Reign of Fire

by Casi McLean

  “That’s a good question. Oddly, after he spoke with Quint, he took off. Said I knew where to find him if I needed a statement. The meeting was obviously a setup for a hit, Ash. But I’m not so sure Logan was the intended target.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Still new to ghostly capabilities, Alyssa struggled to make sense of the nebulous world surrounding her. Over time, she’d figure out how this phantom realm worked, but her family needed her now. She loved her ability to talk to Emily but communicating took every ounce of energy she could muster. Was her connection with Emily just a twin thing, or could she learn to talk to Wyatt, her parents, and others as well? If she could, should she?

  So far, Alyssa had discovered her ability to see and do things living souls couldn’t. She knew the man on the hill was involved with her murder, albeit how, she had yet to resolve. Even so, she never intended to put Emily in danger, let alone position her in the crosshairs of a gunfire spray. Thank goodness she could still talk to Duke. If she hadn’t coaxed him to sit against Emily’s chest, applying pressure to her wound until Ash discovered her and took over…Alyssa eclipsed the image. She wouldn’t even imagine Emily joining her here in the afterworld. Perhaps staying silent was in everyone’s best interests.

  Having no idea if her strange new realm existed as a transitory stop or her final destination, she pushed herself to get through to Emily before considering the interaction might have dreadful consequences. The last thing Alyssa wanted was to hurt those she loved. Squeezing her eyes tightly, she envisioned Emily and instantly floated above a team of surgeons and nurses working to save her sister’s life. I’m so sorry, Em.

  Berating herself, Alyssa challenged her memory. Why couldn’t she recall more than snippets of that fateful night? She had intended to guide her siblings toward evidence, not jeopardize their lives. Important details hung in a haze like a mist surrounding her. She pressed her fingers over both temples and rubbed. She simply had to remember.

  Resolved now to act upon only validated facts instead of suppositions, she recounted what she knew. Fact, her instincts had sharpened dramatically since her accident. Why had the memory of her death faded? Fact, she saw and heard everything as if she still lived and breathed, yet so far no one could see her unless she expended a tremendous amount of energy to materialize. She glanced around to consider her situation. As a ghost, one would certainly see other apparitions trapped in the same circumstances, wouldn’t they? Then why couldn’t Alyssa see other spirits wandering through this alternate plane? Her questions mounted. Was this heaven? And if so, was she destined to remain here alone for eternity?

  Fact, the evening of her demise, her last nerve rattled worse than usual…when she arrived home, she poured a glass of wine then picked up her phone and walked to the ridge behind her gatehouse. Watching the Potomac River rush over the rocks far below generally calmed her, but that evening, Duke barked wildly as he galloped from the back stoop toward her. When Alyssa spun in response, her iPhone flew from her hand and landed on a ledge below.

  Think, Alyssa. What happened next? She set her glass on the flat rock where she typically sat…then slid between the rough-sawn split rails, fencing in the overlook and climbed down to a flat ledge to retrieve her phone. She wasn’t hurt or even scared. After climbing halfway up the rocky cliff, clenching her phone in her mouth, she inadvertently grabbed hold of a loose stone and fell backward onto the ledge…her ankle twisted so badly, she couldn’t stand, let alone climb. She cried for help. That’s when Logan Steel came to her rescue.

  Steel calmed her that night…talked to her until she trusted him. Before he left to find help, he told her about his dilemma and the blackmail trapping him in a no-win position. He validated her Deep State theory and apologized for his desperation. Despite shadowing Alyssa for days with a somewhat-ill intent, in the twelfth hour, Logan Steel chose to save her. He was not a cold-blooded killer––so who was?

  As much as Alyssa wanted to help solve her murder, so far, she’d done nothing but make things worse. Still hovering over Emily, she watched as the surgeons cut through her sister’s flesh then stitched together tiny veins and arteries with intricate detail. “You’ll be alright now, Em,” she whispered, confident her sister heard every soothing word. “I won’t let you die, too.” They had always connected on a level only twins could understand––like two halves of one whole. Now things would change. Even if Alyssa played an on-going part in Emily’s life, her sister would need more than a wispy breeze or a fading image on which to cling. She would need love, happiness, and contentment.

