by S. E. Harmon
Samuel. I wasn’t letting him go. When I tried to tell Danny that, I started coughing up water. I clutched tighter to the bundle instead. I didn’t want to look down because I knew what I’d find. The dead weight I’d been pulling was now gossamer light in my arms. I knew if I looked down, it wouldn’t be Samuel’s handsome face with his soulful eyes—but a bundle of bones and torn clothing.
“Come on, let’s get you out of the water,” Danny said.
I was quiet as he started towing me—us—toward the bank. I was glad for the assist. Usually I was a damn good swimmer, better than Danny actually, but I felt weak as a kitten. Halfway there, my muscles kicked in and I did a strange sort of half stroke to help. When we reached the bank, I managed to slog out of the water under my own steam, only stumbling a few times. Danny offered again to carry my feather-light bundle, but I shook my head stubbornly.
We sat on the bank, soaking wet, catching our bearings. The sinking sun beat down on my shoulders, but I felt chilled to the bone.
“I found him,” I finally croaked. “I found him.”
“Yeah,” Danny said quietly, his face pale. “You sure did.”
Chapter 23
My unwitting discovery certainly left its mark on Ironcrest Bridge. The peaceful, long forgotten area was marked with yellow tape, now an active crime scene. The dive team was still combing the river. They’d found another skeleton after three hours of searching. I had a sinking suspicion they weren’t done yet.
The team had questions. Saunders had questions. The local media, bored and listening to chatter on the radio, had shown up, and they had questions. The only person who didn’t have questions was Tate. Most of the night, I could feel her watching me with a look I was too tired to decipher. If I had to guess, I’d say she was starting to think having a resident ghost whisperer was a little more trouble than it was worth.
I was hoping Danny didn’t feel the same.
It was after midnight when I finally left, and I made sure to take regular roads instead of the interstate. I also stopped for gas, even though the tank was still half full. Admittedly, I was usually that guy who waited for the “hey asshole, you think you could put a dollar in my tank before Christmas” light to pop on. But tonight I was proactive. I also checked my tire pressure and squeegeed my already clean windows. Then I spent some quality time picking out the right gum while the clerk eyed me warily.
Even after all that, I pulled up to the house only a few seconds after Danny did. He was still outside, checking the mailbox. I guess he’d done a little dawdling of his own. My stomach growled as I pulled in the garage. I hoped some of his dawdling included dinner because I’d certainly forgotten.
I pressed the garage button and watched the door go down until it enclosed me in the darkness. A second later, the automatic lights kicked on with a low hum. I sat for a few moments, exhausted by, well, everything.
I briefly flirted with the idea of going home but talked myself out of it just as quickly. I wanted to live with Danny, one-hundred-percent of the time. That meant no running when things got difficult. Not like I’d done before.
Before I even broached the topic of living together, I needed to prove to him—with my actions—that this time was different. I was different. I was trustworthy. I was mature. I was… hiding in the fucking garage.
I stopped stalling and went inside.
I braced for an argument even as I walked in the door, but Danny didn’t seem interested. He murmured something about throwing together dinner and disappeared in the kitchen before I could agree or disagree or even blink, really.
I dropped my attaché case on the couch, kicked off my shoes, and followed him in the kitchen. I watched him work almost by rote, pulling down plates and gathering fixings. He then proceeded to put together two towering sandwiches… in complete silence. I sat on the barstool at the island.
If I hadn’t already known he was upset, that would be all the barometer I needed. He was always efficient in the kitchen, but he was noisy. He hummed without realizing it, and sometimes he even sang—horribly—under his breath. I never would’ve guessed such a beautiful baritone could threaten to shatter glass, but I heard the proof with my own poor ears. Then I removed my special occasion stemware from the cupboards, just in case.
He cut my sandwich in half on the cutting board and put it on a plate. Then he piled chips in a mound in the center and put a pickle on the side. The different layers of fixings were neat and tidy, and even though it was a tall stack, it didn’t seem in any danger of falling.
My mouth watered when he pushed the plate in front of me. “No one makes sandwiches like you.”
Finally, a small half smile. “Not to brag, but I worked part-time at Subway in college.”
“You were a sandwich artist?”
“That’s right. I was an exemplary employee until I was poached by Quiznos.”
“After everything Subway did to make you a success?”
His smile grew. “There’s no loyalty in the sandwich biz, Rainstorm. I left them for Jersey Mike’s.”
I meant to wait for him to finish making his own, but a quick bite for quality control turned into hoovering up half the sandwich. By the time he sat on the stool next to me, I was cramming the last of it in my mouth. I gave him an apologetic look, and he smiled again.
“Sorry,” I mumbled around a mouthful of food.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
We ate quietly, talking about small, household stuff that sometimes got swept under the rug because we were always so busy. It was kind of nice chatting about switching cable companies and putting more of our bills on autopay.
We talked long after we finished eating. Sometimes I forgot just how much I enjoyed his company. But eventually our small talk came to an end and the silence was back. Ah, silence. I hardly missed ye at all.
