by S. E. Harmon
“That’s something, I guess.”
“A lot of people love you. A lot of people wish you could have come home safe. Me included.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.”
Her brow furrowed as she thought about that. “You talked to Jenna,” she finally said.
“Yeah. I did.”
“You made her cry,” she accused.
“She wasn’t very forthcoming with us.” My brow furrowed. “I don’t know if she was crying because of what I said or just the relief of finally being able to speak her truth.”
“She’s just scared.” Amy sighed. She looked extremely tired of it all. “She always was. Scared of her mother. Scared of what people might think. But she was going to come with me to Pemberton. Just hadn’t found the right time to tell her mother yet.”
“That’s not what she said.”
“I don’t care what she said. She was coming with me.” She scowled at me. “God, do you guys ever get anything right?”
“She told me that you….” I rolled my eyes. “Never mind. Why don’t you tell me the last thing you remember. Any familiar faces?”
“I don’t know,” she said, clearly frustrated. “Just bits and snatches. Pieces of my old life. If I knew who killed me, don’t you think I’d tell you?”
I huffed out a breath. I was still looking for the plus side of talking to ghosts. I guess it was better that way. If hordes of ghosts started coming to me and telling me who killed them, it would probably be awkward to give that info to the police. They’d probably label me the world’s most prolific serial killer and slap me in the gas chamber before I could ask for my phone call.
She stiffened suddenly. “I think you should probably go. She doesn’t like you very much.”
I glanced over at the stands to see what had caught her attention, and found Dinah Greene’s steely gaze trained on me underneath a plastic visor. She didn’t look pleased. I looked back over at Amy. “If you can’t tell me who did this to you, can you at least tell me where you are?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Would it change anything?”
“Change? No,” I said honestly. “We can’t change the past. But I know a lot of people who want to bring you home.”
“I’ve watched you, you know. Wondered if I should talk to you or if I should even bother. Lots of ghosts hang out where you’re staying. Trying to get your attention.”
Danny would be thrilled. Apparently I’d turned his home into a paranormal Holiday Inn. I rubbed the back of my neck. “This is all new to me,” I finally said. “But it’s not a bother. I want to… no, I think I’m supposed to help you. And that’s what I’m going to do if you just give me a chance.”
“I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” she finally muttered. “But if I know, I’ll answer.”
“That’s all I can ask.” I lobbed her an easy one, just to get the ball rolling. “Why don’t you tell me what you remember about the day you died?”
“It was like any other day,” she started slowly. “I went to school that day. I had an Algebra II quiz I did okay on. I brought some of my artwork for the school fair, and I spent some time hanging a few pieces in the cafeteria.” She rubbed her head, her eyes pinched and tight at the corners as though it hurt just trying to recall. “After school I went to get something to eat. And then I think I went to work.”
“Do you remember talking to Jenna?”
She shook her head. “Did I?”
“Almost an hour.”
We glanced back at the soccer game as a cheer went up in the crowd. Her brother was being jumped on by some of his teammates, and it was clear he’d done something to win the game.
When I looked back at Amy, she was smiling. “Way to go, kid.”
The activity on the field seemed to be coming to an end, as people in the stands packed up their various items. The coach, an irritable-looking man with a severe crew cut, blew hard on a whistle and clapped his hands. I didn’t want to be there when Amy’s mother headed for the parking lot. Dinah Greene was about as big a fan of me as I was of her.
“Do you think you might remember more if we retraced your steps?” I asked.
Amy shrugged. She didn’t look all that jazzed by the prospect. I guess I wouldn’t be too enamored of tracing my final steps either. “Maybe. I don’t really know how any of this works.”
“That makes two of us.” I paused and thought of Ethan. “Three of us. But we should try anyway.”
She stared at me for a long moment—long enough to make me nervous. Nervous that she wasn’t buying what I was selling, even though it was the truth. Nervous that she would up and disappear again.
She finally nodded briskly. “Let’s go.”
I PULLED in front of the gas station and coasted into a spot near the air pump. I put the car in park, but left it on so I wouldn’t bake to death in the heat. Amy didn’t seem to be inclined to speak or look around or do anything remotely useful, so I raised an eyebrow. “This is it.”
“Okay.” She plucked at the hem of her shirt with her lithe, pale fingers, but nothing moved.
“It would probably jog your memory if you, you know, looked at the building.”
“There’s just such negative energy here,” she said, her voice a quiet whisper. “I think I’m ready to go.”
“We’ll go in a second. Just tell me if you remember anything.”
“I don’t,” she said shortly.
“Amy.” I sighed. It had to be harder to be a bridge than a ghost—any other conclusion was inconceivable. “This isn’t going to work if you lie to me.”
My words had the desired effect. She stopped fidgeting and sent me a blistering glare. “I’m not lying. I just don’t see how this is helpful.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” I sent her a heated glare of my own. I was going out of my way—not to mention my comfort zone—and getting nothing but grief. “I’m the bridge, remember? Your bridge.”
“This place just has such bad memories.” She stared out the window. “It’s where I saw Jenna last. We fought, and we said… we said some horrible things to one another. And then I drove off.”
