With his love.
Passion flared as we kissed, making me forget everything about this horrible day and giving thoughts only of the future.
A future filled with possibilities.
Of marriage.
Of babies.
Of happiness.
The anticipation was almost too much to bear.
His arms anchored me against his chest, and I’d never felt safer than at that moment.
Never felt happier.
“Well now, that’s what I like to see,” Dovie’s voice rang out, along with a yip from Thoreau. “I’ll be quick. Don’t mind me none. Continue on. I need to work on my timing...”
I opened my eyes and found Sean still gazing at me. And in his pearly gray depths I saw his happiness, too.
My heart raced so fast, I was sure he could feel it against his chest.
Thoreau leapt up on us, and we finally pulled apart, the spell broken.
Ebbie’s carrier sat on my coffee table. Her green eyes peered out from behind the mesh. The poor thing had quite the day.
Thoreau dove off the couch and went looking for his favorite playmate—Grendel. The two rolled on the floor together.
Dovie was scraping a Tupperware bowl of chili into a pot. “I’m hurrying,” she said.
“Take your time,” I said, reaching for Ebbie’s carrier. I set it on the floor.
“Are you sure?” Her eyes darted between Sean and me.
I sighed. “Yes.” Though, honestly, I couldn’t wait for her to go so Sean and I could pick up where we’d left off.
He slid to the floor and held his hand out for Ebbie to sniff. Grendel strode over and stared at the newcomer.
Thoreau didn’t seem the least bit bothered by another cat in the house. He gobbled up his kibble and then plunked himself down in his doggy bed next to the fireplace.
Dovie pulled a couple of bowls from a cabinet. “Em said she’d check on you tomorrow morning, and your mother wants me to hire you a nurse.”
My pulse was returning to a normal rhythm. “I don’t need a nurse.”
“That’s what I told Judie,” Dovie said, stirring the chili with a wooden spoon. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of you.”
Maybe a nurse wasn’t a bad idea.
“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s not a bad break. It’s just going to slow me down for a while. And really, since the office is closed for the rest of the week, the timing isn’t all that horrible.”
“The whole office is closed? I thought only your father was going on vacation.”
I explained about the arsonist and elicited a promise that she wouldn’t tell my mother.
Dovie abandoned the chili and sat on the edge of the coffee table. “And that’s why you moved in here?” she asked Sean.
He unzipped the carrier and backed off a bit so Ebbie could venture out on her own. “Oscar evicted me.”
Rubbing her temples, she said, “But you’re staying, right?”
Sean glanced at me. “Yes.”
She smiled. “Good. This is where you belong. What’s happening with the arsonist investigation?”
I looked to Sean for an update. We’d been avoiding the topic all evening. He said, “I spoke with a friend at the department today, and there isn’t much to report. The fires were all started with a simple gasoline cocktail and lit with a match. No witnesses. The police are still investigating how Sam plays a role in it.”
His jaw started sliding side to side again.
“Any useable evidence?” Dovie asked.
Sean nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small evidence bag. “There are others identical to this one.”
Inside the small plastic bag was a single unlit wooden matchstick.
“They let you have that?” Dovie asked.
“As a favor,” Sean said. “This stick has already been processed, so it’s safe to handle, but I have to return it tomorrow. I know Lucy’s been working on reading objects... The hope is that she can see who owned the matchstick.”
They both stared at me.
I held up my hands. “Whoa! I don’t know how the whole object thing works. I can’t control it.”
“Well, LucyD, you can try.”
I thought about Sam and his little girls. Of course I had to try. “Hand it over.”
Sean shook the stick into my palm. I clamped it between both hands and thought about Sam, about the fires, about anything I could relate to the arsonist.
Nothing. Not so much as a flicker.
I shook my head and opened my eyes. “I’ll keep trying.”
