by J N Duncan
Bottom line, she was terrified. Sensing the dead was Laurel’s forte, not hers. The psychic radar she had so fondly poked fun at over the years was not equipment she possessed, nor did she want to. So what the hell had happened back there? How did a visit with the dead make her psychic? What she needed was Laurel, and more information on the crime, neither of which she could just call up. Belgerman would have her flagged on the computer and he would want to know why she was snooping around on a case she was not supposed to be involved in. Hearing dead babies and seeing blood-surging mattresses would not go over well. Hello, loony bin.
She channel-surfed for a few minutes but quickly realized she was in no mood for television. Instead, Jackie got up and walked over to her piano. Bickerstaff quickly joined her, hopping up on top to sit and look down upon her. Something about her fingers moving across the keys enthralled him for some reason.
“What would you like to hear, Bickers? Something slow and relaxing?” She reached up and scratched under his chin. “My thoughts exactly.”
Jackie began the single quiet notes of Tchaikovsky’s Romance in F Minor, remembering how Laurel used to stand beside the piano, leaning over the edge with her chin resting on her hands. She thought the look and smile had been for the playing, but Jackie understood now that the look had been directed at her not the music. A look of love that she had failed to recognize. Nobody had ever looked at her in such a way, so how was she to know what it really meant? She heaved a sigh and continued to play, closing her eyes and letting the notes tumble through her body, letting them take away the stress and anxiety of earlier in the day. Much as she played, however, the music failed to eliminate the image of a squirming, ghostly mass smothered in blood. Like a train wreck, her mind refused to look away.
She stopped and opened her eyes. “Fuck. I can’t work like this, Bickers. I can’t do it. How the hell did Laur deal with this every day?”
A cold breeze tingled at the marrow of her bones. The familiar ache bloomed inside her once again, and Jackie could almost hear the doorway to the other side opening up. A moment later, Laurel stood in her familiar spot beside the piano, the television screen glaring through her gray, translucent form.
The smile on her face was even more hesitant than her voice. “Hi, hon. I heard your song. I had to come see you.”
Jackie blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t just imagining it. Had she come for her song? What about the million other times she had called out for her when she was drowning in tears and cursing the rising sun for letting her see another day? She did not hide the sarcastic bite in her voice. “Hello, stranger. Nice of you to drop in.”
Laurel winced. “I’m sorry, Jackie. I am. It’s just . . .” She raised her hands in a helpless gesture. “I can’t help you right now, but I’ve missed you so much. I wanted to let you know I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jackie stared at her best friend, trying to pull apart the feelings of relief and outrage. She didn’t try too hard. “Except over to Shelby’s maybe? Latch on to those sweet, vampire lips or . . . or just what the hell does a ghost and vampire do together?”
“That’s unfair, Jackie, and you know it.”
She shrugged. “So? Fairness isn’t too high on my list when I’m balling my fucking eyes out because you’re dead, only you’re not . . . really, but now I get to see dead people every day apparently. Yea, me! Because something happened to me when cowboy vampire saved my sorry ass and I got to play with all the ghost people and now I’m fucked, thank you very much.”
Laurel’s translucent figure straightened. “My death isn’t the real problem. Shelby and I decided—”
“Shelby?” Jackie slammed her hands down on the piano keys and Bickerstaff made a mad dash for the bedroom. “Since when has she got any business deciding anything regarding my life? What the fuck, Laur! Just a little help over the past two weeks would’ve been nice. Hell, even popping in to say hello. But she’s got no right to be deciding anything. She’s not my goddamn mother!”
Laurel closed her eyes for two seconds. “She didn’t decide anything for you, hon. It was for me. I can’t help you get over me. These first steps need to be yours. If I help . . .” She gave Jackie a pained smile, looking on the verge of tears. “I won’t stop. I can’t be your crutch anymore.”
“Crutch.” Jackie crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. “I thought you came over to hear me play? Now we’re going to talk therapy, which by the way, I didn’t need until you died.”
“You did,” Laurel said, her voice quiet and sad, “but I wanted to be your therapist.”
“What? What bullshit is that?”
“I couldn’t not help you, Jackie. I wasn’t capable of saying no to you. For anything. Don’t you see?” Laurel threw up her hands and turned away from the piano. “You’re too pissed off at me to see anything.”
“Yes, I’m pissed,” Jackie yelled. “My best friend said she would stick around for me, make sure my life was back on track, and she’s been gone since day one. All it’s done is make me more fucking miserable.”
She turned back around and gave Jackie a plaintive smile. “You have to be able to help yourself, Jackie. You need to—”
“Get out,” she snapped and waved Laurel off. “I don’t need you here if this is what I’m going to get.”
The smile faded and Laurel nodded. Her voice was tearful. “I see. It’s not the time then.”
Jackie didn’t look at her. “Good-bye, Laur. Go bonk your vampire.”
She said nothing and when Jackie finally looked up Laurel was gone. The mood to play had been stamped out. Jackie got up and went to the kitchen for a sweet, double shot of tequila. Maybe it was time for two or three.
