Dead End (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 8)

by Catie Rhodes

  I couldn’t have explained how I knew what he wanted, but I did. I reached out to him. Our minds connected, and fragmented scenes flashed behind my eyes.

  A dusty white road with a stooped figure walking. Orev flies past, swooping low. The thing twists to face him. The face I saw in Long Time Gone’s mirror looms close long enough for me to recognize it. Orev flies away.

  It is dusk of the same day. A dark shadow perches on an open windowsill. Orev flies closer and perches in the trees. The dark shadow turns, silhouetting the ugly sloped head and floppy ears. The thing hisses as though it realizes Orev is up to no good.

  The thing climbs through the open window and steals along the baseboards until it reaches the crib. Little arms and legs kick and wave.

  Its intent boils over me. I try to go after it, but Orev holds me back. This is the past, and I cannot interrupt.

  The thing, now nothing more than a dark shadow, climbs up the wall and over the edge of the crib. The baby makes only one sound, a surprised squeak. Then nothing.

  Time jumps again. It’s morning. A woman wearing a nightgown and a bonnet comes into the room, smiling and cooing. She leans over the baby bed and screams, long and agonizing. A man rushes into the room and lifts a desiccated husk out of the bed.

  Rage fills me as I process what happened. The poor baby had no way to defend itself. That thieving monster fed on it until nothing was left.

  The vision ended, and I became aware of Wade’s voice.

  “Wake up. I saw it.” He shook me.

  I jerked out of the vision, dragged my eyes open, and gasped at Wade’s appearance, eyes wild, face several shades paler than when he went in. His huge hands trembled when he took off the necklace and dropped it in my lap.

  Caw. Caw. Caw. Understanding flashed over me. Orev wanted Wade to see a vision of the monster attached to Hannah. I reached for Wade’s hand. He stiffened and shook his head. Orev flew closer, flapping his wings in Wade’s face. My friend ducked away and raised his arms over his head. Caw. Caw. Caw.

  “You’ll have to,” I told Wade. Once Orev made up his mind, he didn’t quit. I reached for his hand again. This time he let me.

  A curvy woman sleeps on her stomach, moonlight streaming into her window, TV playing in the background. A dark shadow rises from the floor and streaks over the bed like moving smoke.

  It forms into the ugly hunched monster and perches on the woman’s back. It leans forward until its mouth almost touches the woman. Its sides expand as it breathes in. Then it turns to smoke again and drifts into her ear. The woman weeps in her sleep, tears soaking into the pillow.

  Time jumps. The same woman, now nothing more than skin and bones, her arms covered with the scabs of a spiker, stumbles down a trash-littered street. She passes graffiti covered buildings. A car slows next to her. The person inside says something. The woman nods and gets inside.

  Time jumps a few hours. It’s the wee hours of the night. The woman leans against a dirt-streaked wall, belt choking the veins on one arm. Green vomit trails from her mouth.

  “No!” Wade jerked his hand from mine. His chest heaved with each gasp. He raised trembling hands to his face and turned away from me.

  “Did you know her?” The force of his reaction puzzled me. The woman’s demise, just like the baby’s, made me angry and sad. This thing had stolen their normal lives away, as though it deserved their lives more than they did. But Wade was truly upset.

  He kept his hands over his face, but his voice came through. “Oh, Riley. I’m sorry I blew you off.” Sobs followed his words.

  Riley? Wade didn’t like talking about his past. The most I’d ever gotten out of him was that he had a lot of brothers and sisters and his parents were alcoholics. Riley must have been part of that silent past.

  I didn’t know the right thing to do. Some men got offended if a woman acknowledged they’d shown emotion. But wouldn’t sitting there in my truck like a prima donna be just as insensitive? My heart ached for whatever made Wade hurt like this. I slid out of the truck and put one hand on his back and stroked. He came no closer, but he didn’t shove me away either. He took a deep breath and cut off the waterworks like he’d pushed a button.

  “Was Riley one of your sisters?” Then I blurted out, “Never mind. You don’t have to talk about it.”

  “Not my sister.” He swiped a hand over his eyes and took a shaking breath. “You remember when we first met I told you my sweetie married somebody else while I was in the Marines?”

