Roger frowned. “That sucks. Good for him though.”
“Yeah, hopefully he’ll have enough brains not to end up in this job,” Matt joked, though Roger knew nothing made police parents prouder than kids who stepped up to serve and protect in their parents’ footsteps. He hoped to find out one day, sooner than later. Getting Sophie to marry him first was the obstacle at hand. If he could help Matt settle this mess, maybe they could actually make it down the aisle.
“I don’t know that I can help you with finding a way to charge the woman I plan to marry, Matt,” Roger said half-humorously. Pereski was really hurting if he was so desperate as to ask him for help.
“Listen, I know I came down on her hard, but that’s how it had to be, and you know, step back from it for a moment, Rog. How many times do we come across someone who said ‘Oh, he was the best guy, we all loved him,’ right before they shot their whole family?”
“You’re right, but not about Sophie.”
“She was there. We only have her word that she passed out. She knew about the receipt, it’s her name on it even if the signature doesn’t match. She’s the only one who’s seen this mystery guy, and why, if he was the Bledsoe killer trying to get rid of a witness, didn’t he aim for her? Everyone was clear that he was gunning for the friend, not Sophie. Or, that he was just a drunk and her friend happened to be in the middle of the road at the time. It seems pretty convenient to say some mysterious guy is suddenly following her, doncha think? Do you know your girl as well as you think you do, Rog?”
Roger fought the impulse to punch Matt in the face. His colleague wasn’t wrong, factually speaking, but there was no way Sophie had anything to do with this. “None of the forensics back you up, and you don’t have motive or a weapon.”
Matt sighed, “All true, but cases have been built on less.”
“You’ve been asking who had the motive to kill Bledsoe, but what about someone who’d want Sophie out of the way? Maybe your focus is wrong, Matt. You get too caught up in one way of seeing things, you lose other possibilities. Maybe someone killed Patrice because she happened to be there, to set Sophie up? Maybe slow down the sale of the store, or eliminate it altogether? Valuable real estate can make people do crazy things,” Roger threw out.
Matt’s blank expression told Roger that no, he hadn’t considered that side of things. He had tunnel vision on finding the murderer, but hadn’t thought that maybe someone was after Sophie even more than they were after Patrice. In which case, Sophie could be in more danger than they thought. Roger found himself increasingly unsettled at the idea.
“That’s an interesting line of reasoning, Roger. I guess it would explain some of the holes in the case. And why didn’t they just go after Sophie directly, then? Why her friends?”
“I don’t know, but there’s something there, I can feel it. Have you checked her partner out, Margaret Dalton?”
“Sure. She was at a restaurant at the time of the murder, getting soup, just like she said. She has verification of her whereabouts before that, and the guy next door, Theo something-or-other, said he could vouch for her arrival at the time she said she got back to the shop. He heard the screams just a few seconds later, as he was closing up shop.”
Roger nodded. “I have a friend checking her out, but so far there’s not much I didn’t already know. I still think she’s worth a second look, maybe dig a little deeper. I can try to find something on the driver, if you want.” Roger filled Matt in, figuring Pereski was so desperate to find any crack in the case that would get city hall off his back that he wouldn’t mind Roger poking around at this point.
Matt looked thoughtful for a second. “So you’re saying the killer wasn’t after Patrice Bledsoe, but what about the Noble’s guy, and the receipt?”
“Crime of opportunity. And anyone could be forging Sophie’s signature – she’s being set up.”
“Maybe, but it’s a long route around to setting someone up. Lotsa room for mistakes. Why not just kill Sophie and it’s done? Sounds like someone with an axe to grind.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“Any ideas?”
“Nope. I have no goddamned idea, Matt, but I’m telling you, we have to dig more. She could have sold that store ten times over, so maybe someone wants the property? Someone who doesn’t know it’s already in the process of changing hands, or someone who wants to disrupt the deal? Lower the property value? Create all this media nonsense about a curse, and suddenly your real estate drops.”
“Or increase in value. Some nuts love that kind of thing.”
“Either way, it would be motive.”
“Yeah. Okay, I’ll check it out, but I gotta ask you a hard question here, Rog,” Matt said.
“Are there any easy ones?”
“Almost never. Anyway, this guy, Dr. Gabriel Mason. You know him?”
“I know of him,” Roger said carefully. “Why?”
“Your fiancée seems chummy with him lately.”
“One appointment is chummy?” Roger asked reasonably.
“She’s made a few phone calls and from what my tail says, she went to his office directly after leaving here today.”
Roger pulled back in surprise. “You wired her phone?” Somehow he hadn’t believed things had gone that far.
“She’s our prime suspect,” Matt said, shrugging. “There was enough probable cause for a court order. Amazing what you can get permission to do when the dead person is high-profile enough.”
“That’s so much bullshit, Matt.”
“What do you know about her relationship with his guy?”
“There is no relationship. He’s a professor at her college, and he’s also into the woo-woo stuff, the ghost hunting. She’s probably seeing him about something related to the store.” Roger hedged, keeping his real thoughts to himself, inwardly seething that Sophie was with Dr. Mason right now. Instead of trying to maintain a low profile and stay out of sight, the love of his life wanted to do directly the opposite, it appeared.
