Final Words

by Teri Thackston

  He’d also been evasive about Layne’s trip to the coastal town and Jason was just as evasive about why he was interested. After all, he had no proof that Paul Sanders was involved in her disappearance. But he’d given the captain enough sense of Layne’s state of mind that the man had put out a bulletin on her. For now, that was all Jason could do for Layne.

  Emma was another story.

  Pulling out his cell phone, he punched in her office number. The phone rang three times before rolling to her voicemail. Worried that she might visit the other psychologist without him—and possibly run into Paul Sanders again—he hung up and then called Charlie’s cell phone.

  “Garcia,” his partner answered.

  “Charlie, listen. I need for you to drop by the morgue and keep Emma in her office.”

  Charlie’s chuckle vibrated across the line. “That’s a strange request. Wouldn’t you rather do it yourself?”

  “I promised to take her somewhere today but I’m stuck at the courthouse and I don’t want her leaving without me.”

  “I will do what I can.”

  “Thanks, I owe you one.”

  “You owe me several, my friend.”

  * * * * *

  Resting one hand on Leonard Fletcher’s cold shoulder, Emma looked up to see a youthful figure appear beside her. It was so close that her body warmth siphoned away.

  “We’ll have to talk fast,” she said before the apparition could speak. “My assistant will be back in a minute and two other autopsies are going to start soon.”

  Watching her with puzzled eyes, Leonard lifted one hand tentatively to his forehead. “I cracked my skull, didn’t I? Clumsy, that’s me. My old man always told me I’d probably kill myself tripping over my own big feet.”

  Looking down at his body, Emma studied the purple lump on the youth’s forehead. “That blow was enough to knock you out, Leonard but it didn’t kill you.” Gently, she turned the head of the corpse so that the spirit could see the bloody indention at the back of the skull. “Do you know what happened to you?”

  Confusion shadowed his semi-transparent face and he looked at his body as if looking into a mirror. “I was leaving a bar on Fifth Street. I must’ve been really drunk. I tripped. I thought I fell face-down and hit my forehead on the curb. But…I remember tumbling down that little hill too.”

  Emma returned the head to its original position. “You have a criminal record, don’t you, Leonard?”

  “Yes, ma’am. But I did my time.” His confusion twisted into a frown. “I couldn’t find a job, though, so figured I’d pull another robbery. I needed to eat, ya know? I got a gun and picked out a convenience store to knock off. I was headed there from the bar, when I fell and…” He glanced around the autopsy room. “I wound up here somehow.”

  Emma had hoped he could tell her about his death but he didn’t seem to realize he was dead. That happened occasionally. “You were a patient of Dr. Paul Sanders, weren’t you?”

  “He was the shrink the DA made me talk to.”

  “Did you see Dr. Sanders at the bar last night, Leonard?”

  His gaze fixed on her. Through his pupils, she saw the glimmer of the light fixture in the transcription room at the end of the autopsy suite. The light gave him an eerie expression that sent a deeper chill shuddering through her.

  “You know, there was someone at a back table who looked like him. After I fell…” His breath started to labor. “After I fell the first time, I got back up on my feet and then something did hit the back of my head. I remember now. I was starting to turn and saw someone move behind me. I threw up my arm but not quickly enough. Somebody hit me and I fell down the hill. Then I…was looking down and…I saw a man walking away.” He looked at the body on the table again. His voice fell to a whisper. “Walking away from…me.”

  Emma leaned toward the spirit. “Do you think it was Paul Sanders who hit you after you fell?”

  “Don’t know.” He continued to stare at the body. “Maybe. You might be able to find out.”

  “What do you mean, Leonard?”

  “He hit me with a pipe.” His brow furrowed. “He must’ve dropped it ’cause it fell down the hill with me. I don’t think he meant for it to fall ’cause he started after it. But then something scared him off.”

  “Did the police find the pipe?”

  “I don’t know. It fell pretty far. I saw it land in some rocks near the shore.” Tilting his head, he studied the still figure on the table with dawning realization. “I was joking before, Dr. St. Clair. But now I think…I really am dead, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, Leonard. But it’s all right.”

