So, I backed off trying to find her and concentrated on the imprint that her attack had left on the ether. There was a clue there. I could feel it in my gut. I sifted through the attack, going back over it a few times, using my intuition to pick it apart, and at last I had the clue I’d been looking for. It was a eureka moment for me and I opened my eyes only to come face-to-face with Detective Souter.
“Miss Holliday,” she said with a slight sneer.
“Detective!” I replied, shocked to be caught in front of the crime scene.
“Want to explain what you’re doing here?”
My palms started to sweat. Should I answer that? Would Mack want me to take the fifth and call him? Would getting caught here make me look even more suspicious?
I felt flustered but also a bit excited by what I’d discovered in the ether, and I decided to take a chance. “She was grabbed from behind,” I said.
Souter’s furrowed brow rose in surprise. “Excuse me?”
I moved closer toward the stairs. “She was coming down the street from this direction,” I explained, feeling the ether out as I went. “And someone came up behind her. They put her in a choke hold and twisted her slightly toward the stairs. . . .” My voice trailed off as I demonstrated, but the minute I lifted my right arm up high, as if I was about to wrap it around someone’s neck, I hesitated, then lowered my arm and reached up with my left arm instead. “He grabbed her with his left arm,” I continued, talking it out. “And he used his right hand to stab her.”
Souter came up next to me, her mouth slightly agape. “You saw this?” she asked me incredulously. “You’re telling me you witnessed the murder?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m telling you what happened. The attack left an imprint on the ether.”
She squinted at me. “Come again?”
But I was still working my way through it. “His first attempt was a little shaky,” I said. “The knife hit her dead center on the breastbone.” I shivered as that thought really sank home. “She screamed. He was really fast. He tried again and again. It took”—I closed my eyes, slowing down the event in my mind like slowing down the reel of a movie—“four, no, five stabs before the one that killed her. She died instantly from that blow, but I know he kept going.”
I moved back from the steps and caught Souter’s eye. She was staring at me, her expression hard and suspicious. Still, I decided to go ahead with the recounting because the tape of Heath and me at Courtney’s house during the time of the murder was a solid alibi and I was hoping to pull out clues for Souter to chase . . . ones that would lead her away from Heath and me and also maybe even away from Luke.
“Did Decker confess this to you?” Souter asked me.
I shook my head. “I told you in the interrogation, Luke didn’t say a thing to me when he came through the door, and I believe you also saw that for yourself on the tape that Gilley recorded of the events inside the house that night. Still, I know how it looks—Luke was covered in the victim’s blood, but don’t you see? That proves he couldn’t have done it, Detective.”
“What’re you even talking about?” she all but yelled.
I turned to face her and looked her squarely in the eye. “Luke didn’t murder anybody. The fact that he was covered in blood proves it.” I pulled out my phone, prepared to dial, when Souter’s hand landed on my arm.
“Color me curious, Holliday,” she said. “How does that prove he didn’t murder the vic?”
I pointed to the stairs. “See all that blood?” I asked. She nodded. “The murderer grabbed Brook Astor from behind. The blood splatter was away from her attacker. I doubt he got much on him at all. But Luke was covered in it. No, I have an alternative theory, Detective. I think Luke came by shortly after the attack and found the victim bleeding on the stairs. I think his immediate instinct was to try and help her. Hell, I bet he probably tried to revive her, but when he realized she was too far gone, and saw himself covered in her blood from his efforts to try and save her, he must’ve panicked and bolted down the street to his sister’s house, looking for anybody who could help.”
Souter let go of me and crossed her arms like she thought my theory was pretty far-fetched. “Or,” she said, “he could’ve been struggling with her while he was stabbing her, and she turned in his arms and he got the blood on him that way.”
I rolled my eyes and pointed down at our feet. “Then show me the evidence of that, Detective. The stairs are where she bled out. Not the sidewalk.”
“It’s still a pretty flimsy theory, Holliday.”
I shook my head and muttered, “It’s not flimsy, Detective. It’s actually a solid theory that I’m positive Luke’s lawyer will offer the jury, and I’ll bet it’ll be good enough to get at least a few jurors thinking reasonable doubt.” I then focused on my phone, and finding Heath’s name in the contacts list, I pressed the call button and put the phone to my ear. “There’s one other thing you’re forgetting,” I said as Heath’s phone began ringing.
“What’s that?”
“Luke Decker is left-handed.” I knew that for certain because I’d watched him pick up the magnetic spike at the diner and toy with it using his left hand.
Souter’s brow furrowed again. “That doesn’t prove anything,” she snapped.
Heath’s voice mail began playing in my ear.
“Oh, I believe it proves reasonable doubt,” I said softly, turning away from her to walk down the block toward my car. “Hey, sweetie,” I said quickly. “It’s me. Sorry I’m taking a while. The line here is crazy long. I’ll be home in the next twenty minutes or so.”
After leaving the message, I got into my car and reached to start the engine . . . which was when I saw our van roll up alongside me. The window rolled down and Heath’s angry eyes pinned me to the seat.
“Why?” he demanded.