  And Wyatt, too…he’d lived through hell and survived––despite insurmountable odds––experiences most people could never imagine…but surviving didn’t equate to living a fulfilled and happy life. Alyssa was thrilled to discover Pets for Vets and couldn’t wait to surprise her brother with Duke. Smart, loyal, and super affectionate, the dog would help Wyatt emotionally, as well as physically, and perhaps open his heart to the possibility of love. She had planned to encourage that end. Perhaps now the emotional rescue would have to lie with Emily and Duke. Alyssa wiped where a tear should have been.

  If only she could find a way to stay in her siblings’ lives. She’d consider that existence as her very own heaven. She smiled at the notion, pondering the one good incident she accomplished as a ghost. In only two days, she’d stirred fire from Ash, a fire that now burned within Emily. She chuckled at the double-entendre no one else would ever hear. Not that Alyssa could conjure love from a complete abyss. Attraction, desire, passion…the elements existed from the moment Emily met Ashton Frasier. Alyssa only fanned the flames…and with every waft, a sense of satisfaction befell her. Emily deserved the kind of love she had never taken time to cultivate. When Alyssa saw the sparks fly between her sister and Ash, she simply turned up the heat a notch or two.

  An abrupt alarm sounded, jerking her attention to the operating table below.

  “We need more O-NEG blood, stat,” one of the surgeons bellowed. “Looks like the bullet nicked her brachial artery. The pressure from her broken clavicle must have kept her from bleeding out. Frankly, it’s a miracle this woman survived the trip to the hospital.”

  A nurse crossed herself then shook her head. “She must have a guardian angel. Bless her soul, she needs one now.”

  “No, no, no, no, no, no Emily. You can’t die.” Alyssa dove forward. “I’m no angel, but I won’t let you die.” Her nebulous image fell into Emily, united together and fused as if they were only one entity.

  ***

  “Son of a bitch.” Stone-faced, Ash glared at Quint. “The damn thing didn’t just get up and walk out of here. That swatch of fabric nailed this case. No one even knew about the damn thing.” Angling his head, he squinted at the Medical Examiner. “You said your assistant was the only one here when you left. Are you sure Todd can be trusted?” He tapped his forefinger on the cold metal table next to him then with a sudden jerk slammed the counter halfway across the room. “Shit. Without DNA, we have no way to prove Deep Throat killed Alyssa, which means we’re back to square one.”

  Quint shook his head and stared at the floor. “Damn it. The bag was right there” ––he pointed to a microscope on the corner counter––“Todd had no idea the sample even existed. Besides, I trust the guy implicitly. However, I didn’t trust sending the evidence to a lab. I set up everything and was about to cut a section of the cloth when Harper called me to Battery Kemble––I took off not even considering the possibility of a breech.”

  Ash closed his eyes in a long blink. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. Anyone could be on The Association’s payroll. They probably have someone following us, for God’s sake. Why not inspect the inspectors?” He shrugged. “We’ll just have to find another way to catch the bastards.”

  “Sorry, man. I should have kept the evidence on me.” He leaned forward and tugged at the dislodged table still strewn on its side and set it straight. “At least our friend over there will never hurt anoth
er soul.”

  Turning toward the exit, Ash glanced at Sid Ellis’ face peeking from within his slightly unzipped body bag. “No, MDPD’s Chief Operating Officer won’t hurt anyone else. But Ellis was just a pawn…and the only lead to Alyssa’s murder. Emily will––oh God, Emily.” He shifted his view to Quint. “I have to get back to the hospital. She looked bad, Quint. Really bad.”

  “Georgetown Medstar has a fantastic trauma unit. Emily’s in the best hands possible. You know that, right?” Quint raised his brow.

