Slam dunk for team Luis. Properties owned by Anderson Webber.
Adrenaline pumped through him, crowding out the beer. Did Anderson know how far his accomplice had gone to protect their flow of cash? Or worse, was Anderson in on the murder?
He had to get to Holly.
Plunging into the noise and chaos of the party, he scanned the backyard for a black witch costume. There were about half a dozen dotted around the yard, but none were Holly. His pulse kicked up. Maybe Celia knew where she’d gone.
He spotted the ghost at the back fence, talking to another spook. And he wasn’t the only one staring in her direction. Theo must have escaped the nieces. He was toddling straight for Celia, smiling widely around the slobbery thumb stuck in his mouth.
Lawe’s breath caught as the boy cried out, “See-ya. See-ya.”
Only now he realized Theo hadn’t been saying See-ya at all. He’d been saying Cee-ya. Celia.
Moving fast, Lawe caught up with the boy just as he came to a stop in front of Celia. The ghost stared at him, shock and pain on her face.
“Cee-ya,” Theo said and held up his arms.
Pain washed through her iridescent face. “Oh God. Oh, Theo.”
“Hey, buddy.” Lawe scooped him up. The boy’s warm weight tucked against him, strangely comforting. He looked around again for Holly, but still couldn’t spot her in the crowd. She’d probably be pissed about the contact between Theo and Celia, but no one had guessed the little boy could see his former babysitter. “She can’t hold you anymore. Do you understand?”
Theo nodded somberly. “Dead.” His eyes moved to the ghost standing next to Celia, a man who looked to be in his early twenties but wore an aviator jacket from World War II. “Dead?”
The young ghost nodded. “As a doornail, kiddo. You can see us? That can’t be good.”
Lawe squeezed his arm more tightly around the boy. “It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s got a different kind of ability, that’s all.”
A different kind of ability. It didn’t make him a freak. Theo’s dark brown eyes fixed on his and Lawe’s heart melted. The kid needed guidance. A friend. Someone he could talk to when he realized how out there his ability was. Someone to teach him to beat the crap out of anyone who tried to beat the crap out of him for being spooky.
Holly would probably accuse him of using her son to wedge himself into her life, and maybe he was. Too damn bad. She’d have to deal.
“Holly’s gonna flip,” Celia was saying. “You’ll tell her this isn’t my fault, right? I kept my promise, I swear. I didn’t do anything to cause this.”
“Relax.” He scanned the crowd again. Still no sign of her. “You didn’t do this. Have you seen Holly?”
“No, I’ve been making a new friend.” Celia grinned at the young ghost, who tipped his flight cap at her.
And then Celia poofed out of existence.
“Shit.”
“Bad word,” Theo said, sucking his thumb.
Lawe ran for Beth, the boy bumping along on his hip. There was only one reason Celia would wink out of existence—if Holly was no longer in range. And the only reason Holly would leave the party without her kids was by force.
Chapter Twelve
She was going to die.
Holly’s shaking fingers gripped the edge of the leather seat in the back of the Escalade. Anderson was a bulky shadow in the driver’s seat in front of her as he sped down Broadway. Where was a cop with a radar gun when you needed one?
Heart hammering, she pressed her face to the cool glass and gauged their speed against the potential pain and injury of launching herself into the street. The light ahead turned red and the SUV slowed. Now was her chance.
“Don’t even think about it. I’ll shoot you before you get out.” Anderson glared at her in the rearview, his mouth thin and mean in his jowly face. “You can’t open the door anyway. I’ve got the child locks on.”
She slumped against the seat. Defeated by child safety standards.
If only she had her cell phone, but she’d stashed it in her purse in Beth’s guest bedroom.
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice trembled and she dug her nails into her palms. She hated showing weakness in front of the bastard, but she was too panicked not to.
Anderson slammed his hand into the steering wheel. “Your fucking husband.”
Paul again. Making friends wherever he went.