  “It is all right.” He looked at her and guilt flashed through his spectral eyes. “I guess I got a lot of sins to pay for.”

  “We all do.”

  “Ya know, I was doin’ fine until I ran my car up on the grass of some apartment house a couple of years back. I’d been drinkin’ that night too. I didn’t see the girl until it was too late.”

  Emma’s heart lurched into her throat.

  “I hit her,” the spirit continued. “I was so scared, I just drove off and left her there. I was scared t’get the car fixed, so I dumped it in the bay. I heard later that she died. I feel real bad about that.”

  It couldn’t be…

  “Where in the bay?” she asked.

  “East of town. Off that abandoned pier near Waterside Estates. Water’s deep there. I don’t know why I told you all that. Just felt the need to get it off my chest, I guess.” A smile curled his lips at last and the shadows faded from his eyes. “Thanks, Dr. St. Clair. Sorry I couldn’t help you but I didn’t see who hit me.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Leonard,” she answered quietly.

  He was still smiling as he faded away.

  “Hey, Doc.” Skitch breezed into the autopsy suite. He’d changed into a fresh lab coat and carried the folder Emma had intentionally left on her desk. “I’m back.”

  The last of Emma’s chill warmed away and she stripped off her gloves. “I have to take care of something.”

  Reaching the table, Skitch frowned. “What about this guy?”

  “I won’t be gone more than a couple of hours.”

  “But, Doc—”

  Emma didn’t hear the rest of his words. Already tossing her lab coat into the laundry bin, she hurried out of the room.

  * * * * *

  Fifteen minutes later she stood on the street above the hill down which Leonard Fletcher had fallen. Police tape cordoned off the sandy slope. Blood stained the curb. A police officer stood a few yards away, guarding the scene even though the crime scene investigators had already come and gone. Emma had identified herself to him and he had agreed that she could look around as long as she didn’t cross the tape.

  What she wanted lay well beyond the tape. Concrete rubble—some of it the size of boulders—lined the base of the hill, protecting the sandy dune from the waves.

  Stepping around the taped area, she walked down the hill toward the concrete “rocks”, as Leonard Fletcher had referred to the rubble. The hill leveled slightly just above the concrete and she moved down to stand there. Trash and debris from the sea littered the area but she saw nothing that looked like the weapon that had killed Leonard.

  Emma moved closer to the rubble. For the next hour, she turned over every piece of concrete she could move and peered into every hollow along that makeshift seawall but no pipe turned up. Finally, knowing she had little time left to make her appointment with Arthur Tamburello, she gave up. Leonard Fletcher’s spirit had been mistaken. There was no pipe.

  And what might that mean about the rest of his story?

  * * * * *

  Jason answered his cell phone on the second ring. “MacKenzie.”

  “Jason?” Static punctuated the query.

  “Charlie?”

  “I couldn’t…called away…”

  A lump formed in Jason’s stomach. “Are you with Emma?”

  “Had to…docks
…”

  “Charlie, you’re breaking up.” Ignoring the curious glances of others waiting outside the courtroom, Jason raised his voice. “Is Emma with you?”

  “Damn phone…meet me when…”

  The connection went dead. Lowering his phone, Jason looked at his watch again. Emma’s appointment with Dr. Tamburello was in about twenty minutes. He didn’t want her to miss it.

  Easing open the courtroom door, he peered inside. The defense attorney, a notorious windbag, had settled into one of his rambling sessions of questions for the current witness. It could easily be another hour before Marta called him. Or it could be one minute.

  Letting the door close silently, Jason shoved his cell phone inside his jacket pocket and headed for the stairs.

  * * * * *

  Emma frowned as she left Arthur Tamburello’s office. After spending less than twenty minutes with the elderly psychologist, she’d realized that he couldn’t tell her anything helpful. Pretending to be researching a murder victim who’d been his patient a year earlier, she’d managed to bring the conversation around to the general topic of suspect assessment. Dr. Tamburello, himself, had mentioned Paul.

