Corpse Whisperer Sworn

by H. R. Boldwood

“My ribs aren’t broken.”

  “Not yet.”

  Boudreaux shot me the stink eye and escorted Bailey toward the treatment area. “Thanks for the recap, Doc. We’ll take it from here.”

  Dr. Bailey disappeared through the hydraulic double doors. Dickhead glared at me and left the ER without another word, while the seemingly unruffled Boudreaux gave Ferris and me our marching orders. “It’s been a long night. Go back to the hotel, take a shower, get some breakfast and some sleep. Debriefing in my office, four p.m.” He walked out the door and called over his shoulder, “Been there, done that, Nighthawk. You’ll be more comfortable sleeping in a recliner.”

  Rico and Jade were still waiting for their in-patient rooms, so we stopped to check in on them. Jade, sleeping, fluttered her eyes at sound of our voices. She smiled, flashed us a weak thumbs up, and drifted back off.

  When I slipped around Rico’s curtain, his eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. If he saw me, he didn’t bother to blink.

  Ferris walked to Rico’s bedside and stared down at him. “Feel better, dude. We’re heading back to the hotel.”

  Rico turned away and closed his eyes.

  “Okay, later, man,” Ferris said. He clapped Rico’s shoulder, turned and left, to wait in the hall. Not me. I’d had enough of Rico and the stick shoved up his ass.

  “You know, we almost died saving your butt, and Jade’s too. The least you could do is nod.”

  He lay there like a dead mackerel.

  Jerk. What had I ever seen in him? I snorted and turned on my heel.

  “What did you mean?” he muttered.

  “When?”

  “You said the stuff you gave Jade wasn’t exactly a cure.”

  “It’s not. But it’s the next best thing.”

  He pursed his lips and turned away. I was losing him again, but I didn’t give up. “It stalls the virus. You know, keeps it from activating.”

  “Stalls it. So, she’ll turn into biter in a couple of months, like Leo did.”

  “No, no,” I said, sitting on the edge of his bed. “As long as she takes a monthly dose of the medicine, the virus won’t take hold. She’ll be fine.”

  Rico looked in my eyes for the first time since we’d left the mansion. “This medicine of Mama’s, how’s Jade going to get it back in Cincinnati?”

  “Mama’s making some extra doses, and she’s going to teach me how to make it before I leave town. Jade will always have her medicine. I promise.”

  “Why would you do that—take on that responsibility? You don’t even like Jade.”

  “Not one bit. But I like you. You’re my partner. And she’s important to you, so—”

  “Wait a minute.” Rico’s eyes widened. “You’ll actually have the power of life and death over Jade?”

  “Yeah. I guess I will.”

  “Damn, that’s gonna chap her ass.”

  “I know,” I said, unable to check my grin. “Ain’t it great?”

  As Ferris drove us back to the Marriott, all I could think about was crawling into bed. My eyes were heavy and my ribs ached. A pain pill would be nice.

  I relaxed against the seat, closed my eyes, and thought of Nonnie. The sun was up and she would be too. I reached for my phone. If I called her now, I wouldn’t have to put off sleep once I reached the hotel.

  Nonnie answered on the second ring. Kulu cawed in the background like a pissed-off pterodactyl, with Headbutt howling harmony. I jerked the phone away from my ear and yelled, “What’s going on, Nonnie?”

  Ferris side-eyed me in silence.

  “They fighting over dog biscuits again.”

  “Sorry. I’ll buy Kulu some food when I get back. A day or two, tops.” I meant to get seed before I left, but didn’t have the money.

  “Miss Allie, this paper from county about back taxes. What you going to do?”

  “I’ll check with my tax guy as soon as I get home.” Humongous lie. I have no tax guy, or guys of any other kind. Guys require money.

  “Why you not tell me you have tax guy?”

  “Because I really don’t. I told you before, I’ll figure it out, and I will, soon.”

  “They throw you in prison.”

  “No, they won’t throw me in prison.”

  Ferris side-eyed me again. Freaking Nosy McNose.

  “No worry,” Nonnie purred. “I have lawyer guy. Help me register American Corpse Management Executives in Ohio. We incorporated, Miss Allie!”