“Soon as you came into the bank with that safe-deposit box key, I knew we were screwed. Then those yahoos Jake hired got themselves caught. Sorry to drag you into this, Holly, but if you get me into Paul’s offshore account, I won’t hurt you.”
She shivered, her thin witch’s dress providing no warmth to calm her shakes. “How did you know about the account?”
He gave a short laugh. “Your husband was a real operator. When he found out about Jake’s and my side business, he wanted in. Then he wanted a bigger cut. When we wouldn’t give it to him, he managed to access Jake’s and my offshore retirement funds and drain them.”
“Your retirement funds? You mean the money you stole from the bank through a bunch of fake mortgages?”
“Figured that out, did you? You always were a smartie.”
The honest admiration in his voice made him sound like a kind uncle and, for the first time, she wondered if he was entirely sane.
Keep him talking. Keep his mouth moving and his thoughts away from the gun.
“Why though? You’ve got that big house in town, an estate in Aspen. My mother says you inherited a pile of money when your first wife died. Bank president pays well and I’ll bet benefits include a real retirement fund.”
“She hasn’t seen the alimony payments for wife number two.” Outrage shook Anderson’s voice. “And when the bottom fell out of the real estate market, I got soaked. All the money’s gone. Now wife number three has a baby on the way. A baby, at my age? I’m sixty-three years old. These are supposed to be my golden years; instead, I’m leveraged out the wazoo and Elizabeth’s burning up the credit cards. I’m an old fool, Holly. I needed an exit plan.”
She choked as much sympathy into her voice as she could manage. “You wanted out of a bad situation.”
He sighed, the sound of a beleaguered man who’d found a friend. “You understand. Listen, we’ll be at your house in ten minutes. You get me into your husband’s account. I want the money he stole from me.”
She closed her eyes. Of course.
“I can’t.” Her voice was hollow. There was no way out of this. “We gave the bankbook to the FBI. They know about that account. It’s probably frozen by now.”
Anderson laughed, and the sound crawled down her spine like a steel-tipped spider. “You can’t get an offshore account frozen that fast. That’s half the point of parking money in one. Get me into the account, I’ll do my thing, and you’re free to go.”
“You’re going to let me walk away.”
“I’m leaving tonight. Two million isn’t much, but it’ll get me settled on a nice, sunny non-extradition island.”
Her whole body trembled. If he let her go, she’d call the police and they’d arrest him at the airport. If he killed her, he’d be home free.
She clutched her arms around herself, the scratchy costume crinkling under her fingers, cold seeping into her bones. Anderson was going to kill her. She’d be ripped away from Sadie and Theo. Her children would grow up without a mother. A sob rose in her throat.
And Lawe. Her eyes closed and she pictured his face, drawing strength from his image. He’d been right. Death, or the prospect of it, clarified things. She loved him but she’d been too scared to risk her heart and now she’d never get the chance to tell him.
Would she get the chance to come back like Celia had?
If she did, she was going to possess the hell out of Anderson. Possess him right off a cliff.
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She grew colder. Her fingers stiffened, close to numb.
Anderson punched the controls on the dash. “Dammit, what’s wrong with this heater?”
Celia popped into the backseat and glanced around the SUV’s dark interior. “I’m guessing you didn’t voluntarily leave Lawe for this fatso.”
“Celia!” Relief flooded Holly’s body, providing a measure of warmth. She wasn’t sure Celia could help, but at least she wasn’t alone.
Anderson shivered. “What about that bitch?”
“Bitch? Excuse me?” Celia floated to the front seat. “Who is this guy? He looks familiar.”
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Holly leaned forward, curled her fingers around the back of Anderson’s seat, watched his eyes in the rearview. “Did Jake kill Celia and Paul? Did he force their car off that mountain road? Or was that you?”
Celia gasped. “He’s the guy who hosted that party. You think he…?”
Anderson glanced over his shoulder, his sweaty face inches from hers. His smug look shocked her. Hard to believe this was the same man who’d given her and her sisters savings bonds every Christmas and danced with her at her wedding.
