Final Words

by Teri Thackston

  Hosken shrugged. “I never heard of her. But then Houston has more detectives than I can shake a stick at.”

  “I figured she would have checked in with you. You know, professional courtesy. And since you came from Houston, I thought you might have known her.”

  The other man frowned again. “Well, if you hear from her again, send her my way. I don’t like unauthorized investigations going on in my town.” Hosken walked on out.

  Puzzled, Jason sat down. He was certain that Layne had said she was in town working on a case. Of course, although protocol required it, she might not have checked in with Hosken.

  Jason pulled his keyboard toward him again. The last thing he wanted to do was worry about Layne, especially when he had something more important to worry about—Emma’s questionable state of mind and his growing willingness to overlook it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  As she did chores around her apartment Saturday afternoon, Emma thought about Jason. They’d spent a lot of time together over the past couple of days, attending Tyrone’s reinterment and researching cases in which Paul Sanders had been involved. She’d begun to recognize what a dedicated cop Jason was. And what a gentle man he was.

  She’d also seen what a difficult time he was having with her ability. He was shaken by what he’d witnessed, by what she’d known. He couldn’t explain it and that bothered him. He didn’t believe she could communicate with the dead but at least he’d accepted the fact that she believed she could.

  But that acceptance hadn’t allowed him to resume the path down which she’d thought they were heading before tonight. He had taken a step back personally. What she could do kept him from picking up at that kiss in the park. Emma knew he needed time to think, to digest, to accept. But it was difficult for her to wait. She thought about him every waking moment—and a lot of non-waking moments—and her body reacted to each thought. That hadn’t happened with Alan. Even in the early days of their courtship and marriage, she hadn’t felt so…consumed. It was a feeling she was beginning to enjoy.

  As she sorted laundry out of the bathroom hamper, the telephone rang. Her heart skipped. Hoping it was Jason, she hurried to pick up the cordless phone from its resting place next to her bed. “Hello?”

  “Hi, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.”

  Emma’s skipping heart slammed into her ribs. “Alan.”

  “Listen, about the other night at that bar,” her ex-husband said, adopting that silky, persuasive tone that had fooled her so often in the past. “I wanted to explain about Gillian.”

  “Alan, stop.” Emma pressed her fist against her chest. Her heartbeat steadied and she felt stronger than she’d felt in a long time. “I don’t want to hear your lies.”

  “I’m not lying. I took her out for a drink because she’s with the Clear Harbor Planning—”

  “I don’t care. I have to go.” She took a deep breath and told a lie of her own. “I have a date.”

  “A date?” The words whipped out of his mouth. “Who the hell with?”

  “That is none of your business. Goodbye, Alan.”

  Emma hung up, satisfied when the phone beeped sharply. Then, lifting her chin, she headed back to her laundry.

  * * * * *

  Jason stood in the rose garden as evening approached. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a moment to just breathe. Perfume from the flowers mingled with the salty scent from the sea, swirling like a heady cloud inside him. But no sense of peace came.

  Opening his eyes, he looked around. He hadn’t realized, until he’d given Emma’s “dream” some thought, that he might be keeping Rose from her rest. With his guilt over her death and his determination to make someone pay for it he’d kept his sister from moving on. At least that’s what he might think if he believed Emma’s strange story. A near-death experience, souls who couldn’t pass on until they’d told her the details of their earthly deaths…

  It was impossible and yet how else could he explain the things she’d known? And why wouldn’t anyone want to believe that a loved one had gone on to a beautiful, safe Heaven?

  Jason plucked a yellowing leaf off the nearest bush and wondered why he couldn’t just make himself believe Emma’s claim.

  “Because it is impossible,” he murmured. “There are no such things as ghosts.”

  But there were devils. Human devils. Mortal devils. His job had taught him that.

  Was Paul Sanders one of them?

