at Jennifer’s house. How was it, she mused, that someone as captivating as Avery could be single? The Avery that Cam remembered from high school had always been smart, outgoing, popular. That, along with Loralyn’s gossipy report of her being “openly gay,” led Cam to believe that she had to have been dating someone in recent history.

  Who would let a woman like Avery slip through their fingers?

  Avery glanced up then and met Cam’s eyes.

  “Hi Ms. Reinhart,” Hobbs said. “We were just talking about you.”

  Oh, really? “Is that so?”

  An odd looked traveled over Avery’s face, but she didn’t respond. Instead, Hobbs bobbed his head and continued on. “That’s right. The sheriff asked me to drive Avery home to make sure she gets there okay, and I was just telling her that I’d promised to take you back to your rental car. I was thinking I could kill two birds with one stone and take both of you to Avery’s house instead.”

  “Take me to Avery’s house?”

  The look on Avery’s face told Cam that she thought about as much of the idea.

  “Well, it’s getting late and I remember you’d said earlier that you didn’t want to be alone, what with all that’s gone on today. I’m sure Avery’s granny wo
uldn’t mind if you slept on her couch tonight.”

  “If Mildred ever heard you call her granny,” Avery muttered, “she’d probably punch you in the throat.”

  “What’s wrong with ‘granny’? That’s what I call my—”

  “As lovely of an offer as that is,” Cam interrupted the conversation before it descended into a squabble that she was frankly too tired to deal with, “I couldn’t possibly.”

  “Why not?”

  “Yeah,” Avery grumbled, her frown deepening, “why not?”

  Cam arched an eyebrow. It wasn’t that she was exactly opposed to the idea. Lord knew that she didn’t want to go back to Loralyn’s lonely house. The sudden thought that Loralyn—or more precisely Loralyn’s ghost—may be there waiting for her made goosebumps break out on her arms. No, it was more that— “Do you really want me to?”

  Avery scratched at the skin above her bandaged hand and then gave a defeated shrug. “Why not? Considering what happened this afternoon, it may be the safest place for you.”

  “Great,” Hobbs said, “It’s settled then.”

  Cam nodded. “Let me just grab my purse from the office.” She turned to move and then paused. “Oh, I almost forgot. A Detective Marshall stopped by a little while ago.”

  “Marshall?” Avery’s expression lit up at the name. “I haven’t seen him since the retirement party a few months ago.” She exchanged a quick glance with Hobbs. “What was he doing here?”

  “He came by to see you,” Cam answered, stepping back into the office, Avery and Hobbs following close behind. Cam quickly retrieved her purse from Hobbs’s desk and turned back to face Avery. “He said that he was leaving town and wanted to stop by before he did.”

  “Hmm. I hadn’t heard that was in the works. I’ll have to give him a call tomorrow and catch up with him.”

  “Speaking of tomorrow, the sheriff said you should take a couple days off and recuperate.”

  Cam had to force herself not to laugh at the look Avery gave Hobbs, one that spoke volumes about what she thought of the sheriff’s suggestion and Hobbs for repeating it.

  “That’s not going to happen. Not in the middle of a murder investigation.”

  “I’m sure Detective Ost—”

  “Hobbs…” Avery’s cheeks flushed red. “If you even begin to suggest that I turn this investigation over to that jackass—” She tossed a quick glance at Cam. “Excuse my French—Bishop, then you’ve obviously lost your mind.”

  “I was just—”

  Avery flashed a hand up, signaling for Hobbs to stop talking. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, looking to Cam as if she were trying to compose herself. “How about you just take me home, Hobbs. This has been a shit day, and I’m ready for it be over.”

  Cam couldn’t have agreed more.

  Chapter Thirteen

  If she’d ever had a rougher day, Avery couldn’t think of it. The hot shower she’d taken after Hobbs had dropped her and Cam off for the night had helped some. At least her arms, legs, and back no longer screamed with pain at every move. Avery was pretty sure that she’d pulled a muscle—all of them—in the tumble down the stairs at Jennifer Morris’s house. The throb in her head had also somewhat subsided and was now a dull ache. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this bad, not even back in her basketball days.

  She pulled the comforter back on the bed, realizing too late that she’d led with her bandaged hand. Wincing, she shook the hand, as if somehow the motion would lessen the pain. Avery sat down on the edge of the mattress with a sigh. Between her aching body and the incessant stinging in the palm of her hand, she doubted that there would be sleep to be had that night.

  Hearing the creak of a door opening, Avery glanced up to see Cam step out of the en suite bathroom. She wore a gray Atlanta Braves t-shirt and a pair of Avery’s sweatpants. Cam had towel-dried her hair, giving her scarlet locks a wild, windswept look. She looked, Avery decided, uncharacteristically messy and unbelievably sexy.

  “Thanks for the clothes. Everything seems to fit. I hung the towel over the shower curtain, if that’s okay?”