I remembered the locket then. Jenna had said she’d given it back, but the broken clasp indicated something far more violent. “You took off her locket, right? Broke the chain?”
“No,” she said, startled. “I didn’t take off her locket.”
Maybe she was ashamed of snatching it like she had. “So she gave it to you?”
“I didn’t take her locket,” she said, irritated with me anew. “I would never do that. Even if we were breaking up, I wanted her to have it.”
I let that alone for the time being. “So you left the gas station, and you went where, exactly?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you go home?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Brock’s house?”
“Maybe.” She rubbed at her forehead again. “I told you it’s hard to remember.”
“What if I took you to Brock’s house? Do you think that would help?”
She let out a sigh that indicated she was just humoring me. “Fine. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
As I drove we made idle conversation. I wanted to ask her more pointed questions—maybe even nail down the necklace issue that was really bothering me by then—but I didn’t want her to disappear for good. So I kept it light. She resisted for a while, but it wasn’t long before she opened up. I wasn’t surprised. As a ghost she didn’t have many choices of people to talk to. So even though I was clearly the ghostly equivalent of broccoli, by the time I turned down Brock’s street, she was chatting about her artwork.
“I had this really great art teacher. Robin.” She smiled, and a faint dimple appeared in her cheek. “She was really awesome. She helped me get in touch with my spiritual plane. I think she’d find this ghost business extremely entertaining.
“Yes, she wo
uld,” I said dryly. “And I know that because she’s my mother.”
“Robin? Robin Christiansen?”
I pointed at myself. “Rain Christiansen.”
She blinked and looked me up and down. Quite unflatteringly in my opinion. “But she’s just so fun and flamboyant and offbeat. And you’re so….”
“Yes?” I gritted my teeth. Still hadn’t found an advantage to being a bridge. I pulled next to the curb in front of Brock’s house.
“You’re so different is all.”
“Glad I can be the exact opposite of fun.”
“That’s not what I meant. You’re solid and levelheaded. You make me feel safe. Like I can confide in you, and you’ll do what you promised you’d do—ah!” Her brow suddenly furrowed, and she winced as though in pain. “I suddenly… don’t feel so well.”
As I watched, her nose started to bleed—small drips of red that looked so real and vibrant, I was almost surprised when they didn’t splash onto the seat. “You’ve got something right here….” I trailed off as the bruises on her face started to appear again, and my stomach suddenly knotted. “Tell me what happened here,” I said grimly.
“It was stupid,” she said and swiped at her nose. “I came here after I broke up with Jenna. I wasn’t even really thinking. I just wanted to make her jealous. And then I couldn’t go through with it. He just got so mad.”
“And then?”
“I hit him with a lamp. It startled him enough that I was able to get free, and I ran. I got out of there and took off. His mother was screaming at him when I left.” She looked at me anxiously. “He’s still in jail, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” I knew I should’ve punched that fucker in the face when I had the chance. I know they say violence begets violence, but sometimes a good ass kicking to someone who really deserves it just begets a good night’s sleep. It wasn’t a Confucius-worthy quote, but it was a philosophy I could certainly get behind.
I took a calming breath. “Where’d you go then?”
“I don’t—”
“And don’t say you don’t know,” I said quickly. Not when we’d come that far. “Just… just go with me on this. Okay? I’ll drive, and you just tell me where it feels right to turn.”
“Okay,” she agreed. She looked even paler and wispier than before. “But I don’t know how long I have.”
I DON’T consider myself much of an outdoorsy guy. Actually, no. My aversion to the great outdoors is a tad stronger than that. I hate bugs, and they hate me right the fuck back. I also hate sweating, dirt, grime, and a new favorite… sawgrass. At least I had the foresight to stop by a fishing-gear shop and pick up some mud waders. It was going to be an interesting addition to my expense sheet.
Amy became progressively quiet and surly the closer we got, and four miles away from our destination, the uncooperative spirit took off completely. I drove the area until I located this spot—something in my suddenly supernatural bones told me there was something there, something I needed to find.
I muttered to myself as I batted more sawgrass out of my way. I looked ridiculous in jeans, a faded FBI T-shirt, and huge green mud waders, but at this point, it was what it was. At least I’d officially answered the question of what was down Canyon Road. Marsh. Wildlife. I slapped my arm. Mosquitos. The last thing I needed to cap off my day was to catch a communicable disease.
Forty minutes into my hike from hell, and I was pouring sweat. Everglades didn’t make for easy walking. Frankly I didn’t know what I was hoping to find out there by myself. I needed a team. CSU. Dogs. Other officers forming a grid. But how was I supposed to request a team without telling them where I’d gotten the lead? And what if you find something?
I’d cross that rickety bridge when I came to it.
I was busy scratching my arm when something crossed my peripheral. Just a glimpse of something through the trees. I squinted and tried to determine what it was. A trick of the light? A piece of litter? Amy?
Until that moment I hadn’t realized quite how alone I was out there. I felt… spooked. Suddenly the loud sounds of wildlife were more comforting than anything else.
