by D. G. Swank
He pulled away from the station. “Given everything that’s happened this year, I expected to find you in worse shape.”
“You mean bruised and beaten? Sure, I quit law school, but I lead a quiet life.”
“Pretending to talk to ghosts isn’t leading a quiet life, Pippy.”
“None of my clients are dangerous . . . at least not until last night.”
“I knew it,” he grumbled. “I knew one of those sessions was going to end badly.”
“It didn’t go badly like you think it did, Hudson.”
“Then how did it go?”
I realized he wasn’t driving toward my house. “Where are you going?”
“There’s no going back to sleep now,” he said. “So we’re going to breakfast. Start talking.”
Surely it would be better to ease him into this. “Gill was there.”
“So you said. Is that why you were at the police station?”
“In a roundabout way.” I told him about my encounter with Gill at the Crawfords’. By the time I got to the part about smashing the camera and driving off, he’d pulled into the Waffle House parking lot.
“Crap. Did they haul you in about the camera?” Hudson held up his hand. “Wait. Don’t answer that. Rhys needs to hear this too.”
“She won’t be up for several more hours.”
“Then why is she standing at the entrance waiting on us?”
I turned and saw her watching us, one hand on her hip and a scowl on her face. She was wearing yoga pants and a tank top, and her shoulder-length blond hair with fading pink streaks was pulled into two low pigtails. She looked like she’d just gotten out of bed too. “What’s she doing here?”
“I called her and told her to meet us here. You were at the police station in the middle of the night. Rhys needs to hear the story too.”
“Is this some kind of intervention?”
“You have to admit that you haven’t been acting like yourself lately.”
“I don’t need an intervention, Hudson.” I turned to face him. “How do you know her number anyway?”
“Rhys and I exchanged numbers when we all went to dinner right before Christmas.”
“Why? Are you two having secret lunches behind my back?”
“No. It was for events such as this one. Come on, Pip. Time to face the music.”
I wanted to ask him if he’d expected this exact scenario—picking me up from outside the police station before dawn—but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer to that. Especially if this was an intervention. I got out and walked over to Rhys, and as soon as I reached her, she pulled me into a hug.
“You okay?” she asked, still holding me tight. “Are you in trouble?”
“Not how you think.” I pulled free. “I’m not sure what Hudson said, but I don’t need an intervention.”
She gave me a look that said I was being ridiculous. “I know that. But I figured I’d go along with it for some free waffles.”
Hudson shot her a dark gaze. “Let’s get a table,” he said, holding the door open. “We can talk over full cups of coffee.”
Rhys released me and wrapped an arm around my back as we walked inside. A yawning hostess led us to a booth, and Rhys and I slid into one side while Hudson sat across from us. There were only a few people in the restaurant—a couple of middle-aged guys and a young couple sitting on the opposite side of the restaurant, which was good considering what I was about to tell my friends.
Wait . . . was I really going to tell them everything?
The waitress took our drink order, and as soon as she left, Rhys and Hudson both started staring at me expectantly.
“What happened?” Rhys finally asked. “Why were you at the police station?”
On second thought, perhaps it would be best to get to the point. “Gill was murdered last night.”
“What?” Rhys screeched, then clapped a hand over her mouth when the couple swiveled around to see what was going on.
Hudson stared at me wide-eyed. “They think you did it?”
“They did, but I think they’re just watching me for now.” I told them about being interrogated at the station, ending with Detective Powell interrupting my would-be arrest by saying I had an alibi.
“What alibi?” Rhys asked in surprise.
“Exactly,” I said, lowering my voice. “I didn’t have one. A guy just showed up, and he told the cops he’d spent the night with me.”
The waitress came back with coffee and waters. After she took our orders, she disappeared in the back.
“Who was it?” Hudson asked, picking up where I’d left off. “I didn’t think you were dating anyone.”
“She’s not,” Rhys said. “Or at least she better not be, since I haven’t heard anything about it.”
“I’m not. I’ve never seen him before in my life, but he showed up at the police station to vouch for me. He told them he was my Tinder date last night. Said he was at my house when they showed up but the officer didn’t realize it.”
Rhys shook her head, her distrust obvious. “Why would some strange guy lie for you? He must want something.”
“She’s right,” Hudson said. “But what could he possibly want? Gill got all your money.”
“Which she has little chance of getting back now,” Rhys said.
She had a point—one too depressing to think about. “I went outside with him after he was done with his statement so I could question him.”
“And?” Rhys asked.
“I didn’t really get any answers. Mostly more questions.”
“What did he say?” Rhys asked in frustration.
I had to tell them about the ghosts and the demon.
I only hoped they didn’t have me committed.
Chapter Eight
“I saw something yesterday,” I said. “Actually, three somethings.”
“What did you see?” Hudson asked.
I reached across the table and covered his hand with my own. “First, I know it’s going to sound crazy, but just hear me out, okay?”
“Now you’re officially freaking me out,” Rhys said.