  Avery nodded at Cam’s question. “That’s fine.” She rose from the bed and made a sweeping motion with her uninjured hand. “The bed’s all yours. If you need anything, I’ll be just down the hall in the living room.”

  “The living room? I can’t let you do that,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’ll take the couch.”

  “No, that’s the world’s most uncomfortable couch. It’s actually not even a couch, but an antique settee that my grandmother and her friend Jane picked up at an estate sale a while back. It may or may not have belonged to the Marquis de Sade,” she quipped, remembering the last time she’d made the mistake of trying to lie down on it.

  “All the more reason,” Cam said, frowning as she folded her arms across her chest. “Especially after the day you’ve had. You need to get a good night’s sleep.”

  Almost too tired to argue, Avery shook her head. “Can’t we make this one thing easy?”

  Cam twisted her lips as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it. “Then why don’t you just stay in here.”

  “Seriously, Cam, I’m exhausted and just want to lay down before I fall down. You’re a guest. I’m not letting you sleep on the cou—”

  “I don’t mean for either of us to sleep on the couch,” Cam broke in. “I meant you sleep here in the bed, too.”

  Avery arched an eyebrow. “With you?”

  “It’s a big enough bed.” Cam shrugged. “Besides, you have a mild concussion. Aren’t I supposed to be waking you up every couple of hours or so, anyway?”

  Avery looked at her bed—a California King that she’d brought home with her from Atlanta, the one that Mildred had bitched was too big for the guest room—and then back at Cam. “Well, Ms. Reinhart,” Avery sniffed, “trying to get me in bed on the first date?”

  “I hope to hell this isn’t your idea of a date,” Cam muttered, pushing her still-damp hair away from her face, but Avery saw a blush sweep up into her cheeks. “Now who’s trying to make things difficult?”

  Avery thought about it and nodded. The bed had more than enough room for the two of them, and she was on the edge of exhaustion. “I guess we’re both adults. I suppose it should be okay so long as you promise my honor will be safe with you tonight.” She grinned when she saw Cam’s blush darken. Avery slipped between the covers of the bed without waiting for further response. She pressed her head into the soft, cool pillow before continuing, “I will warn you that I’ve been told I snore.”

  “Duly noted,” came the dry reply.

  “Oh, and can you get the light?” Avery closed her eyes, smiling when she heard Cam mutter something undistinguishable under her breath. Avery heard the soft click of the light switch and a moment later the other side of the bed dipped under Cam’s weight. She lay still as the other woman wrestled with the covers and generally moved around in an apparent attempt to get comfortable before finally coming to rest herself on the far edge of the bed.

  It took an hour of lying with her eyes closed and her body in the fetal position on the soft mattress to seep away the stress and the ache of the incredibly long day. Avery turned over onto her back and stretched her legs out to their full length. Although Cam hadn’t moved for some time—there’d been a ridiculous span when the woman had warred with which side of the pillow she wanted to sleep on, continuously flipping it from one side to the other—Avery could tell by her breathing that she was awake.

  “Was it like a Patrick Swayze ghost or a Casper the Friendly Ghost ghost?”

  Avery could feel Cam stiffen in the bed at her words.

  “What?”

  “At the Johnston house. Before Hobbs broke us out of that basement, you were telling me about the ghost you said you saw there. We never got the chance to finish the conversation.”

  “So you want to do that now?”

  Avery shrugged. “Good a time as any. I can’t sleep.�
�

  “What makes you think that I wasn’t?”

  “Were you?” Taking Cam’s silence as her answer, Avery repeated the question. “What kind of a ghost was it?”

  Cam remained silent. “Not Casper. There were no sheets,” she said finally. “Maybe like the little girl from that movie the Sixth Sense? It scared the shit out of me.”

  “And Chuck Jackson, too, apparently.”

  “Yeah, well…”

  Avery blinked up at the darkened room, her mind organizing the possibilities into neat little file folders to be addressed one by one.

  “And you said you could see through her…it…?”

  “Not at first, but yes.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t a trick of the light?”

  “Very.”

  “Have you ever seen a ghost before?”

  Cam hesitated slightly before saying, “No, I’ve not seen a ghost before.”

  Something in the tone of her voice, in the way she carefully said each word, made Avery feel that, once more, Cam wasn’t telling truth. At least not the whole truth.

  “That’s your job, right? Hunting for things that go bump in the night?”

  “You sound like Detective Bishop when you say that,” Cam snipped. “And…yes, that’s what I do on my show, but none of it’s real.”

  “So all that traipsing around people’s basements or in old Scottish castles in the dead of night saying that you feel the presence of spirits and hear knocking sounds…it’s all an act?”

  “More or less. I mean, I feel like most of the people we have on the show honestly believe—wait a minute. Old Scottish castles? You’ve watched my show?”