by Ally Shields
“Is this the CI who ratted me out?”
“Does it matter?”
She got up, grabbed her gun and bag. “No. Just curious. But I’ll take that as a yes. We’ll check on her together. My car is less conspicuous.”
Tessa’s neighborhood was quiet, but lights blazed from her second-floor apartment. Not a good sign. Brandt slowed the car to a crawl, peered at the closed curtains, and rolled down his window. No shouting or screaming. No police cars. Should he risk a call?
“Isn’t that a woman walking down the street?” Maggie asked, pointing a block ahead.
“Yes, and it could be Tessa.” He sped up and pulled alongside. When Tessa turned to look at them, and he saw no visible injuries, he let out a silent breath of relief. He brought the car to a halt, and Maggie lowered her window.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Tessa threw a nervous look back at the house before leaning down to peer in the car window. Unexpectedly, her lips held a rueful smile. “I’m fine. But Alonzo’s not so good. He’d been drinking, slapped me a couple of times. Thought I was sneaking out on him. When he grabbed my hair to belt me a good one, I hit him with a skillet.”
Brandt kept a straight face. “Do I need to call the paramedics or the coroner?”
“Oh, he ain’t hurt that bad. When I left he was sitting on the floor crying like a baby and holding his head. I’m going to my sister’s for the night. He’ll sober up by tomorrow.”
And then he’d say he was sorry, and she’d take him back. Brandt had heard it all before. Domestic calls had an unfortunate pattern. “Get in the backseat, and we’ll take you.”
Once she was inside, he introduced the women. Tessa gave them the directions and on the way the two women talked briefly. By the time they arrived at the sister’s, Maggie had given Tessa the name of a local shelter.
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Maggie said as Tessa got out.
The other woman’s face clouded. “I know. I’ll think about it.”
They watched until her sister opened the door and let her in, and then drove home. An hour after leaving their apartment, they were back and climbing into bed. Maggie was asleep by the time her head hit the pillow, and Brandt cradled an arm around her. He knew he’d sleep better now. What surprised him was Maggie had instinctively understood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Maggie’s internal alarm clock woke her at three. For a minute or two she didn’t move, savoring the warmth of Josh’s arms. He filled her heart as much as he currently filled her life. She was afraid to think about it too much for fear it might disappear.
She finally lifted his arm enough to slip out of bed, tiptoed across the room, and grabbed her clothes in the dark. She dressed by the city lights shining in his living room window, eased the front door open, and sped down the hallway to the elevator.
Part of their assignment from Captain Jenson was to find Castile, and she only knew one person, rather entity, who could do that. She had to talk to Hurst.
She stepped outside the building and closed her eyes. “Bobby, where are you?” she whispered. “Show yourself.” She repeated the calling twice more and was deciding where to start looking for him when his ghostly, mostly-disembodied figure appeared across the street. He was losing substance every day. She lifted a hand in acknowledgement and started toward the curb.
“Maggie, what are you doing out here?”
She jumped and spun around to face Josh, hoping her guilt and chagrin didn’t show.
“Geez, you startled me.” She opened her mouth to produce some lame excuse—like she’d stepped out for fresh air—but his worried frown stopped her. She couldn’t do it. “Don’t ask what you don’t want to know, Josh. I’m sorry I woke you. I thought I’d be back before you knew I was gone. Go back to bed. I’ll be in soon.”
“That’s no answer. Are you meeting someone? Don’t you trust me?”
“It’s not that, but…he doesn’t.”
His frown deepened. “Exactly who are we talking about? Oh.”
She saw the light dawn and waited to see what he said next.
“You mean Hurst.” Josh’s gaze flitted around them. “He’s here?”
She nodded, watching his face as his eyes came back to question her. “Across the street. We need him if we’re going to find Castile.”
“That’s how you found him before, isn’t it?”
She nodded again, a little wary of his complacent attitude.
