by J. B. Lynn
"Seriously? She actually listened to me?" Smoke asked with a bemused grin.
I looked to Angel.
"I'm not supposed to talk to you," she whispered.
"What?" I asked, confused.
"I'm not supposed to talk to you!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. "He said so."
I glared at Smoke. "You told her not to talk to me?"
He nodded.
"Why?"
"Because there are things…things you're better off not knowing."
"What kinds of things?"
He shook his head. "I can't tell you. It wouldn't be safe."
"Is that why you didn't come to see me? To keep me safe?" I fervently hoped that was the reason and not just that his calendar had been full.
"No." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I didn't come to see you because…" he looked around to see if anyone was around.
I didn't bother to remind him that Angel and Martin were both in the garage with us.
"I was scared." His whisper was loaded with shame.
"Scared?" I asked. "Of me?"
"For you." He rubbed the back of his neck. "When you disappeared from the frat boy house…I panicked."
"But you found me. How'd you do that?" When I'd asked Alan Reed how Smoke had found me, he'd claimed not to know.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Martin jabbing his thumb into his chest.
"I…" Smoke shook his head as though he couldn't believe what he was saying. "I went and got Halley, brought her to the house, and asked her to talk to the ghost. He told her a series of numbers."
I remembered that Martin had flashed numbers at me on a few occasions. "What did they mean?"
"They were a badge number…Marcus Fontaine's badge number. As soon as I knew that he was involved, I headed straight for that section of land he owns outside of town. We'd gone fishing there, so I figured it was just the kind of deserted place he'd have taken you."
"You really did tell him?" I said to Martin.
He nodded proudly.
"He's here too?" Smoke asked.
I nodded.
"Tell him, I said thank you."
"He can hear you," I said gently.
"Oh." Smoke looked around.
I pointed to the spot where Martin hovered.
"Thank you!" Smoke shouted.
Angel giggled. "You don't have to yell, silly-dilly."
Grinning, I told Smoke, "Angel says you don't have to yell, silly-dilly."
Instead of smiling like I'd anticipated, Smoke's eyes filled with tears. "She really is here."
I reached out and patted his arm. "She really is."
"Ask her if she was the one who helped me find you in the river."
I looked to Angel who grinned proudly. She and Martin exchanged a silent high-five.
"She was," I told Smoke. "But how…"
"I felt her leading me…I can't explain it."
But I understood. I'd been led out of the burning meth house.
"Anyway," Smoke continued. "When I found you…lifeless…it was so much like when she died…" Too choked up to continue, he turned away from me.
His anguish made my throat tighten and my eyes burn. "I understand."
He shook his head. "You can't. You can't understand. I couldn't save her and then…and then…I couldn't get to you in time."
"But you did." Stepping toward him, I leaned my forehead between his shoulder blades. "You saved me."
Eyes wild, he spun around and grabbed my shoulders. "I was almost too late."
"But you weren't," I grabbed his face between my palms, forcing him to look at me. "I'm fine thanks to you." I looked over at Angel. "And you."
"And Halley," she reminded me.
"And Halley," I agreed.
Smoke chuckled.
I turned my attention to Martin. "And to you of course, but I don't know how to help you. I don't know what you need."
He pointed at the paper his parents had given me. It lay on the ground where it had fallen after I'd thrown it at Smoke.
I tried to bend to pick it up, but was stopped by a burning pain, that stole my breath.
Smoke picked it up and handed it to me.
I unfolded it slowly and looked at what was drawn in pencil. "The smudges," I murmured.
The pencil-sketched face was familiar, but I couldn't place it. I turned it for Smoke to see. "Do you know who this is?"
He paled.
"Who is it?"
"Detective Alan Reed's father," he said quietly. "The Chief of Police."
I looked to Martin for an explanation, but he was nowhere to be seen.
"He's gone," Angel said.
"For good?" I asked.
"I think so."
"What?" Smoke asked.
"Martin has passed. This picture, showing it to us, that was his unfinished business."
"He wanted us to know who the higher up in the drug ring was," Smoke said with amazement.
"Now we know." I eyed the picture. "What do we do about it?"
Smoke frowned. "We do nothing. I'll tell Bernie about it."
"How do you know him again?"
"There are some things you're better off not knowing, Tori." He took the picture from me, folded it carefully, and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans. Then he draped an arm around my shoulders and propelled me out of the garage and toward the house. "So what do you think of what we've done to the place?"
Once again I marveled at the mown grass, trimmed hedges, and new window. "It looks amazing. I don't understand how you got it done. Didn't Delia try to scare you off?"
"She tried," Smoke said. "Halley helped me have a long chat with her. I told her I'd try to figure out how she died. Besides, I…"
Angel jumped in front of us, causing me to halt mid-step.
Smoke tightened his grip to keep me from falling. It felt good.
"I want to tell her," Angel said, a devilish glint in her eye.
"She says she wants to tell me," I told Smoke.
He chuckled, "Go ahead, silly-dilly."
"Besides," Angel put her hands on her hips. "We ain't afraid of no ghosts."
* * *
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About the Author
When a fan told her that she's a "fabulous author," a "great sport," and a "very cool chick," JB Lynn immediately thought, "That's what I want my obituary to say!"
A Jersey Girl transplanted to the Sunshine State, JB (you can call her Jen) writes laugh-out-loud suspense and mysteries, along with goosebump-raising thrillers.
She also guzzles coffee, spoils her dog, wastes endless hours daydreaming, and does her best to be a "cool chick" (but if you ever see her running, swimming, or biking, you'll know how dismally she fails).
To learn more about Author, visit her online at
www.jblynn.com
BOOKS BY JB LYNN
Spring Cleaning Mysteries:
Nearly Departed
Neurotic Hitwoman series:
Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman
Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman
The Hitwoman Gets Lucky
The Hitwoman and the Family Jewels
The Hitwoman and the Neurotic Witness
Other works:
The First Victim
If you enjoyed the Spring Cleaning series, check out these other romantic mysteries from Gemma Halliday Publishing:
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