by S. J. Day
. . . as did the disemboweled body that hung upside down from the rafters there. Richens.
“God!” She barely felt the pain of the recriminating mark. Spinning away, she wanted to gag.
“I tried,” Reed bit out. “You’re too damn stubborn, Eve. You need to—”
Her helpless gaze silenced him midrant. “I-I can’t k-keep doing t-this.”
Reed caught her to him. His scent was stronger now, more virile. Comforting. Alec reached out to her, too, but she pushed him away. He would worry about her, when he needed to be focused on his own safety.
She didn’t understand the connection nor know how long it would last. It didn’t matter. She needed it now and it was there.
“Mon esprit, c’est perdu, perdu . . .” Claire sobbed. “Je ne peut plus rien faire. J’ai perdu toute raison.”
Eve didn’t need to understand French to comprehend that Claire was losing it. The cracking voice and wrenching sobs were heartbreaking. Leaving Reed, Eve crouched beside the fallen Frenchwoman, reaching out a hand out to touch her shoulder.
Claire surged into her arms, rambling incoherent words. “Did you see? Did you see? Who could do such a thing to another person?”
“Not who.” Reed stood over them, his gaze on the doorway. “What.”
Izzie moved closer. Her lipstick had worn off, leaving her looking younger and oddly innocent. “How could this happen? Where was everyone?”
Edwards spoke, his lips white. “Callaghan and I were loading the Suburban in the driveway while Dubois packed up the food in the kitchen. We didn’t hear or see anything.”
“Where is the rest of your class?” Reed asked, surveying their immediate surroundings.
“I’ve no idea. Seiler and Hollis took off—”
“They were with me.”
A length of silence followed Reed’s pronouncement, during which Eve looked at Izzie and caught the narrowing of the blonde’s eyes on her. Then, Edwards cleared his throat and said, “Garza and Hogan are shagging somewhere. It’s all those two know how to do.”
“Where is Gadara?” Ken barked. “We should not be here alone.”
Reed pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and turned it on.
“Can’t you do that popping in and out thing you do?” Eve asked.
“I’m not leaving you here,” he retorted grimly.
Claire looked up, her eyes wild. “We are all going to die out here.”
“Shut up,” Edwards snapped. “The last thing we need is melodrama.”
“We’re not going to die,” Eve soothed, patting her back.
Reed walked a short distance away, his focus on his phone, which beeped a missed call or text message warning.
A growling noise brought Eve’s attention back to Ken. He looked ready to blow a gasket. “What good are guards when they cannae stop us from getting killed?”
“We need to forget packing and clearing,” Eve said. “I don’t think getting out of Dodge is going to solve this problem.”
“Aye, we should hunt.”
“Bloody hell,” Edwards muttered. “You’re both daft.”
“You are crazy!” Claire’s spine straightened. “We should get in the cars and leave this place. Don’t look back. Go to Gadara Tower and leave such things to those who know what they are doing!”
Edwards nodded. “I second that. Run like hell. That’s the ticket.”
“What about the kids across the street?” Eve asked.
“What about them?” Claire shot back. “They are mortal. The Army invited them, they can protect them. Nothing is going to save us other than common sense. God helps those who help themselves.”
Ken moved between the corpse and Claire, who was growing more distraught by the minute. “Killing the miserable bajin would do the same.”
“Who was the last person to see Richens alive?” Izzie asked.
“I just saw him,” Eve answered, “about twenty minutes ago.” Now she would never know what he’d had to say. That made her indescribably sad.
She had scarcely done more than glance at what remained of Richens’s body, but she couldn’t forget the sight of him. Strung up by the ankles and wrists like an upside-down starfish. Gutted. His entrails ripped from the now-gaping body cavity and wrapped around his head. Stuffed into his mouth. Blood overflowed from his nostrils and soaked his hair, but it didn’t drip. Below him, there was no puddle. Where had the blood gone?
