by Linda Mooney
“And I’m telling you they weren’t killed here,” she had snapped at them. “Dismembered, yes. But they were killed elsewhere, then brought here where the killer finished the job.”
“A single killer? A dead killer?” Snorting in disbelief, Sam had stomped back to the car to try and cool down, leaving his brother to deal with her.
“He doesn’t understand,” she’d tried to explain. “The dead have their own strengths. They don’t have the strength normal men do. Like the living do. I know I’m right, Kiel. Why won’t he accept it?” She had stopped calling him detective somewhere between the diner and here. Sam, however, remained Detective Reese.
“I’ll tell you why. Because he hasn’t grieved for me yet.”
Her head jerked up at the statement. She could sense him nodding. “He can’t?”
“He won’t. Not until I’m really gone. And when that’ll be is anybody’s guess.”
The silence between them grew almost palpable. Finally, J turned and lifted her hand. “Take me home. I’m tired.” She waited, knowing he was eyeing her. When he finally spoke, his despair was unmistakable.
“I don’t sleep anymore, J. I don’t eat. I don’t fucking exist! Day runs into night, then back into day. There’s no reason anymore for me being here, and yet I have no idea why I am. Or what I’m supposed to do. I know I’m dead, but I don’t know why. Or how. Or where my body is.”
She blinked. “You don’t know where your body is?”
“I told you it’s a long story.”
“And I said I want to hear it.”
“Not here. Not now. Later,” he promised again. He took her hand, placed it on his arm, and walked her back to where Sam was standing beside the car.
They dropped her off at her home, then pulled away without letting her know when they’d be back in touch. Not a problem. They knew where she would be if and when they needed her again.
Miss Cassie had left a message for her on the answering machine. “Left you a plate in the oven, hon, and a slice of pie in the fridge. Hope you’re okay. No mail worth mentioning, but I’m taking your Cyril Simone catalog home with me. I’ll be by tomorrow, same time. See you then!”
The downstairs foyer smelled of lemon Pledge. Obviously Cassie had taken a dust rag to the furniture today, which meant it was Monday. J sighed. She hadn’t kept track of what day it was for God knows how long, either.
Ascending the stairs slowly, she unwound the scarf from her head. She was hungry again, but more than that she was exhausted. Plus a headache was beginning to niggle its way into becoming a full-blown migraine.
Chances were she would fall asleep in the tub if she took a bath, so she opted for a quick shower instead. Passing a big-toothed comb through her wet hair, she put it into a ponytail and slipped on a pair of running shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. The difference she felt was remarkable.
Downstairs, she changed the radio over to an oldies station where one of her favorites was nearly over. “Don’t suppose I could talk you into playing it again,” J called over her shoulder as she headed into the kitchen.
The covered dish was in the microwave as Miss Carrie had promised. The woman knew J rarely used her real oven, commenting once that J probably had the cleanest range in the city. Fortunately, the burners were covered by a ceramic top, a precaution J had taken to prevent Grandmama and herself from accidentally burning themselves.
The pie was peach. That, along with a glass of milk, completed her meal. When she was done, she set the dirty dishes inside the dishwasher and went into the library for a comfortable read.
Reading always managed to soothe her, especially after such an emotionally packed day like today. There was very little J spent her money on, but books were her one overriding passion. And because they had to be in Braille, her costliest passion.
There was one title in particular she sought, and knew exactly where on the shelf it was located. She wanted to escape reality tonight with an adventurous tale full of revenge and love. The Count of Monte Cristo slid easily into her palm. Taking the thick tome over to the velvet-covered wingback, J curled her feet underneath her and prepared to spend an hour or so reading before calling it a night. Unless she found herself nodding off before then.
She was barely four pages into the novel when the doorbell rang. Startled, she closed the book and left it on the seat as she went to the front door.
“Who is it?”
“Kiel Stark.”
She instantly latched onto the fact that he hadn’t put the “detective” label on his name. At this time of the night, this was not intended to be a business call. She unlocked the door, opening it up to smell the evening as it was descending. “I take it this isn’t an official visit?” She smiled.
He was standing there like a beacon of hope, lighting the world as if he was another sun. She could sense something different in him, but shrugged it off. To try and put him into any sort of category would be impossible. And with her own emotions frayed about her feet, she couldn’t trust herself to make any true evaluations as to what he was feeling.
“Mind if I come in?”
She answered by opening the door wider and stepping back. Once he was over the threshold, she closed and locked the door. “I would offer you something to drink, but…”
Kiel chuckled. “It’s all right. I just came by to offer my apologies for Sam’s behavior today.”
Gesturing to him, she ordered, “Come,” and started to head back to the library. When she didn’t hear him following, she paused. “Kiel?”
“Uhh, J? This is going to sound strange, but did you know it’s darker than midnight in here?”