“Then go talk to him. I’ll wait here.”
Taken aback, Maggie tilted her head at him. “Really? You’re OK with this?”
“Don’t push it, Red. Just do what you need to do.”
“What did you call me?” Disbelief then annoyance flared. “The last time somebody called me that I was nine and punched him in the nose.”
He lifted a single brow. “You’d better go before your ghost friend leaves.”
Maggie shrugged. God, this was awkward. She turned and ran across the street.
“Hey, Bobby.” She kept her voice down and her back to Brandt. “I bet you’re getting tired of hanging around here, huh? I think this is about over, but I need you to find Castile one more time. I don’t need to talk with him, not yet. Just show me where he is, so we can watch him. Will you help me?”
Don’t just stand there. Damn. Selena was right. This would be much easier if he could talk.
“Well, I’ve got to go. Oh, hey, about the other night? Thanks. I owe you big time, and I promise we’re going to find your killer. Just do this one last thing.”
The shadowy figure swirled into a large ball and glided over the sidewalk away from her. She hoped that meant he’d gotten the message.
Maggie turned and slowly crossed the street. Josh opened the door for her, and they continued into the elevator.
He gave her a sideways look. “What did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything.” Maggie felt like he’d caught her naked in the street, and she kept her eyes averted. “He doesn’t talk to me.”
Josh continued to speak conversationally. “So how do you know he’ll look for Castile?”
“I don’t.” Couldn’t he just drop it?
The elevator dinged and deposited them on Josh’s floor. He waited until they were inside his apartment, then turned and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Maggie, please look at me. I know this is awkward…for both of us. You skimmed over so many details regarding this ability of yours, and I let you. But honestly, I want to understand. The only way I can is by asking questions.” A slow smile spread across his face. “You know us cops. We need to have the facts.”
“What else do you want to know?”
“Everything. What’s he look like? How do you find him or does he find you? Or is he around all the time? Like here in the apartment?”
She finally looked at him. “You really want to know that much?”
“Yes. All of it.”
“Would you believe me?” Her words hung in the air like a challenge.
He didn’t hesitate. “I already do. But you keep putting it up there as a wall between us.”
“I don’t mean too.” She grabbed his hand and turned toward the bedroom. “Come on. Let’s go back to bed. You can interrogate me until we fall asleep. But I’ll warn you right now, there’s a lot I don’t understand myself.”
Wrapped in his arms, Maggie filled in the spaces she’d left before—Hurst’s initial appearance in the black and gold hoodie he died in, his blank eyes, his lack of gestures, the crystal and sachets that helped to keep him away until called (and were in her bag next to the bed), and how Hurst’s image now was morphing rapidly.
“His lack of interaction bugged me at first, when he didn’t or couldn’t make gestures I clearly understood. Dalia says they lose the ability to interact quite quickly. But his form is now so indistinct I wouldn’t notice them anyway.” She peeped up at him. “Have I bored you yet?”
“Hardly that. If he’s fading, what do you see w
hen you look at him? Besides the Saints’ hoodie.”
“In the beginning, he looked almost real. Now he’s more of a whitish-gray shadow, sometimes just a ball of light, and it’s like he has to force it into a more human shape. Even the colors in his clothes have faded, turning gray, losing detail. He was harder to follow the last time, because he floats through solid walls like they weren’t there.”
“How do you keep up?”
“He waits for me.”
Josh seemed surprised by that. “So he’s aware of you.”
“Oh, yeah. Very much. Dalia says it takes a lot of energy for him to break through my wards—the energy barriers from the crystals and other protection items—and he has to be highly motivated. That how I know when he shows up voluntarily he’s trying to tell me something important. But I can’t always figure out what it is.”
“Like his appearance on the PD steps,” Josh said. “He must have been telling us to look for a cop.”
“Maybe. Sometimes I still wish he could tell me, but I don’t want the voices to come back. When I heard them at first it was awful.” She shivered, and he tightened his arms. “I don’t know how Selena handles it.”
