“Oh, yeah. No, it’s not about her and me. It’s about the kids. She doesn’t want them exposed to a string of casual dates.”
“Gotcha,” Lacey said as she headed south. “Dating is tough with kids. They don’t always understand the temporary nature of it.” She grinned at Sam. “Good thing we’re not dating.”
Sam laughed soundlessly. “So,” he said, “where are we on this thing? And how are we going to get blood samples?”
Lacey spent the drive explaining to Sam about her timeline and the two phone calls that filled in the gaps, at least in her mind. She led him on the trail of dots her brain had connected, from the possibility of a contaminated car to the blood residue in San Clemente.
“So I got a forensic kit,” she finished.
“And that does what exactly?” he asked.
“It’s a chemical I’ll spray on the area where you think there was blood. If there’s any residue, it’ll glow for about thirty seconds.”
“Thirty seconds?”
“Yeah. What we’ll have to do is this, I think. You find me the blood, then I’ll spray it, and I’d like you to be filming with the video camera. We have to catch the glow before it fades.”
“Aren’t there lights you can use? Black lights or something?”
“Only on TV,” she said with a cynical smile. “Blood doesn’t react with UV light. This kit should get us what we need as long as we can catch the glow.”
“Okay,” he said.
“So let me ask you,” she said. “When you’re doing your walk, do you actually see the blood? I’m just not sure how that works.”
“It’s hard to explain,” he said. “I don’t see it like I see you or this car or the freeway. It’s more a feeling than an image.” He thought for a moment. “Have you ever had a dream that looked like it was all black and white and gray, but you knew something—a car or a shirt—was a specific color? But you didn’t actually see the color in your dream?”
Lacey thought back. She didn’t dream a lot, at least not that she remembered. “Actually, yes,” she said. “I think I remember a dream about my mother, and she was wearing a bright red sweater. When I was having the dream, though, the color wasn’t there. It was just all gray. But I knew it was red.”
“Yeah, it’s kinda like that. Anyway, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to point you to some blood. Only thing is, what if it’s all been cleaned off? Or painted over?”
“If it’s been painted over, I may not get a reaction,” she said, hoping that was not the case. “If it’s been cleaned, we’ll still be able to see it. We could even see the marks from cleaning, the sweeps of a cloth. That should all show up.”
Sam nodded. “Interesting. But I think the place we really need to test is right outside the closet—under that new carpet.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “I thought of that. But we can’t go in ripping up carpet without a really substantial reason. If we get evidence of blood on the walls, we’ll leave the carpet to the police.”
The Weisses were waiting for them. Janet introduced Sam and Lacey to her husband, Alan, a nice-looking man with a friendly smile and a hint of silver at the temples. When Lacey explained to the couple what she and Sam were going to do and then pulled out her camcorder, Alan stepped forward.
“I can do that, if you like,” he said. “I’m pretty adept at video. And that’ll leave you two free to concentrate on what you’re doing.”
“Great,” Lacey said. “Why don’t you go ahead and try it out? I’d like you to film me mixing up the solution.”
Breaking open the forensic kit, Lacey dropped the three tablets into the provided solution and let it mix. When Alan assured her he had no trouble filming the entire sequence, she nodded to Sam.
For the first part of their process, they left the light on in the hall, just so Lacey could see where Sam indicated and Alan could film. Sam walked halfway down the hall, then stood very still, arms out, palms only inches from the walls on either side.
“The energy is much less now,” he said quietly. He moved forward slowly, scanning with his palms and his ghost radar. Two-thirds of the way down the hall, he stopped again and turned to face the right wall. He held both hands out in front, palms toward the wall, fingers splayed.
“Here,” he said. With his eyes half-closed, just slits really, he moved his hands about in a slow circle. “Yeah, right here. Have you got it?”
“Yes,” Lacey said. She stepped up beside him and positioned herself directly in front of where he had indicated. She waited while Alan took a place behind her shoulder, camcorder running, then she nodded to Janet who stood back at the light switch.
The light went out. Lacey sprayed her solution in a wide arc across the wall, looking for any hint of a glow in the dark. There was none.
“There!” Sam said suddenly.
“Where?” Lacey asked.
“Right here. It’s very small, just a pinpoint. See?”
Lacey squinted, trying to see without getting in the way of the camera. Alan moved in behind her.
“I think I’ve got it,” he said.
Lacey saw it, too. Sam was right; just pinpricks really. But the glow was there.
“Did you folks paint this wall after you moved in?” she asked.
“Yes, we did,” Janet said.
“Those could be places where there were little bubbles in the paint,” Lacey speculated. “As the paint dried, the bubbles popped, leaving a tiny window to the wall underneath.”
“But that’s a definite indication of blood?” Alan queried.
“Yes,” Lacey said. “Absolutely. Let’s go to the back room and see what we can find.”
Janet turned on the hall light and the four of them trooped into the back bedroom. Again, with the light on, Sam approached the back corner slowly, carefully, while the others watched.
“Did you smudge?” he asked suddenly.
Janet answered. “Yes. I hope I did it right.”
