Final Call - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 4)

by Terri Reid

  Laughing, he nodded. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day,” he said. “I’ve been surviving on granola bars and Diet Pepsi.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Although it was still daylight, the thick cloud cover and continuous barrage of snow gave the day the feeling of an early twilight. Bradley pulled into Mary’s driveway and had to fight through the drifts to reach the top. “The Roadster would have never made it this far,” Mary sighed. “I hope she’s okay.”

  “Albers Towing is going to pick her up with a flatbed as soon as the storm lets up,” he said, turning off the cruiser and turning to her. “She’ll be fine.”

  Mary smiled at him. “So your knight-in-shining-armor complex extends to my car too?”

  He shrugged. “Just figured it would make you feel better.”

  She felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude and love for him. In the past few weeks she’d done everything to put distance between them and yet, as soon as she needed him, he was there, taking care of her. She knew when she told him about Jeannine things would change forever, for better or for worse, nothing would be the same. So here in his car, sheltered from the winds and snow, could be the last time she could show him how much she loved him. Sighing, she leaned forward in the car and placed a tender kiss on his lips. “Thank you,” she said.

  He caught her before she could move back. He took a moment to study her face, saw the love in it and then slid his hands over her face and into her hair. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her lightly once, then once again before finally crushing his lips against hers.

  She moaned softly as he deepened the kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she moved as close to him as she could get, lying over the gearshift in the middle of the cruiser.

  With a muffled oath, strong arms lifted her and she was nestled in his lap, crushed against his chest. He continued his onslaught, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She melted against him, giving back as much as he was offering.

  Finally, he lifted his head and inhaled deeply. He looked down at Mary, cuddled securely against him, love shining from her eyes, lips swollen from the kisses they shared and cheeks pink with emotion. He gently ran his hand over her hair. “You really don’t hide the truth very well,” he teased softly.

  He felt Mary stiffen in his arms.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, the rosiness fading from her cheeks.

  “Hey, it’s no big deal,” he comforted, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “It’s just that you don’t hide your emotions very well. I can see love glowing from you.”

  She smiled up at him, but her eyes didn’t seem quite as happy this time. “I do love you, Bradley,” she said. “I hope you will always remember that. No matter what.”

  He grinned. “That sounds so serious,” he teased.

  “It is serious,” she replied and this time, he could see she meant it.

  “Okay,” he said. “I promise I will remember that no matter what, you love me.”

  She smiled and it sounded to him that she breathed a sigh of relief. Then she looked around the interior of the cruiser. “Um, Chief Alden, we seem to have steamed up the windows,” she giggled. “What will the neighbors think?”

  He leaned down and with his lips just inches from hers whispered, “That I’m the luckiest guy in town.”

  He lowered his lips and kissed her again, he started to deepen the kiss when Mary shivered in his arms. He pulled back and realized the interior of the car was cold. “Why didn’t you mention you were getting cold?” he asked, zipping up her jacket and wrapping her scarf more securely around her neck.

  “Actually, I didn’t notice,” she replied honestly.

  Chuckling, he lifted her over the gear shift and put her back in her own seat. “In case the neighbors are watching,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. “It would cause all kind of talk if you and I got out of the same door.”

  She giggled. “That’s very considerate of you, Chief.”

  “I live to serve.”

  They slogged through the knee high snow and hoisted their way up Mary’s snow covered steps. Once inside, Mary reached for the light switch and, to her delight, the lights worked.

  “Bonus!” she said. “We have power. How about some food?”

  “That would be great,” he said.

  “Why don’t you start a fire in the fireplace, while I make dinner?” she suggested. “I can make bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches and tomato soup, does that work for you?”

  “Perfect,” he said. “Quick and it will hit the spot.”

  She unbuttoned her coat, threw it on a chair in the kitchen and pulled the bacon out of the refrigerator. She turned and found Jeannine standing on the other side of the counter waiting for her.

  “There’s really no point in putting this off,” Jeannine said. “You need to tell him.”

  “He needs to eat first,” Mary insisted. “At least let me make him something to eat.”

  Jeannine shook her head. “Mary, he has to know and the sooner the better.”

  Mary placed the bacon on the counter and slowly nodded. Taking a deep breath, she walked back into the front room. Bradley had taken his coat off and was kneeling in front of the fireplace, starting the fire. His broad shoulders stretched the material of his uniform as he hefted a large piece of wood into the fire. She fought the fear and casually made her way to the couch. “Bradley, remember you asked me why I needed to go out today and I told you it was important?”

  He continued lighting the fire. “Yes,” he replied.

  “I went to Sycamore,” she said and saw his shoulders tense. “I went to your old house.”

  He put the match down and turned to face her. “Why would you do that?” he asked, confusion written on his face.

  She looked over at Jeannine who had entered to room and was standing only a few feet away from Bradley. She stood and knelt down in next to him. “I was looking for a client,” she said, “A client who came to me on Christmas Eve and asked me to help her.”

  “I’m still confused,” he replied.

