Downtime

by Tamara Allen

  “Dear friends,” Henry intoned, “our home is yours for the evening. You and those you’ve come to communicate with are welcome. Since I believe most of us are familiar with the proceedings, I think we may begin. If that is all right with you, Ezra.”

  Ezra scrambled to sit up straight, like a daydreaming schoolkid called on by the teacher. He offered his hands to the guests on either side of him, both women, and they looked at him hesitantly. Henry cleared his throat.

  “If you will all join hands. And no gloves, please. It tends to hinder the energies.”

  I pressed my lips together to contain a laugh. The women removed their gloves and timidly followed instructions, the men doing likewise. The elderly woman at Ezra’s right did not seem as bashful. She seized Ezra’s hand in a grip that made him wince. I know he heard me chuckle but he ignored it and, clearing his throat, picked up where Henry’d left off.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to close your eyes and think about the loved ones you’ve come to talk to. Draw up memories, happy memories if you can.” He paused, then added, “If you need to break the circle to reach for handkerchiefs, it will be quite all right.”

  I had to give it to him; he was believably sympathetic. Already I could hear a few sniffles around the table, even from the men, in the relative safety of dim lighting. There was a long stretch of quiet, until Henry broke it.

  “Spirits, come forth and make your presence known.”

  I sincerely hoped I was not going to have to resort to pressing my face into a pillow. The guests were quiet and even the softest snicker would have been loud in the room. I could see Derry in his favorite spot, observing it all with fervent interest. Kathleen had taken a chair near the door and was knitting at a furious pace by the slim crack of light coming from the hall. Dr. Gilbride sat in a chair by the dark hearth, newspaper over a knee, eyes closed, and I would have bet my last dime he wasn’t deep in summoning deceased relatives. The other boarders were nowhere to be seen and I suspected they’d had enough of this particular show.

  Ezra appeared to be lost in thought. Or maybe he was chatting with ghosts in his head. Who knew? I kept an eye on him, expecting the real show to come from him—despite the fact that Henry was the one consistently taking the lead. “Mrs. Eliza Barrington is here tonight seeking communion with her beloved Arthur.” Henry coughed softly and I sat up, alerted to the probable signal he was passing to Ezra. Whatever it meant, Ezra’s only response was an exasperated sigh. I stole a glance at Henry, to see him frown. He continued, a note of urgency in his voice. “Miss Dorothia Firth has come for a word from her eldest, Edward. And Mr. Simon Dealy and his daughter hope for a few moments with Mrs. Dealy, if they may.”

  Though Henry seemed to be addressing the room in general or maybe the spirits in particular, I knew he was talking directly to Ezra. And it was clear, from what I could see of Henry’s expression in the flickering light, that he was not getting the response he expected.

  And maybe neither was Ezra. He shifted restlessly in his seat, then, with an irritated snort, pulled his hands free and swung a sharp gaze on me. “Your friend Mr. Sullivan is a very persistent chap.”

  What the hell? I shook my head to warn him not to start that shit with me, but he kept going with no less exasperation. “We shall have to let him say his piece before we can move on.” Ezra pushed his chair back from the table, turning it to face me. “This Nosik. Someone you know?”

  I immediately thought back to my arrival here and tried to remember how much information I’d given away to this nut. I must have mentioned Nosik at least in passing or Ezra wouldn’t know the name. I didn’t go for that mind-reading crap any more than ghosts, so there had to be another explanation.

  Until I thought of one, a nicely noncommittal shrug would do.

  Ezra sighed and closed his eyes, head bent as if listening to something beyond the curious murmurs around the table. I wondered why he’d picked me for this. It would be a whole lot easier to pull one over on his grieving guests. After a long minute, he looked at me again, frankly puzzled. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. He’s a—double?”

  How much had I blabbed to these people? Ezra was starting to sound like a fucking Fed. “Nosik’s a double, huh? Well, that’s not really something I can confirm or deny, Ez, old pal. What else you got?”

  Clearly uncomfortable with whatever instruction he was getting from the beyond, he sputtered an answer to my question. “A size eleven shoe that’s going to put a heavy-duty dent in your ass—” He broke off, red in the face, and whispered, “Could we not take this to another room, please?”

  The not so delicate language caused more than a few gasps. Henry looked indignant. Me… I was a little annoyed, myself. Yeah, maybe that sounded like Sully in all his gruff, sarcastic glory, but as far as I was concerned, it was just another good guess. “You know, it takes a heartless son of a bitch to pull this kind of crap on people. You do realize that, don’t you?” I sat back in the chair, pushing the lid down hard on the near-buried feelings Ezra’s theatrics were churning up. After six months of missing the hell out of Sully, I wasn’t going to start fresh with that pain.

  Ezra’s hands slipped forward to dangle off his knees, shoulders rounded, weary. Sorrow shone in the blue eyes as they fixed on me. “I’ve got to get through to you, son. What’ll it take? A recap of the cases we worked? The lurid details of the week you spent in the slammer in Thailand? Or maybe something more personal, like your trip to Cancun with Kevin?”