  I nodded, shamefully eager to know Wade’s secrets.

  “Riley married heroin, not another guy. I came home on leave and found her all fucked up and skinny.” He hung his head and slumped. “I just couldn’t deal with it, you know? So I blew her off. Told her not to write or call any more. She laughed in my face. Got a letter a few months later from my oldest sister, Desiree, saying she was dead.”

  After wanting to know Wade better for so long, to learn such a tragic story, and to see the ugliness of his guilt over it, shook me.

  “Hannah reminded me of the way Riley was the last time I saw her. It made me just not want to look at her. But seeing that, knowing that monster in there changed Riley from the girl I loved to a walking husk…I’m a selfish prick for not trying harder.” He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists so hard the knuckles turned white.

  There was nothing I could say to make it better. He’d berate himself for his actions until the day he died. Regret hurts like hell when we stub our toes on it.

  “I was wrong to tell you to walk away from Hannah, and I am so sorry for that.” He took another long, shuddering breath and pulled his shoulders back.

  Wade could have helped me help Hannah long before now. But being angry with him wouldn’t solve anything, so I shook my head to let him know it was all right. “I don’t know what that thing’s doing to her. According to those visions, it’s going to kill her. But I don’t know what it is or how to get rid of it.”

  Wade glanced back at the bar and made a sick face. “I think it’s a hag. I remember Aunt DeeDee talking about them.” Wade’s Aunt DeeDee had been his magical mentor. “She said they come at night to ride their victims while they’re sleeping. They can steal a baby’s life force.”

  Cold worked its way through my body at the memory of the first vision.

  “But Aunt DeeDee said they can also make their victims do all sorts of self-destructive things. Poor Hannah.” Wade dragged his cigarettes out and lit one. He kicked at the ground.

  Time for him to snap out of it and get to work. “How do we help her?” I said.

  Wade’s face creased. “I never saw Aunt DeeDee get rid of one of these things. She’d just warn people against them, tell them to put screens on their windows. I’d say you’re looking at banishment. Exorcism if you know a priest.” Wade glanced at Long Time Gone. Someone turned on the outside lights. He turned his gaze back on me. “We need to get Hannah by herself to help her. That’s gonna be like a magic trick. King’s draining Hannah’s bank accounts faster than shit runs through a short pipe. He ain’t gonna let us near Hannah. Worse, she’s not in control of herself enough to help us help her.”

  I glared at the building. “Let’s drag her out. I can’t do it by myself, but you and me—”

  Wade began shaking his head, face already closed. “If I go against King, I’m a traitor to the club.”

  I wanted to kick Wade, wanted to blame someone for letting this happen to Hannah. But the real blame lay on me. None of it would have happened had she not known me. Wade’s foot-dragging was just an obstacle, an easily circumvented one if I was honest with myself.

  Wade’s phone chirped his text message alert. He checked it and rolled his eyes. “King’s says he’s about to call you.”

  My phone started ringing, and I hit the answer button but said nothing.

  “Come at me again, and there won’t even be nothing left of her to scrape off the floor.” King kept his voice at a low growl. I guessed he was still near
Hannah but trying to keep her from hearing. He didn’t need to worry. She was too drunk. “Then I’ll kill Wade Hill and make you watch.”

  Panic flashed like heat lightning in my stomach. Thunderous rage followed close behind. Six months ago, I’d have lost control and screamed threats about how I’d dig out King’s eyeballs with a hot spoon, how I’d castrate him with dirty glass. Now I ended the call and put my phone back into my pocket. Because I knew I was on camera, I struggled to keep my face impassive. I wouldn’t give King the satisfaction of knowing it felt like ice had formed around my heart.

  Wade’s phone buzzed again. “King says to make you leave now. I guess there’s no use asking you to get on out of town.”

  “I’ll be at Rainey’s if she’ll have me.” I climbed in the truck and started it. I wanted to scream at Wade to get away from the Six Gun Revolutionaries and to bring Hannah with him. But I didn’t. I had a mighty fine line to walk if I wanted to end this thing without getting Wade or Hannah killed.