  She reached forward and took his hand in hers. She could feel the tears forming behind her eyes. “A client who made me promise not to tell anyone about her existence,” she added, pleading with her eyes for his understanding. “A client who has finally agreed to let me tell her husband that she’s dead.”

  Bradley kept his eyes glued on Mary. He shook his head as understanding and fear filled his eyes. “No,” he whispered.

  The tears behind her eyes slipped forward and she nodded mutely. His grip tightened on her hands and he pulled his eyes away from hers and slowly searched the room.

  She felt his hands jerk and tighten on hers when he finally saw Jeannine.

  “Jeannine,” he whispered. “Oh, God, Jeannine.”

  He dropped Mary’s hands and moved towards his wife, only to have her disappear. He turned back to Mary, anguish evident in his tightened jaw and silent plea. She quickly stood and walked with him to Jeannine. He placed one hand on Mary’s shoulder and was, once again, able to see his wife.

  He lifted his hand to caress her cheek, but it went through her. He dropped his hand and balled it into a fist.

  “Jeannine,” he choked, “I don’t understand.”

  “I died, Bradley,” she explained. “I died a long time ago.”

  “But, I never found...I had always hoped...” he stuttered.

  “I know you wanted to find me,” she said. “Mary told me how many years you searched for me. How many years you put your life on hold for me.”

  She smiled at him and lifted her hand, stroking his face. He could feel nothing but cold. He lifted his free hand and tried to place it over hers, but couldn’t.

  “Mary told you?” he repeated. “Why did you go to Mary? Why didn’t you come to me?”

  She smiled sadly. “I tried, but you didn’t want me to be dead, Bradley. So you never saw me.”

  “If you had just tried again,” he insisted. “
If you had trusted me...”

  He turned and looked at Mary, his eyes distant. “If you had both just trusted me.” “Bradley,” Mary began, and then stopped.

  She could feel his grip on her shoulder lighten, as if he was loathe to continue touching her, but caught, because he needed to see Jeannine.

  “There’s nothing you can say, Mary,” he said through clenched teeth. “Nothing.”

  He took a deep breath and turned back to the ghost of his wife. “Who killed you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “And I can’t rest until he’s found. Mary already has some clues that might help us.”

  He turned back to Mary and she felt her heart break inside her chest. The distance and disappointment in his face were apparent. “I find myself in the difficult position of asking for your help,” he said woodenly. “I hope that you’ll be willing to help. Of course, I’ll pay you for your time.”

  Mary closed her eyes for a moment, forcing the tears back. She nodded. “Of course I’ll help you,” she replied with a shuddering breath. “And payment will not be necessary.”

  He shook his head. “No, I insist that this is strictly a business relationship,” he said, he paused for a moment and then added, “And I also insist on complete honesty.”

  She took a sharp breath, wounded by the jab. How many times can a person’s heart break? Mary wondered.

  “Of course,” she said, masking her emotions. “I can assure you that won’t be a problem.”

  “Bradley, this isn’t Mary’s fault,” Jeannine said. “I insisted...”

  “Jeannine,” he interrupted. “I will do everything in my power to find the person who killed you. I swear.”

  “But, Bradley,” she began again. “You don’t understand.”

  He shook his head. “I understand that I failed you once and I’m not going to fail you again.”

  Jeannine sighed. “Oh, Bradley, you haven’t failed me...yet.”

  She started to fade away.

  “Jeannine wait,” he called desperately. “Don’t go.”

  She stopped and stared at him, disappointment in her eyes. “Bradley, I’ll come and see you again when I think you can deal with it.”

  Then she disappeared.

  He looked at the space she had occupied for a moment and then he stepped away from Mary. He scooped up his coat and headed to the door. “I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t stay for dinner,” he said, without turning towards her.

  The door slammed shut and Mary slowly sunk to the ground. She placed her head in her hands and started to cry.

  “Are all men that stupid?” Mike asked, appearing next to her on the floor.

  The box of tissues on the coffee table levitated in the air and floated to him. He grabbed it and offered one to Mary.

  “New trick I just learned,” he explained, when she lifted an eyebrow in his direction. “It’s amazing the things I can do now.”

  She blew into the tissue, took a deep breath and tried to smile, but failed.

  “Sorry, kid, I can’t fix broken hearts.”

  Grabbing several more tissues, she broke out in a new bout of tears.

  The refrigerator door opened and several bars of dark chocolate floated in her direction. “Chocolate?” Mike suggested.

  She shook her head.

  “Not even chocolate,” he sighed. “You really do have it bad.”

  She wiped the tears away with impatient movements. “I don’t have it bad,” she protested. “He was mean. He was rude. And he was thoughtless. And I don’t deserve to be treated that way.”

  Mike nodded. “I agree. And he just got the shock of his life. All of his greatest fears stood before him. He didn’t save his wife – she died.”

  Mary froze in the midst of her tirade and sighed.

  “And he was an idiot, but, men tend to do idiotic things when they are confused and feeling guilty.”

  “Why in the world would he feel guilty?”

  “Well, one – because he didn’t save his wife. Two – because he didn’t solve the case and find out she was murdered. And three,” his voice softened and he moved closer to Mary. “He realized that he doesn’t love his wife as much as he loves you. That’s a hell of a lot of guilt.”

