The Last Time I Saw Her

by Karen Robards

  Of course he caught her with her hand on Michael’s arm. Charlie let her hand drop instantly, but it was too late. Tony’s eyes narrowed on the point of contact and then rose to her face. Ridiculous as it was, Charlie felt a pang of guilt as she met his incredulous gaze.

  For once Michael was oblivious to what was going on with her. “I’m just going to the men’s room. I’ll join you in your office in a few minutes,” Michael said, without even looking at her. His focus was all on Johnson, and his voice was loud enough to be heard by Tony, too. Then he seemed to recall his surroundings, because he looked down at her and murmured for her ears alone, “Hang with Dudley for a few, babe.”

  With Tony’s eyes on her, Charlie couldn’t answer, and she didn’t feel up to even trying to sort out what Michael was planning. She nodded, and as she walked past Tony into her office Michael strode on down the hall. Tony looked after him briefly, but then he followed her inside her office, too.

  By the time Tam was finished doing her thing, they had learned that she saw Torres, Ware, and Doyle together in a green Dodge Ram pickup truck that was old and had engine trouble, thus filling the escapees with anxiety. That they had a small, scared-looking boy and a bigger but equally scared-looking boy bound and gagged and tucked away inside the camper attachment that covered the truck bed, that the teens were injured but alive, although that could change at any moment as a feeling of acute danger enveloped them. Doing her best to project herself into the truck, Tam was able to get a quick glimpse of the four lanes of a section of interstate highway falling away in front of the truck, and a sign it was passing that said Mobile, 52 miles.

  No sooner had Tam finished than Tony was on the phone relaying the information to the FBI or the Alabama State Police or whomever it was he relayed that kind of information to. A sense of excitement was palpable in the room; if Tam’s information proved accurate, which of course Charlie knew it was, and the pickup could be intercepted, two more hostages would be saved, and the remaining escapees would be recaptured. Only Bree would remain, and Charlie said a silent prayer for her. If she wasn’t in the truck with the remaining escapees, and she hadn’t yet been found, all of them knew that chances were slim she would be recovered alive. But no one was prepared to give up hope yet. An object belonging to Bree was being driven to Big Stone Gap for Tam to use in trying to locate her. Until it arrived, Tam was going to go back to Charlie’s house and nap.

  Charlie had made coffee. Having a coffeemaker in her office was surprisingly handy; she couldn’t believe that getting one hadn’t occurred to her before she’d needed one to collect DNA from Hughes. Tam rose from the comfy chair behind Charlie’s desk, sipping slowly at a Styrofoam cup of the brew as she got ready to leave. Lena was on her way out the door, followed by Buzz, neither of whom looked very happy. As far as Charlie was aware, they hadn’t exchanged a word since Lena had slammed out of the Bronco. Charlie was just starting to worry about what had become of Michael when she spotted him outside the door that Lena had just opened. He’d apparently been on his way back to her office and had stopped as the door opened.

  “There’s a big-time confession going down in the room next door,” Michael said to the group at large. “I figure there needs to be some FBI agents there to make it official.”

  Lena, Buzz, and Tony, suspending his phone conversation, looked at him sharply.

  Michael continued, “Officer Johnson apparently feels the need to get something off his chest. Seems like some of the guards conspired to murder prisoners. He started spilling his guts to a couple of Bureau of Prisons investigators, but I thought maybe you folks might want to get in on it while the getting’s good.”

  Tony ended his conversation with a terse “Call me when you hear” and, following Michael’s jerked-thumb gesture, rushed next door with Lena and Buzz.

  Charlie automatically started to follow, but Michael stepped inside her office to block her path.

  “Not you, Doc,” he said, and at the look in his eyes Charlie realized she wasn’t an FBI agent and didn’t really need to hear any confessions at all.

  “I’ll be at your house if you need me,” Tam said dryly as she stepped around them. “I really need some sleep before I try that again.”

  Charlie looked at her and smiled. “Mi casa es su casa. I see a lot of work consulting for the FBI in your future, by the way.”

