But there were no neighbors, no TV, only the buzzing in her brain.
She rolled her shoulders, trying to relax, but the drone increased. How could she think through all the damn noise? She wanted to talk to Logan about the case, about Dylan, about everything, but her mind seemed to have been taken captive and wasn’t responding to her own desires.
Facing Logan, she began to say something, then stopped and only stared at him. His eyes were locked on her, a look of concern on his face.
“What’s the matter, lass?” he said. “What’s happening?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “I…I don’t…I feel…sleepy or…or…”
Instantly, his arm came around her waist. He helped her to a chair, where she sank down and let her head fall back.
“Don’t resist it,” he urged softly. “Let it happen, let the images come. Trust them. I’ll be here. You’ll be safe, lass. I promise. You’ll be safe…”
His palm cupped her cheek, and she looked sleepily into his eyes. She watched his mouth move as though he were speaking, but whatever he was saying was lost under the voices inside her head.
Relinquishing control, she let her lids drift down and down…allowing Emma Harte to invade her senses once more…
And what’s all the ruckus, I’m wondering? Sounds like the world is coming apart! ’Tis not Jacob, home so early of a morning, just after five as it is. He’s on the night shift, and not due back ’til six.
I hear my Sean cryin’, so I fling off the bedcovers and try to make my way to his crib side, but the floor shifts beneath my bare feet, and I stumble and fall against the doorjamb, wrenching me shoulder. Taking hold of my senses, I realize now it’s more than just the bed shaking, it’s the floor and the walls and maybe even the very air set to trembling, such as like an angry giant is come trudging up the street.
Pushing forward, I try to get to Sean in his little room just off the kitchen, but the shelf in the hallway tumbles over, and books fly about. I reach for the lamp pull, but when I tug at the swinging chain, nothin’ happens. Underlying it all is a terrible sound, like the earth has a belly set to groanin’ for a meal. Other noises reach me ears…glass windows bursting to bits, bricks crumpling away from their foundations, and from the sound of it, the very streets twisting and cracking.
San Francisco is a bucking wild horse, trying to toss its rider into the bay.
I reach my Sean, and whether he’s squallin’ out of hunger or fear, I can’t tell. I bundle him up quick and hold him tight to my body while I lurch back down the hall, me bare feet pressing into a bed of broken glass. Pain, hot as fire, spreads across the flesh. Then I remember the pair of slippers I left next to the commode, so I scuffle into the water closet, and even though I know my soles are bleeding, I shove them onto my feet, ignoring the sharp jabs of glass embedded in me skin.
Though I can barely make it out in the darkness, the far wall makes a wrenching sound as it tumbles forward, and the roof above me head showers chunks of plaster on my face and into my hair.
The house is disintegrating, and I must get me babe outside to safety.
I’m pantin’ now, tryin’ to catch a breath, but ’tis hard, so fearful as I am. I manage to stagger to the front door, throw the lock, and pull it open. Outside, people in their nightclothes are running from their houses, same as me, some with babes in arms, others carrying jewelry boxes or books or photographs. Children scream and cry and cling to their mothers’ flannel gowns.
As I turn, my small house—mine and Jacob’s and Sean’s—crumbles before me very eyes into a jagged heap of rubble and dust. I realize I’m cryin’, but I can’t stop the tears. I hug Sean tighter as the rumbling stops, and I look about, gasping from the shock of it all. This is just a dream, is it not? This is not truly happening? My home is not gone, my world destroyed, is it? Let me wake up, dear Lord. Let me wake up now!
Next door, Mrs. O’Darrell is in her nightgown, on her knees, clutching her favorite porcelain vase to her breasts, while her husband stares blankly at what remains of his house. Across the street, Mr. Bernstein is pullin’ at a pile of boards, yelling Mrs. Bernstein’s name and beggin’ for her to call out to him…but she does not.
As for m’self, I’m numb. Sean is quiet now against me own racing heart.
I think of me dear Jacob. Now that the earth has ceased its terrible quakin’, I’m desperate to find my husband. I look up and down the street, and all I can see is people and rubble and smoke and smoke and more smoke. A yellow glow lights the debris…the city is on fire.