“Had to be done,” I told him, turning the ignition key. “I’ll meet you at home and explain there.”
And then I pulled out as fast as I could get away with.
Chapter 8
Heath took a shortcut and beat me home. He met me at the door of my condo with arms crossed and eyes narrowed. I flashed him a winning smile. It worked about as well as you’d expect. “Why?” he demanded again.
I dropped the smile and sighed. “I couldn’t risk you opening yourself back up to whatever had you on the sidewalk this morning.”
His brow furrowed a little more. “And having you open yourself up to the same thing seemed like a better idea?”
“At the time, yes.”
It was Heath’s turn to sigh.
“She’s been like that since she was little,” Gilley said from somewhere inside my kitchen. “M.J. used to drive her daddy crazy. He could tell you stories for days about her stubborn streak.”
It was my turn to scowl. “Leave me and Daddy out of this, Gil.”
“And it’s not just her daddy,” Gil continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “I think M.J. has a problem with men in general. Ask any of her ex-boyfriends. Ask Steven. He’ll tell you.”
“Gilley!”
“You’re only mad ’cause it’s true,” Gil said as I tried to push past Heath into the kitchen to take a swipe at Gil. Fortunately (for Gil), Heath had a pretty firm grip on my middle. “Easy there, woman,” Heath said while I glared hard at Gil. “Why don’t we all have a seat and talk it out?”
I continued to look meanly at Gilley. “Fine,” I said levelly when he simply stared back like he wasn’t sorry at all for what he’d said.
Heath let me go and I moved toward the barstools on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. Gil made sure to give me a wide berth as I passed him.
Wise.
“I was able to feel the imprint of the murder from last night,” I said after we’d all taken our seats.
Heath’s brow shot up. “Did you connect with Brook?”
“No. I felt the imprint of her emotions and the attack and her murder, but not a direct connection with her spirit.”
Heath’s brow lowered and he frowned. “Damn. I was hoping we could link up with her to see if she could tell us if it was Luke who murdered her.”
“It wasn’t,” I said.
“What?” Gil said. “How do you know?”
I explained what I’d felt on the sidewalk, and also what I’d relayed to Detective Souter. Neither Gil nor Heath looked happy to hear that I’d given my impressions to the detective. “I think we should call Mack and tell him what you said to Souter,” Gilley said.
I stiffened. I knew that was the right move, but I still couldn’t help asking, “Why?”
“Because you just gave details to a detective about a murder you claim you didn’t witness and had nothing to do with. Don’t you think you might’ve put yourself a little more firmly under the suspicion spotlight?”
I bit my lip. “I guess I didn’t think it through before I talked to her. Souter just appeared next to me when I was fishing through the ether.”
“That’s what happens when you try to go it alone,” Heath said. “I’m not there to have your back.”
I let my gaze fall to my lap. I saw his point, but I still wouldn’t have done it differently. I didn’t want to argue about it either. I wanted to talk to Steven and Courtney and let them know that I believed Luke didn’t have anything to do with the murder. Gil, however, had other plans. He started whining about lunch—which I’d failed to pick up—and as Heath didn’t want to leave me alone again, we decided to all go out to eat and discuss our next move.
I called Mack on the way, and he was not happy with me. At. All. By the end of the conversation he had me feeling like I might be lucky to avoid an arrest. “Do not talk to anyone about your impressions of that murder scene!” he yelled at me.
“But I have to tell Steven and Courtney!” I protested.
“No. Hell no, M.J.!”
“Mack,” I tried, “they’ve gotta be going crazy right now, not knowing if Luke might be a killer.”
“No!” Mack snapped. “Listen to me, okay? Luke’s attorney, Caldwell Fischer, isn’t somebody to mess with. That man’s not just a shark; he’s the shark that ate all the other sharks for breakfast. He hates to lose, and with a case like this where there’s plenty of incriminating evidence against his client, he’ll try to use any means possible to discredit the video on Gilley’s computer. And that means he’ll work to discredit you. If you start talking about how the murder went down, he’ll find a way to point the finger at you three. You cannot talk to Dr. Sable or his fiancée about this! Do you understand?”
I ground my teeth together. I hated all this legal crap.
“M.J.?” Mack said. “Tell me you understand.”
“I get it, Mack,” I grumbled. “But it sucks.”
I heard Mack let out a long, relieved breath. “I’ve never had a case that didn’t suck. It comes with the territory.”
Heath parked the car at that point and looked at me expectantly. I got off the line with Mack and waited until we were inside and seated to talk about what Mack had asked us to do. Or, rather, asked us not to do.
“But, M.J., it’s Steven,” Gil said to me after I told him we couldn’t say a word to anybody about my impressions at the murder scene.
“I don’t like it any more than you do, Gil,” I said. “But we’re too vulnerable here. We just can’t talk to him right now.”
As if on cue my phone went off, and looking at the caller ID, I saw that it was Steven. “Speak of the devil,” I heard Heath mutter as he leaned over my shoulder. “You gonna answer?”