  “A fine doctor,” he’d said. “Works right here in this building. He’s helped many people.”

  Helped them to their deaths, Emma thought and quickly ended the interview.

  Gripping her purse strap now, she entered the elevator outside Arthur Tamburello’s office suite. As it closed, the mirrored door caught her reflection. Lines of stress etched her forehead and silver gleamed at her temples. Before this ended, she’d probably look ten years older.

  The elevator stopped on the ground floor and the door slid open. Emma’s heart slammed against her ribs when she saw Paul cross the lobby. Unfortunately he saw her too.

  “Emma.” Approaching, he smiled at her. “What a nice surprise.”

  Bright light fell through the atrium above, making his pale blue eyes seem paler. A fading scratch on his cheek and the furrows in his brow gave him a sinister look.

  “Do we have an appointment today?” he asked.

  “No. I was just…” What to say? “Seeing my…gynecologist. He works here in your building.” She tightened her grip on her purse and stepped to one side. “I’m sorry but I have to run.”

  “Wait.” Reaching out, he touched the small of her back. “I believe Pamela has something of yours. A credit card?”

  “Oh. Oh, yes but I can get it later.” Emma tried to step around him but his movements herded her toward his office.

  “It’s no trouble. I believe it’s in Pamela’s desk.” Opening his outer office door, he ushered her inside. “She’s at the post office right now but I’m sure I can find it.”

  As the door closed behind them, panic clawed at the back of Emma’s throat. Alone. She was alone with a possible killer.

  Does he know I’ve been in his files?

  “How have you been feeling?” he asked as he led her toward Pamela’s desk, his fingers pressing into the small of her back.

  “Fine,” she answered quickly. “I’ve been fine.”

  Releasing her at last, he stepped behind the desk and opened a drawer. “Are we set up for another session this week?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to make an appointment. We’ve been so busy at the morgue.”

  “Here it is.” He lifted her credit card out of the drawer. His eyes narrowed at the corners as he handed it to her. “Odd that you would lose it here.”

  “I thought so too.” Emma launched into the explanation she’d prepared after Pamela had phoned her. “But you remember I was feeling emotional last week. When I dug in my purse for a tissue, the card must have fallen out.”

  “I have a box of tissues on my desk.”

  “I guess I didn’t notice. Now I really have to go.”

  Paul shifted between her and the door. A sudden flush made the scratch on his cheek stand out in a jagged white stripe. He looked down at her legs. “You have sand on your stockings.”

  Emma followed his gaze and she noticed granules of sand clinging to her calves. A narrow run scarred the stocking around her inner right ankle.

  “Have you been walking on the beach, Emma?”

  The silky tone of his question brought her head up slowly. His flat gaze chilled her. He knew. Somehow he knew.

  She nearly fainted with relief when the outer door opened and Pamela breezed inside.

  “Hello, Dr. St. Clair.” Curiosity flickered across the woman’s face. “You didn’t have an appointment today, did you?”

  “No.” Emma forced herself to calm down. With his secretary here, Paul wouldn’t dare do anything. “No, I was in the building and ran into Paul and decided to pick up my credit card.” She lifted the card in the air, saw it shimmering with sweat from her hand and quickly tucked it inside her purse. Her gaze shifted to his once more but he was smiling again. She might have imagined the threat in his eyes. After all, how could a little sand give her away?

  “You should be careful with those things.” Pamela stepped between Paul and Emma, forcing the psychiatrist to step aside. “Keep them in your wallet and not just loose inside your purse.”

  “I’ll do that.” Taking advantage of the moment, Emma bolted for the door. “I’ll call you later for that appointment. Bye!”

  * * * * *

  Jason slammed on the brakes at the curb and leaped out of his car. Rounding the front of the Mustang, he stopped when he saw Emma hurry out of the building. Anger quickly overcame relief as he realized she was alone.

  “Where’s Charlie?” he demanded as she reached him. “I told you not to come here alone.”

  “I went to the beach to find a murder weapon and then I ran late for my appointment and where the hell were you, anyway?”