Down my street, a main has burst, sending a towering spray of water high into the air, drenching everyone near it, turnin’ parts of the street to mud. I hear shouts, cries, pleas, but I think only of Sean, and Jacob.
Will he come home now, I wonder, or is he trapped under bricks and boards, like poor Mrs. Bernstein?
I want to stay and help, but I can’t. I have to find Jacob.
And me da, what of him in that big house made of stone and plaster and brick? There’ll be no one but me to come lookin’ for him all alone in that crumblin’ mansion.
My feet begin to move. I trip on broken cobbles, but keep going. My eyes are blind with tears and smoke and grit, but I can’t stop, I won’t.
Up the street and down, I stumble, me babe in me arms.
I don’t know how long it takes, but by the time we arrive at me da’s house, the sun is up and I can see the mansion has stood against the quake in fine form, and thank God for it.
The front is open, so I take the steps, me poor cut feet ablaze with pain. Inside, I hear voices…two men…I recognize ’em…me da, and Jacob.
“You’re under arrest, Mr. Conner,” says Jacob. “I saw what you did—”
“Blast you to hell!” shouts Da as I tiptoe down the hall toward the library. “I’ve an investment to protect, ye dumb bastard. Now get yerself out of here and leave me be!”
Peekin’ ’round the corner into the library, I see Da and Jacob standin’ and glarin’ at each other. I want to rush in, throw my arms around my husband, hug me da, but I dare not. They both have weapons drawn on each other, and it’s a bloodthirsty look I see in me da’s eyes.
“I’ve no earthquake insurance!” Da yells. “Hell, man, there’s a fire big enough out there. Nobody’d be the wiser. If I don’t torch me own place and collect the insurance, I’ll be ruined! I can’t be ruined, Jacob. I’ve worked too hard all me life, built somethin’ from nothin’, to have it all come crashin’ down around me like this.”
Jacob holds his ground. “But I’ve orders, Mr. Conner. Looters and fire starters are to be shot on sight. You’re lucky I’m only going to arrest you. I’ll speak up for you in court, if that’ll help, but I have to do my duty.”
I slip into the room and set my darlin’ sleeping Sean on the floor in the corner where he’ll be safe, and walk toward me husband.
“Jacob,” says I, and he whirls ’round.
“Emma!” he shouts, relief and joy plain to see on his face. His hair’s mussed, his uniform scorched and torn, his face near as grimy as mine, but he’s handsome, all the same. He moves toward me and hugs me tight, and me life begins again.
“I went to the house,” he murmurs into me bedraggled hair, “but you and Sean were gone. I thought…dear God, I thought. But they said you’d taken the baby and left, so I went looking for you at your father’s store. Where’s Seanie?”
I send a look to our own wee babe sleepin’ like an angel wrapped in his soot-stained blanket. “He’s fine. Not to worry—”
“Are you all right, Emma?” Da interrupts, though he makes no move to embrace me.
“Yes, Da.” I kiss Jacob’s cheek, then step away. “Is what he says true? Did you fire yer own place for the insurance money?”
“I did,” says he, waving his pistol around. “But I won’t be arrested and taken in fer it—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Conner,” Jacob says, then starts to move past me. “I have my orders.”
I don’t know why I do it, but the next second, I reach out and put me hand on Jacob’s wrist, shifting his arm so his pistol is trapped between us. “Jacob,” I say. “Can ye not make an exception, given the circumstances?”
He looks away from Da, and into my eyes, and I see compassion there, and love, and how his sense of duty is battlin’ it out inside his own tormented heart. For a moment, he glances up, then grabs me, the pistol in his hand still between us. He starts to turn, starts to shove me behind him. I hear a blast, and pain rips through me own chest as though me heart has just burst.
For an infinite second, Jacob stares into me eyes, then slides to the floor, and I go with him, bearing him up in me arms as best I can. I rock him like a babe, his head cradled against me chest. I don’t know what to do, what to say as the red of his blood spreads across his proud blue uniform.