“This is all so disturbing,” Dovie said. “But Sam will be safe with Raphael, and let’s hope that the arsonist keeps away from the office.” She patted my knee. “And don’t you worry none about the employees. I’ll make sure they receive paychecks.”
Sometimes I loved my grandmother more than I could say.
Ebbie stuck her nose out of the bag. Her whiskers twitched.
Grendel looked curious.
“What’s with the cat?” Dovie asked. “Raphael would only laugh when I asked him.”
I told Dovie about Jeremy Cross. She laughed, too.
Standing, she said, “I should get back to the house and check on Preston. Chili is ready—it’s just simmering. It’s spicy, but not as spicy as you two.” She wagged a finger at us.
I ignored the spicy comment. “How’s Preston doing?”
Ebbie took a tentative step out of her carrier, her green eyes wide with wonder. Grendel wiggled his butt and pounced, diving on top of her.
I let out a cry, but before Sean could separate them, Grendel had rolled Ebbie over and was licking her face.
I stared. Sean stared. Dovie stared.
Well. That hadn’t been the reaction I predicted.
“He likes her,” Dovie said.
“A lot,” Sean added with a laugh.
I watched as Ebbie playfully tapped Grendel’s head with her paw. She was tolerating the attention well. “That’s a good thing, I suppose.”
“Maybe now,” Dovie said, “Grendel will stop molesting Thoreau.”
“Maybe.” Though I doubted it. Grendel adored Thoreau. I glanced at Dovie. “Preston?” I reminded.
“Tuckered,” she said. “Barely ate anything and went straight to bed. Is everything okay with her and Cutter? Because she has all the markings of a broken heart.”
“I’m not sure.” Was Dovie right? Preston had seemed perfectly fine this morning...
“Well, maybe Em can give her a checkup tomorrow and just make sure everything’s hunky dory.”
I smiled at the old-fashioned term. It sounded like something Preston would say. “Where is Em?”
“Dinner with Aiden.” Dovie winked. “I’m not sure she’ll be back tonight.”
I was glad Em had finally gotten hold of him. It was strange that he hadn’t called me back.
“And you?” I asked. “Where’s Mac?”
She beamed. She’d been dating Mac Gladstone for a couple of months now. He and his dog Rufus spent many nights at my grandmother’s place. Recently, they’d been talking about him moving in.
“Waiting for me at the house.” Dovie gave me a loud kiss and rubbed the top of Sean’s head. “Ta-ta! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she called as she walked out the door, laughing the whole time.
“Your family is crazy,” Sean said with a wide smile. “Lovable, but crazy.”
“I know,” I said, glancing up at the mantel, at the pictures gathered up there, old and new. My gaze lingered on one of Sean and me.
He was going to fit right in.
Chapter Sixteen
I woke with a start, pain throbbing in my foot, disturbing images of pink bears, green trucks, and fires in my head.
Glancing around, I realized I’d fallen asleep on the couch. At some point, Sean had tucked a blanket in around me. Ebbie had curled up at my side. She slept peacefully.
Sean sat in my favorite chair—a club
that rocked and swiveled. He had a notebook in one hand, a pen in the other. “You okay?” he asked.
I struggled to sit up and he came over and helped me. I noticed Grendel and Thoreau snuggled in the dog bed. Grendel hogged most of the space.
“Need some medicine?” Sean asked, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear.
I nodded, wondering when I’d dozed off. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was close to ten-thirty. After Dovie had left, we’d eaten, and I told Sean all about the purse snatcher and Graham’s vision of my driver’s license.
The happiness I’d seen earlier in his eye vanished in a blink.
There was nothing like a potential stalker to kill a mood, and I’d apparently fallen asleep on the couch not long after.
Bending down, I picked up my crutches and slowly stood up. I wobbled a bit on my way into the kitchen.
“I would have brought it to you,” Sean said, handing me a painkiller and a cup of water.
I swallowed the medicine. “I want to get my jammies on and brush my teeth.”
“Need help?”
“I can do it.”
