After downing the cookies, getting a burp out of a few swigs of orange, I faced the basement door.
“Chicken!” came Bobby’s voice.
Little shit. I stood in front of the door, took a deep breath, and wrenched it open. Darkness came out at me, along with the smell of mildew and old books. I reached to the left and fumbled for the light switch. The light came on beneath, illuminating the steps.
If I stood at the top, I could see the bottom, but nothing else beyond that. And as I stared, Bobby appeared down there and stuck his tongue out at me. “Chicken!”
Jerk. I huffed and puffed and barreled down those steps, my fear temporarily replaced by inherent stubbornness. And once at the foot of those steps, I stopped and looked around. The basement room really wasn’t so scary if I just took it all in.
To the right were the washer and dryer, and this was the “friendly” area, the part I was used to. Mom had laid down a few scraps of old carpet on the concrete floor, kept the area free of cobwebs, and made a nice flat area with a folding table, shelves for detergent, and even a small radio. The antenna had long since broken off, and she’d attached a bent coat hanger to the back of it.
But to the left . . . there was the spooky. It wasn’t as well lit as the washing area, and I hated it. I could see my old toys stacked in various corners, all of them staring at me, neglected, cursing me for growing older and forgetting them.
“It’s all right up there!” Bobby appeared again, and down here in the dark he tended to glow, lighting up the room.
He stood in front of the wall of rusted metal shelves full of old cardboard boxes, labels declaring the contents were Magnavox, Sony, and Mattel, when in truth they had been reduced to storage containers. He was jumping up and down and pointing to the unmarked white box on the very top shelf. It sat by itself, and I remembered the box. It’d gone with us through all of our moves. And I wasn’t supposed to touch it.
“Mom’ll get really mad if I mess with that box,” I said. I heard the nervous twitch in my voice. I wanted to go back upstairs and finish my paper. The dullness of schoolwork didn’t seem quite so boring anymore, but a lot safer than my mom’s anger if she caught me down here.
It was the size of any average box—maybe a bit smaller. I guessed my old Easy-Bake oven would fit inside of it.
“Ever wonder why she doesn’t want you messing with it?” Bobby was looking at me with a cross look. “There’s something in there she doesn’t want you to see.”
“But what would that be?”
“Your dad.”
My dad? I gave Bobby a look like he had a third eyeball. “My dad isn’t in that box. My dad ran off a long time ago.”
“But ran off to where? And why would he just leave and never say good-bye to his only child?”
The little shit was pressing all the right buttons, and I knew this. But my own curiosity wanted to see the box now, and maybe it was just filled with spiders, and maybe it did have clues to my daddy inside. I was eleven, and all I wanted was to know more of who he was, and why he left.
A folding stepladder lay propped against the wall, and I pulled it away, mindful of bugs that skittered out of my path. Roaches mostly, and I shivered inwardly. I hated bugs.
Once the steps were unfolded, I cautiously climbed up on them. The shelf was still higher than my head, and when I tried to move it, pulling it out, I felt something tickle my right arm. I looked up in time to see a large black spider headed down my arm to my shoulder.
I screamed and pushed back and Bobby yelled. All I could think about was the spider going up my shirt as I hit the floor and the back of my head hit the hard, cold concrete—
I gasped awake—very much aware of a gang of little gnomes taking a sledgehammer to the inside of my brain. And I was cold—shivering. And there was an all-too-familiar beeping noise.
Mental note: aw fuck . . .
“Good morning, sunshine.”
That voice. I knew that voice.
Joe Halloran.
“You’re kinda loud,” came another voice. That was Dags’s tone, more dulcet than Joe’s swaggering, nasal, sarcastic one. “Zoë? Are you back?”
“Back?” my voice croaked. And again I was immediately excited to hear my voice.
“Whoa . . . you weren’t kidding,” Joe said in the dark. “Though I’ve never actually heard her talk before.”
Why was it dark? Oh, yeah. I had to open my eyes.