  “Cherie, the FBI can’t afford me.” That was true—Tam made a great living doing readings for movie stars and other celebrities. But Charlie also knew that Tam would never turn anybody in real need down. Tam and Michael exchanged glances in a kind of silent acknowledgment of each other, and then Tam pulled the door closed behind her and was gone.

  “So you want to explain what’s happening next door?” Charlie asked.

  “In a minute,” Michael said, and kissed her.

  She melted against him instantly, sliding her arms around his neck, kissing him back, luxuriating in the feel of his lips on hers, in the scalding heat of his mouth, in the feel of him, so solid and alive, against her.

  But then she pulled her mouth from his and said, “Spill.”

  He made a face at her. “High Plains Drifter is a movie about a man who’s murdered and comes back in human form to seek revenge on his killers. As soon as I heard Johnson was worried about that, I knew that what I suspected was true and that he was in on it. So I went up to him, and I told him who I really am, and I told him enough details about some things that had happened on the Ridge while I was here to convince him. Then I told him that I was going to drag him to hell with me if he didn’t confess everything he knew.” Michael grinned. “He was about ready to crap his pants. One of the few times I’ve ever really enjoyed being a ghost. He told me everything, and I told him he had to tell the cops. That’s what he’s doing now.”

  “But he’ll tell them about you,” Charlie said in horror. “About you being in Hughes’s body, I mean.”

  “First off, who’s going to believe that? And anyway, I told him if he did he’d go to hell. Today.”

  Charlie looked at him. “I cannot believe that worked.”

  “Babe, most people are afraid of ghosts. Especially walking, talking ghosts who know lots of things they shouldn’t. And they’re really, really afraid of going to hell. Of course it worked.” His face darkened. “I only wish I could pay a visit to Nash”—Nash was the inmate who had murdered him—“while I’m here. But the rest of the prison’s on lockdown, and I doubt they’ll let me through.”

  “I’m sure they won’t.” Charlie’s hold on him tightened. On that terrible day when Michael had bled out in her arms, Nash had taken him unawares; no way could he have killed Michael otherwise. But she still didn’t like the idea of Michael going anywhere near his murderer. Then she had a thought and frowned at him. “Nash stabbed you, not a guard. There were witnesses. Lots.”

  “The guards hired him, apparently. They had a thing going where they got rid of death row inmates that they really didn’t like or that were special pains in the asses. Figured nobody would care and they’d save the state a bundle, so why not? Staged suicides, inmate-on-inmate attacks, accidents, anything they could come up with. Been going on for a while, apparently.”

  “Oh, my God, and no one noticed?”

  “Who’s going to notice? Prison’s a jungle, babe.” He kissed her again, then smiled down into her eyes. “Let’s get out of here. Come spend the rest of the day with me.”

  “What?” The suggestion startled her.

  “We can go for a drive. Grab dinner. Whatever you want. You realize we’ve never been on a date?”

  Charlie’s eyes widened. That was true, and was also mind-boggling and heartbreaking at the same time. He was so outrageously handsome he stole her breath—and she loved him. Her heart beat a little faster every time she looked at him. Her body tingled from his slightest touch. As much as she hated to think about it, the fact was that his time in Hughes’s body was limited. Once he was out of Hughes’s body, Michael would, s
he hoped, still be with her in spirit form, but going for a drive or grabbing dinner with a spirit was not the same thing as doing those things with a living, breathing man. There was nothing she could do to help the missing teens, and—she wanted to be with him.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Yes, you realize we’ve never been on a date?” He was teasing her.

  “Yes, I’d love to go for a drive or to dinner or whatever.”

  He was smiling down into her eyes when a sharp rap on her door was followed by the door, which had obviously not been shut all the way, being pushed open.

  “Char—” Tony was already walking through the door when he saw them. He broke off abruptly and stopped walking at the same time. Charlie realized what he was seeing: she and the supposed Hughes, a man she’d only met two days previously that they all suspected of being a serial killer, their bodies pressed close together, her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her waist, obviously intimate. She winced inwardly. Anger, astonishment, and pain blazed at her out of Tony’s eyes for the briefest of moments, and then his face shut down, became hard and distant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were busy. I have some news for you. I’ll come back.”