“Jake’s too much of a pussy to do his own dirty work. You should have seen his face when I brought his car back to the garage—nearly pissed himself.” A sick satisfaction floated in his voice. He was enjoying this confession of how he got away with murder. “When Paul and his piece of ass left the estate, I borrowed Jake’s Land Rover and caught up with them a few miles down the road. It was no trick at all to bump them over the side of the mountain. Jake and Paul had those matching black cars, some dumbass BFF thing, so no one noticed a few extra paint smears on the wreck. Kinda sorry about the girl, but she was nothing but a greedy slut anyway. At least they died happy.”
His lewd chuckle made bile rise in Holly’s throat.
Shock, then rage descended on Celia’s face. “You rat bastard.” She threw herself at Anderson.
He screamed. The car swerved and headlights flared in the windshield, blinding Holly. Horns shrieked, her heart stuttered, squeezed, and gave one huge thump. Anderson slammed the wheel to the right, and she lost her balance, sliding across the seat, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the leather. The car lurched again and they were back in their own lane.
Celia floated up from the floor mats where Anderson’s bulk had repelled her.
Anderson swore. “What the hell was that? Something touched me.”
“Your conscience.” Holly’s voice shook. “Pull over and let me go.”
“Shut up.” His knuckles on the steering wheel turned white, his eyes darted nervously to hers in the rearview.
Celia brushed invisible dust off her skirt and crossed her legs primly. “So. How we gonna get you out of this mess?”
“You have to possess him.” Holly pitched her voice low, not wanting to push Anderson any closer to the edge.
“I can’t.”
The tight worry on Celia’s face scared the hell out of her. If the ever unflappable Celia was worried…
“You saw what just happened,” Celia said. “You’re the only one I can possess. I couldn’t do more than give that burglar a chill and disorient him for a few moments. Dec was an accident. I only got in because was distracted. This guy is way too focused.”
“Lawe said you’d be able to possess other people given enough time. It’s time.”
“Holly…”
“Just do it.” The words exploded out in a loud whisper. She glanced nervously at Anderson, but he was muttering to himself and fiddling with the thermostat. She lowered her voice. “I can’t die and leave my children alone and motherless. I’ll try my damnedest to come back as a ghost and watch over them, but they’ll never know I’m there. Never see me. Never give me sweet little hugs again.”
“Yeah, about that…” Celia began.
“Stop talking,” Anderson snarled from the front seat. He wrenched the wheel sharply, and they took the turn into her neighborhood at a skid, the SUV’s tires squealing. Celia had spooked him and his control had slipped. Was that better for her or worse?
Holly gripped the armrest. “Come on, Celia. Try.”
“Okay. But not in the car. It’s too risky. Trust me, a car crash is a bad way to die.”
“Do it fast when we stop.”
“No good. What if he shoots you while I’m trying to get control of him?”
“I don’t know.” Despair slid under her ribs. “We’ll have to wait for the right time. Maybe when he’s distracted by the money?”
Anderson picked up the gun and cocked it. “I’m warning you, Holly. Shut the fuck up. I could shoot you in the gut and you’ll still be able to help me get into Paul’s account.”
A tremor shuddered through her and she shut up. They rode the rest of the way in silence. At least, Anderson and Holly did. Celia murmured a pep talk to herself the entire way.
The SUV lurched to the left as Anderson turned into Holly’s driveway. He braked and the car slid to a crazily angled stop next to the front steps. Anderson got out, keeping the gun trained on Holly, and opened the rear door. He yanked her out of the car. The gun never wavered.
“Let’s move. I’ve got a plane to catch.”
Holly shot a quick glance at Celia. The ghost shook her head. Not yet.
With the gun digging into her side, Holly unlocked the door and pushed it open. She’d left the second-floor hall lights on and their dim glow spilled into the entryway. The loud beep, beep, beep of her new house alarm splintered the silence.
“Turn it off.” Anderson pushed her toward the wall panel. “And no hitting the panic button. I’ve got an alarm system too. I know that trick.”