“Why can’t she block them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t always work that way. I guess I should learn some of this stuff, but I’m not sure I want to.” She fell silent for a moment. “There used to be other ghosts, and I’m not sure what’s happened to them. If Hurst is keeping them away, then he’s a blessing.” She closed her eyes and confessed the worst. “Selena said there will be more, and some could be stronger, able to do things he can’t.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t exactly say. But not all of them are as nice as Hurst.”
“You’ll handle it.”
Maggie twisted around to look at him. He sounded matter of fact, but he’d said you, not we. “I’ll have to. But can you?”
He smoothed the hair back from her face. “Trying to get rid of me again? I’m here for the long haul. Now let’s get some sleep, Red.”
“Don’t call me that,” she murmured as his lips settled gently on hers.
* * *
Despite the interrupted night, Brandt woke Maggie at seven. “Go see if he’s out there.”
“Who?” She looked at him sleepily. “Oh, you mean Hurst?” She looked at him bemused. His eyes were as eager as a kid anticipating a long-awaited treat.
“I want to see if this really works. Come on. Get up.” He took her hand and tugged her out of bed. When she emerged from the sheets, he took an interested look at her naked body, and she grabbed one of his long-tailed shirts and slipped it on before he got other ideas. She pulled her jeans over her hips, padded barefoot across the apartment, and opened the front door.
At first she thought he wasn’t there, then a figure uncurled from a spot of light on the floor. Well, that was different. “Hurst?” she whispered.
The shadowy form grew, and she could finally make out the dim shape and colors of his hooded sweatshirt.
“Well, is he there?” Josh asked, looking over her shoulder.
“Yep.” She pointed, and Josh looked, but they both knew he wouldn’t see anything. “But he’s changed again.” She described how he looked.
“Still evolving, I guess. Does his presence mean he’s found Castile?”
“I hope so. We’ll find out as soon as I brush my teeth and slip on some shoes.” While she finished dressing and grabbed a cup of coffee, Josh disappeared into the bedroom and came out wearing jeans and a loose T-shirt. He’d left the tail hanging out, presuming covering his Beretta. “Are you coming with me?” she asked, surprised.
“Are you kidding? In the first place, I’m not letting you get anywhere near Castile without backup.” Then he grinned. “But honestly, Maggie, I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.” But she grinned at him, and they went out the door together.
Hurst’s ghost was still waiting, and they played a macabre game of hide and seek for almost an hour as he walked through buildings, and they scrambled to find him again. He finally stopped in front of a small gray house with a wrought-iron bench on the porch and sat down on the curb.
“I think we’re here,” Maggie said, halting a half block away so they wouldn’t be spotted. “Now what? We have a location, but we can’t tell Jenson a ghost led us here.”
“Treat it like a tip from any other confidential informant. We verify. And then call in the troops.”
What a practical response. Josh was treating this situation as if it was normal or maybe a fascinating game. She was the one who kept obsessing over the freaky parts.
“You’re exactly right.” Thinking of Hurst as an asset, another source of information, was healthier than all this useless angst. “Let’s find a better place to watch the house. If this is where he’s doing business, we shouldn’t have to wait long for some activity.”
Confirmation came quickly. Within minutes, one of Castile’s personal bodyguards drove up and went inside. Maggie snapped his photo with her phone.
“That should do it. If his personal goons are here, so is Castile.” Josh called Captain Jenson with the address, put him on speaker, and sent the photo from Maggie’s phone as verification.
“How the hell did you find him?” Jenson asked. “We have people looking all the time. Now Maggie’s found him twice.”
“A confidential informant.” Josh grinned at her. “Guy won’t testify, but he’s reliable.”
Maggie had a sudden mental image of Hurst’s ghostly form silently hovering over the witness box. Would the judge hold him in contempt for not answering questions? She almost giggled.