Chapter 9
Whether Jackie wanted to or not, and she clearly didn’t, Nick knew something had to be done to address her experience at the crime scene. One hundred and fifty years had not dulled his initial experience with the dead. When he had returned to his home after Drake’s massacre to find Gwen and his children’s ghosts, his initial thought had been relatively plain. He had lost his mind. Later, he figured God had been punishing him for his crimes. He would not let Jackie go through that.
The obvious manner in which to address the issue would be to repeat the experience, so Nick got out his cell and dialed up Belgerman once again.
“Belgerman. What can I do for you, Mr. Anderson?”
“Sir, I have a favor to ask of you, if you don’t mind.”
He laughed. “Nick. You’re more than a century older than I am. Please. It’s John, and what do you need?”
“I’d like to take Jackie to the crime scene you were investigating earlier today.”
The pause was long enough that Nick was almost certain the answer was no. John’s voice was suspicious. “What’s this pertaining to?”
“I’ve got reason to suspect that Jackie may have acquired or be experiencing some kind of psychic ability related to her exposure to Deadworld.”
There was a spluttering noise on the other end of the line. “Jack’s psychic? Oh, I’ll bet that went over well.”
“Not exactly,” Nick said. “I’d like an opportunity to test it though, and a murder scene is fertile ground for psychic energies.”
“You going with her?”
“I’ll be with her at all times.”
“Go ahead then,” John said. “Remind Agent Rutledge that this does not mean she’s doing fieldwork.”
“I will. Thank you, John.”
“How’s she doing? You’ve seen her, I assume.”
Nick smiled. He wondered what sort of rumor mill was grinding away down at the FBI, but knew that John cared a great deal about the welfare of Jackie. He was almost like a father figure from what he could tell. “She’s struggling, I think. It’s hard to lose a partner, especially when they were so close, but you throw in what happened and nearly dying? It’s a unique situation, but she’ll make it through.”
“You sound rather su
re of that, Nick.”
“I am,” he said. “She’s tougher than she thinks and she’s not as alone as she believes.”
“Good. Thank you, Nick. You’ll keep me apprised of these psychic phenomena? Let me know if there’s anything pertinent to the case?”
“I will. Good night, John.” Nick hung up the phone and pulled into Shelby’s parking lot. Her lights were on, and she’d said she wasn’t going out tonight, so Nick had not bothered to call. He let himself into the building with her spare key and walked down to her apartment on the end. It took her nearly two minutes to answer the door. In the meantime, Nick felt the fading presence of Laurel. She didn’t need to leave on his account.
Shelby answered the door with her usual eyepopping smile, but Nick could see the tiny stress lines furrowed between her eyes. “Hi, babe. You don’t look so annoyed now.”
“And you look stressed,” he said and stepped into the apartment when Shelby walked away from the door.
“I’m fine. Just a basket case of a girlfriend is all,” she said. “I’m ready to smack Jackie.”
“They have an argument?”
“Something like that. Jackie is miffed Laurel stopped by to say hello because she missed her, and so Jackie told her to fuck off.”
“Did she know Jackie saw a spirit today?”
“What?” Shelby whirled around at the news. “At the crime scene?”
Nick nodded. “She had a full-blown channeling experience. The infant or fetus I suppose, since it hadn’t been born yet, came through or what there was of it. It was a bit uncanny, honestly.”
“Ugh, Nick! Fuck. No wonder Jackie was wigged out.”
“We should take Jackie to the second crime scene and see what we can find out.”
“Second? I’ve missed this bit of news.”
“Two victims, one gutted like the first, second shot in the head.”
“Think it’s our ghost?”
“Who knows, but I think it’s worth looking at. We can check for her presence, and Jackie can have a second shot at testing herself at a murder scene. If this is a permanent change, she needs to figure out what it is quickly. I don’t think she’s equipped to handle it on her own.”
Nick walked into Shelby’s kitchen and grabbed one of the metal containers from her fridge, kept just for him these days as she had gone back to the real thing since Drake. He didn’t know where or how she was siphoning off what she needed, but he was done complaining. It was her choice and her life and if she got busted for it, so be it. For Nick, the residual effects of taking in so much energy to kill Drake had kept him going for days, but he could feel it beginning to wane now just a bit. He would drink the vile tasting synthetic his company made to prolong its effects for as long as he could.
It felt far too good to have the energy of real souls flowing through his blood. Part of him knew he should let it dissipate and get himself back to the normal state of affairs, but there would be no other time to come after, so Nick had decided he would enjoy the luxury for as long as he could.
“She’s not equipped to handle it,” Shelby agreed. “How’s things going with you two, anyway?” She walked up and took the empty container from his hand and rinsed it out in the sink. “Anything I’d like to know about?”
“No,” Nick snapped back. “And why would I inform you of those details?”
“That’s OK,” Shelby said, looking back at him with a smile. “Once Jackie is over being mad at Laurel and me, she’ll spill the beans.”
“You want to come with me or not, smartass? I’m not sure what we’ll find, but I’d like another pair of eyes, especially on Jackie.”
“So, I’ll look around while you check out her ass?”
“You’re just too funny sometimes, you know that?”
