by TM Simmons
Chapter 34
Mr. Quick was at the gate when I pulled up. I used the electronic opener and drove on in, the cop eyeballing the damage to the car. He strolled toward us, and I rolled the window down a gap. “We just ran to the store.”
“You slide in a ditch?" He flicked his head at the hood. “Smells like swamp water. You okay?" I let him draw his own conclusions, erroneous as they were, and just nodded. “Miss Sue Ann an’ Gabe went on home. Said to let you know.”
I drove on. Two of Katy’s guards were patrolling nearby. Probably the others were scattered. I opened the garage door and eased the Mercedes into its slot. It had the same type timer as my Jeep, and after I shut the door and killed the engine, the lights remained glowing. We sat there in silence. Finally, the headlights went out and the darkness closed in.
“Shit,” I muttered. “There must be a button on the opener to turn on the garage lights." I picked the opener back up, but it was useless to try to examine it in the dark. Fumbling at the dash to try to turn on the car’s interior lights, I got the wipers first, then the air conditioner.
“Just open the car door or turn the key on,” Twila said reasonably.
Disgusted for not thinking of that — half of me understanding why my brain was rattled — I opened the driver’s door. There, just as I thought, a button on the opener for lights. But I didn’t need to push it. The lights came on, framing Jack in the doorway connecting the garage to the manor house. He slouched against the jamb, gaze fixed on me, face deadly stone.
“Oops,” Twila said with an uneasy giggle.
“Shit,” I whispered, which was becoming my favorite word. “Now what?”
“Mebbe he just came by for a cuppa coffee,” Granny said. “We’ll tell him we’re outta coffee and he’ll have to come back in the mornin’.”
If we’d just gotten casually on out, perhaps we could have pulled that off. However, each second that ticked by with us just sitting there likely expounded Jack’s suspicions and heightened our guilt. Whatever caper he thought that guilt pointed to. He couldn’t know about our trunk cargo. Could he?
“Make a run for it,” Granny ordered. “Open the garage door again and hightail it!”
That idea had strong appeal, but what stopped me was that Jack would no doubt be right on our bumper in a matter of minutes. The bumper behind the trunk. The trunk with —
“I’m not up to Dukes of Hazard tonight,” Twila said. “Let’s just get out and tell him we’re going to bed. We’ll wait until he leaves.”
Suiting action to words, she opened her door, and Granny followed. I swallowed and picked up Miss Molly, setting her out to run whatever interference she could. Jack had always liked the cat. Trucker bounded out, and the two of them wandered straight to Jack. Who ignored them both, other than moving aside so they could enter the manor house.
I had sense enough to take the keys with me as I slid out. Without those, Jack couldn’t get in the trunk. I followed Granny and Twila, echoing their cool greeting to Jack. He stepped into the garage and let them pass, but barred the door to me with his arm.
“Heard you run outta cat litter,” he said. “Miss Molly’s box looks full to me.”
“She’s particular,” I said adamantly. “I have to keep it extremely clean, or she’ll leave her droppings outside the box." That, at least, wasn’t a lie.
Before I realized what he was up to, Jack snatched the keys from my fingers. “I’ll get the litter out of the trunk.”
“No!” all three of us screamed, Granny and Twila filling the doorway, faces drawn with apprehension. That alone had to have told Jack what we’d been up to, but I struggled to grab the keys back anyway. He held them over his head, that stone expression on his face set as flint-hard brown eyes flicked over each one of us.
“Look, Jack,” I said as calmly as I could manage considering the jitters in my belly and the overloaded upheaval of my mind. “We’re going to bed. I just wanted the litter here in the morning to change the box. I’ll get it tomorrow, when I need it.”
“You never was that good of a liar, Chère." Jingling the keys, he strolled toward the Mercedes’s trunk.
I rushed past him and flattened myself across the trunk, arms spread and buttocks nestled against the lock. “Do you have a search warrant?" Hell, it was the only thing I could think of, although I realized the moment it left my mouth it was definitely the wrong thing.