  He realized she was shaking. Her eyes darkened, the blue little more than a thin rim even in that bright sunlight.

  He softened his tone. “I got held up at court. I sent Charlie to go with you but something called him away. Are you all right?”

  She nodded and pushed at him until he let her step off the curb. He saw her SUV parked in a far corner of the parking lot.

  “Emma, what happened?” he asked, keeping up with her as she marched toward it.

  “One of the spirits, another of Paul’s patients, told me he was hit on the head by a pipe and I went to look for it. I know I promised not to do anything so stupid but there was a police officer there and I didn’t think there was any danger.” Reaching her SUV, she pressed a hand against the driver’s side window it as if to steady herself. “And just now…inside…I ran into Paul. I think he’s suspicious.”

  “Damn it, I knew something like that would happen!” His hands automatically went to fists. “What did he do? What did he say?”

  “Nothing. It was just his manner. He pulled me into his office and he-he acted like he wasn’t going to let me out. Maybe he saw me at the beach. I think he knew I was looking for the weapon that he used to kill that young man.”

  Incensed, Jason whirled toward the building but Emma caught his arm.

  “Don’t go charging in there,” she said, her voice a shade calmer. “I’ll be all right. I just got a little panicky.”

  He pulled her hard against him. “Don’t ever do anything like that again,” he ordered, resting his cheek on top of her head.

  “Believe me, I won’t.” Her arms went around his waist. “And that’s the truth. I’m not as brave as I thought.”

  “The hell you’re not!” He held her tightly. “You’re the bravest woman I ever met. And one of the most stubborn too.”

  “I’m not feeling brave right now. I just want to get out of here.” But she held onto him for a moment before suddenly looking up at him with wide eyes. “Oh, I can’t believe I almost forgot to tell you. Leonard Fletcher killed your sister!”

  Jason’s heart surged into his throat. “What?”

  “He confessed to hitting a woman with his car. Then he was so scared that he dro
ve his car to some abandoned pier south of town and sank it in the bay near Waterside Estates.”

  “I know that pier. But who is this guy, Emma? Did you meet him somewhere? Why would he confess to you? Where—” Suddenly, he realized what she was saying. His hands fell away from her. “Leonard Fletcher is dead, isn’t he?”

  “His body came into the morgue today.” She stared hard at Jason. “You said you would try to believe me. You’ve gone along with me in checking out Paul but this—this—is the thing to trust me on. It can only help you.”

  He wanted to believe her. God knew that he did. And looking into her eyes—so earnest—he almost could.

  “All right,” he finally said. “I’ll check it out. But you go straight to your office and wait for me.”

  Her fingers twisted in his sleeve. “You can’t come with me now?”

  “I left the courthouse before they called me in. Marta will skin me alive if she calls me to testify and I’m not there.”

  “You’re right about that.” Releasing him, Emma opened the door of her SUV. “You’d better get back there.”

  Jacob hesitated. “Are you sure you’re all right to drive?”

  “I’m okay now that I’m out of there.” She smiled at last, apparently more in control now and got into the SUV. “I’ll be waiting at my office. I promise.”

  “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  He closed the door. Stepping back, he waited until she started her vehicle and drove away. Fear churned in his gut as he returned to the Mustang. If Paul Sanders believed she could do what she claimed and if the man thought Emma had any inkling of what he might have done…

  Not for the first time, Jason found himself wishing that he did totally believe her, that Emma really could communicate with the dead. And that she could prove it.

  Or had she proven it already? Jaime Campanero. Craig Potter. Tyrone…

  Jason shoved his key into the Mustang’s ignition. He was so close to accepting, to believing. One more thing would tip the scales. Maybe that one more thing was proof of Rose’s killer.

  He started his car. After he testified, a trip to that abandoned pier just might prove it.

  * * * * *

  “You can cover him now,” Emma said and Skitch lifted the sheet over the last body of the day. Her young assistant had seemed quiet all afternoon, speaking only in reply to questions and then keeping his answers short and to the point. He’d lost his ease with her and she could blame no one but herself.