“Right. I talked to him for a few minutes, and he mentioned the store and some personal business that he said he was not able to discuss. Personal. Huh. He’s a guy a girl might think is good-looking, close to her age, college educated. . . .”
“Matt, for Chrissake . ..”
“Hey, I’m just sayin’. Don’t you think it’s a little weird that after a traumatic experience like today, her friend nearly being run down and this guy in her store last night—so she says—she wouldn’t be here with you? Or with her friend or just go home? If there is some guy out there following her, she doesn’t seem too concerned about it. Makes you wonder why she’s not more worried.”
“Sophie doesn’t live her life in fear, and she’s not afraid of much, not even of you, from what I saw last time, when I was pretty sure she threatened to haul your ass out in front of God and man. Let me tell you buddy, she will do it. She’s not easily pushed around.”
Matt sat back in his chair. “I’m not backing off of this, Rog, so you might as well accept the idea. And you’re not exactly being objective.”
“Neither are you if you don’t take a broader scope,” Roger countered. “Are you going to check out the other angles we talked about?”
“I’ll follow this path and any other one that could close this case wherever it leads, you can bet on that,” Matt promised, standing and heading for the door. “And you understand that she can’t know her phone is tapped. Consider it a professional courtesy that I let you know, in case you wanted to share anything intimate, if you get my drift. Wouldn’t want you embarrassed in front of the higher-ups.”
“Big of you, Pereski.”
“I thought so. Just watch yourself, Rog. No woman is worth your career.”
Roger watched him leave. Matt was wrong on that score, too, at least when the woman was Sophie.
Chapter Ten
“Don’t be so nervous. It won’t hurt a bit, I promise,” Gabe said as Sophie sat in a deep leather chair that swallowe
d her. The wingbacks obscured her peripheral vision altogether, making Gabe the focus of her attention as he sat directly in front of her.
“You know,” she said, sitting forward again and reacting to the sudden clutch of nerves that seized her, “I don’t think I want to do this. Isn’t my life a mess already? Why open another can of worms?”
“Well, you might find answers in the can, I suppose.”
“Or more problems.”
“That’s possible, yes. Only you can decide if finding one is worth risking the other. Most things come with a price, sometimes one we don’t know until it’s asked for.”
“That’s not very comforting,” she grumbled, every muscle in her body tense and her hands dug into the arms of the chair, her feet poised to bolt.
Gabe smiled, sitting in a similar chair opposite of her and crossing one leg over the other. “I think it’s natural to feel apprehensive, but isn’t knowing better than not knowing?”
“Maybe.” Who was she kidding? She wanted to know. For years she had tortured herself over what she’d forgotten. Yet, now, faced with it, she wasn’t sure. Stupid.
“You have more control of what happens when you’re under than you imagine. You can’t be induced to do or discover anything you don’t want to. I’m only a guide.”
“Really?” she took a breath, relaxing minutely, finding it reassuring that she had a choice in this. She’d chosen to be here. She could choose to change her mind, too.
“Really. I’d love to help you discover what’s going on in that head of yours, but ultimately, it’s still your head. It’s also your life, and your ghost.”
Her shoulders sunk. The ghost. He had to go and mention that.
He continued, “Something in your energy attracts him, the same way it attracted Eliza. I don’t know why spirits appear to some people and not others, but they obviously chosen you for a reason. Don’t you want to know what it is?”
“I don’t know. This wasn’t supposed to be about me. I wanted to help Patrice in some way, to find out who hurt her. Finding out who my ghost is might help with that.” She paused, thinking. “But it also means I might find out things about myself that I’m not sure I’m ready for.”
“There’s nothing to fear. I promise, your mind won’t reveal anything you are unable to handle.”
“Seems like it’s been doing that for weeks already.”
“Maybe that’s because you are ready,” he countered. ‘You are handling it, aren’t you? Stop selling yourself short. You’re brave, and you’re capable,” he said easily, not making the compliment sound like anything other than basic fact. “And I’ll be right here the whole time. I won’t let anything bad happen,” he reassured.
“You’re the only one, except for my friend Margaret, who doesn’t think I’m nuts – or a liar, or a killer,” she said softly, watching him fish a quarter out of his pocket and start flipping it between his fingers. It was a deft motion that distracted her from their conversation. He noticed her attention focused on his hand.
“It’s a habit I developed to keep my fingers busy after I quit smoking. It helps me focus, though, for whatever reason. I’d start doing this, and forget I wanted a smoke. It took a while to master, but then the habit stuck.”
“You were a smoker?”
“Since my teens, unfortunately. I quit three years ago.”
“Good for you. I can’t stand cigarette smoke,” she commented vaguely, still captivated by how he flipped the coin so easily over each finger and then back again.
“So, tell me again what this ghost looks like?” Gabe asked conversationally, and Sophie relaxed. He had a nice voice. Nice smile. Nice fingers, too, she thought, admiring evenly trimmed, clean nails as she watched the coin move back and forth.
“Sophie?” Gabe prompted. She looked up, away from the motion of the coin and fear froze her as the ghost who’d been following her appeared over by Gabe’s desk.