“Have it your way." Jack handed me the keys, and I breathed a sigh of relief — too soon. He ambled around to the passenger door, opened it, reached in, and flicked open the glove box. Pushed the trunk release button. Behind me, the trunk lid clicked.
Hell, I could have shoved it closed again. Should have. But I didn’t even think. I scrambled away like the trunk had burned my ass and raced to my cohorts. Stubbed my toe on the doorstep and tumbled straight into Twila’s arms with an “oomph” that echoed hers. We staggered, but caught ourselves and whirled behind Granny. Jack leaned on the car roof, staring at us quietly. “What do you suppose I’m gonna find in that trunk?”
The trunk lid hadn’t opened completely, although a gap showed between it and the fender. It creaked open another inch, and Jack walked along the car. But instead of going all the way around, he stuck his hand in the gap. Slowly, he eased it upward. And jerked his hand free a bare instant before the trunk lid slammed closed with a resounding thump!
Face darkening with thunder, Jack glared around the garage. “All right, you damn ghost! Where are you?”
Sir Gary obediently materialized behind the trunk. He and Jack locked eyes, and Sir Gary serenely lifted his hand, index finger and thumb extended, and blew on it as though clearing away gun smoke. Then he pointed his finger gun at Jack and said quietly, “Bang.”
Jack didn’t flinch, but all three of us did. Shouldered together there in the doorway, I felt each of us shudder. Jack and Sir Gary weren’t more than two feet apart, both of them over six feet of confrontational male. Women are supposedly the peacemakers of the two sexes, but none of us made a move to step between that battle of wills.
Sir Gary leaned negligently on the trunk lid. “Look, we can play...what do you modern mortals call it? Mexican standoff?" Jack nodded his head an inch in response, jaw set grimly, and Sir Gary continued, “We can play that, or you can get it through that set mind of yours that there is something larger than you’re used to dealing with here. You know, in another life, I believe the two of us could have been friends.”
Jack relaxed a tad. “Depends on which side of the law we each lived on in that life.”
Sir Gary chuckled. “I have seen much progress over the past centuries in your laws, but there have been mistakes made, also. I wandered through those years alone, confused, and misunderstood when I did try to end my misery by making a mortal aware of my predicament and asking for assistance in something I didn’t quite understand myself. Not to say that I didn’t probably compound my troubles at times, when I antagonized some of the people I met. I do admit that I have somewhat less patience with people who cannot comprehend my existence than perhaps I should have. But I doubt very much that I would have been tolerant myself, had I crossed paths with a soul of my status during my lifetime.”
Jack relented a little more and slouched against the fender. “Well, I didn’t believe in ghosts, still have trouble acceptin’ this. But either I’ve gone totally crazy, or we’re really standin’ here havin’ this discussion.”
The two men actually grinned at each other, and we women relaxed in the doorway. Still, none of us spoke a word, aware of the charged atmosphere.
“Katy’s uncle believed in me, saw me clearly,” Sir Gary went on. “But he considered me dangerous, I presume. I guess I went about seeking his help the wrong way. The night I lost my patience and tried to force his assistance, we rather had it out. I’m not sure who lost that battle. He left, but I was alone again. Until Katy moved in.”
“Just what sort of battle was it?” Jack asked. He looked truly inte
rested.
“Oh, chains and moans, shouts and threats on my part. I learned my lesson, because I did quite a bit of thinking about my errors after he left. Then I met Katy. And although I have enjoyed my...existence more with the understanding I’ve experienced from her and my latest acquaintances . . ." He glanced at us in the doorway, then back to Jack. “. . . I’m tired and I wish to travel on.”
Jack nodded. “I don’t believe I’d enjoy wanderin’ through time. I don’t like even thinkin’ about it. But the point is, I have a job to do, and I can’t allow tamperin’ with evidence in a crime investigation. That’s enough to get my ass fired, prevent me from ever workin’ in law enforcement again.”