How could this have happened right under their noses? Why hadn’t Richens screamed? Did he know his attacker? How else could such an elaborate staging take place on their very doorstep without a sound made?
So many questions and all the immediate answers were terrifying.
“What was he doing?” Edwards asked.
“Sitting on the steps.”
“He was lazy,” Izzie muttered. “He was always looking for someone else to do his work for him.”
Eve shook her head. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
Looking toward Reed, she caught him scowling at his phone. Obviously, he didn’t like whatever messages he’d had waiting for him.
Ken’s head went back and he growled at the sky. “I didnae hear a thing. Nothing. How is that possible?”
The distant sound of the doorbell caused the group to freeze in place.
“Who’s that?” Edwards hissed, looking as if he wanted to bolt.
Eve pushed to her feet. “I’ll go look.”
Ken came forward. “Allow me.”
“Eve?” Linda’s voice floated around to the side yard where they stood. “Is everything all right?”
“Shit.” She looked at Ken. “I’ll stall her. Get him down from there!”
She was running around the corner before she’d finished speaking, nearly crashing into Linda, who was leaning against the side of the house and peering through the sheet-draped window.
“Whoa!” Linda stumbled.
Eve caught her by the forearms and yanked her back upright.
“Where did you come from?” Linda gasped. “One second you weren’t there, the next minute you were bowling me over.”
“Sorry.”
Freddy sat on his haunches beside Linda, his gaze trained at the walkway Eve had just traversed. He whined softly.
“He was barking like mad a little while ago,” Linda said, “and looked ready to eat through the front door, which is really out of character for him. Then, we heard the screaming.”
“Horrendous wallpaper,” Eve improvised. “Some of the fashionistas didn’t take it well.”
You bullshit good, Freddy said. He looked up at her. Whatever it was, it came around our pad first and circled the outside.
If her heart could have stopped, it would have.
I think my barking scared it off. I’m sorry I couldn’t help your friend. I tried to get out.
Eve rubbed behind Freddy’s ears. She would have to question him in depth later. The fact that he’d caught the scent of danger opened another can of worms. A Mark’s senses were animalistic in their acuity. Why hadn’t the Marks sensed the killer coming?
“Wallpaper?” Linda’s dark eyes sparkled behind her black-framed Bulgari glasses. “And here I thought it might be the DVD we lent you.”
Eve smiled. “I should share that with the class. It might cheer them up after lime green and orange paisley.”
“I like orange.” Linda gestured at her tank top. “Can I check out the horror?”
“No!” Eve winced inwardly when Linda’s eyes widened. “They hated it so much, they tossed it in the fire.”
“Really? That’s too bad. And having a fireplace in class? I’m taking the wrong major, I think. Unless Mr. Gadara has a spot for a psychologist.”
“How does a psychologist get into ghost hunting?”
Eve’s acute hearing picked up the sounds of movement from behind her—rope being cut, grunts of exertion, Claire’s muffled gasp followed by more sobbing. The knowledge of what was happening kept Eve on edge. She
pushed Alec and Reed to the far corner of her mind, shutting off the view of Richens that filled Reed’s vision.
“Unfortunately, parapsychology isn’t yet a widely accepted course of study, so I settled for the closest thing.”
“Parapsychology? Wouldn’t that make you a believer?” Eve gestured toward the girls’ side of the duplex. “Come inside.”
Unfortunately, that side lacked the food and refreshments that would have helped break the ice.
Linda fell into step next to her. With a quick side glance, Eve reconfirmed what she’d noted before. Linda’s hair was beautifully, perfectly cut. Her camisole was silk and her leather sandals were Manolos—identical to a pair Eve had at home. The girl was wealthy, but attending a small college in Utah. Eve doubted the production company paid enough to keep her in style, especially considering the lack of a professional camera crew. Had she been born into money? If so, what fueled the desire to hang out in dumps like this with other students far below her social class?