I blinked a few times and looked to my right. Dags’s smiling face with his gray eyes looked down at me with worry. His hair fell over his eyes, giving him an even more boyish look. Why had I thought he looked older before?
He reached out, and I could feel his hand in mine. “Hey—don’t scare me like that.”
“You haven’t been around Zoë much, have you? This is nothing—this time she wasn’t even admitted.”
Not admitted huh? Then where was that infernal beeping coming from?
I looked to my left to see Joe.
He hadn’t changed much in the past month. Stiff, spiky hair, lopsided, shit-eating grin, dressed in a flannel shirt and roguish attitude.
Mental note: wow.
He also had my left arm in his hands, turning it from side to side, twisting it around. I cleared my throat. “Can I help you with something?”
He grinned at me. “You know you sound a lot like Stevie Nicks used to.”
I nodded. “Mom says I sound like Nick Nolte.”
He shook his head. “Nah, not as good-looking.” Joe was still examining my arm.
“Hello? Is there something you need?”
“It’s really gone, huh? That mark?”
I took my arm away and realized I wasn’t in a hospital like I feared, but still at the facility where my mom was. I was in a room at Miller Oaks. And the beeping was coming from a different room. “Oh . . . no. What happened?”
Dags answered, “Well, you passed out. Captain Cooper found you. He’d come by for a visit, and there you were. The nurses here and the doctor were good. You didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger.”
“Cooper called me,” Joe said. “Apparently Shit-for-Brains wasn’t answering his phone again.”
I frowned at him. Shit-for—
And then I realized he meant Daniel.
I put my left hand to my face to hopefully hide any crying I might do. “How long?”
“Two hours,” Joe said. “I called Dags to let him know—”
“I just got here,” Dags chimed in.
I looked from Dags to Joe. “Why did you call Dags? Why did you know to call him?”
The look on both of their faces was priceless. Especially when they glanced at each other to indicate the oh-shit reaction.
But I wasn’t stupid. Not like everyone seemed to think. “You knew because you knew Dags was with me.” I looked at Dags. “So were you there at the shop because Joe asked you to be? And not because you wanted to be?”
I was starting to get that old betrayal feeling again. It was becoming so commonplace I was thinking of actually letting it take up residence.
“No.” Dags’s expression was hard, and I noticed the changes in his features again. He did look different. “I came to you when Joe told me what happened with your mom.”
“He’s right,” Joe held up a finger. “I warned him to stay away from you. I told him not to go near you. I also told him to be in fear for his life—that you were a creature from the darkest dimensions.”
“You told him I killed March Knowles and Rhonda.”
He shrugged. “That might have slipped out.”
“But I came to see you anyway, Zoë,” Dags said. “And I stayed because I wanted to.”
I looked into his eyes and knew he wasn’t lying to me. I wasn’t sure Dags was capable of lying. Evading—yeah. But lying?
No.
I saw a box in my mind, a white box. “I had a dream . . . or was it a memory?”
“What was it about?” Dags asked.
“S
omething to do with my dad . . .”
And a little boy.
And then it was gone. Poof. Just like that. Eh . . . so much for that supermemory of mine. Seems it was a Wraith thing too.
I looked at Joe. “So—Daniel never answered your call?”
“He’s an ass, Zoë. Plain and simple. He won’t talk to me either. But you know what, I don’t care. I’ve gotten along without Mr. Daniel Frasier for a very long time, and I put my life back together. But then again I wasn’t sleeping with him.”
His words seemed odd to me, and I pushed back from him. And that’s when I saw his smile and the twinkle in his eyes. He was being a twit, and I was glad of it. Neither was I. Sleeping with him. I sniffed. “I’m sorry.”
“What for? Because you saved his ass more times than I can count? Because you gave him your heart and then, when things got tough, he bailed?”
“But I never told him the truth about me . . .”