  “Yeah, I know, but this whole investigation has been an insidious crap-fest. Emily deserves so much better.” He opened the door then looked over his shoulder and gave a quick wave. “See you later.”

  He strode toward his car, pondering over all the moments he’d spent with Emily since she arrived, thankful he met her…but scared to death he’d lose her before he had the chance to love her...such a short time since they met and yet he knew…with all his heart…Ashton Frasier, confirmed bachelor, was completely and utterly in love with Emily Rose.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Phone to his ear, Ash gazed out the window, staring at a dusting of sparkling lights still aglow across the city. “Sorry I haven’t gotten back to you sooner. The outcome was touch and go in the operating room…until they found and tied off an additional bleeder. The nurses station said they filled you in on her condition.”

  “Yes.” Harper replied. “They’ve been great about keeping me in the loop. How are you and Wyatt holding up?”

  “We’re hanging in there. With Alyssa’s funeral arrangements and her parents arriving, Wyatt and I have had our hands full.” He rubbed the shadowy stubble along his chin. “So, you’re aware Emily has been in a medically induced coma for days, right?”

  “Yes. I’m so sorry we involved her.”

  “That’s water under the bridge, Harper. The good news is her attending surgeon stopped the drip about an hour ago. She hasn’t regained consciousness yet, but he expects a full recovery and says she can go home as soon as she feels strong enough. We’re hoping tomorrow, but we’ll see.” He leaned his head against the chair and crossed his legs, resting them on the foot of Emily’s bed.

  “Give me an hour, and I’ll be ready.”

  At the sound of her voice, Ash snapped around so fast his neck cracked. His gaze met Emily’s. “Got to go, Harper. She just woke up. We can discuss the meeting in the morning.” He rubbed the ache in his neck, pressed End then returned his phone to his back pocket. “Thank God. I…uh, we were afraid we lost you.”

  “Thoughts of my demise were a bit premature.” She gazed at him through groggy eyes. “What happened? More importantly, is everyone else okay?”

  “Aside from Deep Throat, you were the only one injured. He didn’t make it.” Ash drew in a long breath and slowly let it escape. He sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand in his. “Are you really okay…I mean aside from a bullet wound, do you feel alright?”

  She scanned her arms then kicked her feet beneath the light bedding. “All parts appear intact. I’m okay, except for a hell of a pain in my shoulder.”

  “Good.” He pinched his brows together and scowled. “Then, what the hell were you thinking, running up to me in the middle of a sting?”

  She scowled. “Alyssa. She told me you’d be killed if I didn’t draw attention from the man on the hill. I just reacted with the first thing that came to mind.”

  Ash leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Don’t ever do something like that again.” He looked over his shoulder and added, “You either, Alyssa.”

  Emily squeaked out a weak giggle. “I don’t think she’s here right now.”

  “Well, when she shows up, I have a few words for her.”

  A light rap tapped on the opening door before a doctor dressed in surgical gear popped his head inside. “I see you decided to wake up, Miss Rose. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  Rolling his eyes, Ash smirked. The doctor had no idea how meaningful those words were. “Emily says she’s ready to go now. Is that possible?”

  “I’d like to keep her here for observation for a few more hours. After that, she’ll be free to go, as long as she keeps her arm immobilized in a sling until her clavicle heals. That means a good six weeks from the surgery.” He picked up a tablet from the foot of her bed and scanned the page.

  “I promise. No lifting for at least six weeks, and I’ll keep my shoulder immobile.”

  “Right.” The doctor placed the tablet back in its sheath. “We’ll send you home with some pain meds to take if you really need them. But if the ache feels intolerable, try icing your shoulder first. You might need some physical therapy down the road, but we don’t need to cross that bridge now.” He strode toward the door then turned and gazed at Emily. “You are lucky, Ms. Rose. Not many people survive a wound like yours. If Detective Frasier hadn’t gotten you to the hospital so fast” ––he shook his head––“I shudder to think of the outcome. The detective promised to stay by your side twenty-four seven, so I decided to release you instead of keeping you another day or two.”