  She knew the exact moment when his gaze and Michael’s collided, because Tony’s eyes narrowed and went stony, while Michael’s body tensed. She could feel his hands hardening on her waist.

  “No, Tony, come in, please.” Charlie stepped away from Michael as she spoke. Tony looked at her warily. Michael frowned at her. To Michael she said, “If you’ll give Tony and me a minute, I’ll be right out.”

  Michael didn’t move. His eyebrows went up. “Now?”

  “I don’t think—” Tony began stiffly at the same time, making no move to come farther into the room.

  “Oh, my God,” Charlie snapped, losing her patience. Walking forward, she grabbed Tony by the arm and dragged him into the room. Really, she’d had a trying couple of days. No, make that a trying couple of weeks. Or actually, now that she thought about it, make that a trying couple of months. To Michael she said, “Out. I’ll meet you at my car.”

  Michael hesitated, and she made a shooing motion with her hand. His lips compressed.

  “I’ll be in the hall,” Michael replied, shot a look at Tony, whose arm was rigid under her hand and whose face was so hard it could have broken rock, and walked out the door.

  Following him, Charlie closed the door firmly behind him, then turned to look at Tony, who was standing thin-lipped and remote in the middle of the room. Advancing toward him, she considered her options.

  “Tony—”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. None of my business,” Tony said in a cold, clipped voice. Then he turned around, took a hasty couple of steps toward her desk, turned back to face her, and burst out with, “How the hell is it possible for you to have a thing for that guy? You know what I was coming to tell you? I just heard from the lab, which, since they couldn’t reach you, called me. The DNA’s a match. That guy may very well be the Southern Slasher.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Charlie felt a surge of excitement. “That’s wonderful! I knew it.”

  “What?” Tony looked at her like she was insane. Which, Charlie supposed, she might very well be. Just not in the way he thought.

  “Tony, listen.” She moved toward him, stopping when she was only a few feet away to look at him earnestly. “You asked me to think about whether we can be more than friends. And the answer is we are more than friends. You’re one of the few people in my life that I can turn to when things go wrong, that I can call and you’ll come running, that I can be honest with, and I hope you feel that way about me. That means so much more to me than you know. That makes us important to each other. That makes us family. I don’t know about you, but there aren’t many people in my life like that.”

  Tony gave her a hard look. “You know, if this is designed to let me down easy, don’t bother. I get it.”

  Charlie made an impatient sound. “No, you don’t get it,” she said. “There’s something going on here that you don’t know about. That I trust you enough to tell you the truth about. And for me to trust you that much is a really big deal.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and said, “You’ve got my attention. Go on.”

  Charlie wet her lips. “Remember that guy I told you about, the one who died and I was still getting over, which was why I couldn’t start a relationship with you?”

  “I remember,” he said.

  “When I was in that school bus, I thought I was going to be killed. I would have been killed, except”—she broke off, took a breath, and came out with it—“that guy—the one I love—came back in spirit form, and, since Rick Hughes was unconscious, took over his body to save my life. He’s in Rick Hughes’s body now.”

  No need to tell Tony exactly who that guy was. No need to mention that Hughes’s body was now occupied by the man convicted of being the Southern Slasher, Michael Garland. All that, in her opinion, fell under the heading of TMI: too much information.

  Tony stared at her. He took a faltering step back, bumped into her desk, and sank down on the corner of it. His eyes stayed glued to her face. “You are seriously telling me that you think Hughes—that guy out there—isn’t Hughes? That he’s a damned zombie?”

  Charlie sighed. “Not a zombie. I think the correct term is revenant. According to Tam.”

  He looked even more gobsmacked. “According to Tam? Tam knows about this?”

  “Yes. Tam knows. In fact, you and she are the only people who know. And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it like that.”