Sir Gary considered that, then said, “But...think of what you are foisting onto Esprit d’Chene if you do not allow these ladies to complete their ceremony. Another disgruntled spirit here, another soul lost in time.”
“Where’s this soul at the moment?” Jack asked.
“I have told him of the quest to return his head to him and complete his soul. I have his agreement not to cause any trouble for the moment, since he appears as anxious as I am to end this half-existence we share. But I cannot be responsible for what he will do, should I not honor my assurance.”
Jack deigned to glance at us. “And after you complete this...this...?”
“We’ll do a ceremony,” I answered quietly rather than in a confrontational manner, hoping to maintain Jack’s calmer attitude. “And we should have a few moments to talk to him before he crosses over. Ask him who killed him.”
I could see the battle going on inside Jack’s mind. His eyes darkened, his shoulders stiffened. He glanced at the trunk. “So I’m right about the head bein’ in there.”
He didn’t phrase it as a question, but Twila answered him anyway. “It’s necessary.”
“How did you manage to steal it?”
Granny ruffled up like a banty hen, and then before I could stop her, said, “That’s where I come in. But I ain’t tellin’ you how I did it without my lawyer present.”
Granny’s spunky retort thawed the atmosphere, and Jack actually laughed. Shaking his head, he looked at Sir Gary. “Where’s Bucky waitin’?”
“In the maze. With all the bobbies around, I couldn’t think of any other place where there would be the privacy Alice and Twila will need.”
“Why not in the house? I can order the men — ”
“No,” Twila interrupted. “The maze is exactly right. Rituals like we need to do have been performed outdoors for centuries. We’ll have the help of the Universe forces available much better outdoors.”
“Didn’t realize this ghosthuntin’ business included Druid beliefs.”
“The rituals are combinations of all sorts of beliefs,” Twila explained. “Druid, Wiccan, even portions of Christian religious doctrines." She shrugged. “Lore even indicates that portions of the Easter celebration, as well as other Christian holidays, descend from centuries-old Druid rituals. We do whatever we feel will work.”
“But first y’all have to get into the maze without the guards stoppin’ you,” Jack said, and I realized that he’d finally accepted the necessity of the ritual.
“That should be fairly easy,” Sir Gary told Jack. “After all, you are in charge. They’ll follow your directives, should you order them to forgo their duties in one area and direct their attention elsewhere.”
“Yeah,” Jack said with a nod. “Well, let’s get on with it.”
My relief evaporated like steam on a sidewalk on a hot July day in Texas the instant I realized what we had to do next. Twila, Granny, and I stared as one at the trunk.
“Uh...we’ll meet you in the maze,” I said. “You two can...bring...the rest of Bucky.”
“Y’all can’t go to the maze until I rearrange the guards,” Jack said. “I’ll do that, and you can bring . . ." He glanced at the trunk with an evil grin that I wanted to slap off his face. “. . . bring everything you need with you.”
He sauntered around the Mercedes. I swear I saw him and Sir Gary exchange winks, but it was such a quick motion I could have been mistaken — until I saw the lingering dimple in Sir Gary’s cheek. Jack strolled to the doorway, paused, and then moved onto the step. The three of us backed out of his way and let him in.
The doorway led into the kitchen, and Jack nonchalantly picked up an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table, tossed it in the air, then took a huge bite on his way into the Garden Room. The crunch mingled with the sound of chuckles from Sir Gary.
“I need to get my satchel." Twila took off across the kitchen.
“I’ll he’p you." Granny thump-limped after her, leaving me alone, the demand for them to get their asses back there caught somewhere below the lump of panic in my throat.
I grabbed the door jamb and gazed pleadingly at Sir Gary. “Are you going to leave me alone, too?”