“And what makes you think he could have handled that?” Joe arched his eyebrows and glanced over me at Dags. “Me and tiny here are your best support when it comes to all things . . . what was your word . . . ah . . . oogy.”
I smiled. I didn’t want to, but it happened. And my nose was clogged. Dags handed me a tissue, and I used it as best I could without being too snotty. After a few minutes I looked from Dags to Joe. “I can’t OOB anymore—did Dags tell you?”
Joe nodded. “Well, he told me what you said happened in the warehouse. I’m glad you were able to do that for Charlie. But I’m having a little trouble believing your ability is totally gone. I mean, whether or not Trench Coat is involved, you could still OOB before he showed up. But to not even be able to do that? Uh-uh. Something else is going on.”
“I wondered that,” Dags said. “But with the mark gone, and then her voice came back. TC showing up also cinched it with me—whatever is happening doesn’t involve him. And Maureen and Alice have put a binding spell on him just to keep him out of the way for now.”
Binding spell on TC.
Wait . . . I pushed up on my elbows and frowned. I’d been talking to TC in Mom’s room. Where is he?
Right here, lover, came a voice inside of my head. Right next to your heart.
9
I murdered who?
THERE was a knock at the door before I could scream. I was still puzzling about TC’s voice in my head when Captain Cooper strolled into the room.
He looked tired and worn-out. I hadn’t spoken with him since he’d prevented Rodriguez from kidnapping me out of my mom’s shop. Though we’d left the conversation at a standstill—with him noting that my fingerprints were on the bloody business card found in the bathroom at the Plaza next to the blue lady’s dead body. I was never sure if he thought I was the one responsible for that death, or he wanted me to be.
It was sort of a love-hate relationship.
What? You love him, and he hates you?
Ah! Where are you?
I’m in here, babe. Safe and warm.
Oh God no. No, no, no, no, no . . . I never wanted a Symbiont inside of my body—I’d already had a Daimon run amuck in it—and I sure as hell didn’t want a Symbiont messing around in there—and particularly not this one.
“Get out!”
Not on your life, babe—we need each other. And as long as your Guardian friend and his familiars think it’s fun to use mojo on me—I’m protected inside of you.
“Get out?” Joe said. “Zoë, that’s harsh. Cooper could have just left you on that floor.”
Captain Kenneth Cooper was Daniel’s boss, as well as a friend. Cooper was a man in his midthirties, with salt-and-pepper hair, a baby face that was losing a lot of the baby innocence. Six-foot-something, with broad shoulders and straight back. He was a fairly attractive man if you liked men who looked like soccer dads. Which was just wrong because I could never imagine Cooper being a dad.
I wasn’t sure that he wasn’t a dad, come to think of it. I had a vague memory of him being married.
You like him? He’s old.
I started to react aloud to TC’s comment again—but stopped when I saw Cooper.
His eyes had widened, and he took a step back. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d reached for his gun, which was conspicuously holstered at his hip.
But I could see his reaction coming—his shock that I had actually used my voice.
One—two—three—“You talked!”
Joe nodded. “Yeah—we got that. What was that call about?”
But Cooper was having a bit of trouble pulling his gaping glare from me. “Wha—?”
“The call?” Joe held out his hands. “The one you got, then excused yourself from the room?”
“Oh.” He pulled his gaze from me and focused on Joe. “That was Whittacker over in zone two.” He turned and looked at me. “I need to know where you were between the hours of ten and eleven last night.”
I started to open my mouth to answer—basically because I could.
But it was Dags who answered for me. “She was with me, at Nona’s shop. She’s been sick with the flu.”
Cooper turned and looked at Dags. “And you are?”
The brunet stood and offered his hand to Cooper. “Darren McConnell. I’m a friend of the family.”
Cooper shook his hand. “You look familiar.”
“He’s good—I can vouch for him. He’s also a friend of Frasier’s.”
The captain snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute—you worked at Fadó’s, didn’t you?”
I watched the conversation like I would watch a tennis match. Back and forth and back and forth over the bed.