He narrowed his eyes on me, clearly assessing whether I actually could. “Okay. Holler if you need me.”
I crutched my way into the bedroom and peered in at Odysseus. He stopped running on his wheel long enough to evaluate if I came bearing a treat. He must have decided I hadn’t, because he went back to running.
Odysseus, a one-eyed hamster, had been a gift from Marisol, as had Grendel. They’d been classified as misfits by potential adopters at the vet clinic where she volunteered. Unadoptable; so Marisol had brought them to me.
And maybe because I was a misfit myself, we’d bonded right away.
I pulled a tank top and pair of tiny drawstring shorts from my bureau drawer and slipped into them. It took longer navigating the bathroom than I thought possible and I finally emerged to find Ebbie sitting atop my dresser, staring at Odysseus.
“No,” I said to her. “He’s family, not a snack.”
She blinked at me.
I wondered how much she understood and wished Jeremy Cross had filled me in.
“Come on,” I said, scooping her off the dresser and setting her on the floor. She dutifully followed me out of the room.
On my way past the dining room table, a fabulous table that Sean had gotten me for Christmas, I picked up my laptop and tucked it under my arm.
Sean lifted an eyebrow. “It’s okay to ask for help.”
“I know,” I said.
He smiled and went back to staring at his notebook. I fired up my laptop and said, “What are you working on?”
“A suspect list.”
“Oh? Can I see?”
Sean turned the notepad around, revealing only doodles drawn on the page. “If it’s true that the arsonist is from Sam’s childhood, I can’t come up with a single suspect.” He dropped the pad of paper on the coffee table and his head into his hands. “It’s so frustrating.”
I could feel his tension. “Do you know Sam’s history? What was his childhood like?”
“He doesn’t talk much about it.”
I was seeing a trend with that.
“All I know is that it was abusive and the state removed him from his home when he was little; around four or five.”
“Do you know if he has biological siblings?” Could these acts of arson be the ultimate in sibling rivalry?
“If he does, he never said.”
Sean dragged a hand over his face. Ebbie tiptoed over to him and gracefully jumped in his lap. He picked her up and held her against his chest while scratching her ears.
My heart melted just a little bit more.
“Can you remember him having any enemies? How long were you two on the streets together?”
“Six months. And there’s only one kid I can recall. His street name was Johnny Largo.” He shot me a wry look. “He was a big boy. But Sam always managed to outsmart him, and it pissed Johnny off to no end.”
“Do you know his real name?”
Sean shook his head.
“Do you think anyone in that neighborhood would know it? Or maybe his old school?”
“He didn’t go to school, Lucy.”
It was a whole unfamiliar world. My computer whirred quietly, warming up. “Maybe DCF?” The Department of Children and Families. I was grasping at straws, but this was Sam. Sam.
“Those records are sealed to the public. Not that it would matter if they weren’t. All the foster and adoption records made during the eighties went up in smoke in that warehouse fire last month, remember?”
Goose bumps popped up on my arms. “A fire?”
Sean’s eyes darkened. “Jesus,” he whispered. “What are we dealing with?”
***
Sean continued staring at his notepad as if an epiphany would emerge from the college-ruled lines. We both agreed that this case was over our heads, but we were still ready to dive in to the deep end.
The problem was that we were looking for the ghosts. The ghosts of Sam’s past.
It was an impossible task.
But we were going to try.
Tomorrow morning we would get together with Sam and try to uncover more information. For now he was safe with Raphael.
We also planned to take a trip back to the neighborhood where Sean first met Sam on the streets. Maybe there were some old-timers there who would know Johnny Largo’s true identity. Even if all the DCF records were gone, Johnny might still be able to be tracked down.
For kicks, I typed “Johnny Largo” into my web browser. Apparently there was a singer with the same name but wasn’t the right age. Very little else.
I abandoned that search and typed in another name. I had my own ghost to search for.