  Just that afternoon, Jason had learned that the psychiatrist’s parents had been murdered when Paul was a teenager. Their killer was caught but found unfit to stand trial. He’d spent six years in a mental institution before he’d escaped to kill again. During his next incarceration a fellow inmate had slit his throat. Something like that could scar any man and make him thirst for justice. But could it make him commit murder in the name of justice?

  Jason thought of his own all-consuming grief after Rose had died. He’d been angry too. But if he’d found his sister’s killer could he have killed that person for vengeance? In the warped belief that he was doing society a favor as Paul Sanders seemed to believe?

  No easy answer came. Listening to the sea comb the sand, to the leaves of the rose bushes rustle against each other, Jason stripped off his leather gloves and climbed the steps leading to the deck.

  A shadow fell over him and he looked up. Hope turned to disappointment as he realized it was just Charlie.

  “Hey, buddy,” Jason said with false pleasure. “You’re just in time. I was about to throw a steak on the grill. I have an extra one in the fridge.” Impulse had prompted him to buy the second steak but something kept him from inviting Emma over to share it.

  “That sounds good.” Charlie followed Jason into the house.

  In the kitchen, Jason opened the refrigerator and took out the other steak. Tossing the package on the counter, he reached back into the refrigerator and pulled out two beers.

  Charlie narrowed one eye and studied him. “Something is bothering you, my friend.”

  Jason handed Charlie one of the beers and then took a bowl of homemade steak sauce out of the refrigerator. As he removed the plastic wrap from the bowl, he glanced at his partner who remained standing nearby. Charlie twisted the cap off his beer and waited patiently.

  Jason sighed. He had no right to tell anyone what Emma claimed she could do. But some advice would be welcome.

  Stirring a fork through the sauce, he casually asked, “What do you think happens to a person when they die?”

  Charlie scoffed. “Just how many beers have you had today?”

  Jason tried to sound more laid-back. “Seeing as how you’re such a religious guy, I figured you’d have an opinion.”

  Charlie lifted one shoulder. “I believe that at death the Good Lord catches up the soul and takes it to Heaven.”

  “What if that soul had unfinished business? I mean what if it needed to pass on information before it could…rest?”

  “I don’t know.” Charlie shrugged again. “Some people claim they can communicate with spirits. But a person would have to be very special before God would give him such an ability.”

  Emma is a special person.

  Pushing the sauce aside, Jason tore the plastic wrap off Charlie’s steak. “Would someone be born with that ability or could they acquire it later in life?”

  Leaning a hip against the kitchen counter, Charlie watched Jason with suspicious eyes. “Have you had conversations with your late sister that you haven’t told me about?”

  “I just caught some documentary on the Discovery Channel last night and it piqued my curiosity.” Deciding this subject wasn’t a good idea after all, Jason forced a smile. “Never mind. So what brings you out here this evening?”

  Charlie rolled his beer bottle between his palms and returned Jason’s smile with his own superior version. “I found a witness to our hit-and-run.”

  The raw steak went limp in Jason’s hand as he stared at his partner. “What?”

  Char
lie kept rolling the bottle. “I received a phone call this afternoon from the manager of a flower shop near the accident site. There was a young woman in the shop that evening. A beautiful bride-to-be, preparing for her—”

  “Get to the point.”

  Charlie cleared his throat. “This bride and her maid-of-honor were in the flower shop the day of the incident. They were discussing floral arrangements with the shop owner and they videotaped the meeting. Ah, the technological sentimentality of the new generation.”

  Jason grabbed the pepper shaker and liberally spiced Charlie’s steak. “Get on with it.”

  “The bride and her friend returned to the shop this morning and when the owner mentioned the accident, they remembered the tape. The owner mentioned that we might be interested in it. The tape caught a blue sedan with a dented front fender, a broken headlight and scratched paint.”

  “The car that hit Brian and Emma?”

  “Most likely. Fortunately they also got the license plate on film.”

  Jason’s pulse quickened. “And did you run that plate?”

  “The DPS connection was down but it should be up soon. Within a few minutes, we should know who owns that car.”

  “Charlie, I could kiss you.”