“Yes, I was bartending there. I remember you coming in a few times with Detective Frasier.”
“You haven’t seen him lately, have you?”
I butted in—sorry, but I knew the answer to this one, and I wanted to use my voice. “He was with us this morning,” I interrupted. Dags smirked at me, and I smirked back. “He stopped by to check up on me.” Whether he wanted to admit it or not.
“Really?” There was a dangerous edge to Captain Cooper’s tone. I’d had that edge directed at me, and it was sharp. “That’s interesting. He’ll show up at your mom’s shop, and I can’t get the fucker to answer the phone. The asshole’s about a hairbreadth from suspension.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Suspension? What’s he been doing?”
Cooper answered me. “Let’s just say he’s been taking unnecessary risks in dangerous situations. It’s almost like he’s testing his own mortality.”
Yikes. That didn’t sound like Daniel at all. And I sure as hell hadn’t gotten that impression from seeing him that morning.
So—what did you guys fight about? Did he finally realize he couldn’t satisfy your needs the way I can?
“Shut the fuck up,” I hissed.
I felt everyone’s eyes on me—Dags’s the most. He was still on my right and tilting his head to his left shoulder. “Zoë?”
“Sorry—I was just—I’m just very—” I was really wanting Cooper to get the hell out of there so I could tell these two I had a Symbiont hijacking my body. Luckily the fucker hadn’t tried to control it. If he did that, I’d—
You’d what?
Joe spoke up. “We’re all a little worried about Frasier. He’s not been himself lately. But why are you worried about Zoë? Does her whereabouts have something to do with that call?”
Cooper cleared his throat as he looked at each of us. And I noticed his gaze lingering a bit on Dags. “I’m not sure—the details of the case have been left out of the news.”
Joe held out his hands. “Captain—after everything Zoë’s been through—I think she needs to know why you asked that. I’d like to know myself—and if Shit-for-Brains isn’t going to work on it—I’d love the chance.”
Since the start of this, something seemed a little bit off—like I was missing a piece of the picture. Joe, talking with Captain Cooper so casually—I pointed at him. “You’re working
for him?” I pointed at Cooper.
Joe nodded. “Transferred back into Homicide a month ago. Figured Frasier was going to need some backup. Only, the boy abruptly backed out. I figured it had something to do with you, but I’d decided after February just to keep out of things.”
“So you were working with Daniel? As his partner—again?” I asked.
“Yep. But the word partner implies there are two people working together. Daniel’s been mostly bye-bye.”
“And if I get my hands on him,” Cooper interjected. “Then I’ll be putting him on the spot for not following protocol. But”—he looked at me—“what I’m about to say—I’m saying because there is a chance you might help us understand the case.”
I nodded. Make all the excuses you need—just get on with it.
This isn’t getting your mother back.
I wasn’t going to survive this. Oh my God—with TC inside of me. I felt flushed, and I put my hand to my cheek. It was hot.
“Since the fifteenth, there have been three bodies found in the north Atlanta area, close to Roswell and Alpharetta, with no apparent cause of death. And when I say that, I mean it. The coroner can’t find a single reason why these people died. They were all different ages, different social as well as ethnic backgrounds, and all just dropped dead.”
I pursed my lips. Okay—what it had to do with me—no idea. “You’ve kept this out of the news, haven’t you?”
“Yes. So far. The phone call was about a fourth body—only this one was found in our jurisdiction.”
Dags and I glanced at each other.
“Where at?” Joe asked.
“In Little Five Points, in the parking lot of Front Page News.”
Wow . . . that was one street over from where Mom’s shop sat. Front Page News was a restaurant specializing in New Orleans cuisine. Now, having never been to New Orleans before or after the flood, I had no idea if it was authentic. I just knew their muffalata was good stuff. Though it had been a while since I’d visited there. In fact, I’d been more inclined to go to Zesto’s on the corner than a few doors down to the restaurant.
Phantasm Page 8