Sam nodded. “It’s much less, the energy, the emotion.” He fell to his knees and held his hands out over the carpet, then moved them up slowly, one near the wall, the other near the sliding closet door.
“Lacey,” he said in a low voice, “open the closet, would you?”
Lacey moved up behind him and pulled the sliding door open, revealing the inner recesses of the closet. Then she stepped back.
Sam edged to the open doorway, hands out. They hovered over the carpet, over the lower fitting for the sliding door, then over the linoleum that floored the closet. He turned his hands sideways and moved them up the wall inside the closet, over the side bracket for the door.
“It’s here,” he said. “It’s all over here. On the walls, the floor, in the track of the door. This is where he bled out.”
Lacey stepped up behind him. “Where’s the most of it?” she asked softly.
Sam’s hands danced over the corner, the short wall that framed the closet door and the back wall of the room. “Here,” he said. “This is the worst.”
Lacey got to her knees beside him. “Right here?” She framed the area with her hands.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s it.”
“All right.” She held up the squirt bottle and glanced behind her at the Weisses. Janet nodded from the light switch; Alan peered out from behind the running camcorder and nodded as well.
The lights went out. Lacey squirted the chemical all across the area, over both walls of the corner, across the sliding door fixtures, and onto the linoleum.
It all glowed. All of it. Walls, floor, metal fittings.
“My God,” Alan said softly.
“You’ve got it?” she asked. “You can see it clearly?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “It’s everywhere. Jesus Christ. It looks like a slasher movie.”
Not far from it, Lacey thought. “Keep filming,” she said. She sprayed a wider pattern across the wall and great smears began to glow, swathes of light. Much of it showed the unmistakable wipe pattern indicative
of cleaning.
“Okay,” Lacey said as the glow began to dim. “That’s good. We’ve got it.”
Janet turned the lights on. They all blinked at each other as if waking from a dream. Lacey and Sam climbed to their feet and all four left the room.
In the living room, Lacey took the camcorder Alan offered and stowed it in her purse. Janet brought glasses of iced tea for everyone. They all sat and silently sipped their drinks.
“My God,” Alan repeated. “That is just… mind-boggling, to see all that. To know that was there all this time.”
Janet shook her head. “I feel terrible. To think of poor Spencer in that room with all that… No wonder he couldn’t sleep.”
“Me, too,” her husband said. He faced Lacey and Sam. “At first we told him it was just his imagination, that there was nothing there. I think we owe him a huge apology.”
“Yes,” Janet said. “Huge.”
Lacey felt as if they all exhaled in a collective sigh, as if the entire room deflated. As if the energy were leaking away.
“Sam,” she said, touching his hand, “you said it was less—in there. Is he leaving? Will this clear it?”
Sam sat with the question for a few seconds, then lifted his eyes to the others. “Yes, I think so. Just knowing that he was heard and acknowledged would have started the process. The smudging helped, but this…” He spread one hand out, fingers wide. “This is the end. He’s been redeemed. Seen. Heard. Yes, this will end it.”
“Thank God,” Janet whispered.
“Amen,” Lacey said.
~~~
They didn’t talk much on the way home.
At one point, Lacey pulled off the freeway and into a neon-lighted fast food place.
“It’s after nine,” she said, “and I never had any dinner. I need French fries.”
Sam’s mouth curved into a tight smile. “Me, neither. Sounds good.”
Fortified with French fries and sodas, they returned to the river of cars flowing northward.
“Just so you know,” he said after several silent miles, “Doug is okay now. Having us witness for him, he’s okay. Even if nothing else happens, he’s been released.”
Lacey thought about that for a few minutes. “That’s good,” she said. “But it’s not over yet. He’s only half the equation.” She looked over at Sam.
He nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
~~~
THIRTEEN
The first thing Lacey did on Monday morning was call Shirley and make an appointment with Captain Shaw. The earliest he could see her was Wednesday.
“Morning or afternoon?” Shirley asked.
“Morning,” Lacey said. “As early as possible.”
“Eight-thirty?”
“That’s good. Thanks so much, Shirley.”
“And this is concerning…?”
“A murder,” Lacey said. “A murder no one knows about.”
She hung up the phone, wondering again if this was the best way to handle it. But she’d given it a lot of thought. Taking her case directly to the sheriff’s office in San Clemente, she could easily be laughed out of the building. She doubted she’d even get to show the video footage, not with the lead-up story, not with her tainted past with the LAPD. Ghosts, mediums, unreported murders. Crazy stuff.
But Captain Shaw had already seen what Sam’s talent could uncover. Even when he had no jurisdiction, he could lobby the San Clemente office to investigate—if she could convince him.
No, this was her only choice, her only course. He had to believe her.
That evening as she walked the self storage property, flashlight in hand, she called Sam.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey, yourself,” she replied. “What are you doing? Celebrating?”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “By rubbing Bio-Freeze all over my aching shoulders.”
“Oh?”
“Ceiling joists,” he explained. “What about you? Drinking champagne?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a bottle with me right now as I’m walking the property. Chugging it.”
They both laughed.
“So what’s up?” he asked.