  Oy. Even Nonnie had a guy. “You know how I feel about opening a company. Anything else before I go?”

  “Headbutt still peeing on Winstel’s wisteria through fence.”

  I cursed under my breath and scratched my fingers across the phone.

  “Interf…gotta…home…love…all.” I hit end call, chafing at the sound of Ferris’s laughter.

  “Did I hear something about tax problems? And prison?”

  What the hell. The cat was out of the bag. I shared my tax problem, brushing over the part that made me sound like a dolt, but Ferris picked up on it anyway.

  “Three years? Jesus, Allie.”

  “No lecturing. Solutions only, or I’ll break your face. You know I can.”

  “Obviously, you need money. What’s this company Nonnie wants to open?”

  I told him Nonnie’s hairbrained idea about a fee-for-service zombie business model.

  Ferris was no stranger to my rules. He knew how I felt about indiscriminately raising the dead for profit, but he wasn’t above torturing me. “What would you call your company?”

  I gave him a stony stare.

  “How about You Raise Me Up? It’s catchy and familiar. It’s got—”

  “Too late. Nonnie already named it: American Corpse Management Executives.”

  Ferris paused and snickered when it sank in. “No shit. ACME? Like in the Road Runner?”

  “That’s what I said.” We were almost back to the Marriott when I noticed a 24-Hour Walgreens on our left. “Hey, pull in here. I need my prescriptions filled, and gauze and stuff.”

  Ferris parked the SUV along the curb and leaned his head back on the headrest.

  I laid my phone on the console and swiveled out of my seat with a wince. “Need anything?”

  “Nope.” He paused, holding me in his unreadable blue eyes, as if he had something more to say. “Here,” he finally blurted, whisking out his FBI-issued credit card. “Pharmacies don’t take dog biscuits.”

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling my face flush. “I’ll pay you back.”

  “No, you won’t. I love you, Allie girl. Remember that.”

  I winked and brushed my finger across his, as I took the card from his hand. “Me too.”

  Walking into the pharmacy, I chided myself for not being able to say those three small words. But the pragmatic brain bitch wondered what Ferris could ever do to make me forget that he loved me.

  Medical supplies in hand, I climbed back into the SUV with the speed of a snail and prayed for the sweet relief of death. Pain-pill thirty was a distant memory. I nudged a napping Ferris, jolting him awake.

  Five minutes later, we arrived at the Marriott and I climbed out of the SUV even slower than I’d climbed in. After sharing an elevator, and a gentle kiss goodnight, I waved my room key over the card reader, rejoiced at the sight of the blinking green light, and opened the door.

  Babs whisked across the room and gently wrapped her arms around me, mindful of my ribs. Apparently, Boudreaux had filled her in. I’d have been good with a fist bump; but her hug was nice in a warm, fuzzy, you’re-breathing-my-air kind of way.

  “Welcome back, Allie. You had us worried.”

  “Thanks,” I said, easing myself into the desk chair. “There was a lot of that going around.” I frowned at my boots, wondering how I would ever get them off. Spying my dilemma, Babs came over, knelt down, and slid them off for me.

  “Where’s Vinny?” I asked, alarmed and picturing him passed out in an alley off Bourbon Street with a horde fighting over
his body parts.

  “Across the hall, reading Fingerprinting 101: Ridges and Whorls. He knew I was anxious to see you, so he promised to stay put and be on his best behavior.” Bab’s tone grew soft and empathic. “I…I was so, so sorry to hear about Agent Fairchild.”

  Her words landed like a punch to the gut. No doubt, she grieved for Fairchild, but I suspected her real intent was to draw me out—to get me to open up about my feelings.

  What was the point? Fairchild was dead and wasn’t coming back. I’d have done anything to save him but fate makes the rules. I just carry on, winning sometimes, losing others, always the good little corpse whisperer who never asked for any of it.

  Right now, I needed my head on straight. Why did Babs even venture into the land of feelings? I wasn’t in the mood for her psycho-babble bullshit.

  “You’re right,” I said, matter-of-factly. “It is a shame. He was a bright kid with a great career in front of him. But now he’s dead. And what I really want is a bath, a pain pill, and some sleep. Mind waking me up in time for the debriefing with Boudreaux?”