I nearly did, but I didn’t trust myself to talk directly to Steven, even to tell him that I couldn’t talk to him. My ex was wily. He’d pick up on my evasiveness in a heartbeat and demand answers. I’d be hard-pressed to put him off. I pushed the call to voice mail, but I knew I couldn’t avoid Dr. Steven Sable forever. So I looked at Heath and Gilley and said, “We have to solve this.”
Gilley cocked his head. “We have to solve what?”
“This case. It’s not just enough to prove that Luke didn’t do it. We’ve got to find the murderer.”
“Isn’t that a job for the police?” he said, his expression a bit alarmed.
“Normally, yes. But as we’re looking pretty suspicious to them right now, and as I’d like to avoid having an innocent man go to jail, or having the three of us roped in as accomplices, I think we need to put some serious effort into helping the police with the investigation.”
Heath and Gilley exchanged a look. The look said that they thought I done just lost my mind. “Em . . . ,” Heath began.
“I’m going to work on it,” I told him flatly. “You’re either with me in this or you’re not.”
“But how would we even do that, M.J.?” Gilley protested. “I mean, we’re not law enforcement. We’re not even private eyes. We have no skills where that’s concerned!”
I crossed my arms stubbornly. “We got plenty of skills, Gil. We investigate ghosts for a living, remember?”
“Yeah, but there’s a difference between investigating dead people and looking for a live, murderous person! A live, murderous person who might like to murder someone like . . . oh, let’s say me next!”
“Gil,” I said, “no one’s going to murder you.”
“You always say that and then it’s ‘Oh, Gilley! Look out! Run for your life! You’re about to be murdered!’”
I sighed wearily. “Honey, if you want out of this investigation, then fine. I understand. But I’m going to pursue it. My ass is on the line and I’m not gonna sit around and wait to be arrested simply because the detective assigned to the case is a skeptic. And if we don’t do something, then this spook will move on to another target and another girl will get killed. I can’t have that on my conscience.”
Heath shifted in his seat as if I’d struck a chord with that argument. “I’m in,” he said after a minute.
Gilley gave him the most disgusted look, and he turned those eyes on me and seemed really mad about something. “You always do this,” he spat.
“I always do what?” I asked.
“Not just you.” Gil wagged his finger at Heath and me. “The two of you. You gang up and go all, ‘Gil, you can stay out of this if you want—it’s totally fine—but we two fools are proceeding with this idiotic plan,’ and then I cave because I worry, and then in no time I’m running for my life, about to be murdered!”
I shook my head and felt a little mirth tug at my lips. “Yes, it’s part of our master diabolical plan, Gil. We’ve been trying to do away with you forever, but somehow you always manage to escape being murdered.”
“Har, har,” he said with a glare. “I’m serious, M.J.”
I feigned surprise. “And I’m not?”
Gilley glared at me and I was willing to wait him out, but Heath had less patience. “You in or you out, buddy?”
“Oh, I’m in,” he groused. “Because I’m always in, aren’t I?”
I gave him a winning smile. “Good. Now let’s talk about how to proceed.”
Heath nodded but covered my hand with his. “Before we talk plan of action, I want to make it clear that whatever we decide to do, we do it together. No one goes off alone and does something stupid without backup.”
I bristled at being told I’d done something stupid, but then I had to admit to myself that Heath had a pretty good point. “Fine. We stick together.”
“I’ll be in the van,” Gil said, just to make it clear that the sticking-together part belonged to Heath and me. “Or in the condo doing research.”
I nodded. “Fine, Gil. Can the three of us talk about strategy now?”
Heath waved a hand for me to proceed. “Where do you want to start?”
�
�With the house Luke was staying in when our spook arrived on scene.”
“You think that’s where the portal is?” Gil asked.
I shrugged. “Don’t know. Which brings me to my next point—I don’t even know the address. Gil. Is there any way you could get that for us without us having to ask Steven or Courtney? I want to try and keep a low profile with them if I can.”
“Child’s play,” Gil said, making a note in his phone.
“Awesome. And we also need a way into the house. If it’s a rental, then we might be able to contact the landlord and tell him we’re interested in renting it—assuming it’s available for rent.”
“I’ll look that up too,” Gil promised.
“Cool. And while you’re at it, maybe you can get something on the landlord. I mean, he has to know what’s happening there, right? He might even have lived there once. Let’s see who he is and what kind of a guy he is.”
“This sounds like a lot of work for me and not a lot of work for you two,” Gil said, wagging that finger at Heath and me again.
“We’ll be plenty busy,” I assured him. “Just get us started by getting us into that rental house. Meanwhile I want to take Heath to Brook’s murder scene again, only this time, I want him to approach it from the opposite direction.”
“Why?” Heath and Gilley said together.
“Because I know what I felt in the ether, but I’m not sure what Heath encountered. I want him to go to the crime scene from last night and see if he senses the same thing he did from further up the street. I have a weak but nagging theory that there could be a connection between Brook Astor’s murder and Amy Montgomery’s, and if I’m right, then this spook may have been responsible for more than just one dead girl.”
The Ghoul Next Door: A Ghost Hunter Mystery Page 14
