Kindred Spirits

by Jean Marie Bauhaus

“Great,” Derek muttered as he moved past him into the room. Uncle Jim stood up from a row of hard plastic chairs lining one wall and came to meet him.

  “Are you okay, son?”

  “I’m fine.” Derek signed for his personal effects. “Nothing damaged but my ego. Well, and probably my career.”

  “I saw what happened.”

  “Yeah, you and the rest of the world, apparently.”

  “Why’d you hit that guy?”

  Derek thought about trying to explain. Instead, he shook his head and checked the envelope they’d given him to make sure all his stuff was in there. “He had it coming.”

  “Well, he’s pressing charges for assault. But don’t worry. I already called Steve. His lawyers are already on the case, and—”

  “I wish you hadn’t done that.” At Jim’s surprised look, Derek added, “I appreciate it, and I appreciate you coming down here to bail me out. But I don’t want to get Steve involved.”

  “Nonsense. You’re family to us, and we help our own. Anyway, he might also be able to pull some strings to save your job.”

  Derek didn’t say anything. He didn’t like it, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

  “Anyway,” said Jim, “it’s late and I’m sure you’re tired. Let’s get you home.”

  Derek nodded and started to follow him outside, but then he remembered why he’d been out that night in the first place. “Hang on.” He went to the front desk and found the desk sergeant, a harried-looking woman somewhere in her forties. “Is Detective Hanson on duty tonight?”

  “Name?”

  “Derek Brandt. He’s the lead investigator on my brother’s murder case.”

  “Hang on, I’ll check.” The sergeant picked up a phone.

  While Derek waited, Jim came over to him. “What are you doing?”

  “I want to talk to the detective on Jimmy’s case.”

  “Why? Have you found something?”

  I found Jimmy, he almost said, but he shook his head. “It’s been a while since I checked in. I want to see if the police have found anything.”

  The sergeant hung up the phone and nodded to Derek. “He’ll be out in a moment.”

  They didn’t wait long. After about a minute, a tall, broad-shouldered man who looked to be somewhere in his mid-thirties came through the door. He wore a dark blue Polo shirt tucked into rumpled Dockers and held a mug with the Tulsa PD logo wrapped around it. Derek had taken an instant dislike to the guy the first time they’d met after he’d taken over Jimmy’s case, although he couldn’t say exactly why. Maybe it was because he reminded Derek a little too much of the evil karate instructor in The Karate Kid.

  “Mr. Brandt,” he said. He looked a long time at Jim, as if sizing up the old guy, then nodded to him. “Sir. What can I do for you gentlemen?”

  “Just checking to see if there have been any new developments,” said Derek.

  “I’m afraid not. Like I’ve told you, unless someone comes forward with new evidence, or we discover a new lead—”

  “What if I’ve got one?”

  Hanson’s brows shout up in surprise. He looked at Uncle Jim, who matched his expression. “What do you have?”

  Derek sighed. “Nothing yet. But I might have something in the next day or two.”

  “What are you up to, boy?” Jim asked. “Nothing dangerous, I hope.”

  “No, nothing like that. But I might have found a new witness.”

  Again, the two men looked at each other in surprise. “If you give me the name of this witness,” said the detective, “I can bring them in for an interview.”

  “Not yet,” said Derek. “I need to be sure of what they saw first.”

  Hanson nodded. “Well, as soon as you have something—if you have anything—let me know.”

  “That goes both ways.”

  Detective Hanson eyed Derek as he took a long sip of his coffee. Then he nodded. “Of course it does. If any new evidence turns up, I’ll be sure to give you a call. But I should warn you not to get your hopes up.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Yeah, I guess you do. Is there anything else I can do for you gentlemen?”

  “No, that’s it for now,” said Derek. “Thanks.” After an exchange of nods, Derek ushered Jim out to his SUV.

  Once they were shut inside, Jim turned to him. “Tell me about this new witness. I thought you boys were home alone when it happened. The neighbors all said they didn’t see anything. Did one of them change their story?”