  He made a gesture indicating that she could count on that. “You actually believe what you’re saying.”

  “No, I lie to myself on a regular basis just to see if I can tell when I’m doing it.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes, I believe what I’m saying. Because it’s true.”

  “Let me get this straight: You’re saying you’re in a relationship with a dead guy. Who has come back to earth and taken over another man’s body.”

  “Yes.” Charlie gave up on trying to ease him into it. Apparently, easing wasn’t going to be possible. “Although the body is temporary.”

  “He’s in Hughes’s body temporarily? Where the hell is Hughes?”

  “I don’t know. But he’ll be back, probably in another day or so.”

  “He’ll be back.” The fact that Tony was repeating practically everything she told him was a measure of how dumbfounded he was, Charlie knew. She sighed inwardly. Somewhere, somebody had a life that was simple. Too bad it wasn’t her. Tony continued, “So the serial killer suspect is going to return to his body. Then what? Are you still going to hang all over him?”

  Charlie folded her arms over her chest and gave him a look. “You know, considering that I’ve given you ample demonstration of my ability to see and talk to the newly, violently dead, given that Tam has more than proved to you that some psychics are the real deal, given that we’ve both provided you with consistent evidence that there are whole other dimensions out there that most people have no clue exist, you’d think you’d be a little more open to the idea that the dead can and do walk among us and can, on occasion and under extreme provocation, possess a human body. Temporarily.”

  He said, “You’re accusing me of being narrow-minded.”

  “There are only two ways this can go: You either believe I’m crazy or believe I’m telling the truth.”

  They locked eyes. Tony stared at her, then said slowly, “He can break necks. He can throw kitchen knives with enough precision to kill. Those skills aren’t easy to come by, and there’s nothing in Hughes’s background to suggest he should possess them.”

  Charlie lifted her eyebrows at him, waiting.

  “Fuck,” Tony swore, which unlike some people he almost never did, and Charlie knew he’d seen the truth.

  She nodded, then watched him as he continued to process. Finally he shook his head and said, “
You are a hell of an interesting woman, Charlie Stone.”

  That surprised her. That made her smile and remember why she liked him so much. “You are a great guy, Tony Bartoli.”

  “Yeah.” His voice was dry. He slid off her desk, walked over to her, and when he reached her shoved his hands in his pockets without touching her. Looking down at her, he hesitated, then said, “You’re sure Hughes isn’t this super con artist who’s somehow convinced you of this? Because—”

  Charlie shook her head. “No backsliding,” she warned him. “Think broken necks. Thrown knives.”

  “Right.” He grimaced. “So what now?”

  She sighed, outwardly this time, and went for the truth once more. “Now I’m getting ready to go spend the afternoon with a revenant and you are going off to find the remaining hostages and the escapees, preside over the arrest of a bunch of murderous prison guards, and, hopefully, investigate the hell out of the Southern Slasher murders. Oh, and see if you can get Lena and Buzz to make up.”

  That brought a glimmer of humor to his face. “The last thing may be beyond me.”

  “The rest, then.” She smiled at him. “I better go.”

  “Wouldn’t want to keep your revenant waiting.”

  She gave him a look that said Don’t be sarcastic, and he smiled wryly at her. And she was reminded one more time of what a good-looking guy he was, and how perfect for her in just about every way he was. It was, she reflected, a crying shame that her heart didn’t see it the same way.

  “Charlie,” he said. She was on her way to the door, and she looked back over her shoulder at him. “Friends.”

  Shaking her head at him, she corrected, “Family.”

  He looked at her, then nodded. “Family,” he repeated solemnly.

  It felt like they were sealing a pact or something.

  She smiled at him, then opened her door and walked out into the corridor where Michael waited. He was leaning against the wall directly opposite her door, arms folded over his chest, not looking particularly patient. As she came toward him he straightened away from the wall, greeting her with a quizzical look that changed as it moved past her to Tony, who was behind her. She looked around at Tony too to see what exactly about him was prompting Michael’s suddenly coolly watchful expression.