  Charlie grinned again and gestured with his beer bottle. “I would settle for a less peppery steak.”

  * * * * *

  Barefoot, Emma carried a load of clean towels from the small utility room off her kitchen. Emptying the laundry basket onto the sofa, she glanced around her apartment. In spite of the open windows and the evening breeze that stirred the gauzy curtains, the place felt lonely and dark. Emma had lived in the apartment for over a year but it didn’t seem like much of a home.

  Neither, she realized, had the house she’d shared with Alan. Furnished in gray suede and smoked glass, it had seemed a cold place. It wasn’t at all like Jason’s casual, eclectic beach house. His décor resembled her own with a mix of styles and warm, comfortable furnishings. She could imagine herself living there with him, tidying his kitchen, working in that rose garden and keeping Jason…

  She smiled. Keeping Jason satisfied and loved.

  But was that enough? He deserved a normal relationship. Considering what she could do, he wasn’t going to get one with her. And would a man who was accustomed to playing a very broad field—even if it had happened in the past—even want a relationship?

  Pondering the situation, Emma started folding towels. Moments later, movement outside caught her eye and she glanced through the window. To her surprise, she saw Jason and Charlie running up the street toward a dark green sedan parked nearby. Both detectives carried guns as they approached the parked car. The vehicle’s heavily tinted windows were up. She couldn’t see anyone inside but Jason and Charlie approached the car as if it contained one of the FBI’s ten-most-wanted fugitives. Stopping near the rear of it, they raised their guns.

  Charlie shouted, “Police! Step out of the car! Keep your hands up!”

  A moment passed and then the driver’s door opened. Emma clutched the towel to her stomach as a man stepped out. Shock gripped her as she recognized her ex-husband.

  Charlie grabbed Alan’s arm, jerked him around and shoved him against the side of the car. Holding his gun high and aiming it at Alan, Jason moved around the other side of the car.

  Still clutching the towel she’d been folding, Emma ran outside, her bare feet pounding across the cool grass that lay between her apartment and the street. Halfway across the yard between the apartment building and the street, she saw her ex-husband look up at her. His angry surprise faded into what looked like sadness. Facing forward, he pressed his forehead against the car. His shoulders shook as Charlie handcuffed him.

  Emma crossed the street. She heard Alan sob as she approached the men.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured between gasps. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re under arrest, Mr. Winfeld, in the death of Brian Reiser, for leaving the scene of an accident and for failure to render aid.” Charlie stepped back from Alan and, holstering his gun, glanced over his shoulder at Emma. His jaw tightened and then he grabbed Alan and pulled him around to face her.

  Emma took another step forward but stopped when she read the guilt in Alan’s eyes.

  “I saw you with that guy, Emma.” His voice slurred, thick with tears. “I couldn’t stand it!”

  Ice water coursed through her veins. “You mean Brian?”

  “We believe your ex-husband was stalking you for weeks before the hit-and-run.” Jason appeared beside her. “And that he hit you and Brian on purpose. His damaged car has been hidden in his garage in Houston since that night. When we looked for him at his office, his boss told us he was in Clear Harbor on business and that he was driving a company car while he had work done on his own.”

  Emma saw hate flare in Alan’s eyes as Jason slipped his arm around her shoulders. For a moment she thought her ex-husband meant to lunge at Jason. Charlie must have thought so too, for he pressed a hand against Alan’s chest.

  “You have the right to remain silent, Mr. Winfeld,” the older detective said. “I suggest you begin using it now.”

  Emma began to tremble. “Is it true? Did you kill Brian?”

  Jason held her tighter. “Emma, wait until we get to the station.”

  Charlie began to speak rapidly. “You have the right to an attorney, Mr. Winfeld.”

  “Yes, I did it!” The hatred in Alan’s eyes intensified as he shouted at Emma over Charlie’s voice. “You accused me of being unfaithful when all the while you were screwing around with that glorified mortician!”

  Emma felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “Alan, that’s not true! Brian and I were just friends.”

  “You took me for half the money in our bank accounts!”