  “No, nothing like that.” Derek sighed and looked out the window as Jim started the car. He knew what Jim’s reaction would be to any suggestion that Derek was seeking help from the supernatural, and it wouldn’t be positive. “We need to pick up my car. I left it at the restaurant.”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  Derek sighed. “It’s too soon to be sure. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  They were both silent while Jim navigated his truck through downtown and onto the freeway. Then, with uncanny insight, he said, “This doesn’t have anything to do with that psychic, does it? The one who told you she had a message from your brother?”

  Derek was too startled to deny it.

  Jim made a sound of disgust. “Tell me you didn’t fall for that, boy.”

  “I didn’t ‘fall for’ anything.” Derek sounded a bit defensive, even to his own ears. Jim gave him a sidelong look. He sighed. “Let’s just say I think it’s worth following up on. That’s all.” That was far from all, in truth, but Jim didn’t need to know that. Besides, that answer seemed to satisfy him.

  “That girl’s a looker,” Jim said after another long silence. “I hope you’re doing all your thinking up here.” He reached over and tapped Derek’s temple.

  That also wasn’t entirely true, but Jim didn’t need to know that either. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Let’s hope so.” They reached their exit, and Jim navigated to the restaurant. “After all these years, I don’t know why you can’t just let it go.”

  “You mean just let Jimmy’s killers get away with it?”

  “I mean get on with your life, son. You’re still young. You’ve still got plenty to look forward to. But you’re too busy looking behind you.” He pulled into the parking lot and parked next to Derek’s Mustang. “It’s time to lay your brother’s ghost to rest.”

  Derek nodded, thanked him for his help, and got out. As he fished his keys out of the envelope, he thought, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.

  Chris’s car sat in the driveway. Surprised, Derek parked his Mustang next to it and sat there a moment, trying to calm the excited pounding in his chest. He’d expected her to go home after carrying out her favor. He reminded himself that the fact that she didn’t probably had nothing to do with him. She’d probably stayed to keep Jimmy company. The news of Derek’s arrest no doubt upset him.

  He let himself inside, locked the door behind him, and punched in the alarm code. As he did it struck him that it was only two days ago that he’d changed it because he thought Chris had broken in. Then he’d given it to her that night without a second thought. Of course, there was no telling who else had heard it, what with the crowd that had been gathering. He’d better change it again.

  He fished his watch and wallet out of the envelope the police had given him and set them on the entry table, then turned to go get the alarm manual from the kitchen. That was when he noticed her stretched out on the couch, sound asleep.

  Quietly, Derek opened the coat closet and took out an old afghan that his mom had crocheted. He tiptoed to the couch and spread it over her. He stood there a moment, watching her sleep, wondering how someone so haunted could look so serene. A lock of fiery hair had come loose from her bun and lay across her cheek. It took every ounce of restraint for Derek to keep from brushing it away, to feel the softness of that ivory cheek against his fingertips.

  On the coffee table, the ghost box remained silent. Based on what Chris had told
him about what would’ve gone on there that evening, he figured Jimmy was probably in his room, recovering. It was probably best not to disturb him. Besides, Derek was badly in need of his own rest.

  He debated going to bed but had a feeling that if he did, Chris would wake up and sneak out without saying goodbye. For some reason, he couldn’t abide the thought of waking up to find her gone.

  He knew he was being ridiculous. For one thing, she had already soundly rejected him. For another, it wasn’t like he’d never see her again. She’d promised to help Jimmy cross over. As long as Jimmy remained on this side of the afterlife, Christine Wilson would remain in Derek’s life.

  A selfish part of him hoped Jimmy wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon, and not just because he seemed to be developing a ridiculous crush on Chris. Derek enjoyed having his brother back, even if it was just in the form of a collection of voices coming out of a souped-up radio.