Me heart feels like it’s going to break, the pain nearly beyond bearing.
He smiles up at me as I gaze down into his eyes.
“Jacob,” I whisper, for there’s barely a breath left in me body. “Don’t go…”
His lips move then. I love you…and then he’s…gone. I haven’t enough breath to scream…there’s no air left in the room, no time, no time, no time…
The pistol in his hand…my hand on his wrist. Dear God, I must have done something to make it discharge! And now I’ve killed him…I’ve killed me own sweet Jacob!
“No!” I cry, but me throat is empty and no sound comes out, and all I can do is mouth a silent, “No…no…no…no…”
Chapter 21
A busy person never has time to be unhappy.
Robert Louis Stevenson
“Andie, darlin’?”
His voice drifted into her subconscious from far away, a murmur carried through an open window by a summer breeze. As the sound of it seduced her to wake, inside her chest, her heart felt like it was in splinters. With every breath, the razor-sharp shards lanced her soul.
She opened her eyes to stare into his face, a face she only vaguely recognized. Blinking several times, she finally lowered her lids, then slowly raised them again, allowing him to come fully into focus.
Logan…
A sob escaped her throat as tears rolled down her heated cheeks. He reached up and wiped them away. Gently, he said, “What was it you saw, lass?”
“She k-killed him. She didn’t mean to, but—” Looking into Logan’s sympathetic eyes, she whispered, “I think I understand it now. This was her father’s house, Timothy Conner’s, and had been her home growing up. She came looking for him after…after…”
Realization slammed into her like a fist to the ribs.
“God, Logan,” she choked. “Emma Harte really was real. I…I never wanted to believe it before, despite the file Ethan gave me, but…oh, how she must have suffered! She died that night, filled with guilt over killing the man she loved. I…I can’t imagine the grief, the regret…”
His lids lowered and he seemed to go inside himself for a moment, and when he sought her gaze again, he whispered, “I can.” Squeezing her hand, he said, “But how did she die, then?”
Andie licked her dry lips, dabbed at the tears that continued to track from her eyes down her cheeks. “I don’t know. I came out of it just after she realized Jacob was dead. He…he died in this room.” She felt her throat close up, her eyes burn. “And so did she. I’m certain of it.”
“Maybe, in her grief, she took her own—”
“No,” Andie protested, shaking her head. “No. She wouldn’t have. She was a young mother; she had a child. And she was Catholic. No matter her guilt or grief, she wouldn’t have done that, wouldn’t have left her baby son behind. I know it. Maybe it’s why she haunts the place. Maybe she’s looking for…oh, God, what am I saying! That I believe in ghosts? I’m a police officer. I only believe in facts and evidence. There’s no way I can accept—”
“Trust yer heart, Andie,” Logan coaxed. His voice was low, tender, infinitely compassionate. “It’ll guide you through your confusion. The facts are there, the evidence plain to see. Don’t shove away what you know in your heart to be true. The real world, the one you live in, can and does coexist with the other, the spirit world. Sometimes the two worlds cross. Emma has sought you out for a reason. She believes in you, lass; you need to believe in her.”
As Andie considered Logan’s words, the dream began to fade into memory. The hard edges softened, the pain subdued, the guilt diminished until she felt her body go limp. The adrenaline rush she’d experienced retreated like an ebb tide, leaving her feeling raw, stripped bare of defenses, exhausted.
“But you told me you don’t believe in the spirit world—”
“I never said I didn’t believe in it, lass,” he corrected. “It’s because I do that I shut it out.”
Too exhausted to think about that, she closed her eyes, willing herself to recover, not wanting Logan to see her so…vulnerable…
When she heard him stand, she thought he was going to leave, but instead, she felt his arm come around her shoulders and his hand slide under her knees as he lifted her from the chair. She made no protest, but let her head rest against his strong shoulder as he carried her from the scene of unbearable tragedy.
His footfalls echoed on the thinly carpeted floor as he carried her out the door and to the end of the hall, where he began climbing the stairs. A few minutes later, she felt a soft mattress beneath her body as he set her down on a bed.