“Do you trust this guy?” Jenson asked. “Before I put a surveillance team on this, I want to know they won’t be ambushed and shot in the back. Are you sure your source won’t talk to Castile?”
Josh suppressed a laugh. “I absolutely guarantee it.”
* * *
Annie called mid-morning to report her breakup with Charlie had gone better than expected—he’d agreed they weren’t right for each other, and she was ready to help with the remaining names. The three of them worked on the list together, conferring frequently by phone or text. Around one o’clock, Maggie stretched, ready to suggest a walk, but Josh disappeared into the bedroom before she could say anything. She thought she heard him on the phone, and when he returned, she couldn’t read his mood. Pensive, maybe.
“How about a break?” he said. “We can visit with Mom and Harry. He’s calling Annie to come too.”
So he’d been talking with Harry. “Is your Mom worse?”
A shadow crossed his face. “About the same. Maybe we can cheer her up, and then the rest of us can talk.”
Talk about what? His tone made it sound as if this wasn’t a casual visit. But he evaded her questions until they pulled into the hospital parking lot. Instead of getting out, he shifted in his seat to look at her.
“I owe you an apology, Maggie.” His steady eyes met hers. “I’ve demanded you tell me everything, while keeping my own secrets hidden and expecting you to accept me on faith. It wasn’t fair. And it’s past time you heard it all. Harry agreed, and he wanted Annie to know too.”
“But Josh, why now?”
He shrugged. “It seemed the right time. We’ve gotten into something big. Dangerous, and unpredictable. Whatever happens, I wanted you to know the truth.”
She reached out and took his hand. “I admit I’m curious. But I think I’ve put most of it together, and I know you now. It doesn’t matter what happened in the past. I no longer need to hear it.”
“Which is exactly why I want to tell you. Shall we go in?”
Carolyn Brandt was noticeably weaker today but happy to see them. After chatting with her a few minutes, Maggie joined Annie and Harry, talking quietly near the window, and left Josh with a few minutes alone. He held his mother’s hand until she dozed off. The fo
ur of them silently moved to Harry’s room next door.
“She sleeps a lot of the time now,” Harry said. “They keep increasing the medication to control her symptoms.”
“I’m so sorry,” Maggie said.
“It’s not unexpected.” Josh squeezed her hand before turning to Annie. “Thanks for all the help you’re giving us on this background stuff. I won’t ask how you’re accessing the financials.”
“Probably wise. It’s bad enough that one cop knows,” she said sliding her gaze to Maggie.
“Who me? I don’t know a thing. But he’s right, we’d be nowhere without you.”
“What exactly are you doing?” Harry asked.
They spent a few minutes updating him on the current status of the investigation, including finding Castile.
“Who’s this Hurst guy?” Harry asked.
“A very unusual informant,” Josh said with a grin. “It’s a long story.”
“Yeah, it is.” Maggie shrugged. “One of you can tell him later. I don’t care. Thanks to Josh, I’m getting a handle on this.”
Harry looked a trifle confused. “Now you have me curious, but I have something to tell first.” He looked at Annie. “It’s how I got into this mess…and dragged Josh in with me. I used to work for a crime boss in Boston.”
Annie’s brows shot up.
“For God’s sake, Harry. A little background would help,” Josh interjected.
Harry frowned. “No excuses, bro.”
“Perspective,” he corrected. “OK, I’ll do it. Our dad was a cop. He was killed in the line of duty when I was ten, Harry was six. Something like that can make a kid angry, and Harry grew up pretty wild.”
“The wild part’s true,” Harry said, taking over the story. “I ran with a gang on the fringes but no serious trouble. I somehow kept my grades good enough to get through college, then started vet school, but I’d just found a higher class group of wild friends, mostly through my college frat group. We started gambling. Poker games in the dorm, then the casinos, and finally we moved into sports betting. I still managed not to get in too deep until I needed money and went for the bigger payoffs.”