Swearing silently, Holly turned off the alarm without triggering the button the technician had promised would send police to her rescue. She closed her eyes for a moment, prayed Celia would be able to pull off the possession. Prayed she could distract Anderson long enough to give Celia a chance.
“Where’s your computer?” Anderson’s gaze swept the front entryway.
Time was running out.
“My laptop’s upstairs in my room.” The words scraped her dry throat. She gazed dead at Celia and said the next words slowly. “At the top of the stairs.”
She tried not to think about what she was about to do.
Think of Theo. Think of Sadie.
Anderson motioned with the gun and she led the way, Celia floating along beside her. “Top of the stairs. Okay. I’ll do my best, Holly.”
“I know,” Holly whispered.
“What did you say?” Anderson jabbed her with the gun. The bastard seemed to enjoy terrorizing her with that thing.
“Nothing.”
She kept her eyes down, watched her feet sink into the soft white carpet on each stair. Anderson breathed heavily behind her. Cold sweat slicked her skin. Celia was a bright shimmer in her peripheral vision.
Please-let-this-work-please-let-this-work.
One last step. She put a shaking hand on the newel post. A faint rumble pulsed from outside, and her heart skipped a beat. Another car in the driveway—or wishful thinking?
“Come on, move.” Anderson dug the gun into her back and she took the last step onto the second-floor landing.
She lifted her head, met Celia’s wide eyes.
Anderson came up the step behind her and Celia inched closer to him.
The front door boomed open, slamming into the wall. Her heart bungeed to her throat and she whirled. Anderson swung around, sighting the gun straight down the stairs.
Lawe stood in the shadows of the entryway. His eyes locked on her, a terrible starkness in the sharp angles of his face.
Holly spun to Celia. “Don’t move. He’ll shoot him.”
Celia froze.
“A phony fucking exorcist
is not what I need right now.” Beads of sweat popped on Anderson’s forehead. “Get up here, nice and slow.”
Lawe’s eyes tracked to Celia, back to Anderson poised at the top of the stairs. “Do it, Celia.”
“No!” Holly screamed.
Celia was already in motion. Her iridescent glow zapped into Anderson. The gun boomed, the sound exploded in Holly’s skull, and Anderson jerked back.
Lawe’s leg buckled and he crumpled, pitching sideways to the marble floor.
A rushing sound filled her ears. She lifted her hand as though she could wipe the scene from existence. The small movement was like pushing through quicksand. Lawe didn’t move.
“No.” She’d meant to scream but the word spilled from her mouth in a soft whisper. The smell of gunpowder clogged her nose.
Anderson swayed. Ripples distorted the skin on his face, and a tremor shuddered through his body. His grip on the gun slipped. The weapon dropped to the carpet with a soft thud, and the big man teetered at the top of the steps.
“Stop fighting me, you tub of lard.” The shout burst out in Anderson’s voice, but Celia’s cadence.
Anderson’s foot went out from under him. Holly gasped, reached for one of his flailing arms, but his wrist slipped through her fingers. With a shriek, he tumbled forward, bumping and rolling down the stairs. He plummeted headfirst into the marble floor. A sickening thud, like a bat cracking into a pumpkin, echoed off the walls.
Holly raced down the steps and climbed over Anderson’s prone body. Don’t look, don’t look. She knew what that horrible sound of Anderson’s head connecting with hard marble meant.
Lawe lay on his side, face pale. His chest rose and fell. He was breathing, thank God. Maybe ten seconds had passed since Anderson’s wild shot, but it felt like a lifetime. Blood seeped through the torn right leg of Lawe’s jeans, splotched the white marble floor. So much blood. The smell permeated the room and became a metallic taste at the back of her tongue. A buzzing started in her ears. The room grew fuzzy.
Clenching her fists, she concentrated on the pain of her nails piercing her skin to bring her back from the edge of unconsciousness. “I will not faint. I will not faint.”
The Exorcist Who Loved Me Page 12