“I do,” she said. “Let me get my coat and I’ll meet you over there. Jackie can ride with you, since I’m not high on her list at the moment.”
They arrived at Jackie’s to the rumble of thunder. An evening thunderstorm was rolling in. Shelby had held up the picture of the Doppler radar on her phone and proclaimed it was going to be a good one.
Nick buzzed Jackie’s apartment from the streetside door. After a minute he buzzed it again. “Think she might have gone to bed? She was pretty wiped out from earlier.”
Shelby gave him a look and shook her head. She placed her finger over the buzzer and held it down, giving Nick an impatient look. “Must you always be so fucking polite?”
“It can wait until morning,” he said. “I’d just hoped for sooner rather than later.”
“It’s 7:30, Nick. She’s either in the bath or drunk and ignoring us.”
About twenty seconds later the window on the far side of Jackie’s kitchen slammed up. “What the hell . . . oh. What are you guys doing here?”
Shelby waved. “Can we come up a talk for a few minutes?”
Nick watched her lips tighten in annoyance. “Why?”
Shelby huffed. “Because it’s not something to shout up to you in a window about, that’s why. Just buzz us up, would you?”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
She turned to Nick. “Explain to me why you like her so much?”
“I’ll go with, ‘it’s complicated,’” he said. He looked up at the ruffled figure sticking out of the window. “Jackie? We want to take you to the second crime scene.”
Her head came up and hit the window frame. “Ow! Shit. Why?”
Shelby rolled her eyes and looked skyward. “Mother above us. Do I deserve this?” She took a step toward Jackie. “Buzz us up, Jackie, or we’ll just force our way in.” A couple coming out of the grocery started to walk toward them but quickly decided to cross the street instead.
Nick watched Jackie mouth the word bitch before ducking back inside. A moment later the latch on the door clicked open. Shelby yanked it open and marched up the stairs.
“Shel, keep it calm, will you? We want—”
“I know, I know,” she said, waving him off at the top of the stairs. She stopped before Jackie’s door and let him go first. “You talk, so I don’t smack her.”
She opened the door when Nick stepped up to it. “Hello, Jackie.” Her eyes were puffy and dark. Too many tears and too little sleep. She stared at him in silence, exasperated. “We’d like to see if you have any more psychic responses to the scene, and to find out if maybe the spirit of the mother was involved in these murders.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Now? It’s late.”
“There’s nobody at the scene. Belgerman gave the okay for you to come check it out.”
“Oh. OK.” She stepped away from the door and let them inside. “You sure this ghost is involved?”
“We don’t know yet, but we’d like to check it out and see. The sooner we make sure this spirit has moved on, the better.”
“And what if I find it?”
“We’ll be there to deal with it, Jackie. Don’t worry.”
Shelby walked passed them into the living room and straight over to the coffee table. She grabbed a half empty bottle of tequila and marched it over to the sink and dumped it out. “Get dressed girl. You’re coming with.”
Jackie gasped at her in disbelief. “You bitch! That was like fifteen bucks of tequila right there.”
“Boohoo,” Shelby replied. “Get your boots, Jackie. I want to see your psychic powers in action.”
“Maybe I don’t,” she replied, giving Shelby the stare-down, which lasted all of about three seconds. “Maybe I’ve had enough ghostly bullshit for one day.”
Shelby just crossed her arms over her chest and continued to stare in silence until Jackie huffed in frustration and stomped off to her bedroom.
Nick whispered in Shelby’s ear. “You’re good. I’d have never done that.”
She glanced up at him and smirked. “I’m not trying to get in her pants.”
Jackie came out a couple minutes later in jeans, sweatshirt, and hiking boots. “I’m half-drunk, you know. You real
ly think this is the best time?”
“Well I can give you a little of the vampire voodoo, if you like,” Shelby said, taking a step forward.
“No!” Jackie scooted back on the couch away from her. “Fuck. I’m coming, OK? You know, having gotten Laurel, you’d think you could be nicer to me.”
Shelby’s hands went from tucked under her arms to poised on her hips. Nick shook his head. Please don’t escalate this. We’ve almost got her out the door.
“You’d think,” Shelby said. “But is that really where you want to go, hon? Is that the argument you want to have with me?”
Jackie worked her mouth in a tight, squirming line. Nick tried hard to look noncommittal about the whole thing but was hoping to hell she would suck it up and pick that fight another day. They didn’t have time for it. She muttered under her breath, stomping past Shelby and Nick to the hall closet where she grabbed her coat. “Someone better be buying the coffee.”
Nick sighed. Thank God. “It’s on me,” he said.
In the car, Jackie propped her face against her hand and rested her elbow against the door. She sipped at the Starbucks cup in silence. Nick gave her a few more minutes to cool down.
“Jackie.”
She didn’t look at him. “What.”
“You have someone you can call to give us any specifics or anything interesting about the second crime scene?”
“I’ll call Denny.” Jackie punched in his number as they drove away from the house. “Den, it’s Jack. Anything interesting on the second crime scene? I’m heading over there with Anderson and Fontaine right now to check it out.”
“Hey, Jack,” he said. “One bit of interesting evidence turned up, assuming it’s verified, which I expect it will be.”