The questions weren’t goaded by curiosity. Eve had to learn what Linda’s hot buttons were and which ones would get the college kids to pack up and go home.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Linda said when they entered the house.
Eve wrinkled her nose. She didn’t know whether it was a trick of the mind or not that she still smelled Reed in the empty space. She looked again for her gun, knowing that its presence would be difficult to explain, but it wasn’t visible from a cursory inspection.
“I can imagine how cute these homes were once upon a time,” she said. “The bones are here—the hardwood floors, the picture windows, even the sea-foam-colored tiles in the bathroom are worth keeping. But neglect has done a number on them, I’m afraid.”
“And the bugs.” Linda shuddered. “These homes should be condemned.”
“I’m really surprised they put you up here instead of in the guest quarters.”
“Billeting for guests is on one of the annexes; they don’t have anything here at McCroskey. And they don’t take pets.”
“Gotcha.” Heading toward the kitchen, Eve crossed her fingers and hoped there wasn’t anything lying around that would incriminate them or arouse suspicions. She was relieved to find only an ice chest in the spot where a refrigerator should be.
“Are you leaving?” Linda asked.
Eve turned and found the brunette looking down at the pile of backpacks and duffels. “Gadara would like to,” she admitted, “but I’m still hoping to talk him out of it. I think we still have a lot to learn here.”
“Well, I hope you stay, and I hope you’ll come with us tonight.”
“Problem is,” Eve said with regret, “if we stay longer, I don’t think you’ll be able to film in Anytown.”
“We’ll just have to work something out,” Linda said determinedly. “We have to leave tomorrow for the Winchester Mystery House. We’ve been granted permission to film some night footage there, but only tomorrow night. Who knows when we’ll be back out this way? And honestly, I know having Mr. Gadara on the show would boost ratings. Television is all about ratings, you know. We’re not getting rich off Ghoul School, but it does fund things we would otherwise have to forgo.”
Moving to the sink, Eve washed her hands using the foaming hand wash she’d put there the previous evening. She ripped a paper towel off the roll by the sink, then faced the cooler. She approached it cautiously, unable to stop imaginings of decapitated body parts inside.
“You look like you’re expecting something to pop out of there,” Linda teased.
Freddy padded over. I’m ready. No worries.
Eve winked at him. “This cooler wasn’t here earlier. Who knows if the cheese is moving or the bologna has gone bad.”
I’ll take them.
“Is bologna ever good?” Linda queried with an exaggerated shudder.
I think it’s delicious.
“I like it fried.” Eve pushed the lid open the rest of the way and peered inside. A variety of beverages, both canned and bottled, were nestled in a soup of melted and semimelted ice. So was a small bag of Styrofoam bowls. Leftovers from the long road trip the day before. “There’s soda and water. Are you thirsty?”
“Water would be great.”
Ditto.
Grabbing three bottles and the bag of bowls, Eve knocked the lid back down with her elbow and handed a water to Linda. Then, she filled a bowl and set it down on the floor for Freddy.
“So, when will you know if you’re staying?” Linda asked.
“We’re waiting for Gadara to get back from a meeting with the post commander.”
There was a pause as they all drank, then Linda said, “Honestly, this place gives me the creeps.”
“You hide it well.”
Isn’t she a gem? The others freak out, but not Linda. She’s always got it together.
“I’m left-brained,” Linda explained. “My imagination is dull and boring, so I don’t think about zombies chasing me or mass murderers leaping out of dark corners. I don’t believe locations can be haunted by those who once occupied them. People once lived here, and now they don’t. It’s just that simple. That’s why the vibe from this place really bothers me.”
“You say that,” Eve smiled to soften the sting of her words, “but if you didn’t believe at all, why would you dedicate so much time to researching the validity of other people’s claims?”
“I don’t believe, but people close to me do.”
“So you want to prove them wrong?”
“I want to help.”
“I’m intrigued.” And hopeful that there was an exploitable hot button in the story somewhere.