“H-he’s here.”
“Who?”
“The man. My ghost. He’s here, by your desk,” she said, sounding much calmer than she felt.
“I see. There’s no reason to be afraid. You’re safe. I think what you see is just a memory, not the actual ghost. The temperature in the room hasn’t changed at all. Do you understand?”
Sophie’s eyes remained glued to the ghost, who looked back at her without a change in his expression.
Gabe’s voice broke in between them again. “Sophie I want you to do something for me. Imagine a glass wall between you and everything you see right now. Nothing can come through that wall, nothing can hurt you, but you can see everything, okay?”
She did as he said and relaxed a bit, settling back into the chair. “Okay.”
“So, tell me what your ghost looks like. Is there anything special about him?”
“He’s not from our time. He’s wounded.”
“Can you describe him to me?”
Sophie took a long look, noticing details that she hadn’t before. “He’s taller than I thought, and he has dark brown eyes. They looked so dark before, scary, but now he just looks. . .sad. He’s young, maybe mid-twenties. Brownish hair, slicked back. He’s still holding his hand over his mid-section,” she frowned, feeling sad. “Someone killed him. He’s hiding the wound. But it. . .goes deeper.”
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. I can see the cuff link, but one is missing. The one on the arm he’s holding over the wound is missing. He must have dropped it.”
“The link you found in the store?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Can you see anything about it, more detail?”
“No, it just looks like the one I found. But I can see the Harvard crest.”
“That’s good, Sophie. I want you to memorize his face. Take a long look, and when you come back, you’re going to remember him very clearly. That will help us try to identify him later, okay?”
“As if I could forget,” she commented, and heard Gabe chuckle.
“Sophie, what do you think your Aunt Doris would have done with the ghost who’s visiting you? Could she figure out what he wanted?”
“Oh, yes. She always knew. She could hear them.”
“So you did know what your aunt could do?”
“Yes. I saw her once when I was six. I was home from school with a cold, and saw her call one of them.”
“What did you see?”
“She was sitting with a woman at a table in the reading room, and they were discussing her cards. . .then Aunt Doris smiled and said ‘he’s here.” I saw a man in the corner. Aunt Doris closed her eyes and asked the man questions, but she never looked at him.”
“She couldn’t see him?”
“No. She could just sense him and she always knew what they wanted, but she never really explained how.”
“Then what happened?”
“That time, he told me what he wanted. She was asking him questions for the woman at the table, but she couldn’t hear the answers, because he was talking to me.”
“He knew you were there?”
“Yes, and he told me what to do.”
“He spoke to you like I’m speaking to you now?”
She shook her head. “No, I just knew what cards to show my aunt. He told me which ones to show her. She knew the message then.”
“What did he say?”
She shrugged. “He really wanted someone to know.”
“Know what?”
Sophie shrugged. “That his wife had poisoned him, and he wasn’t going to help her get the money.”
“Uh, Sophie, how old were you?”
“Six.”
“I see. So what then?”
“Aunt Doris called the police, but they thought she was making things up. The woman was very angry with her. After that, she started to teach me the cards, but stopped, because all the ghosts were the same.”
“What do you mean?”
“They were all killed by someone, a
nd they wanted me to help. When they were like that, they would talk to me instead of her. Aunt Doris told me it was too dangerous, and to shut the door.”
“What door?”
“The one that let the ghosts in,” she said simply. “Then Mommy found out.”
“Your mother? What happened?”
“She and Daddy had a big fight. Mommy said she couldn’t live in a house with. . .uh. . .I can’t remember. . . .”
“It’s okay. So your mom went away?”
Sophie’s eyes stung, tears falling freely as she remembered begging her mother to stay. “Yes,” she said in a small voice. “Aunt Doris said it was because she didn’t understand, and Mommy still loved me but had to live somewhere else. Oh! I know the word. Freaks. Mommy said she was tired of living in a house full of freaks,” Sophie clarified, her childish tone transformed into a whiplash adult anger.
Gabe was silent for a moment.
“Gabe?” she asked, as if making sure he was still there.
“Yes. Just thinking. Where did your mom go?”
“Away. I don’t know.”
“She never contacted you again?”
“No.”
“What else do you remember about your family, Sophie?”
“Dad could tell things by touching, and Mommy hated that, too. He could touch anything and tell you about it. The police came to ask him questions sometimes, but one time he said he didn’t want to do it anymore.”
“Your dad helped the police?”
“Yes. He helped them find people. But he said it made him tired and sad. He said people like us had to help others, but we could pick when and how much. He said he’d rather spend time with me and Aunt Doris.”
“He sounds like a good dad. He knew about your ability to talk to the ghosts?”
“He knew everything when he touched people. And he hugged me a lot.”
“That’s nice. Remember that, Sophie, that your family loved you.”
She smiled slightly, nodding.
“Sophie, look at the coin,” he directed, and she did, watching as he rolled it smoothly over his fingers. “I want you to go a little deeper. The glass wall is still there, but I want you to think about the day that your family died. You’re safe, and nothing can hurt you. It’s all in the past. Remember that as you try to picture that day.”
Past Tense Page 15