  She shook her head, bewildered. “That was money we saved together. We split it fairly when we divorced.”

  “There’s nothing fair about it! You’re my wife, Emma. We belong together, like we were before.” Desperation darkened Alan’s eyes and he lowered his voice. “Brian’s life is over, Emma. But our life isn’t.”

  She took a deep breath. “Yes, it is.”

  “No!” He threw himself against Charlie. “I decide when we’re through!”

  “Give up, Winfeld,” Charlie warned, holding him back.

  “This is my marriage and I decide when it’s over!”

  When Alan continued to resist, Charlie grabbed his shirt front and pushed him against the car again. Jaw thrust forward, he got right in Alan’s face. “The lady is capable of making her own decisions, Winfeld. Right now you had better decide to shut your mouth because anything you say can be used against you in a court of law and believe me, we will use it!”

  As Alan watched her over Charlie’s head, hatred faded from his eyes. This time, the emotion was replaced by what looked like remorse. But Emma had learned not to trust any emotion her ex-husband might display.

  “I never meant to hurt you,” he insisted. “I love you, Emma.”

  Emma turned and hid her face in Jason’s shirt.

  “That’s enough,” Charlie finally said. “I’ll finish reading his rights in the car.”

  “Emma, forgive me!”

  Emma couldn’t bring herself to look at her ex-husband again. A few seconds later she heard a car door slam.

  “I have to stay with Charlie,” Jason murmured, brushing his lips against her hair. “Just until some uniforms get here. Why don’t you go back to your apartment and wait for me?”

  Straightening away from him, Emma hugged her arms over her chest. “Okay.”

  Jason brushed a finger against her cheek. “I’ll be right there.” Turning, he followed his partner and Alan down the street.

  * * * * *

  Emma’s telephone rang as she entered her apartment. Crossing the living room she realized she still clutched the towel she’d been folding earlier. Tossing it at the pile on the couch, she picked up the phone. “Hello?�
�

  “Emma? It’s Marta. Are you okay? I just heard about the warrant issued on Alan. The police think—”

  “He was parked outside my apartment building. Watching me.” Emma sat down among the clean towels. She realized she was still shaking inside. “Charlie is taking him away. Jason…” Need shuddered through her, a sudden need for comfort, for Jason’s arms. “He said he would come back and stay with me.”

  “Do you want me there instead?”

  “No. I’ll call you after Jason leaves.”

  Marta hesitated before asking, “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Emma, I’m so sorry. I never considered that Alan might be the one who hit you and Brian.”

  “He was stalking me.” Emma dug her bare toes into the carpet. “He thought I was having an affair with Brian.”

  “The lies, the jealousy, the anger. Why is it always so obvious after the fact?”

  “He mentioned the money we split in the divorce, so I don’t even know if it was really me he wanted, or just the money and someone to control.”

  “He chose to behave as he did. You didn’t do anything wrong and I promise you, Emma, that I’ll nail that SOB.”

  “I don’t want to nail him.”

  “He killed Brian.”

  Emma closed her eyes and nodded. “He killed Brian.”

  “I’ll put him away. But I’ll make sure he gets help too. I’ll have Paul Sanders talk to him and—”

  “No!” Emma shot to her feet. Even with all he’d done, she didn’t want to see him in the hands of Paul Sanders. “Don’t send him to Paul.”

  “He should be evaluated. What he did was an obvious sign of mental instability.”

  “If you send him to Paul, he might end up dead!”

  The line hummed with silence. When Marta finally spoke, her voice was quiet. “Emma, what are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. I-I have to go. I’ll call you later. I promise.” Emma turned off the phone and put it down. Then she buried her face in her hands. Suddenly, strong arms enveloped her and held her to a hard, comforting chest.

  “It’s okay,” Jason murmured against her hair and his gentleness brought her to tears. “Two officers took Winfeld in their squad car. Charlie followed to start the paperwork. I told him I’d join him later. In the meantime, I’m here for the night. The door is locked and you’re safe.”