Out of Body

by Stella Cameron

  “Silly gossip?” Marley said.

  Sidney waved a white hand. “Psychic or paranormal or whatever. Rubbish. Everyone knows there’s no such thing. And the red hair. Decent people would be sympathetic to something like that.”

  Neither Gray nor Marley responded.

  “You can’t help being born with hair like that. The gene must be very strong. You could always dye it, though.”

  Gray hummed.

  Marley gave Sidney a sweet smile. “I knew the first time I saw you that you had a generous heart. Thank you.” People like Sidney Fournier weren’t good at recognizing sarcasm and Marley wanted to gain the woman’s confidence. “You’ve been through a lot with Amber missing, Sidney. It must have been so hard to have people pushing you from all sides. I’ll never understand why men of the law-and-order type don’t have more empathy.”

  Sidney shook her head. She was even more beautiful in the failing light, the gold tones from the setting sun accentuating her olive skin and the fine bones in her face. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s been so horrible. And I haven’t known where to turn.”

  “Why, Sidney?” Marley inched closer to the other woman. “You have family and friends.”

  Sidney burst into tears, shocking Marley, who got up and rubbed Sidney’s shoulders. She patted her back. “Take it easy. Give yourself time. Take some deep breaths.” She glanced at Gray who looked bemused.

  “It’s my family and friends I’m worried about,” Sidney said. “I don’t know what to do. I want to go to the police, but I can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

  “They said you didn’t want to talk to them at all,” Gray pointed out.

  “I’ve been threatened,” Sidney said through gulps. “Not openly. Oh, no, it’s very subtle, but I know what it all means. If I say anything about what I think, someone will get hurt.” She passed the back of a shaky hand over her mouth. “If they haven’t already. I think they have, don’t you?”

  Marley looked at Gray who gave a slight shake of the head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Sidney,” he said. “Tell me what you wanted to say.”

  Sidney got up and paced the length of the back gallery. She stopped in front of them. “I got a call from a man who said he can prove I’m the one who knows where Amber is. He said I’d be accused of doing something to her and I’d go to jail. He said…he said they could convict me without a body.” She cried again. “Just ignore me. I haven’t been able to tell anyone anything. It’s all bottled up inside.”

  “The police need to know,” Gray said gently.

  She nodded. “For all I know you’ll both go right to them and tell them about me.”

  “We won’t,” Marley said.

  “If I sent them an e-mail they could trace it back to me?” Sidney said.

  Marley wondered at Sidney’s lack of savvy. “Yes,” she said simply.

  “Then I don’t know. I could get a cheap cell phone to call them, then throw it away after I use it.”

  “You could,” Gray agreed.

  “I’m afraid.” Sidney sat down on the very edge of a chair. “Could someone frame me for killing Amber?”

  “We hope she isn’t dead.”

  “Yes.” Sidney sounded on the verge of hysteria. “But that man talked as if she was.”

  “Did you write down the number this guy called from?”

  “I panicked. I forgot to look.”

  Great. “Did you recognize the voice at all?” Marley asked.

  “No. But I think it’s all about covering something up. I think there was…Amber doesn’t have a son. Who would say she does? Why? Except to try stopping you from making anymore enquiries, Gray.”

  “So who made the call to the cops and said he was Amber’s boy?”

  “I don’t know,” Sidney said. “Have they tried to find out?”

  “Of course. Call came from somewhere in the city, but they couldn’t trace it. So far there’s no record of Amber Lee having a child. There’s nothing much on her at all. Speculation is she probably left home young and she’s been on the move most of the time since.”

  “There’s something I do know.” Sidney looked all around and dropped her voice. “What did Danny tell you about him and Amber?”

  Marley thought about it. “At first he said she didn’t really know how much she meant to him. He made it sound like it was a one-sided thing with him crazy about her and Amber joking along.”

  “That was a lie.”

  Gray drummed his fingers on a thigh.

  “But he did tell me he was crazy about her,” Marley said. “It wasn’t until later that he let it out they were lovers and lived together.”

  Sidney crossed her arms tightly. “Amber did love Danny, but he was jealous. Mad, jealous. He beat someone up once just for talking to her. She and Danny had troubles for a long time. She was finally finished with him. She’d already moved out when she disappeared. He’d been following her everywhere and threatening to kill her if she didn’t come back to him.”

  She got the stunned response she must have wanted.

  “And you don’t think the police should know this?” Gray asked.

  “I’ve got to go. I’ll be late for my first set.”

  32

  “Just like that,” Gray said, watching Sidney’s taillights swing down the driveway and turn out onto River Road. “What do you make of it?”

  “She didn’t need the elaborate setup to give you her information,” Marley said. She paused. “Or maybe she thought she did. I believe she’s scared—even if I’m not completely sure why.”

  “I think she’s really scared.”

  “Did you believe her when she talked about someone trying to frame her?”

  “Why would she make it up?” He kicked up some gravel. “I’d like to know more about her relationship with Amber.”

  “Yes,” Marley agreed. “She wants us to tell the police about Danny, doesn’t she?”