  “But, if he loves me so much, why did he hurt me so badly?”

  “Because he’s a stupid man.”

  She grabbed two more tissues, blew her nose vigorously and took a deep shuddering breath. “You’re right,” she agreed. “He’s stupid and I’m...I’m...I’m still in love with the jerk.”

  Mike grinned. “You show him, tiger.”

  Mary couldn’t help it, she smiled. “Shut up and pass me the chocolate.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bradley floored the accelerator pedal on the cruiser and nearly drove into a snow bank. He took a deep breath and tried to get a grip on his emotions. Jeannine is dead. He waited for the pain, for the sharp clenching in his gut. But, all he felt was sorrow and guilt.

  The radio crackled. “Chief, this is Dorothy, come in, Chief Alden.”

  He pressed the button of the walkie-talkie and was connected to Dorothy, his administrative assistant. “Dorothy, it’s Bradley,” he said. “What’s up?”

  He listened as Dorothy precisely listed the calls they’d received, the responses to the calls and the status of every officer on duty.

  “Great job, Dorothy,” he replied. “It sounds like things are slowing down a bit.”

  “Yes, I think most folks are home and planning on staying put,” she said.

  “Okay, I’m heading to my place to get some work done,” he said. “If you need me, don’t hesitate to call.”

  He suddenly realized that Dorothy had been manning the phones all day and, because of the roads, might be stuck in the office all night. He really didn’t want to drive her home, but he sure didn’t want her to take her two-wheel drive car to her house.

  “Dorothy, do you have a ride home?”

  “I’m not going to even try to make it down our country road,” she said. “The plow drivers tell me it’s really bad out there. So, I’ve got a room at the Hampton. I’ll walk over in a few minutes.”

  “Put it on the Department’s account,” Bradley said. “And add a nice dinner for yourself too. You would have made it home safely if you hadn’t stayed and helped out.”

  “Thanks, Chief,” she said. “That’s very nice of you.”

  “Just want you to know that I appreciate the work you do for the department.”

  “You’re a nice man, Chief,” she said.

  “Thanks,” he replied shortly. “Call me if anything comes up.”

  Pressing the garage door opener, he put the cruiser in four wheel drive low and barreled through the snow into the secure confines of his garage. The door closed behind him, leaving him feeling separated from the rest of the world. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Flipping past the credit cards and cash, he found what he was looking for. The photo was worn at the edges and slightly creased in the middle. It showed a younger version of himself with his arms wrapped around Jeannine. They were standing in front of their home in Sycamore. He remembered they had just signed the papers and the house was theirs. Their real estate agent had taken the picture.

  He studied Jeannine’s face. She was laughing up at him with love in her eyes. And trust. She trusted him and he let her down. She had been murdered and he hadn’t solved the case.

  With a curse, he placed the photo back in his wallet, put it back in his pocket and left the car. He pushed open the door between the garage and his kitchen. He strode through the house to the bedroom he used as an office. Whipping off his coat and tossing it aside, he opened a file cabinet and pulled out a group of thick manila files. He sat at the chair, turned on the overhead lamp and opened the first file.

  Four hours later Bradley realized all he had for his efforts was a headache and a stiff neck. He got up and walked into the kitchen, po
ured himself a glass of water and washed down some pain tablets.

  Looking around the room, he saw that his windows were covered with a layer of frost. The picture window that looked out on his deck from the dining room was half-frosted over. Realizing that the house was actually pretty cold, he turned up the thermostat.

  The rumbling emitted from his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten in quite a while. He opened the cabinet above the kitchen counter, grabbed three Oreo cookies and a glass for some milk. It wasn’t the most nutritious dinner, but he was on the verge of starvation, so it was a good start.

  He scanned the cabinet for other options and spied a can of ravioli. Looks like I’m having Italian for dinner, he thought, not as appetizing as BLTs and tomato soup.

  He shook his head. No, I am not going to think about her.

  Sighing, he suddenly remembered another set of eyes that had looked up at him with love. He remembered the way she had stiffened when he told her she wasn’t good at hiding the truth. He should have realized something was wrong from her reaction. But, no, he was so locked in her spell, he couldn’t think clearly.

  An inner voice told him he wasn’t being fair, but at that moment, he really didn’t care. He had trusted Mary and she betrayed him. Who knew how long she had kept things from him? Who knew how many other secrets she kept hidden away?

  “She’s done nothing but lie to me,” he said aloud. “I can never trust her again.”

  A slight scratching had him turning around and facing the picture window. Something had been scratched into the frost. He moved closer until he could make out the message.

  You are an idiot. She is a treasure.

  Sincerely,

  Fireman Mike

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dan Stevens,” the voice on the other end of the line announced, “Who loves ya baby?”

  “Hi Dan,” Mary said. “It’s Mary O’Reilly.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line.

  “Yeah, Mary O’Reilly, I remember, the private investigator with something extra,” he said slowly, although he knew exactly who Mary was. “You wouldn’t let me write an article about you.”