  “All that and more.” The words came, cool and flippant, as I did my best to ignore the small hairs rising on the back of my neck. Sully wasn’t here. He could not be here. He’d taken a bullet and died before I could even get to him. His ashes were scattered over his favorite fishing hole. He was gone and there was nothing left….

  “Damn it, Morgan. Pay attention, will you?” A grimace that was more Ezra than Sully let me know it was taking a lot for Ezra to convey the message word for word. “Gladstell’s your double. Not Nosik.”

  A sick sensation similar to the vertigo I’d felt when I first came hurtling into the past made me grip the arms of the chair for dear life. Someone was pulling one hell of a cosmic joke. “Okay, if that’s what you want. Fine. Let’s hear it.”

  Sully—Ezra—one of them sighed in apparent relief. “Nosik was only there to switch sides. Gladstell came to make sure Nosik didn’t hand him over as a goodwill offering in the process. And he almost succeeded. Nosik’s on the loose, Gladstell’s looking for him, and you and I are the only ones in the know.”

  I wondered if I’d been talking in my sleep. Even if I had, Ezra couldn’t have come to know James Sullivan inside and out. Not like this. But whether I could let myself believe it or not, I couldn’t keep from responding in kind. “Don’t do this to me, Sully. I don’t know when the hell I’m going to get back home. Can’t you warn someone in our time? Get to Faulkner?”

  “Oh sure, no problem.” His tone got a smile out of me despite my frustration. “I’m not here just to enlighten you, slugger. You think it’s easy to get through to anyone back in our time? They don’t know how to be quiet. Time was, you could hook up with a sensitive soul like this one,” he tapped Ezra’s chest, “and you’d be heard. A hundred years from now, well, we’re pretty much drowned out.”

  Slugger. God, how long I’d gone without hearing that nickname cross his lips. “So tell me how to get home. Where’s the book?”

  His mouth was a grim line. “Tomorrow morning, it’s going to trade hands and you’d better be quick or you’ll have a hell of a time finding it.”

  “Trade hands? Are you telling me someone at the museum’s fencing stolen property?”

  The grim line softened and Sully reached over to pluck at my tie. “Got you gussied up like a spring chicken, don’t they.” He shook his head affectionately. “I couldn’t even get you into a dress shirt.”

  “Sully—”

  “You’re going to find your way, Morgan. Tru
st me on that.”

  “Sully, come on. You can—” I stopped as the smile faded from Ezra’s face, his gaze going distant. I knew he’d lost the contact—and, goddamn, it hurt. I had Sully again, for a few precious minutes, and now….

  Ezra blinked as if he were just waking. He looked at me and his uncertainty became sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

  “Can you get him back?” God. I sounded like an idiot.

  Derry laid a hand on my arm, a touch as compassionate as the look in Ezra’s eyes. “I know what it’s like, lad. There’s so much more you want to say.”

  I would’ve just liked to say good-bye. I hadn’t been able to say it the last time, either. My eyes smarted, the lump in my throat making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. The others in the room stared at me, a few in sympathy, most still in shock at the frank way Sully had of expressing himself. They didn’t know him, couldn’t know what a damned good guy he was, how hard he’d worked, how many lives he’d saved. None of these people had the least idea, not even Ezra.

  Muttering an apology, I left the room and took the stairs two at a time to Ezra’s room, where I stripped out of the suit and into my jeans, shirt, sweater, and jacket. Hannah hadn’t washed the smell of home out of it.

  Home. I would have run all the way, if I could.

  There was a soft knock on the door. “Morgan?” Derry, sounding worried.

  I dropped to the floor to put on my sneakers. Derry tapped again. “Morgan, just a word with you. Please?”

  I heard footsteps and a second voice, Ezra’s, barely loud enough to be heard. “Is he all right?”

  Another knock. I wiped my sleeve across my face and opened the door. “I’m fine, guys. Okay? I’m just going out for a while.”

  “Going out?” Ezra said in concern. The two of them exchanged a look. Guess it made them nervous to think they might lose track of their demon.

  “Yeah, out.” Avoiding Ezra, I looked at Derry. “I need a little fresh air. But don’t worry, I’ll be back. You guys are my only ride home.”

  I’d been embarrassed by the tears in my eyes. Derry didn’t seem the least uncomfortable about the tears in his own. “Catches you up, doesn’t it? Even if you believed before, it’s not quite the same.”

  I didn’t want to discuss it. I just wanted to go. He seemed to know, because he let me slip past. Both of them did. I knew they’d be fretting until I came back, but at the moment I didn’t care. I wanted to go for a run and I couldn’t even do that in this crazy place. I settled for a fast walk. The last light had faded and the streetlamps cast a hazy yellow glow through a fog that seemed as surreal as the scene I’d just left in the parlor.

  For two days, I’d been living a waking nightmare. Was I so far gone that I’d imagined Sully a part of it too? I sure didn’t remember telling Ezra or anyone else all those personal things and there was no way they’d have found any of it out, unless I considered the possibility that this was a real kidnapping involving drug-induced hallucinations.