Linda set her half-full bottle on the counter. “Do you have any siblings?”
“A sister.”
“Are you close?”
Eve nodded. “She’s younger, but she married before me and has two beautiful children. She lives out of state, so I don’t see her as much as I’d like to, but we talk often and she sends lots of pictures.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“And you?”
“Only child. But I had a best friend who was like a sister to me. We were inseparable until after high school. I was all set to go to college; Tiffany joined the Army.”
“Brave girl.”
“Practical. Her parents died when she was young and joining the military was the only way she was going to get college money.” Linda sighed. “When word came back that she was killed in action, I was devastated. My grades suffered. I dropped out of school. My boyfriend and I broke up. Everything fell apart.”
“I’m sorry.”
Linda accepted the condolences with a grim nod. “Have you lost someone close to you, Eve?”
“I recently lost my neighbor, who was also a dear friend.”
“Then, perhaps you can understand how difficult it was to learn that Tiffany wasn’t dead at all.”
Eve frowned. “You lost me.”
“It was all a great big cover-up, including a letter from the Department of Defense and a military-provided funeral service.” Her voice hardened. “I should have known something was wrong when they couldn’t produce a body.”
“Why would the government fake her death?”
Freddy moved from his spot by the cooler to sit at Linda’s feet. She stroked the top of his head with a distracted rhythm. “I don’t know for sure why they did it, but my guess is that she was exposed to some whacky chemicals out in the desert. Something that really messed with her head and they didn’t want us to find out about it because of the scandal that would ensue.”
“But you figured it out?” Eve suddenly had an inkling of what she must sound like to Reed when she went off about Gadara being shady.
Linda nodded. “My parents took me to Europe in the Spring, hoping the change of location would help my grief. We weren’t there a week before I spotted Tiffany at a bakery in Münster, Germany. I called out her name, but when she caught sight of me, she ran. I’ve ne
ver seen anyone move that fast until you. Today.”
Eve shifted her gaze away to avoid revealing her dawning unease.
“Fact was, Tiff wanted us to believe she was dead. Whether she was protecting her grandmother and me, or the government, or all of us . . . I have no clue. It took me a week to track her down after that incident in the bakery. I looked for her everywhere, haunting the neighborhood until I finally spotted her again. She didn’t run that time. She knew I wouldn’t let it go. I’m too stubborn.”
“What was her explanation?”
“She swore she had been chosen by God to save mortals, like Joan-of-fucking-Arc or something. She said there were demons among us, hunting us, and it was her mission to kill them.”
Eve reached out to the counter to steady herself. “Yikes.”
“That’s an understatement,” Linda muttered. “She was completely delusional, pointing at normal people and saying they were evil, that she could smell their souls rotting. She saw marks and tattoos on her skin that weren’t there. She said I couldn’t see them because I’m not one of the chosen.”
“Lucky you,” Eve said sincerely.
Someone has to fight the good fight.
Eve wrinkled her nose at Freddy.
Just sayin’.
“Tiff could tell I didn’t buy a word she was saying. I begged her to come home with me. I told her how much her grandmother missed her. How much I missed her. I promised to help her get back on her feet. But she wouldn’t budge. She said it was better if she was dead to us, because the demons would hurt us if they thought they could get to her that way. She said the only thing I could do was believe. ‘When you believe,’ she said, ‘then I’ll come to you for help.’ ”
“Wow.”
“No kidding.” Linda straightened. “I never saw her again after that. We stayed in Germany another two weeks, but she didn’t contact me at the hotel, even though I gave her the information. I came back to the States and hired a private investigator to find her, but he never did. Sometimes I wonder if I dreamed up the whole conversation in some sort of grief-induced delirium. Then I remember that I have no imagination. I couldn’t make that stuff up. So I’ve been trying ever since to believe her, or at least give the impression that I believe her. I have a blog detailing our investigations, hoping she’ll find it and realize I am trying. I figure the show is another way to reach Tiff, too.”