  Wade stomped back toward the bar and disappeared inside. I drove out of the parking lot before King sent someone meaner than Wade out to run me off. As I drove, I puzzled over what happened between King and me. He was too pissed off for this to just be over Hannah, and I couldn’t understand what had changed between us. Even his refusal of my tribute money confused me.

  It didn’t much matter. I had to get that ugly, hatchet-nosed hag off Hannah’s back without getting Wade killed. Because if the Six Gun Revolutionaries killed Wade or Hannah, I was going to kill them. Longer and harder than they dreamed possible. As it was, I might kill them anyway. Nobody fucks with my friends.

  The yellow lines on the highway led me back to Gaslight City. At a four-way-stop, I saw something that gave me an idea. The nice deputy tipped his cowboy hat at me. I waved and drove straight to the sheriff’s office. Dean and Hannah had been friends a long time. Maybe he would help.

  3

  I walked into the sheriff’s office and stopped in my tracks. Was this the right place? The awful seventies paneling had been replaced with sheetrock painted soothing colors, the trim painted stark white. The no-color linoleum had been updated with vinyl flooring designed to look like hardwood. Someone had paid a pretty penny to make the interior of the sheriff’s office match the historic building it was housed in.

  “May I help you?” A middle-aged woman peeked out from behind her computer monitor.

  “Sheriff Turgeau in?” I glanced at her nameplate. Cheryl Hanse. Didn’t know her.

  “What’s your business, ma’am?” Cheryl scooted back in her chair so she could rest her mud-colored eyes on me.

  “The sheriff and I are old friends. I wanted to say hi.” My cheeks heated. Dean wouldn’t be happy to see me. He hadn’t liked me when we dated, and he wasn’t going to start liking me now.

  “Miz Peri Jean.” Deputy Brittany Watson emerged from an elaborately framed doorway. Damn, the whole place looked like a tourist center or a high-end bed and breakfast.

  “Hey, girl.” I rushed to my old friend, who I used to babysit, and gave her a hug.

  “What’s up?” Her brow furrowed with concern. “You look upset.”

  “I need to talk to Dean. Think he’d see me?” I glanced toward the spot where the sheriff’s private office used to be. It was still there but had been restyled with a fancy frame around the picture window. The blinds were drawn on the window, and the antique style door was closed.

  “Sheriff Dean went home for the day.” Brittany started to say something else but bit her lip.

  “Sheriff Turgeau doesn’t like us telling people he’s at home.” Cheryl Hanse frowned at Brittany.

  I patted Brittany on the arm. “I won’t tell him you spilled it. I’ll just act like I was driving by.”

  I took a last look around the sheriff’s office. Nicer than it had been, but like the rest of Gaslight City, it didn’t feel like home anymore. I drove the few short miles to Dean’s fifties-era bungalow and parked at the curb.

  Miracles never ceased. He’d painted it a cheerful yellow with white trim. I walked up the freshly poured sidewalk and stared into the flowerbeds on either side of the front porch. Someone had cleaned them out and planted evergreen shrubs. The front door, formerly a buckled, chipped eyesore, had been replaced with a new metal door with stained glass panels. I punched the doorbell and jumped when it gonged inside the house. Damn thing used to just emit a sick little buzz like a dying water roach.

  Footsteps on a hard floor approached, and a shadow appeared behind the stained glass. I fixed my face into what I hoped was a friendly smile. The door swung open. At first, all I saw was a pregnant belly. I dropped my purse and didn’t even realize I had done it until I heard it clunk on the porch floor.

  “Uh, honey?” The woman, whose scared eyes and puffy face looked vaguely familiar, glanced behind her.

  “What?” Dean’s voice came from behind her.

  “You need to come to the door.” She tried to smile at me but couldn’t quit glancing down at my purse. I bent to pick it up.

  “What is…” Dean trailed off when he saw me. “Peri Jean. Y-y-your hair’s long now. You look…” He waved off whatever comment he’d been about to make and shook his head. “Why don’t you come inside?” He gently guided the pregnant woman out of the doorway and stepped aside. Too weirded out to protest, I did what he suggested.

