“So what happened?”
“I had no choice but to enter a hospital room. I even steered clear of her, but she managed to touch me. Hey, you didn’t call me the first time around.”
“You know I can’t explain this any better than you can. So was she murdered?”
Grace tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She liked talking to Mark. He understood her in so many ways. “Always. The victims of natural causes don’t bother to get in touch with me,” she said.
“This getting you down?”
“Just the last time. I never solved it and she still died.”
“You’re whining. You’re not a superhero.”
“But wasn’t I given this odd gift to help people? If I don’t, then what’s the use?”
A deep, feminine voice purred in the background. Then Mark said, “Gracie, I have to go.”
“I’ll bet. Ever the Casanova.”
“You know me.”
The dial tone hummed, their connection severed.
***
Zach typed Grace’s name and license plate number into his computer. Hopefully nothing would come back. He didn’t want to see his ex taken in by anyone.
Shaking his head he turned his mind back to his task. But his thoughts stilled on the idea of his baby growing inside Dolores.
He didn’t feel anything for her. Was he monster?
He’d love the baby because he couldn’t do anything else.
The computer sat on a scarred wooden desk he’d found at an estate sale. Something about it called to him. He even left the initials “D.W.” in it. He did put on a clear finish and bought a glass blotter it to protect the character it possessed.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when Grace’s name appeared in the national database. The one he shouldn’t still have access to, but his teen neighbor hacked into for him.
She’d been accused of murder. “That can’t be good.”
He yanked the phone off the hook and dialed Dolores’ house. The house where his child would grow up.
Calling up the archives for a newspaper local to where Grace lived when she under suspicion, he listened to Dolores’ phone ring.
The answering machine picked up and Zach contemplated not leaving a message. “Lors, call me at work or on my cell. It’s important.”
He dropped the receiver back in its cradle, frustration seeping into his bones. He’d offered to buy her a cell phone, but she saw no reason for it. Right now he’d give anything to get in touch with her. Grace Harmony had to be bad news.
Shame since he found her attractive, but women like that were akin to Black Widow spiders. She’d probably eat her young, too.
Then he smacked his own forehead, Dolores’ whereabouts came clear to him. “What day is it?”
Tuesday, his discarded newspaper told him.
She’s at work. He tried her there.
“Hi, Zach. Is something wrong?” she said. Her voice sounded faraway, distracted.
Too many years of him calling that he’d be home late for dinner. She always assumed there was a problem. “Not wrong. What do you know about this Grace Harmony?”
“Why, she a murderer?”
His eyes dropped closed. Little did she know. “I’m serious, Lors. What do you know about her?”
“She’s a medic at Community Hospital.”
“Did she tell you where she lived before coming to Glen Hills?”
“No, I didn’t ask. Why the interrogation?”
His other line rang, but he ignored it. They’d call back. “She’s in the computer. She’s been charged with a crime.”
“Was she convicted?”
“No, but--”
“Well, then she’s fine.”
The clock ticked on the wall. His cheap, metal blinds clanged in the breeze.
“Cops don’t charge people with crimes for no reason,” he argued.
“But sometimes innocent people get charged. You know that.”
You’d think she’d be more jaded having been married to him for so long. He rubbed a hand down his face. Maybe his cynicism blocked him from seeing the good in everyone. “They may be innocent of that crime, but not of others.”
“We’ve had this argument before. Let’s not go there,” she said.
“You’re right, but when is she moving in?”
“Later this morning. I’m taking an early lunch and giving her the key.”
“What time?”
He had to be somewhere in an hour, but he’d fit it in no matter what the consequences. He needed to confront this woman before she moved in and couldn’t be moved out.
“Eleven. She’s eager to get in.”
“Can you stall until I get there?”
“Why?”
“I need to see her for myself.”
She sighed. “You don’t trust me.”
“That’s not true. I just trust my own instincts more.”
And his were better, unless they involved love. For sex, he could pick them, differentiate the losers from the winners, but when any emotion entered into the bargain, what a mess.
“Jerk,” she said, but no venom colored her words.
He’d always been honest with her. “Yes, but you like me anyway.”
“You have a charm about you. A very, raw, rugged one at that.”
Just like his desk.
He chuckled. Her flirting on another day would have put him at ease. Today he had a bad feeling. “Will you stall?”
“Okay, but not too long. You know I’m not good at that.”
“Thanks, dear,” he said.
He hung up before he realized what he called her.
***
For a woman on her lunch hour, Dolores was chatty to Grace. They stood on the driveway in front of Grace’s car, loaded to beyond full.
The day had dawned overcast with a forecast for possible showers. Grace wished it held off until she finished. Listening to Dolores, she shifted from foot to foot.
“I cleaned the furniture last week, right after I put the ad in the paper.”
Dolores looked around as she spoke as if waiting for someone. The next moment a battered compact came into view. The driver parked the vehicle on the street behind Dolores’ car.
Maybe an inspector, but Grace’s cop radar pinged when he stepped out of his vehicle. He reeked of the self-assurance borne of fighting bad guys.