I reached over and brushed a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes. He caught my hand on the way down and pressed a kiss into my palm. My mouth quirked. “What was that for?”
“What did Anna tell you?” he asked out of the blue.
“Your sister?” I blinked. Of all the things I thought he might say, that wasn’t even in the top five. “You told me you weren’t ready.”
“I changed my mind. If you risked life and limb to get the answers, I might as well hear them.”
“I didn’t exactly risk life and limb with Anna. She wasn’t dangerous, she was….” I thought about what I was saying and finished weakly. “A friendly ghost.”
There that half smile was again. “Seriously?”
“Not like Casper,” I said indignantly. “You know what I mean.”
“So what did she say?”
“She said she loved you. And she wanted to thank you for loving her. She wanted you to know that it wasn’t your father.”
“At least that’s one less thing to hold against him,” he said darkly. “He’s still an asshole, though.”
“No arguments here.” I hesitated. Danny had an overprotective streak a mile wide, and I had a feeling how the next part would go over. I had to say it anyway. “She also wanted you to know that it wasn’t your fault.”
He laughed humorlessly. “It was my fault. I was supposed to look out for her. I’m her older brother. Don’t tell me you don’t know what that feels like.”
I winced. I absolutely did. My sister might be the older twin, but I still felt a responsibility, …no, a duty to protect her. “Yeah. I do.”
I put my hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off. I clasped my hands together to keep from reaching for him again. Not touching Danny was like holding my breath—I couldn’t do it for very long.
“She left the group home under her own steam,” I said evenly. “She was meeting with some guy, this Richie Rich douche she’d been seeing for a while.”
Just the mention of his sister dating had him half out of his chair. “She didn’t tell me she was dating—”
I held up my hand and he subsided. He sat back down with a
huff. “She didn’t tell you because she probably knew what you’d say. And she needed someone, Danny. She needed someone to talk to. They went to the park and the movies… shit like that. Usually he was the only one who did the drugs, but this time was different. She didn’t tell me why, but I poked around a little and found out that her latest foster home had fallen through.”
“The Gellmans,” he said bitterly. “Samantha Gellman got pregnant and decided she didn’t need Anna anymore.”
“Anna was upset. She probably just wanted to forget for a little while and figured it wouldn’t hurt just once—”
“How could she be so stupid?” His eyes were glassy with tears that I pretended not to see. “She knew better than to do any drugs. Especially after what we went through with our mother.”
“Loneliness and vulnerability can make people do strange things. She was a kid, sweetheart.” I chanced touching his shoulder. This time, he let it stay. “And so were you.”
He let that pass, probably because he knew I was right, and it didn’t fucking make a difference. “Who was this guy?” he finally asked.
“He overdosed.”
“I don’t care. I want his name.”
“She didn’t give me a name.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“Of course I asked.”
“I want to talk to her,” he said, anger in his voice. “She’s not the only one who has something to say.”
“She’s… she’s gone.” I spread my palms out entreatingly. “They choose their final message, not me. If it’s any consolation, she seemed like a huge weight was lifted off her shoulders. Like she was finally ready to move on.”
“Yeah, that helps a bunch,” he said sarcastically. “All better now.”
I bit back an equally angry reply because it wouldn’t help matters for us to go after one another. Instead, I said quietly, “Don’t take this out on me.”
“I’m not.” One look at my face made him sigh. “Fuck, I guess I am. But I don’t blame you. You’re just a convenient target right now because I can’t yell at her, and I can’t strangle that douche who thought it was a good idea to shoot up with my teenaged sister.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling a little helpless.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I just… I need to be alone, okay?” He ran his hands through his hair, frustration evident in his quick motions.
I briefly wondered if he meant alone alone, as in me taking my paranormal ass home. I started to offer, but one look at him made me falter. He sat with both forearms on the counter, hands in his hair. The tip of his nose was pink, probably because he was trying his best not to cry.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Whatever you need,” I said softly. “I’m going to go shower.”
I walked as slowly as possible, glancing over my shoulder the whole way. I wanted to stay mostly so I could wrap him up in my arms and hold on tight, but that wasn’t Danny’s style. He was used to protecting, not being protected.
I figured if he’d wanted me gone, he would’ve said so; he never had any trouble mincing words. I had to take that at face value. Sticking around was really all I could do at the moment. And I had to trust that if he needed more, he’d ask.
Chevy texted me just as I stepped out of my clothes. Facetime me.
I glanced down at myself instinctively. Can I just call? I texted back.
Why? I could picture her sly expression. Is there something I shouldn’t see?
No. But I am naked.
DO TELL.
I let out a huff of exasperation. I’m about to take a shower.
She sent me an emoticon of zzzzs. God, even living with that hot detective, your sex life is still a snooze fest.
We’re not living together.
Interesting you should focus on that.
I flushed. Well, we’re not. I’m a stickler for accuracy.
Oh okay. So… you’re at home right now?