“Oh!” She had forgotten. But then, she had never had any use for lights. In fact, since her grandmama had died, she hadn’t felt the need to buy any light bulbs to replace the ones that burnt out. Miss Cassie had fussed at her once about keeping some in supply, just in case. Although she always came in the mornings to do what she needed to do, and could throw open the windows if she needed more light. If the woman had bought any bulbs during one of her visits to the store, J was unaware where she might have stashed them. “I’m sorry, Kiel. Do I need to come back and guide you?”
A soft chuckle tickled her ears. “No. Stay there. Just, umm, don’t freak out on me when I do this,” he warned her.
“Do what?”
“Come toward you without making a sound,” he half-whispered, standing directly in front of her.
Despite the warning, J reacted in shock at his sudden nearness. Kiel started to apologize again, when she stopped him. “I can see why Sam yelled at you today about doing your ‘ghost shit’.” She giggled nervously. “Is there a reason why you do that?”
“Kind of. I found out that if I keep my solid self intact, I can still knock things over. I still feel pain. Or something like pain. Isn’t that weird?”
It was weird, but fascinating as well. “But if you stop being solid, you’re more like an actual ghost, and can pass through walls and stuff like that?” She felt his hand touch her arm, then travel down to her hand where it clasped hers. His touch sent little shivers through her, and all at once it was as if her entire body came to attention.
“Give the lady a blue ribbon,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Where are we going?”
“To the library. It’s my favorite room in the house.”
They walked through the parlor into the library where J directed him to another chair. She felt him walk behind her like a passing warmth, and she shivered again. Instantly his hands were on her shoulders.
“You cold?”
“No. Not really.” His hands were running up and down her arms, rubbing over her goose-pimpled skin. It tingled with fire as his fingers lightly stroked her.
“What are you wearing?”
His face was close enough for her to smell his soap. Which was crazy because spirits didn’t bathe.
“A running outfit?”
“A t-t-shirt and sh-shorts.�
� Now her teeth were chattering, but she still didn’t feel anywhere near cold. In fact, her skin felt flushed. Her face was burning up. The backs of his fingers barely brushed against one breast, and immediately she could feel an ache in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t explain. Her whole body tensed, and every nerve was instantly aware of his masculinity.
“How could you tell I was in a running outfit?” she accused softly. Breathing was becoming more and more difficult. He literally was stealing the air from her lungs. Without being aware of her actions, J reached up and placed her hands over his, stopping their movement. It also pressed his knuckles firmly against the sides of her breasts. Pure raw desire slid through her, making her shiver.
“I can see in the dark,” Kiel replied. He moved closer behind her until his chest was a wall of warmth along her back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to deceive you. I just didn’t want to freak you out.”
Her mind was trying to make sense of a whirlwind of contradictions. The man was dead. There was no logical explanation for him being here with her tonight. No reason whatsoever why his touch was making her body riot with these feelings she was unprepared for. She wanted to reach up and cup her breasts in her hands. More than that, she wanted him to. The images that flashed through her mind terrified her on many levels.
“You’re like ice,” Kiel murmured against her hair. “Either you’re going to need to crank up the heat in this place, or do you have a fireplace? I thought I saw a chimney.”
She nodded, not trusting her chattering teeth, and pointed. “On the other side of that chair.” His hands left her flesh, replaced by a coolness she instantly regretted. Turning around, she tried to spot his glow when a loud whoosh and a pop echoed in the room, followed by a wave of warmth and the smell of burning wood. “Please tell me you didn’t just wave your hands and it appeared.”
“Okay, I won’t, but don’t ask.” She heard him move around the room, deliberately making sure his feet made scuffling noises. “Good grief, how many books are in this library, anyway?”
“Two thousand six hundred and eighteen.”
A low whistle came from his direction. “And how many of them have you read?” he asked with a touch of humor.
“I’ve either personally read, or have had read to me, all but those twelve on that shelf underneath the bust of Poe.”
“Edgar Allan?”
“My great-grandfather built this house. He was a fan of horror literature. You’ll find several first editions of some of the classics on that shelf over the door.”
“The man believed in the supernatural?” Kiel had made his way back around the room and now, from the sound of his voice, stood a little more than arm’s length away.
“He, umm, I heard he used to go on jaunts to the cemetery. Why, he never explained. But my great-grandmother was not happy with that particular habit.” Another nervous giggle escaped her.
“Still cold?”
“No. Thank you. I should have dressed a bit warmer. I guess I was overheated after taking my shower.”
A minute of silence passed between them. She could tell he was still perusing the titles. Presently she heard him pick up the book she’d left in the chair.
“Which one is this?”
“The Count of Monte Cristo.” Of course he wouldn’t be able to read the Braille title.
He grunted in reply. “Never read it. In fact, I’m not much of a reader. Or I wasn’t.” He muttered a four-letter word in disgust.
Impulsively J held out a hand in his direction.
“You didn’t come here just to apologize for Sam’s behavior today.” She wasn’t surprised when he took her hand and drew her over to the divan.
“Partly. But also because I realized I still owed you some explanations.”
Sitting on the low-slung couch next to him was too much to bear. Quickly she got to her feet and walked over to the fireplace, crossing her arms over her braless breasts and rubbing them as if she needed the warmth. Turning around to face him, she nodded. “Go on. I’m listening.”