  After refusing offers of everything from soft drinks to leftover barbecue, I sat on a brand-new love seat in the den. Gone was the beat-up bachelor furniture. This new stuff screamed feminine good taste. The super-sized TV still took up too much of the room, but now it sat on a tasteful table, which had been polished to a warm glow. Dean and the pregnant woman sat on the matching couch.

  He put his arm over her shoulders. “You remember Megan from my campaign, right?”

  That’s where I knew her from. I began to nod. The teacher who’d had such big eyes for Dean, the same one I’d seen him with the night I met Nash Redmond. At least one of us had found true love or some semblance of it.

  “Of course I remember you.” I tried to smile and didn’t have to see my reflection to know I missed it. Lying on a bed of poison-tipped nails would have been more comfortable than this encounter.

  “I guess I look pretty different.” She smoothed her hands over her baby bump.

  I stared and tried to figure out how far along she was. Had she been pregnant when I saw her and Dean at Bug Juice six months ago? I thought so. A more horrible thought occurred to me. Had they been seeing each other before he broke up with me?

  I glanced at Dean’s face. He squirmed and hooked his finger in the neck of his shirt. Maybe. Just maybe. Did it matter? The image of Hannah sitting at that dingy bar, nasty King Tolliver feeding her tequila and who knew what else, came back. Nope. Didn’t matter a bit. Hannah was all that mattered.

  “How’d the sale of Miss Leticia’s property go?” Dean tugged harder at the neck of his shirt.

  “How’d you know?” I dragged my gaze off Megan’s belly.

  “Rainey told me this morning on our run.” Dean’s body looked like he still ran. For every inch of fluff Megan had gained, he looked to have gained another ridge of muscle.

  I casually raked my gaze over him the same way he’d done me dozens of times. “They gave me a check. It’s over.”

  “The way you lost the place still burns my ass.” He took his arm off Megan’s shoulders and leaned forward, elbows on his legs, his usual posture when he really had something to say. “The fire inspector charged Joey Holze, his family, and his friends with arson not long after you left Gaslight City.”

  I knew this part from Rainey. No surprise. One of Joey’s helpers had squealed out the whole story as soon as law enforcement closed in on her.

  Dean, face darkening with anger, continued. “Joey ended up having to sell his house out by the lake and the one Scott and Felicia were living in to pay his legal costs. Whole family packed up and moved to some hick town south of Austin where
Carly’s got family.”

  I raised my eyebrows at the news but didn’t speak. Dean was telling me this to let me know justice had been served, that I’d been avenged, but I just felt sad. So much lost—for Joey Holze, for his family, and for me.

  “How can Dean and I help you?” Megan folded her hands in her lap and smiled at me. Her eyes, fish cold and nervously darting, gave away her true feelings. Did she really think Dean would jump at the chance to be with me again? She was kidding herself.

  I wanted to speak to Dean alone. Telling Hannah’s business in front of this stranger irked me. I bit my lip.

  “Megan’s my wife now.” Dean’s light blue eyes fixed on me. In them, I saw understanding of my feelings. We might have been wrong for each other, but we’d gotten to know each other well. “She’ll keep whatever is said here to herself.” He nudged his wife with his elbow. She gave me a quick nod.

  “It’s Hannah.” I took a deep breath and spilled everything except for the hag I saw sitting on Hannah’s shoulder. Dean would consider that part hocus-pocus garbage and shut down.

  Dean began nodding well before I finished, his mouth fixed into a grim line. He let me talk myself out. “It kills me to say this, but there’s not a lot I can do. She’s a legal adult. If she wants to be there…” He shrugged.

  “But what about King?” I waved one hand in the general direction of Long Time Gone. “He threatened both Hannah and Wade if I didn’t fuck off.”

  Megan held up one hand like a crossing guard and fixed her mouth into a condescending smile. “Language.”

  We’re all adults. And you probably screwed my boyfriend while he was still with me, you twit. I locked my mouth closed and took a deep breath. Oxygen in, urge to bust Megan’s nose out.

  Dean watched me, eyes narrowed. He knew my triggers. “Okay. I believe King threatened you. But do you have any witnesses? Did anybody other than you hear King Tolliver say—”

  I cut him off. “No. It was on my phone.” I scooted forward and glared at Dean. It was just like when we were dating. Fun times. Not.