  It was weird—not just the box and the whole paranormal aspect of it all, but also the fact that Jimmy was clearly still a teenager, while Derek was pushing thirty. But Jimmy was still his big brother and it felt good to know that he’d been watching over Derek all this time.

  Well, and also a little creepy, if he was honest. Derek suddenly wondered how many of his potentially embarrassing private moments in this house Jimmy had witnessed. Just as quickly, he decided he didn’t want to know.

  A soft sigh drew his attention back to Chris. She turned over on the couch, clutching the afghan more tightly around her.

  Derek sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. He should just go to bed already. He could call Chris later that day to touch base.

  Instead, he settled himself on the recliner and put his feet up. With one last look at Chris—who, from this angle, resembled a granny-square-covered burrito—he laid his head back and closed his eyes.

  He opened them again when a hand shook his arm. Morning sunlight flooded the room. Derek blinked and rubbed his eyes. Gradually, the face of the owner of the hand that had shaken him came into focus.

  And a lovely face it was.

  “Hey.” Chris smiled down at him. “Sorry to wake you. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. And thanks for letting me crash on your couch.”

  “Do you have to go so soon?” Feeling slightly disoriented, Derek got awkwardly to his feet. “Stay for breakfast. I’ve still got those left-over donuts.”

  “Wow, that’s tempting,” she said. He needed coffee before he’d be able to tell whether that was sarcasm.

  “I also make a mean omelet,” he offered. “And a decent cup of coffee.”

  “You had me at donuts,” she said, clearing up the sarcasm question, “but it all sounds good. Especially the coffee part.”

  “Coming right up.” He headed into the kitchen. While he made the coffee, he watched her fold the afghan neatly and arrange it on the back of the couch. He liked the way it softened the room a bit. Or maybe it was Chris who did that.

  The whole scene had a sense of easy domesticity that Derek could definitely get used to. There hadn’t been many women in Derek’s home since his mom had high-tailed it to Florida, and the few who had passed through had never stuck around long enough to lend their own decorative touch.

  Of course, he knew that wasn’t really Chris’s intent. She was simply being neat. Still, he liked it—probably more than he should.

  He liked it even better when, twenty minutes later, they both sat at the breakfast bar, picking at day-old donuts and talking about Derek’s downtown adventure like old friends. The fact that he never seemed to discuss normal topics with this woman only made her more interesting. Fueled by sugar and caffeine and still running on too little sleep to exercise good judgment, he told her so.

  “Believe me, I can be boring,” she assured him. “Besides, you were the one who got arrested.”

  “Yeah, well, something tells me I just beat you to the punch.” He flexed his hand and winced. “Literally.”

  “I wouldn’t have hit that guy.”

  “Yeah, I know. Clearly, you have more self-control than I do.” Derek sipped his coffee.

  “No, I mean I’d have broken a different part of his anatomy.” She grinned wickedly. “I’m more of a kicker.”

  Derek almost snorted coffee through his nose, but he somehow managed to avoid spraying it everywhere. When he could speak again, he said, “See, I don’t believe you’re boring for a minute.”

  “No? Well, for starters, last night was the first time I’ve gone out on a Saturday night in forever. At least, the first time that didn’t involve sitting in the dark somewhere trying to coax a ghost to talk to me.”

  “See? Not boring.”

  “But my real idea of a fun Saturday night is sitting on the couch in my PJ’s binge-watching BBC dramas.” She finished that statement with a look that dared him to deny how boring it sounded.

  Instead he said, “I could sit here for an hour starting right now and talk about the merits and demerits of Stephen Moffat, so you’re going to have to try harder to bore me.”

  She quirked an eyebrow at him over her mug as she sipped her coffee. Then she set it down and said, “All I’ll say to that is, Eleven is my favorite.”

  “Really? I’d have pegged you for a Tenant fan girl.”

  “I was, but that was before Matt Smith came into my life. What about you?”

  “Nine will forever hold a special place in my heart. But Tom Baker is the real Doctor.”