“A month ago I was working undercover for the DEA. Everything went as planned, but at the last second someone tagged me as a cop. Broke my cover.” He gave a deep sigh as he steeled his nerve. “Sam says I disappeared for a week. They had no idea where I’d gone, only that I’d disappeared along with two other suspects. Their initial thought was that I’d been taken hostage. The only thing they were sure of was that both men had been wounded. They found blood splatter on the pavement in a back parking lot where they think the three of us got away in some kind of SUV, gauging from the tire tracks.”
“Your blood, too?”
She saw him nod. His aura flickered. “Yeah. That’s why they thought I’d been taken hostage.”
“They searched for you, right?”
“Yeah. That’s what Sam said. A week went by without any word or request for ransom. Sam was frantic. He was my partner, as well as my brother, and I hadn’t made any kind of attempt to contact him.”
J tilted her head. “I didn’t know the department allowed siblings to partner up.”
“There’s no written rule against it. It was just coincidence. Sam was already a detective here in town when I transferred in. I guess because we both had different last names no one was the wiser when we got paired up. That and the fact that we look nothing alike.”
“You don’t?”
“Nope. I took after Mom. I got her hair and eyes, plus I’m built a little shorter. Stockier. A bit more muscled across the back and shoulders than Sam.” A soft snort of laughter surprised her. “Sam took after his dad. I’m six foot, but Sam makes me look like a midget next to him. Anyway, he got the dark hair and dangerous looks that attracts the girls.”
“How long have you two been working together?”
“A little over four years. Five, come July. Anyway, I don’t remember anything after the raid. Absolutely nothing. What I do remember is waking up in the middle of the park in the dead of night.”
“The park? Here in town?”
“Not too far from that freaky statue, yeah.”
“You mean the one that feels like a clown on drugs?”
Kiel laughed.
It was deep and honest, and sent more shivers through her. Honest to goodness, her knees were feeling wobbly.
“Come to think of it, that’s exactly what that damn thing looks like,” he admitted.
J saw him make a movement and realized he was rubbing the back of his neck.
“So you woke up one night in the park. Then what happened?” she urged.
“Sooo, I walked home. That’s when I found the police tape on my apartment. And since I couldn’t find my key to get inside, I decided the next best thing would be to go over to Sam’s.”
“Bet he was floored.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” His voice grew very solemn. “Ten minutes later he was screaming in horror.”
During his dialog J had found herself slowly inching back toward him. His story was baring his soul. The retelling was also painful for him. She knew without asking that she was the only other person he’d given the truth to. Sitting back down beside him, she reached out to encounter the sleeve of a lightweight shirt. He was dressed in casual clothes.
“Why? What happened?”
“I was filthy. My clothes were hanging off me in rags and covered in blood. I looked like I’d been dragged through hell and back. He wanted to take me to the emergency room but I told him I felt okay. That all the blood and stuff must’ve come from someone else. Sam went into the kitchen to get me a dishtowel so I could wipe the worst of it away before calling the station to let them know I was back.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “He held out the towel for me to take, and m-my hand just…it just went right through it.”
A soft sob shook his shoulders. J reached out to find his hand. It was solid beneath hers.
“It scared you as much as it did him.”
She saw his head nod slightly. He wouldn’t look at he
r, but kept his head bowed.
“Then what happened?”
“We sat there staring at each other. After a while I got up and reached for the towel again. I could touch it then, if I concentrated really hard. We sat up the rest of the night and talked. Tried to figure out what to do. Little by little I discovered other things I could do. But what surprised us the most was that if I wanted to, I could look and feel human. Normal. Alive. No one could tell the difference. No one could tell I was…dead.”
There was a little hitch to his voice that made her pause. She leaned back slightly in surprise. He must have seen the look on her face and read it correctly.
“J, I swear to God, the last thing we ever expected to hear come out of your mouth was to affirm what we’ve been trying to deny these past couple of weeks.”
“That you were dead?”
“Yeah.” It was softer than a sigh.
One minute passed. The grandfather clock in the entryway chimed the quarter hour. The wood in the fireplace hissed. The rough warmth it put out felt surprisingly good on her bare skin.
“So, how did you manage to fool the police and go back to work?”
He chuckled again, but without the humor. “It’s a very long and convoluted piece of trickery Sam and I devised. But as long as I’m able to keep myself solidified, I can pass myself off as one of the living.”
He shifted slightly before continuing. “When we’re off the clock, Sam and I have been trying to find my body. Find out what happened to me after that raid.”
Reaching up, he ran the tips of his fingers over her cheek. J closed her eyes, savoring the touch.
“I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he murmured, his lips so close to hers. “It’s been a long day for you, and I’m keeping you from resting.”
“I’m glad you came,” she said hurriedly, yet neither one of them made a move to get up from the divan. J took the advantage to move closer to him. Just enough to where she could lower her forehead and let it rest on a muscled shoulder. The contact filled her with promise. “Thank you again for all you did today to help me. Up in that apartment, I mean.”