She leaned against a metal storage unit and got as comfortable as she could. “I need to ask you a big time favor,” she said.
“Uh huh. What?”
She licked her lips. “I’ve got an appointment with Captain Shaw at 8:30 Wednesday morning. I’m going to show him all the data, all the records, and the video. I’d really like you to be there with me.”
A thoughtful pause. Back to this, she thought.
“But he doesn’t have jurisdiction,” he said finally.
“I know. But he knows me and he knows your work. He’ll believe us. And he can get with the San Clemente force and help with the investigation.”
More silence. She decided to push a little. “Look, I know it’s during work hours,” she said. “I don’t think it’ll take too long. I’ll be happy to pay for any lost wages. Really.” She sucked in a breath. “It’s important to me. I need you there.”
Only a heartbeat’s hesitation this time. “You don’t have to pay me.”
She stood up straight. “So does that mean…?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said. “This… this means a lot.”
“You believed in me. I guess it’s payback time.”
“Like you said, you don’t have to pay me.” She stared up at the stars above her. “We do good work together.”
“Yeah,” he said. “We do.”
~~~
Wednesday morning Lacey had all her materials in order, all the records, the timeline, the video. It was solid; she knew it was, yet still she was nervous. When she’d gone to the captain before about the Fairfax case, the force was already deep in the investigation. She’d just given them a push in the additional directions. This time was different. She had to convince him of a crime for which there was no record. Talk about chasing ghosts.
She showed up at Shirley’s desk a few minutes early. Sam was not there yet. Shirley was on the phone, so Lacey took a chair and set her soft case down beside her.
“You’re going to be very limited on time,” Shirley said when she got off the phone. “We’ve got a middle school on lockdown and an active shooter on scene. Units are responding as we speak, but there’s no telling where this might go.”
Shit. Bad situation all around. She hated hearing about another school on lockdown, another shooting. It was almost a weekly thing these days. And certainly took precedence over her issues. She thought about cancelling, rescheduling for tomorrow or Friday, but she didn’t want to wait, and Sam had already taken the morning off. No, she’d take as much time as Captain Shaw could give her and go from there.
“Go on in,” Shirley said, already distracted by another incoming call, “but don’t be surprised if you get cut short.”
“Thanks,” Lacey said. “When Sam Firecloud gets here, please send him on in.” She grabbed her case and went into the captain’s office.
He was on the phone as well. “Keep me posted… No, no comment yet. Don’t speculate. We’ll find out soon enough.”
He hung up the phone with a sigh. A cup full of cold coffee sat on his desk, and he already looked tired.
“Lacey—” he started.
She held up a hand. “Shirley told me. I’ll keep this short, I promise.” She pulled her papers out, set the camcorder on the desk and checked the clock. After 8:30. Where was he? Well, she couldn’t wait for him.
She explained briefly about Sam’s first walk through the Weiss home, skipping the video of that. There was no time for it. She ran through her research, the property records, police records, the interviews. In her rush, she glossed over much of it, and felt it sounded too sketchy, too flimsy. Where was Sam? She could use his presence, even his silent support beside her. He knew how important this was to her. His irresponsible tardiness angered her although she couldn’t delve into that now.
/> “Wait,” Shaw said. “You’re telling me you’re basing this whole thing on a word? A word that Mrs. Addison used, like no one else could use it?”
Lacey felt her face go hot. “That’s not the only thing,” she said. “I realize some of this is circumstantial, but not all. Wait, let me show you.” She pawed through the papers, finding the one she wanted, then put it in front of him.
“So here’s my timeline,” she said, showing him the sequence of events. She kept her voice as even as possible. It wouldn’t help her to get panicky. As he pored over that, she ran the video up to the last walkthrough with the forensic kit.
“You’re saying Mrs. Addison wrestled the body out of the house, into her car and then buried it all by herself? With no help?”
Lacey swallowed. “Look, she’s an active and athletic woman. She can handle a thirty-two foot sailboat by herself. That’s verified.”
He shook his head tiredly. She rushed on and handed him the camcorder. “Just watch,” she said.
He did. She could hear the tinny sound of the dialog, Sam’s descriptions, her questions and directions to Alan. The faint pinpricks of light.
“Lacey, I don’t—”
“No, please,” she said. “Just a couple more minutes. Please. Just watch.”
He turned back to the screen. More quiet dialog. Silence as she sprayed the solution on the wall.
“My God!” Alan’s voice.
This is it, she thought. This is the money shot. She watched Shaw’s face, looking for shock, surprise, interest. He seemed impassive. His brows were furrowed above his eyes, his mouth in a tight line.
The video ended. He clicked the machine off.
“I know there’s enough blood there to pull DNA,” Lacey said. “And more under the carpet. That carpet was brand new when the Weisses moved in. We know it’s covering up more blood.”
Shaw heaved a sigh and pushed the camcorder across the desk to Lacey.
“You know?” he asked archly.
“Yes. Sam knows. He could tell. He could feel it. Captain…” Where was he? Her anger smoldered. She couldn’t believe she had put her trust in a man who didn’t deserve it… again.
Ghost Walk Page 13