I was always looking for that mystical, magical pull, but now that I actually felt it, I wasn’t sure whether to walk toward it or run as far as I could. Something told me to go through the copse of trees. Something strong. I rubbed my chest with a wince. It wasn’t pain exactly, but it wasn’t a feeling I could readily ignore.
I bit my lip. If I left then, I’d never know. Although I did seem to remember some sort of warning about curiosity and a dead feline.
“Stop being an idiot,” I said aloud.
You’re a fucking FBI agent. Get on with it.
In the end it wasn’t really a choice. I walked with no real acknowledgment of north or south, just followed the pull and tried not to recall any mysterious swamp lore as I did so. The muck pulled at my waders, but I kept going and followed that elusive feeling. It got stronger and stronger the deeper I waded.
And then I saw it. I almost wasn’t surprised.
The tail end of the maroon Camry was visible even among the sawgrass.
I slogged over and gave silent thanks that, even after so much time, the vehicle was only submerged up to the wheel wells. We might have a better shot of recovering trace evidence since the car hadn’t been marinating in Everglades juice for five years.
The trunk was warped and a little dented. There was another huge dent on the bumper. I looked at it for a minute and trailed a finger through the indentation. Looked like… another car’s paint? Maybe blue? I wiped off the back of the license plate with my hand. C4S352. Match. I’d found Amy’s car.
I stood there with my hands on my hips and wished I could pop the trunk. But even I wasn’t enough of a rebel to disturb the best piece of evidence the case had seen in five years. I had no choice but to call in CSU and let them do their thing. As for how I was going to explain how I’d found the car?
I checked my phone. No bars. I sighed.
Sometimes it didn’t pay to get out of bed in the morning.
I found my way back to the car after a few wrong turns. Thank God. I didn’t know exactly what happened to people who got lost in the Everglades, but I was sure it wasn’t something I’d enjoy. I had no desire to become a cold case while trying to solve one.
I popped my trunk, pulled out normal shoes, and changed. I smelled like a fucking swamp. My jeans were going straight in the trash, and they were my favorites. As I was shaking out my waders, my phone rang. I answered and tucked it against my shoulder and ear. “What?” I answered irritably.
“We found her purse and laptop. I dropped the laptop off at the tech department, but I thought you might want to see the purse. Jenna’s half of the necklace was in there.”
“Just send me a couple photos,” I said as I stuck one damp foot in my Converse. My kingdom for a pair of sandals. “I’ll take a look at them as soon as I can.”
“Where are you anyway? Susan said you left hours ago.”
“I wasn’t aware I was being watched,” I said with an arched brow. “And who the heck is Susan?”
“The lady who buzzes people in… never mind. Where are you again?”
“Following a lead.”
“You find something on her Facebook?”
I could say I’d gotten a tip from the tips file. My brow furrowed as I tossed the waders in my trunk. Bit of a defining moment, it was. I had my lie all ready to go, and then Ethan’s words drifted through my mind. If he didn’t know who you really are, then he never had the opportunity to like the real you. He was in love with someone who didn’t even exist.
I shook my head wearily. I wasn’t even alone in my own mind anymore. “I have something you need to see.”
Chapter 23
DANNY HAD been awfully quiet for a long time. I glanced at him again and frowned, arms crossed, as he watched a meticulous CSI take photos of the vehicle. I kept my mouth shut. Mostly because I couldn’t imagine anything I could say that
would appease him.
I almost jumped when he spoke, his voice soft enough for only me to hear. “So who put the car here?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“You didn’t ask?”
His irritation gave my own irritation a good kick-start, and I scowled. “It’s not like they have a manual for this kind of thing,” I said. “I’m learning as I go along.”
“Mmhmm.”
There was so much unspoken meaning in that “mmhmm” that I wanted to send it to the FBI for proper analysis. My diagnosis was 30 percent skepticism, 30 percent annoyance, 30 percent “are you crazy?” and 10 percent “am I crazy for even entertaining it?” Yeah. Fuck the FBI analysis. I knew Danny well enough, and that breakdown was probably accurate.
I took a deep breath and tried to be reasonable. “I’m guessing they were going to dump the car even deeper, but the wheels got stuck. Probably didn’t anticipate how wet the ground is here.”
“It’s the Everglades.” Danny arched his eyebrow. I glared at the sexy barbell. “What did they think? Smooth sailing on marsh?”
“I said it was a guess.”
“Mmhmm.”
“And can you stop with all the fucking mmhmms?”
We stood in silence and watched CSU do their thing. We were shoulder to shoulder, but we could’ve been miles apart. I swallowed. Guess I should’ve floated the tipsters lie to Danny after all. He wasn’t handling the truth too well. I could also do without all the looks I was getting from the rest of the team.
The CSI with the blonde braid finally stopped with all the fucking photos, and Danny cleared his throat. “You good?” At her nod he gestured to Gonzalez. “Pop the trunk.”
I held my breath, but when Gonzalez finally crowbarred the trunk open, there was nothing but the usual trunk paraphernalia—empty gas container, a can of Fix-A-Flat, and a spare tire. Disappointment all around.
Strange divots in the trunk lining caught my eye. I leaned in a little, just to make sure the divots weren’t part of the trunk design. They weren’t.