  I didn’t feel drugged. I felt tired and shaken and—shit, I didn’t know what else. I missed the son of a bitch so much. And for all I knew, he was still here, still hanging around me, and he couldn’t make me hear him without Ezra’s help. I even felt bad about that.

  “I miss you, Sully.” I had to say it. Just in case. Of course he already knew. Maybe I was saying it more for my own sake.

  Sully seemed certain I’d find a way to get home. I wished I’d asked him to be a little more specific on exactly when. Leonard would terminate Nosik at his earliest chance. There was nothing I could do about that except hope Sully would keep trying to communicate with Faulkner or, hell, even one of those nutty psychics who tried to put their two cents in on various cases.

  All I could do was hunt down that damned book. Museum employee Whitby seemed to have a little business going on the side. First thing to do was find him, and I could follow the trail from there. But it looked like I was going to have to wait until morning to start a search for the guy. I didn’t have the funds, the transportation, or the authority to go poking around in the dead of night.

  And dead of night it was. Reaching a street corner, I leaned against the lamppost and listened. Apart from the occasional carriage clattering in the fogbound distance, there was little sign of life. My sense of direction had never been what I was best known for at the Bureau. Sully had always marveled that I’d been a Boy Scout, convinced I couldn’t find my way across the street without a map, compass, and a pair of guide dogs. I had no doubt if he’d followed me now, he was laughing his head off.

  “You could at least point me in the right direction,” I muttered, and started back down the block I’d come. I was confident I could get back, despite the fog. But after traipsing a few blocks, my confidence fled, leaving me with the hard reality that I’d gotten myself irretrievably lost.

  Chapter 7

  I didn’t suppose knocking on someone’s door to ask for directions would go over too well. Hannah had said there were cops all up and down the area, but I hadn’t seen one yet. I kept walking, sure the right street must be just around the next corner. Luckily, I wasn’t the only one in London not already in bed. Around the corner, a cab stood at the curb, and the two women who’d just climbed out of it were sorting through a handful of coins while the cabbie waited patiently, no doubt hoping for a generous tip.

  “‘Evening,” I began, putting on my best manners. “I was wondering if you might be able to direct me—”

  A pair of horrified gasps cut me off. The two women clutched at each other and backed away from me, looking to the cabbie for help. He stared at me with an alarm that seemed all out of proportion, even for this overly sensitive day and age. I raised my hands in the traditional innocent bystander gesture. “I’m lost. That’s all.”

  The cabbie raised his whip. “You let them be. I’m warning you.”

  I sighed. “Fine. Warning heeded.” I swung around to leave before I got in any deeper with these nuts and, lo, a pair of big guys in blue coats stepped out of the fog. The adage to be careful what you wish for popped into my head.

  The older of the two constables looked me up and down. “Bit far from home, aren’t you, sir?”

  He had no idea. “I’m a little lost, yeah.”

  “Accosting them ladies, he was,” the cabbie said. “I saw him at it.”

  “I wasn’t accosting anyone. I just wanted directions.”

  “Directions to which particular establishment, sir?” the constable asked.

  Though his tone was polite, I could tell by his surly expression it wouldn’t take much provocation for him to use the heavy baton he bounced in one hand. “I’m looking for Thanet and Leigh.”

  The other constable spoke up. “Farbridge House?” He shook his head. “Miss Neilan wouldn’t take in that sort, Tom.”

  “Was thinking that, myself,” Constable Tom said, casting a dark eye on me. “What’s your name?”

  “I’ve got ID right here.” I put a hand in my jacket pocket and Tom grabbed my arm in a rock-solid grip. Fighting the instinct to flip him to the sidewalk, I tried to relax all resistance before he wrenched my shoulder from its socket. “Will you calm down? I was reaching for ID. That’s all.”

  Tom looked at his partner, who shrugged, then back at me. “You do have a name, don’t you, sir?”

  I told him, trying not to sound as pissed off as I was becoming. “What are the charges?”

  “Charges, sir?”

  “Why are you arresting me? Suspicion of theft? Public indecency? What?”

  He frowned. “You do look a rather suspicious character. “

  His partner leaned over to whisper, “You don’t think….”

  “Don’t know,” Tom said grimly. “But I intend to find out. If you’ll escort the ladies to their door, I’ll take care of this bounder.”

  I had no idea what a bounder was, but it didn’t sound complimentary. “Going to at least read me my rights?”

  Tom looked bemused. �
�Read you your what?”

  Shit. But before I could worry how Ezra and Derry would find me once I was shipped off to prison, a polite, cheerful voice startled us all. “Good evening, Constable.”

  I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved. As Ezra stepped, like a ghost himself, out of the fog, the cop swung around to look at him. “Mr. Glacenbie, isn’t it? ’Evening, sir. How is Miss Neilan this evening?”

  The second constable chuckled. “Ain’t lost any of her tenants, has she?” he asked with a sardonic glance at me.

  Ezra didn’t appear to know whether to be annoyed or relieved, either. He looked me over and a little of the anxiety melted from his face, to be replaced by rueful humor. “One of them, yes, but you’ve found him for us. Good job. I warned him about this weather, but you know Americans. Imagine themselves quite invincible.”