  “Yep. Question is, what if she’s being straight with us and it would be dangerous for her to talk—to the cops? Or if it came out that she was responsible for letting information out that got to them.”

  “She doesn’t really have information,” Marley pointed out. “She’s guessing. And we don’t know if everything she says is true. She was suggesting Danny Summit could be a murderer.”

  “We’ve got to think. Nothing’s standing still with Nat. He’s got people taking New Orleans apart.”

  Marley laughed. “It’s funny the way you talk about cops when you used to be one.”

  “It has its advantages,” Gray said. “I can put on a couple of different hats and the appropriate brain is inside.”

  This time Marley sniggered. She put a hand to her face and made a snorting sound.

  “That funny?” Gray said.

  “It’s a pretty interesting picture.”

  “That bottle of wine’s still on the back gallery,” Gray said. “Maybe that’s what we need to help us think clearly.”

  “It’s getting awfully dark out here.”

  “I saw citronella candles back there. I’ve got you for protection. You’ve got me for protection. And I’ve got a gun.”

  “Let’s have some wine,” Marley said. She hooked a hand under his arm and they returned to the back of the house.

  Gray lighted two buckets of citronella with matches left for the purpose. He put one bucket on the table and opened the wine. The ice in the bucket was long melted. Sidney hadn’t forgotten to bring a wine opener, and she’d left it behind with everything else she’d brought with her.

  They sat, drinking white wine that tasted good even if it was tepid, and listening to frogs and crickets while fireflies winked in the tops of tall grass.

  “Knock, knock, Marley.”

  Momentarily disoriented, she turned to Gray who looked out into the darkness.

  She gave a long, long sigh. “Sykes?”

  “Permission to enter?”

  “Very funny. You’re already in.”

&n
bsp; “Nope. Only on the doorstep. I’ll go away if you insist.”

  “What are you doing here, Sykes?”

  “You’ll just have to let me off the hook. Uncle Pascal again. He’s not himself, girl. He’s jittery and it’s all your fault. It doesn’t help that our dear papa is passing through and asking questions.”

  “He doesn’t have any right to ask questions. And I thought he’d already left.”

  “He has,” Sykes said. “But Uncle Pascal’s been so uptight all day in case Papa asked more about what’s going on with you, he’s a wreck. So here I am to make sure no one has to rescue you.”

  “And I’m great, thank you. You’re kind to care.”

  “I came for our uncle.”

  “Of course,” Marley said. Sykes preserved his reputation as selfish and only out for himself. It might fool most—Marley wasn’t among them.

  “I’ve got some interesting tidbits of news,” Sykes said. “Our papa might really be making progress digging up the Millet mysteries.”

  Marley felt excited and jumpy, but had to keep a blank face. “You have terrible timing. I want to know all about it, but I can’t now—obviously.”

  “You’re quiet,” Gray said. “But your mind is doing somersaults.”

  She sat very still and calmed herself. She flattened her emotions and pushed Sykes to a corner of her consciousness.

  “You’ve known Nat Archer a long time,” Marley said. “Is he someone we could talk to off the record?”

  Gray was quiet for a while before he said, “I think so. He’s always been a maverick—never played the rules completely straight. What d’you have in mind?”

  She wasn’t sure.

  “Ask him to come out here,” Sykes said. “It’s not far. He’s in a war zone and he’s an army of one being fired on from all sides. Everyone wants this case broken and they want it broken yesterday. The new disappearance could be all it takes to set off mass hysteria.”

  “I haven’t heard too much about those old unsolved disappearances with what’s going on,” Gray said. “But the Pearl Brite incident might be enough to start people making connections.”

  “Why—” Marley cut herself off before she could ask what made him make those comments right when he made them. It sounded as if he was answering what she’d heard Sykes tell her. “You’re right,” she said, trying for a breezy tone.

  “We need a scrambled frequency here.”

  “You’re talking about something that’s nothing to do with you,” Marley said. “What do you know about the case? Have you been spying on me?”

  “No. And it hurts me for you to think I would. I live here, too, remember?”

  Marley ignored Sykes. She couldn’t make herself feel guilty for tromping on his delicate sensibilities. She almost laughed.

  “So you think we should try to get Nat out here?” Gray said.

  She cleared her throat. “Gray, I didn’t say anything about asking Nat to come out here. You’re reading my mind.” Or in this case, picking up on what I’m hearing from my brother.

  “No. You said that.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Marley told him.

  “You’re looking for these signs or whatever.”

  “It might be nice to have Nat come out where the territory feels neutral, though,” Marley said. “He always seems on duty. Do you think he drinks too much?”

  “You never stay on topic.”

  “Butt out, Sykes.”

  “Why? You gonna have sex under the stars?”

  “Nat knows what he’s doing,” Gray said. “He’s always in control. We’d better get back to the Quarter and find him.”

  “No sex under the stars? Aw, shucks.”

  “My turn is going to come, bro. Just you wait.”

  “You don’t need anyone’s permission to call this cop yourself. Just do it.”