“I seem to recall from our first meeting that you are quite an independent lady,” he mused. “You don’t seem to need much assistance from others." I gulped, but relaxed when he continued, “But without you, I would not be feeling that perhaps my long journey can finally end. You brought me assistance, even though you did it somewhat against your will." He bowed in my direction. “I am at your service, Miss Alice.”
I didn’t have to give him any orders. He wiggled his finger at the trunk, and the tumblers clicked. It slowly slid open, and Sir Gary murmured, “Well, my friend” — not to me, to the trunk interior — “seems it is time for you to become joined again.”
“Is he...it...uh...there’s a cooler in there,” I stuttered.
Sir Gary wiggled his finger again, and things moved around in the trunk. He bent down. It appeared that he didn’t use his powers. Instead, he seemed to gently cup the head in his hands and place it inside the cooler. A second later, he straightened and levitated the cooler onto the floor. The lid was secured, the red plastic handle upright, ready for someone to pick it up.
“I shall leave the trunk up,” he told me. “It needs to dry.”
The cooler floated off the floor, across the garage, toward me, Sir Gary strolling behind it with his finger poised. I swallowed my distaste and grasped the handle when it floated within reach. Then turned back into the kitchen to see Twila and Granny waiting for me, Twila with her satchel of protection, Trucker and Miss Molly at her feet. Sir Gary joined us, and we walked into the Garden Room to examine the Rose Garden through the windows. Jack stood alone, and he motioned us outside. One by one, we filed out the door.
The night remained clear, a three-quarter moon low in the east, stars shimmering in a cloudless sky. The Milky Way brushed its path across the darkness. I had no idea what time it was, but it had to be getting close to sunrise. Yet the silver-gray that precedes dawn hadn’t yet intruded on the night.
Twila set her satchel down and spread it open. “We need to remove our protection.”
“Why?” Granny asked.
“It’s necessary,” Twila told her. “It can’t interfere with whatever happens.”
I handed over my necklace and bracelets, and Granny reluctantly dropped hers in the satchel. When Twila looked at Jack, he shook his head. “Left all that junk in the patrol car.”
We made our way to the center of the maze on the oyster-shell-covered path, our footsteps the only sound. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted plaintively, and the faint bark of either a dog or coyote answered. We walked slowly, both in deference to Granny’s gait and respect for the coming ritual. And to honor the contents of the cooler.
I used the time to prepare myself mentally, as I supposed Twila did. We’d never done anything remotely similar to what we planned. Many times we’d assisted lost souls cross through the light, one of the most satisfying feelings I've ever experienced. However, those souls were...complete souls, eager to end their confusion and lonely existence. First we had to complete this soul, and although I had no idea what that would entail, I trusted Twila implicitly.
As Sir Gary said,
Bucky waited for us in the middle of the maze. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he glanced up with his doll head, eyes wide in anticipation. Sir Gary glided over beside him. “I kept my word.”
“Yep." The doll mouth spread into a grin. “And I sees you brought plenty of help." But then he swiveled his head toward Jack. “Didn’t know you was gonna bring a cop, though.”
I tried to discern whether Jack could see Bucky. Since his gaze was zeroed on the spot where Bucky sat, I thought maybe he did. But he could have been looking at Sir Gary.
“Can you see him?” I asked quietly.
“Just Sir Gary,” he answered. “Bucky’s over there with him?”
“Yes." I handed the cooler to Twila and read the command in her eyes when she bent her head in Jack’s direction. I pulled him back toward the path we had just walked up. “Listen, Jack, whether or not you can see him, you need to know that it’s extremely important not to have any negative thoughts interfering with our ritual. We can probably accomplish it anyway, but it’ll take longer and be more complicated if we have to overcome even one person’s disbelief.”
He heaved a sigh and nodded agreement. That’s when Tildy stormed up the path behind us. Before I could react, she caught Jack by surprise and shoved him between the shoulders. Raised the pistol in her hand and screamed at Bucky, “I thought you was dead!”
The pistol fired with a flash of light and a roar so close to my ear that it deafened me.