Not a bad sight to look at either. Too bad. Relationships didn’t last when you time slipped. You didn’t forget, but your lovers did.
Damn.
He surveyed the area before walking to the women. Confidence colored his steps. Shoulders a mile wide sat atop a fit body. His slicked back, black hair crowded at the base of his neck in a mob of curls.
His movements reminded her of a cat, despite his bulk. Was he just as predatory? She swallowed hard and clenched her fists behind her back. Something about him awakened her as if she were a female panther reunited with her mate.
The man in the gray suit with a perfectly pressed, white shirt leaned down to kiss Dolores on the cheek. Not a friendly kiss, but a rather intimate one without being on the lips.
The father of Dolores’ child? Suspect number one even if he was a cop.
“Grace, this is my . . .” She stopped as if unsure how to introduce him. “This is Zach. He’s my overprotective ex-husband.”
Graced nodded and held out her hand. “You wanted to check me out before I moved in.”
“Yes.”
His firm grip didn’t hurt or intimidate her. But the fleeting touch sent a ripple of sensation down her spine. Had she ever met this man? A sense of déjà vu swept through her, different than when a corpse touched her.
Her gaze never left him, never letting on about her emotions. “So you’ve met me. Am I an axe murderer?”
He tilted his head and his gray eyes bore into her over his sunglasses. “I’ve never met one of those.”
She cocked her head. “Use your imagination. What would an ax
e murderer look like?”
His tongue came out and did a slow trail across his lips. “Probably not like you. You’re much too petite to wield such a bulky weapon.”
As he spoke his gaze swept over her and she might as well have been naked. Or a steak dinner with all the trimmings for the intensity of his look. His eyes went back to her face, a sly smile tilting his lips.
“Good. May I move in?”
“He doesn’t have a say in that,” Dolores said.
Grace slid her gaze to her new landlord.
“I have a few questions for Grace,” Zach said.
Bet he ran a background check. “Oh? Is your name on the lease?”
His jaw tightened around his already chiseled face. “No, but I have a vested interest in you being the right tenant.”
Grace looked at Dolores who said, “Just humor him. I have to get back to work. You need anything else? All the utilities are turned on. I took the liberty of putting them in your name, you just have to call the companies with the rest of the information.” She backed away toward her Toyota parked on the street. “The numbers are on the table by the door.”
“Thanks, Dolores.”
She waved a hand at Grace and slid into her car. Zach watched her drive away as Grace watched him. When he turned his gaze back to her, she handed him a box.
“I’m not a moving company,” he said.
“You want to interrogate me, you have to work. I only have today to move in and get settled. I work the next four days.”
He looked at the box in his hands as if it were an alien, then shrugged. “Fine.”
Grace didn’t look back to see if he followed her. She assumed he intended to extract information about her last residence and that last case. With a deep breath and a heavy suitcase, she braced herself for the onslaught.
“Tell me about Ridge Oaks,” he said when they reached the apartment above the garage.
“What specifically?”
So he had done his homework. Her name appeared in the database since she’d initially been charged with murder. A shiver moved her spine when she thought about those days.
“Tell me about the murder of your boyfriend’s mother.”
Chapter Three
Zach dropped the box on the floor and leaned on the wall, his arms crossed. He waited as she collected herself. This could be a Pulitzer Prize winner. Or an Oscar-worthy performance. Either way he braced himself for a lie.
They all lied.
Grace placed one box on top of another then wiped her hands on her jeans. “I don’t really know anything about the murder.” Her voice came out scratchy and smooth all at once, like whiskey pouring over sandpaper.
His ears tingled with the vibrations of it.
She glanced at him then back down at her sneakered feet. Her pink tongue came out to lick her lips.
“I talked to the lead detective. He said you knew too much, but had an alibi. Sounds suspicious to me.”
Her gaze met his. She didn’t flinch when he hardened his. Her stress-tinged eyes didn’t blink. She had something to hide, every fiber of his being knew it. He disliked liars. They deserved their own circle of Hell in his book.
“I guess it would.”
“You’re not going to elaborate?”
She ran a hand through her white blond hair. His gaze traveled with it. He’d felt some weird static electricity when he’d shaken that hand. She’d even flirted with him. He couldn’t trust her.
It took balls to do that in front of his ex-wife.
Blowing out a breath, she sat on the couch, her one leg curled underneath her. “No, I don’t see that I have to. Dolores is satisfied with me.”
“Well, Dolores is not always a good judge of character.”
A chuckle erupted from Grace. “Guess that’s why you’re an ex and not a current husband.”
Her jab bounced off of him. “That’s not any of your business.”
“True.”
She stood, shook herself, and then strode towards him. “I have work to do and don’t have time for macho posturing. You know, ‘cave man protect woman’ kind of thing.”
He stopped her with his hand on her shoulder. She recoiled, her face scrunching at him, but her eyes met his. Her gaze steadier than her body. She tried to move out of reach.