  I grabbed a clean T-shirt and some underwear, walked into the bathroom, and shut the door. Wouldn’t you know, the freaking pill bottle had a child proof cap. It took forever to get it open and toss back 10 milligrams of it-still-hurts-but-I-don’t-care.

  I turned on the water and climbed into the tub, peeling off my bandages. When the tub filled, I flicked off the faucet with my toes and leaned back into the hot, soothing water. After dozing for a bit, I woke up long enough to wash, redress my wounds, and put on my fresh T-shirt. Wandering out to the bedroom, I found Babs gone and noticed a recliner waiting beside my bed.

  Settling in, I silently thanked Boudreaux, closed my eyes and prayed for sleep. But images of Fairchild’s flayed neck and visions of my midnight face-off with Toussaint loomed like thunderheads in the distance.

  I was the only one who knew about that midnight meeting. And that’s the way it would stay. Maybe I couldn’t control fate. Maybe I couldn’t save Fairchild. But nobody else was going to die on my watch—with the possible exception of me. And that was a risk I was willing to take.

  38

  How Could You?

  Three p.m. came far too soon and my ribs hurt before I even opened my eyes. Babs brought me another pain pill and watched while I staggered to my feet like the bride of Frankenstein. By the time I’d made it vertical, my hair was soaked and matted against my face. Babs and her blasted thermostat.

  She threw me a pained glance and sighed, “How can I help you, Allie? Anything.”

  “Keep the temperature at sixty-eight, or I’ll snap you like a twig.” I took a lap around the room and crooked my finger at her like a grade school principal. “Don’t let the ribs fool you. I still got game.”

  Aching chest aside, the more I moved, the better I felt. My body wasn’t used to lounging in a recliner all day. After pulling myself together and making several more laps around the room, 3:30 p.m. arrived, and we all piled into the SUV for our 4:00 p.m. meeting with Boudreaux.

  Ferris looked like he’d gotten some sleep. The shadows beneath his eyes had faded, but he still seemed weary and a bit distracted. Who could blame him after the night we’d had?

  I hadn't seen Vinny since the rescue mission. He smiled as he slid across the back seat, mumbled a quiet hello and squeezed my shoulder, but his usual stream of Abruzzi-style banter was missing. I had the feeling he was uncomfortable—like he didn’t know how to act in the wake of Fairchild’s death. He wasn’t the only one.

  When we reached the FBI office, I climbed out of the car with a bit less pain than when I’d climbed in. That gave me hope. Midnight was right around the corner; I’d need to be in fighting shape and hide any weakness.

  Once inside the office, Mouton’s was the first face we saw. He’d been a close friend of Fairchild’s. Babs crossed the room and hugged him tight. I kept my distance and gave him a solemn nod. With or without broken ribs, I’m not a hugger.

  Vinny had no business at the debriefing, so one of the junior agents escorted him to an empty desk in cubicle land and provided him with a text on blood spatter analysis. Always excluded from our meetings, Vinny usually groused about being cut from the herd, but apparently, the lure of blood spatter appealed to him.

  Boudreaux strolled into the conference room with Director Dickhead Horton on his six. Horton glared at me as he crossed the threshold and tapped the door with his fingertips, letting it drift slowly closed. I waited, eyes forward and mouth shut (at least for the moment), but Little Allie fumed. Dickhead and his mind games. Why he thought he could intimidate me was anyone’s guess.

  Pretending not to notice, Boudreaux flipped open his file and glanced across the table at Ferris and me. “Let’s start with the house in Violet.”

  Silence filled the room while Boudreaux waited for one of us to fill the void. The moment was awkward and uncomfortable, and brought on by one of the oldest interrogation techniques in the book.

  Jesus. Ferris and I weren’t a couple of dip-shit skels. You answer the questions you’re asked and don’t volunteer anything. That boneheaded move cost Boudreaux a few brownie points. Seeing that he wasn’t getting what he wanted, he changed his approach.

  “Okay, from what I see in the file, you didn’t have enough evidence to obtain warrants to go inside either of the properties in Violet or Chalmette. Let’s start with the mansion in Violet. Agent Ferris, why did you enter the property without a warrant?”