“I’m freaking out too,” I said, “and I already know the story.” I told them everything, starting with the voice I’d heard outside of Louisa’s house. I told them about the old woman who’d disappeared after issuing her cryptic warning—just as an ambulance arrived to pick up the neighbor’s body. (I wasn’t sure why, but I left out the fact that Abel had been there too.) The little girl. The piles of ash both had left behind upon disappearing. And finally, the demon in the kitchen and what I’d said to him.
Hudson frowned. “You don’t really think you saw a demon, do you? Or ghosts for that matter.”
I ran a hand through my flat hair. “I still didn’t believe it at the Crawford place, even though I couldn’t figure out how things kept flying around in the air . . . or how that thing looked so real. I figured it was some trick Gill had come up with using equipment he’d bought with my stolen money. But I wasn’t so sure soon after I left the property.”
“What happened?” Rhys asked.
“While I was outside dealing with Gill, I heard a bunch of sirens. At first I thought they were the policemen the husband had called, but then I drove past the accident. A little girl had been hit by a car and killed about a half hour before.” I held Rhys’s gaze and then Hudson’s. “And she was dressed exactly like the girl at the top of the stairs.”
Rhys paled. “No . . .”
The waitress brought out our food and refilled our coffees. It didn’t take a genius to guess she wouldn’t be coming back, which was to our benefit in this case.
“I call bullshit,” Hudson said, leaning back against his side of the booth.
“What does that mean?” I asked, swinging my attention back to him.
“I think you’ve gone from trying to convince gullible strangers that you can talk to their dead loved ones to trying to convince us you’re a medium. Maybe this is a psychological t
hing. I don’t know. Maybe your brain is trying to appease your guilt over duping all those people.” He leaned closer and tapped the table. “But I do know that there is no such thing as ghosts and demons.”
I stared at him, unsure of myself. Should I keep trying to convince him? Or would it be better to let it go?
“Did you see anything else?” Rhys asked.
“No. But then Mr. Abel knew about it too.”
Rhys gave me a confused look. “Who’s Mr. Abel?”
“My mystery alibi man.”
“Wait. How old is this guy?”
“I know,” I said. “Calling him Mr. Abel makes him sound like he’s eighty-two, but he’s probably in his late twenties. I only know his last name because Detective Powell called him Mr. Abel.”
“Was he cute?” Rhys asked.
I gave a lazy shrug, trying to downplay my reaction to him. “Yeah, if you’re into that whole tall, dark, and handsome thing.”
“Who isn’t?” Rhys asked.
“Pippy,” Hudson said in disgust. “Gill Gillespie is Exhibit A that you’re into that type.”
All the more reason to ignore my interest in Mr. Tall, Dark, and Unimpressed. “Well, I’m done with guys for now. My life’s too screwed up to deal with another needy man.” I gave him a wry look. “Present company excluded.”
He grimaced and sipped his coffee.
“So what did Abel tell you?” Rhys asked.
“First, he asked the detective to keep our names on the down low because of Nana’s country club reputation.”
“He knew about your nana?” Hudson asked, perking up. “Is he a friend of hers?”
“I’m not sure, but he knew that we’re from a long-standing Asheville family. He also knew about the codicil. He wanted me to look into it, and he seemed surprised to learn I haven’t been seeing ghosts all along. You know, because of my business.”
Hudson gave me a dark stare. “Don’t you see what’s going on? Your grandmother hired this guy to get you to play along so you don’t lose your share of the law firm.”
“What?” But his words had a ring of truth to them. Hadn’t my grandmother and I talked about that very thing yesterday?
“What better way to get you to do it than pull in your ghost-hunting hobby? The very thing she hates. She’s using it against you.”
“But the demon . . .”
Exasperation tightened his face. “Listen to yourself. You’re talking about seeing a demon. That’s crazy. Two days ago, you made fun of the people who really believe in this stuff.”
“Maybe I was wrong.”
The expression on his face made his disgust clear. “Or you’re the target of an elaborate hoax, and you’re acting just as gullible as your grandmother wants you to.”
“You don’t have to be so mean about it,” Rhys said.
Hudson’s face softened. “You haven’t seen the crap Piper’s put up with from her. She pulled all kinds of stunts to try to get Pippy to finish cotillion when we were in high school.”
“Cotillion? Did you go?”
I shrugged. “At first, but I drew the line when I turned sixteen.”
Hudson twisted his coffee cup on the table. “She refused to let you get a car until you had your coming-out dance.”
Rhys gave me a look of disbelief. “Coming-out dance?”
I rolled my eyes. “The Junior Cotillion Grand Ball. And yes, I refused to go.”
Hudson slouched to the side. “And she didn’t get a car until she turned eighteen and inherited money from her parents.”
“You’re kidding,” Rhys said to him.
“I wish. I had to haul Pippy around for two years.” He tried to sound irritated, but his grin gave him away. Then he shook his head and the smile faded. “You know she’ll do anything and everything in her power to get you to do what she wants. Sure, this is much more elaborate than anything she’s ever pulled before, but don’t dismiss the idea.”
I sat back in my seat. He had a point, but this seemed like too much. Even for her.
“What else did Mr. Mysterious say?” Rhys asked. “Maybe it will give us some clues to prove it was her.”