“I’m watching you. Carefully. If you bring trouble to Dolores, you’ll have to answer to me.”
He let go and flexed his fingers which hummed as if he had touched a live wire.
She didn’t answer, but brushed past him and down the outside steps.
***
Grace’s anger hadn’t dissipated with all the physical labor of moving boxes into her apartment. Five trips up and down the steps.
Her leg muscles screamed at her, but she didn’t notice them.
She only remembered Zach’s touch. Her arm still burned from his fingertips. When she looked, she expected to see an impression of his hand.
“I’m just horny.”
She had gone longer than this without sex, but her thirtieth birthday hovered on the horizon. That age brought on greater sexual needs, didn’t it? She also knew her powers would change. Or she’d lose them, which appealed to her. “That must be it. My brain isn’t right.”
Shaking her head, she attempted to brush off whatever he’d left behind on her. A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
Dolores stood on the landing outside, with a plant and some takeout. She’d changed out of her work clothes and now sported stretchy pants and an oversized T-shirt, both the color of her blue eyes.
“You are a vision,” Grace said, her stomach rumbling.
Dolores cackled. “And I didn’t even freshen up my make up.”
“Come in,” Grace said taking the plant from her hands. “Is that food for me?”
“Us. I figured you’d be too busy to cook.”
“Thanks. I’m too busy to cook most days. I make reservations better than anyone. That, and microwave popcorn.”
Her landlady set the bag of food on the kitchen counter. Grace watched her for a moment. Like most people she did look better in life than in death. A vision of Dolores’ lifeless body flashed into Grace’s mind.
She couldn’t forget why she was here.
“Did Zach interrogate you?”
Grace shook off the macabre hallucination and smiled. “He tried. No light shining in my face, though.”
“That’ll be next time. I apologize for him. He’s a little overzealous.”
Dolores removed items from a bag while Grace searched for plates. “He’s a cop. He’s just that way, I’m sure.”
Her landlady stilled. “He isn’t a cop anymore.”
She said it as if there were more to the story, but her own sense of decorum held her back.
“No?”
“A PI, now. Still I wish he’d trust me more.”
“Is that why he’s the ex?”
Dolores laughed. “Guess you’re pretty straightforward about what you want. There’s more than one reason we aren’t married anymore.”
Grace bit her lip. “That was forward of me.” Why did she want to know? Not usually a gossip, her own question struck Grace as odd. She mulled over the idea that Zach had something to hide. That’s why he thought Grace also had a secret.
Well, she did, but not nearly as menacing a one as he thought.
Dolores waved her off, then set about putting Chinese food on the plates Grace had found. “That’s okay. I’m pretty much an open book. Unlike Zach who plays things close to the vest.”
“That can get tough.”
“True.”
Grace sat at her kitchen table and let herself be served. Dolores opened the bottle of diet soda and poured them each some.
“I probably should have made you something. Maybe on the weekend.”
“Dolores, I appreciate you thinking of me. I’d lost track of time.”
“I keep doing that, too. My girlfriends tell me it’s a symptom of the pregnanc
y.”
“I wouldn’t know first hand, but it sounds about right. And since I’m not pregnant, I have no excuse.”
“You’ve just moved into a new town. It is understandable. Takes time to get your bearings.”
Grace shrugged and chewed on her General chicken. “I can usually hit the ground running.”
“You move around a lot?”
“My dad was in the army. I guess I held onto the wanderlust.”
“I’ve lived in this town all my life. Can’t imagine living anywhere else. Zach was even my high school sweetheart. How’s that for clichéd?”
Grace laughed with Dolores. She found the woman easy to talk to. Even more reason she didn’t want her to die. She needed to live and raise this child growing inside of her.
Grace sighed and decided to ask more about Zach. He remained her only suspect at this point.
***
Zach pulled into Dolores’ driveway wondering why there were no lights on in the house. “Well, I can have another go at Miss Harmony.” Strangely, he looked forward to seeing her again.
As he ascended the steps, the ring of women’s laughter caught him by surprise. Grace’s door stood wide open to the warm, spring air. When he reached the top of the steps, Dolores and Grace were sitting on the couch.
He paused, eavesdropping on their conversation. About him. Dolores recounted how they met.
“I’m sure Miss Harmony has no interest in our personal life,” he said before she could go further.
The two women looked at him as if he were an alien. Grace sported a ponytail. Wisps of her light hair framed her face, bringing out her emerald green eyes.
Zach moved into the one room apartment, navigating around boxes. “I was looking for you.”
He sounded possessive and wanted to kick himself. The last thing he needed was to give Dolores the impression she had a shot with him.
“Oh? I was giving Grace, here, a hometown welcome. We
had dinner together. If you want something, I can heat up some stew.”
“Just heat up the Chinese,” Grace suggested.
Her gaze hadn’t stayed on him long as if it pained her to see him. She hid something, some huge secret, and he hoped to God it wouldn’t blow up in his face.
Corpse Whisperer Page 2