  Ferris cleared his throat. “We inspected the property from a public vantage point and found evidence of an active meth lab operation. Rather than delay entrance to obtain a warrant and call for backup, and risk losing tangible evidence due to intentional destruction, I made a judgment call to breech the residence.”

  “I see,” said Boudreaux. “And how did that relate to the kidnapping case you were investigating?”

  “Le Clerc is a wannabe biochemist by trade. He needs money to finance his operation. Cooking meth seemed a likely source of income. The pieces fit, sir.”

  “Where and how did you encounter the suspect?”

  “Nighthawk and I cleared the house. As we descended the steps from the second floor, we heard a noise below and discovered the suspect was escaping, via a hidden room on the first floor. We gave pursuit. I engaged the suspect outside, near the garbage pile, and he pulled a knife.”

  Boudreaux made some notes and then turned his eyes to me. “Ms. Nighthawk, at what point did you engage the suspect?”

  “As soon as I saw the knife, I pulled my gun and ordered the bogie to drop it. I…”

  “You…what?”

  “I asked the suspect where Le Clerc was and where the kidnap victims were being held. The suspect stated he had no idea what we were talking about. He was simply cooking meth and was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He refused to drop his knife and threatened to slit Agent Ferris’s throat. He said, ‘Say good night, Gracie,’ and adjusted his grip on the knife. I took that as a direct threat to Agent Ferris, raised my gun and fired.”

  “What happened next, Ms. Nighthawk?”

  “The suspect flinched, and the bullet missed his head by a couple of inches.”

  Boudreaux waited for me to continue, but that was my story and I was sticking to it. He leaned back, laced his hands behind his head, and asked, “Where did your bullet land?”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “You know where it hit. It hit the garbage pile filled with combustible materials and blew the place to smithereens.”

  Babs grimaced.

  “I, ah,” Ferris cleared his throat and coughed. “I immediately called in the explosion. Believing that the kidnap victims were in grave danger, and being held at the Chalmette location, we handcuffed the suspect to a tree and continued on to the house on River Road.”

  Boudreaux placed his hands on his face and looked out from between splayed fingers. “Let’s skip ahead, shall we? Once you arrived at the Chalmette location, you enter
ed the premises without a warrant because…?”

  I wasn’t about to let Ferris go down for my error in judgment. “I thought I heard Jade and Rico calling for help from inside. Also, I saw blood on the floor.”

  Dickhead rose to his feet and loomed over the table. “And you didn’t wait for back up because…?”

  “Same reason. It’s called excrement circumstances,” I snarled. “You should know this stuff.”

  “Exigent, Ms. Nighthawk. Exigent circumstances.” Boudreaux said.

  “Whatever.”

  Dickhead cocked his brow. “And when you went inside without a warrant, was there blood on the floor?”

  “No. As it turns out, what I thought was blood was actually Rico’s wallet.”

  Ferris lowered his eyes and turned away.

  “Allie,” Boudreaux said quietly. “Why did you empty an entire mag into a blank wall?”

  How did… Damn it, Ferris. How could you? Tears burned in my eyes, but I’d be damned if they’d fall. “I thought I saw Toussaint there.”

  Babs’ face looked pained. “Was he there, Ms. Nighthawk?”

  “No. No, he wasn’t. But that’s not really important, is it? What’s important is that Rico, Fairchild and Jade were there. We made the right call going in, and we saved them.”

  “Well,” Dickhead said. “You didn’t exactly save Fairchild, did you?”

  “You bastard! We did our best. We almost died trying to save them. All of them, including Fairchild.”

  “Director Horton,” Boudreaux snapped. “I think we’ve gotten all we need. Have a seat.”

  “Not yet. Just a couple more questions, if you don’t mind. Do you know where Le Clerc is, Nighthawk?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  I didn’t have any buttons left for him to push, or any more fucks left to give. “I have no clue where Le Clerc is.”

  “Would you tell us if you did?”

  Ferris studied me with sad, empty eyes. Did he know I was lying?

  “Allie,” Babs murmured, reaching across the table. “You’re stressed and tired. Maybe you’re too close to this case.”