“Along with everything else that’s happened, the dream has taken a hard toll on you this night,” he said, sitting next to her. The mattress squeaked under his weight, and the heat from his body seeped into hers. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. His hand on her skin felt comforting. “When you’ve rested up a bit, we’ll—”
Her brain began to swim again, her senses grow fuzzy as they had in the library before she’d sunk into the dream. Around her, the small bedroom was dark except for a dull yellow wedge of light that sliced from the hallway onto the floor through the slightly open door.
Above her, his face was in shadows. His face…her beloved…oh, how she had missed him…
She reached out to touch his arm and the coarse wool of his jacket itched her hand. Easing her palm up to his shoulder, she grabbed a handful of fabric and pulled him toward her. He hesitated only a moment, then let himself be tugged all the way down to place a kiss on her mouth.
“I’ve missed you so,” she murmured against his lips. Behind her closed lids, her eyes stung. “I’ve missed you so much…”
“And I, you.” He kissed her again, and it was as it had always been between them.
“Make love to me, darlin’,” she murmured, tugging at the brass buttons on his uniform. “Just this once, will you? Just this one last time, Jacob?”
His hand slid under her chemise to cup her breast. “I love you,” he whispered as he moved to cradle his body between her parted thighs. “I love you, Emma…now, and forever…”
When Logan awoke, not only was he naked, so was the woman in his arms.
He shifted position, and she murmured something in her sleep and nestled closer into his embrace.
What in the hell had happened? The last thing he remembered was carrying Andie upstairs and setting her on the bed. They’d talked a bit…and after that, things got a little muzzy.
Reaching down, he wrapped his fingers around his dick. Half-mast and sticky. Damn. He’d made love to her, and could remember naught about it. What would he say to her when she awoke? How could he explain? He’d not had a drop to drink and had not had seduction on his mind, so what in the world…
Across the room, the single window began to glow behind the lacy curtains. In a moment or two, the room would be illuminated, she’d wake up, and there’d be hell to pay.
He let his gaze settle on her sleeping form. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips slightly parted. So damn beautiful, and naked, and in his arms.
Andie…
Smiling to himself, he thou
ght, aye, there’d be hell to pay, but even so, he could nae regret the position he found himself in at the moment. She was as desirable as he’d imagined, as soft, alluring. Her breasts were perfect and luscious, and suddenly the need to have her—again, apparently—began to overtake him.
In his arms, she sighed as her eyes slowly inched open. She smiled up at him, into his face. He said nothing, only held her, watching, waiting. Her eyes widened, her lashes fluttered. He saw the moment she realized who he was…where they were…and what they’d done.
He cleared his throat. “Good morning, lass.”
Her jaw dropped a bit, and she simply stared at him.
“Look,” he said. “I can explain…”
At least, he could make something up, since the explanation for this turn of events was nowhere in his experience.
But as she had done from the moment they’d met, she surprised him. Putting her fingertips to his mouth, she said, “Relax, laddie. It wasn’t your fault.”
He raised a brow. “So…you…put me under a spell and had yer way with me, did you?”
She lowered her hand. “No. But I think I know what happened. Emma and Jacob…”
With a slow nod, he said, “Aye. ’Tis the only explanation.”
Licking her lips, she bent her head so her words were directed at his bare chest. “I’m, um, on the shot, so conception isn’t a problem. And I’m healthy, if you know what I mean.”
“As am I, lass. If you know what I mean.”
“Okay, then. We’re good. Do you…um, remember any of it?”
His brow furrowed. “Not really. ’Tis more like a dream.” With his knuckle, he raised her face to his. Softly, he said, “Or a wish come true.”
She nodded, then surprised him yet again by snuggling deeper into his arms. “I don’t know how I let it happen, but I have, um, feelings for you, you know?”
“As I do for you, Andie darlin’. As I do for you.”
The sun brushed the room in soft shades of amber and rose. She sought his mouth, kissed him.
Killer Charms Page 21