I glanced around guiltily as if she had a tracker on me. Knowing Chevy, it certainly wasn’t impossible. Not exactly.
That’s what I thought. Now Facetime me.
I’m still naked.
I hear iPhones have this advanced technology where you can aim the phone at your face instead of your dick.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I pressed the Facetime button. Her face popped up on the screen a few seconds later, glasses slightly askew, curly hair big as ever. The background was dark but I could see the glow of her computer screens, verifying what I already knew after working with her for many years—Chevy never left the office. She was also going to go blind from staring directly into fake computer light for most of her life.
“Ah, you fell for it.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Now let me see the goods.”
I grinned. “Still a perv. Good to know some things don’t change.”
“No, they certainly don’t. You’re still a spoilsport,” she complained. “I mean, really, Rain. I did you a favor.”
“I think showing you the goods in exchange for a favor would make me a whore.”
“No, sleeping with that guy in Cyber Crime after two dates makes you a whore.”
Against my will, a blush rose in my cheeks. “That was a long time ago.” I glared. “Remind me again why I ever confided in you?”
“Because you were a closed off little thing with only one real friend. And you’re looking at her.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Good God, you’ve got good taste.”
“Apparently only in some areas,” I growled. “What do you have for me?”
“I have a list of missing males in the tristate area. They all meet your requirements.” All business now, Chevy flipped me around to see her computer screen. I barely got a glance at the results before she flipped it back. “Good call on the serial.”
“How many are we talking about here?”
“I expanded your search and found six possible, and two more I’d classify as probable. They don’t meet your exact parameters, but you know me. Being thorough is kind of my jam.”
“No arguments here. Can you send me—” I smiled as my phone dinged with a text. “Thanks.”
She didn’t say anything else and I stared at the screen. I shook the screen a little, thinking she was frozen, until I realized her eyes were blinking. Oh.
“You’re the best,” I said dutifully, managing to keep the eye rolling to a minimum. And because I knew that little Napoleon loved having her ego stroked almost as much as she loved Taylor Swift, I added, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
She smiled. “I know!”
“I’ll call you when I find out more.” I leaned down to scoop up my clothes and bobbled the phone for a few seconds. When I righted the phone, she was grinning. “Sorry about that.”
“I saw something,” she crowed. “I don’t know what, but I saw some skin.”
I chuckled even as I hung up, but my amusement quickly faded. Any progress on the case was welcomed, and we had to follow where the evidence led. But a serial killer in the area, working unhampered for God knows how long, wasn’t exactly the kind of news I was hoping for.
I chucked my clothes in the hamper and headed for the shower. I cranked both handles as far as they would go and got in before the temperature stabilized. The plumbing was temperamental on its best day, and I was too tired to wait.
I braced my hands against the wall, water running down my back in rivulets. The temperature went from icy cold to burning hot, and I dipped my head slightly to get under the spray. Water streamed over my face and almost instinctively, I jerked back out of the deluge.
I sputtered as I tried to catch my breath, knuckling water out of my eyes. Well, hell. Guess I shouldn’t be all that surprised because I almost drowned, after all. Of course I’d have a hard time putting my head under the spray.
I stuck my head back under the showerhead, determinedly. Even though my heart pounded uncomfortably, I stayed for a few minutes, just to make sure I could.
I was in over my head. Literally.
The shower curtain was pulled aside, but I didn’t turn around. Danny stepped in the tub and pulled the curtain closed behind him, enclosing us together in a space that was a little too small for two grown men. He pressed himself against the length of my back, I reassessed the space situation. The shower was clearly the perfect size.
He reached around me and turned down the hot handle a bit, apparently opposed to being boiled like a lobster. Then he pulled down a bottle of soap from the shower caddy and lathered up a loofah. He ran it across and down my back slowly, like we had all the time in the world. I practically melted into his touch, a puddle of soapy goo. But then there was the scent.
“What the hell is that?” I demanded.
He glanced at the bottle. “Mango Pearberry with seaweed extract. It’s the last soap your mom wanted us to test.”
Well thank fuck for that. I sniffed again and wrinkled my nose. “I think it has one too many ingredients.”
“I don’t know. I think it’s starting to grow on me.” He paused in washing me to wrap his arms around my middle. He leaned in to smell my neck. “Or maybe everything just smells good on you.”
“I think you’re a little biased.”
He chuckled. “Maybe.”
We stood there like that for a few seconds, cocooned in steamy quiet. When we were standing like this together, it was as if the rest of the world disappeared.
“Are you sorry I told you?” I finally asked.
He was quiet so long I thought he wouldn’t answer, and I was glad his arms were around me so tight. He couldn’t hate me when his arms were around me like that.
“I could say no, but you know me too well.” His arms dropped all too soon, and he resumed washing me, taking his slow ass, sweet time rubbing the loofah over my stomach. “I guess part of me wishes I didn’t know. Maybe it would’ve been easier to just imagine that she ran away. That she was happy somewhere. Knowing exactly how and when she died… it’s like losing her all over again.”