Jeremy Cross.
There were too many hits to sort through. I narrowed it down to Jeremy Cross + psychic. Unfortunately, there were no relevant hits. I added “Massachusetts” into the search and the browser informed me that it had no matches at all.
I did another search, this one with Jeremy’s name and “farm.” Still nothing.
I stared at my blinking cursor. Who are you, Jeremy?
Glancing over at Ebbie, I frowned. For all intents and purposes, Jeremy Cross did not exist.
“What’s wrong?” Sean asked. “Your foot?”
“No. It’s Jeremy.” I explained what I’d found. Or the lack of what I’d found.
Sean looked ready for a diversion. He turned on his laptop, too, and searched his P.I. databases. “There’s nothing here that would match.”
“So, ‘Jeremy’ is an alias?” I said.
“It’s my guess,” Sean said. “But why?”
I told Sean about the scar on Jeremy’s face and what he’d said about my leg, and how I’d made the leap that he’d had a run-in with a psychopath, too.
He said, “You have the most interesting friends.”
Ebbie was tucked next to him in the tiny space between his leg and the side of the chair. She slept peacefully. I smiled. “I wouldn’t call him a friend.”
“How are you going to find his match?”
“According to Jeremy, Ebbie’s in charge. But I’m getting Cutter involved, too. However, I have to find Jeremy first.”
Sean glanced down at the cat. “Do you believe she’s in charge? That she’s going to lead you to his soul mate?”
There was no mocking in his voice, just curiosity.
Inwardly, I searched for an answer. “Honestly? I don’t know.”
“But?”
“I’m willing to believe it.”
“The Love Conquers All syndrome,” he said with a drawn-out sigh.
Now he was mocking.
I tossed a throw pillow at his head. He often teased me about my belief that love could conquer all. I’d yet to convert him, but I was working on it.
Thoreau snuffled and rolled onto his back. Grendel lifted a sleepy eyelid and nuzzled deeper into the dog’s side. The two adored each other.
Hopefully all three of the pets would continue to get along until I could figure out this Jeremy Cross situation. Why hadn’t Orlinda called me back? Was she trying to teach me something? Was Jeremy part of another psychic lesson plan?
I glanced over at the bassinet by the front door. In it rested Bethany’s pink bear. I thought about what I’d seen in that radiology room. The man. The license plate.
I knew well enough that the plate could have been misleading. Stolen. Bethany might not have even been kidnapped from Maine. I wanted more information.
Frowning at my blinking cursor, I deleted Jeremy’s name from the search box and typed in Bethany + missing + Maine. My finger hovered over the enter button.
I wanted to find out as much as I could about Bethany’s case. Her birth date. Her parents. Did she have siblings? Did anyone witness the abduction? Was the truck ever found? Was there a ransom note? Or any contact from the kidnapper afterward?
But I’d made a promise to Orlinda. To use only my psychic abilities to try and locate Bethany.
And really, the Internet couldn’t answer my biggest question.
Was Bethany alive?
I pushed the delete button and closed my laptop.
Across from me, Sean was still staring with fierce concentration at the pad of paper. I was almost grateful for the arsonist’s distraction. Otherwise, Sean would be worrying about the purse snatcher and Graham’s vision.
I tried to push the thoughts out of my head. I had enough anxiety without dwelling on what may or may not be true. I needed a distraction.
I looked at Sean.
He sensed me staring and met my gaze. Slowly, he set his notepad on the table and dropped his pen. “What’s that look in your eyes, Ms. Valentine?”
“My eyes?” I blinked dramatically. “Dust, maybe.”
One of his dimples popped.
“You know, I was thinking about what you said earlier,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“About how it’s okay for me to ask for help.”
His other dimple popped. “And is there something with which you need help?”
I smiled at his very proper grammar. He had an English minor and sometimes it reared its head. “I believe so.”
He eased out of his chair. “Do you want a drink?”
I shook my head.
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