I noticed the young couple had left and only the two middle-aged men remained.
“I followed him out, and as soon as we were alone, I asked him a ton of questions that he refused to answer. Like I said, he seemed surprised to learn I’ve only been hearing things for the past week. He thought I’d be ‘further along,’ whatever that means. Then he told me to follow the codicil and find the daggers. He said they’d protect me.”
“From what?” Rhys asked.
“The ghosts,” Hudson said in a dry tone, obviously not buying Abel’s interest.
“No,” I said. “Demons.”
Hudson groaned. “Piper . . .”
“I know it’s crazy. Just listen.”
He gave me a blank stare.
“He told me things had been released into the world. Things made of ash and spirit.” I held Hudson’s gaze. “Those ghosts I saw both left piles of ash behind when they disappeared.”
“Exactly,” he said. “All part of the elaborate hoax.”
“Then who killed Gill?” I asked.
He shot me a dark look. “Isn’t it more likely he got garden-variety murdered?”
Rhys ignored him. “Did he say anything else?”
“I insisted he tell me everything he knew, but he told me I wasn’t far enough along and he’d come back later when I was stronger. Then his car pulled up, he stuffed this little bag in my hand, told me not to get myself killed, and took off. That was it.”
“Wait,” Hudson said, holding up his fork. “His car drove up?”
“He had a driver.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, but didn’t say a word.
“What was in the bag?” Rhys asked.
I reached up to the base of my throat, and fingered the oval stone. “This. He said it was protection.”
“What if it’s a camera?” Hudson asked, picking up his coffee. “Or a tracker so your grandmother can see what you’re doing.”
Rhys’s mouth puckered as she gave it thought.
Hudson reached out his hand. “Let me see it.”
I unfastened the clasp and handed it to him, just as curious as he was.
A gust of cold wind instantly rushed over our heads.
“Did you feel that?” Rhys asked, sounding freaked out.
“It was from the doors.” Hudson gestured toward the glass doors at the entrance, but while there was a young couple entering the restaurant, they hadn’t made it to the interior doors yet. Plus, it had been a warm night. That couldn’t possibly be the source of the breeze. The thought sent another shiver down my back.
He turned his attention back to the necklace. “It’s obsidian.”
“How do you know?” Rhys asked.
I grabbed the syrup. “Because he started out as an environmental studies major before he switched to business finance.”
“Why would this guy give you a necklace made with obsidian?” Hudson asked.
“He said it would protect me until I was ready, but apparently it’s not foolproof. He said they could still kill me.”
Hudson lifted an eyebrow. “The demons.”
I didn’t respond.
Rhys pulled out her phone and started tapping on the screen.
Hudson flipped the pendant over. “So he’s coming back for you.”
I twisted my mouth to the side. “That wasn’t exactly how he put it, but yeah . . . he’s going to find me again.”
Rhys looked up from her phone. “This site says that obsidian has protective properties. It’s associated with protective spirits.”
“Like guardian angels?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Maybe. But it also says if it’s high-quality obsidian, it can be dangerous if not used properly.”
Hudson snorted, then handed the necklace back to me. “Used properly?”
“It says the user h
as to be ready to face both sides of themselves.”
Hudson chuckled. “Well, Piper does have many faults.”
I shot him a glare, which only made him grin wider.
“What’s on the back?” Rhys asked.
I showed it to her, trying to figure it out myself. The silver formed an intricate pattern with a square surrounding a circle centered in the middle and a bunch of lines fanning out on either side.
“That has to mean something,” Rhys said.
“Yeah,” Hudson grumbled as he sliced into his pancakes. “That it cost fifty dollars instead of thirty.”
He had a point.
“All of this other stuff aside,” I said, putting the necklace on the table and picking up my fork, “Gill is still very dead.” And I was still having trouble accepting that. Sure, I was infuriated with him, but I’d never wished him dead.
“Did they give you any indication how he died?” Hudson asked, looking worried.
“No, but the word slaughter was mentioned.” I shuddered. “I’m pretty sure it happened in the Crawfords’ house.”
“Oh my God,” Rhys said, pressing her hand to her chest.
“The detective had a file, and I caught a glimpse of a bloody body.”
“So whoever did this had an axe to grind,” Hudson said. “He hated Gill Gillespie with a vengeance.”
“Which is why they hauled Piper in,” Rhys said, reaching for her coffee.
“Yep,” Hudson said. “Although I think those kinds of crimes are usually committed by men.”
“But doesn’t it all have to be tied together?” I asked. “I mean, as much as Nana hated Gill, I can’t see her hiring a hit man, and there’s no way she could have overpowered him. Besides, she didn’t even know where I was going.”
“Piper has a point,” Rhys said.
Hudson frowned.
“Well, in any case,” I said, “the police let me go, but I’m pretty sure they’re still interested in me. My alibi thinks so too.”
“What if he changes his mind and tells them the truth?” Rhys asked.
“He could get in trouble for giving a false statement,” I said. “But if the police find out, I could get in trouble for going along with it. Either way, I’d be screwed.”