  She was grinning. “Wow. You’re actually a closet geek.”

  He caught himself grinning back and coughed into his hand. “There is no closet. You should see my action figure collection. I keep it on my desk at work.” He realized as he spoke that he’d probably be boxing it all up to bring home once his boss saw the video of his arrest, but not even that could put a damper on his current mood.

  In fact, he was almost feeling good enough to try asking her out again, despite the disastrous turn their not-exactly-a-date had taken. But before he could bring it up, her bottom chirped.

  Chris’s grin evaporated into a surprised and befuddled look as she pulled a phone from her back pocket. “Well, I know you’re not texting me,” she muttered as she unlocked the screen. “Oh, crud.”

  Derek felt his excellent mood slipping away. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just my dad. He’s asking if we can have lunch.” She shook her head. “I didn’t even know he was in town.” She stood up and returned the phone to her pocket. “I should get going.”

  “Now?” Derek also got to his feet.

  “Yeah. I need to call my dad, and Ron’s probably worried sick that I never came home.” She gestured to the crumb-lined donut box. “Thanks for breakfast. Again. And for the use of your sofa.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m just grateful you were able to let Jimmy know what happened.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m glad you’re okay.” She retrieved her bag from where she’d left it next to the sofa. “I can let myself out. I’ll call you when we have a plan. Tell Jimmy bye for me.”

  Derek could barely get out that he would before she was out the door. He sank back onto his stool with a sigh but sprang back to his feet as the alarm panel beeped threateningly at him. He rushed over and punched in the code to silence it, then looked out the window just in time to see Chris backing out of the driveway.

  As he watched her go, he knew he was an idiot for letting himself become so infatuated with her. It was true that she was anything but boring, but “not boring” was often a synonym for “complicated.” And wasn’t his life already complicated enough?

  “Focus,” he told himself. “She’s not here for you, she’s here for Jimmy. And you need to be here for him, too.” At the thought of his brother he glanced back at the box, but it remained silent. He wondered how long it would take Jimmy to recover from whatever they had put him through last night.

  Suddenly, Derek felt lonely. Funny. He’d spent years alone
in this house—or so he’d thought—and it had never bothered him. All that time, he’d been as focused on righting the injustices of the world—or at least, the ones he could right—and on doing what little he could to get justice for Jimmy. He’d barely given a thought to dating or relationships, and he’d had no time for loneliness.

  Now, Jimmy was back in his life, and so was this woman who drove him crazy, who wanted the same thing Derek himself had always wanted: to solve Jimmy’s murder and bring his killers to justice. And all Derek could think about was her.

  Even worse, he couldn’t go even five minutes without either her or Jimmy’s company without feeling more lonely than he’d ever felt in his adult life.

  Derek blew out a long, frustrated sigh and headed to his room. He needed to shower, and then he’d head down to the news station. He needed to work while he still could. More importantly, he wanted to pull everything the station had on Jimmy’s case while he still had access to the archives.

  With a plan in place, he felt a little better as he stripped off yesterday’s clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot water both relaxed and invigorated him as it sluiced over his skin. He closed his eyes and leaned into the spray, willing it to wash away the layers of complication that had been added to his life along with the grime.

  Chapter Eleven

  Chris entered the house quietly and kicked her shoes off by the front door. A loud yowl cut through the silence, undermining her attempt to sneak in. Miss Kitty bounded down the stairs, clearly unhappy that Chris hadn’t been there to feed her at the crack of dawn. She ran over and greeted Chris with a head butt to the shins and another angry yowl.

  “Quiet!” Chris stage-whispered to the fur ball. “Come on, let’s go get you fed.” She hung up her bag, scooped up the cat, and carried her to the kitchen, where she found Ron sitting at the table, arms folded, waiting for her.

  “And where have you been all night, missy?”

  Chris paused on her way to the fridge just long enough to set Miss Kitty down and roll her eyes. “Well, Mom, if you must know, I spent the night at Derek’s.”