  Marley consigned herself to dealing with these two. “I’m calling him.” She found her phone in her bag. “What’s his number?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t do this,” Gray said. But he took out his own phone, punched in a programmed number and handed it to Marley.

  “He’s got possibilities, sis. Some guys would have refused to give you the number, let alone dialed it for you.”

  Marley agreed, but didn’t give Sykes that message. She waited, watching stars pop in a pewter sky above the black-shadowed crowns of trees.

  “Nat Archer.”

  Marley swallowed and set out her proposition. She finished with, “I think it’s time I explained a number of things I haven’t wanted to talk about. I don’t think I’ve done any harm yet, but maybe I can make a difference now.”

  “I’m on my way,” Nat said. “Thanks, Marley.”

  She smiled and closed the phone.

  “Why the smile?” Gray said.

  “He’s a nice guy.”

  Gray leaned toward her across the little round table. “That’s a switch. D’you have any idea how sexy you look by candlelight?”

  “I’m gone,” Sykes said and Marley felt his instant absence.

  She widened her eyes at Gray. “I like you by candlelight, too.”

  He peered at his watch.

  “What is it?” Marley said. “Did you forget an appointment.”

  “Nope. I was just figuring out how long we’ve got before Nat can make it out here. Long enough. Just. Sit on my lap. Please.”

  She tingled all over, but more in some places than others….

  Gray reached for her hand and guided her in front of him. She started to turn sideways, but he held her where she was.

  He ran his hands slowly up beneath her white cotton skirt, parted her aching thighs and settled her where she fitted the best, squarely astride his hips.

  For seconds they absorbed the physical shock of their contact. They connected with their mouths and the night turned all white heat and the rushing clamor of arousal.

  33

  This Marley Millet was a spoiler. She wouldn’t bring him down; that wasn’t possible. He would find and deal with her.

  But there was a fitting irony in this new battle with the Millets. Marley couldn’t have been pitted against him by accident. This was someone’s deliberate plan to destroy him by using a descendant of the very family that had caused the long-ago woman-Embran to return to her species with a disease they had never been able to cure.

  That woman-Embran who married a Millet in Belgium had been blamed for dire threats to the safety of that family. It was after her return to the Lower Place that the Embrans first encountered bodily decay. They had learned how to renew themselves through the contents of their own un-hatched eggs, but the results were temporary, a mere hundred or so years’ reprieve, and they wanted their immortality back.

  He had been allowed to come to the surface of the earth after others of his kind had visited but failed to find an antidote to the plague. Now he knew what he could not have before—discovering what the Millets had used on the Embrans could take many visits, especially when there were so many luscious diversions to enjoy in the meantime.

  He wanted to hiss, to aim his face at the black sky that was his friend and rattle his jaws until he drowned out every other night sound and left the human vermin in this city too terrified to leave the perceived safety of their homes.

  Yet they had no safe defense over an enemy they did not know and who could strike wherever he pleased.

  The Millet woman had barged in where she had no right to be. The deepest most disturbing question was, how had she obtained information she shouldn’t have? What had led her to find him?

  Who?

  He dragged himself over a thick layer of gravel at the bottom of the tunnel only he had ever used. Fleeing that warehouse, he had injured himself. The woman’s fault again. She had interfered. Harm was not supposed to happen to one such as he and there would be retribution for this inconvenience.

  Many times he had come through this tunnel to pursue his pleasures. Tonight, for the first time ever, he knew
the kind of fear only anger could produce. He had been betrayed by someone who should be too afraid to cross him, and when he discovered the identity of his betrayer, he would grind their bones to dust.

  If he had to, he would cut a path of death across New Orleans, searching for his enemies. Afterward he would have to withdraw to Embran, deep in the earth, perhaps for longer than these little people could fathom. And when all those who could get in his way were gone or forgotten here, he would fight all comers in Embran for the right to come back and reclaim the fruits he had earned.

  There would be those in the Lower Place who would blame him, try to have him demoted for failing to find a cure for their eventual decay, but he had his cover ready. Alone, he had developed a means of staving off total disintegration of the Embran form for short periods—long enough to get one of them home if the need became dire.

  He had already tested his prototype and prepared a small stash.

  He resented his need for air. Breathing slowed him down. Next time he came back to this part of his reality with its toothsome fleshly prizes, he must increase his efforts not to need any of the elements the weaklings used.

  But he wasn’t ready to leave yet, oh, no. First he must finish with the fools who thought they could stop him, but even that had to wait until he knew if the unthinkable had happened and the one object he must have had been stolen.

  The way was too long. Once he had been able to rush to the small but perfect white pavilion, sometimes every few weeks when the hunting was exceptional. He had taken his victims there to enjoy. Some years had passed since then and his precious antidote was losing its power to sustain him.

  He reached the steps at the end of the tunnel, worked his way upward and outside. The pavilion stood before him and he turned his head from side to side to bring the walls into clear focus. Here, too, there were signs of aging. Moss clung, and the surfaces had darkened. None of it would do.

  Heaving, he fought for calm. If he could hang on a few more days he would be finished with what must be done before he returned to his source of renewal and strength—to Embran.