  Her gaze fired toward Ash then back to the doctor. “He agreed to that?”

  “Yes, but please take it easy.” He stepped into the hall then closed the door behind him.

  Attempting to sit higher, Emily jarred her shoulder and let out a moan. “Wholly crap. Lying still I felt a pretty intense ache, but when I moved my shoulder…not quite the piece of cake I thought.”

  “Can I do anything to make you more comfortable?” Even lying in a hospital bed with her hair a total mess, Emily took his breath away. He couldn’t get used to the intensity of his feelings.

  “I’m good.” She offered an appreciative smile. “So, what were you saying about Deep Throat? I thought the idea was to protect Logan from him. How did he die…and did we get an ID?”

  “Yup.” He shook his head in disgust. “Turns out Deep Throat was one of DC’s finest.”

  “A cop?”

  “Not just a cop. MPD’s Chief Operating Officer, Sid Ellis. And if you think that’s odd, Mayor Pearson shot you...and killed Ellis.”

  Her eyes widened. “Hmmm, the plot thickens.”

  “Harper says Pearson had been working with a task force for months on major drug activity. When a neighbor told him she saw what looked like a drug exchange going down in the park by his home, he called in the complaint then rushed to the site to make sure the perps didn’t get away. Pearson said the guy reached for a gun, and he took the shot to save the victim’s life.” Ash scratched his head. “But that story doesn’t add up. We had ears and eyes on the scene from every angle, and not one of us saw Ellis draw a gun. In fact, Ellis told Logan to go home only seconds before the mayor took him out.”

  Emily squeezed her brows together. “If Pearson was simply keeping an eye out until the police came, he could have approached them with a gun, but why shoot without warning? And I heard three shots…why?”

  Ash shook his head. “According to Harper, his backstory checks out. Maybe he was nervous. I don’t recall ever seeing the mayor with a gun, though.”

  “Okay. We can dig deeper later. What about our blood sample? Did the DNA match Ellis?” She steepled her forefingers then pressed them against her lips.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, about that. Someone broke in and stole the evidence while Quint was at the park tending to Ellis. The sample is gone, Em…we have no DNA to compare to Ellis.”

  “Seriously? Are you kidding me?” She stared at Ash over the bridge of her nose. “And you don’t think that’s an incredible coincidence…too incredible?”

  “Emily, as far as I’m aware, no one knew that evidence even existed except you, me, Harper, Wyatt, and Logan. Which would you peg as a mole?”

  ***

  Staring through her office window beyond the highways to the Anacostia River, Harper wrung her hands, deep in thought. After weeks of anticipation, the meeting set for 6:00 a.m. tomorrow morning would change the fa
ce of the entire Association investigation. When she began this probe in Afghanistan, the idea of a Marine General involved in a transfer of billions in United States currency to unsavory foreign nationals twisted her stomach into knots. Semper Fi? The Marines risked their lives based on that pledge…always loyal. How could a General, the highest-ranked office the Marines held, betray his country like that?

  Harper swore she’d take down everyone involved. But she never imagined investigating that general would reveal an Association that ran so deep or was so corrupt. Top officials in nearly every corner of America’s government festered in silence, gnawing at the very core of the Constitution, hiding in the shadows. How could her little “band of merry men…and women” fight a demon they couldn’t even see?

  The night Emily was shot, Quinton Banner spoke briefly with James Pearson, and their conversation may have broken the case. With any luck, tomorrow’s meeting would topple the first domino that could send ripples around the world. A tsunami loomed only a heartbeat away, and those dominos would determine the trajectory.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  An array of cherry blossoms softened the harsh façade of Washington’s government buildings every spring, especially along the Tidal Basin path adjacent to the Monument. With sixteen varieties of fragrant blossoms bursting with blooms to titillate the senses, the spectacular vista was an experience to behold, and this year was no exception. DC’s famous Cherry Blossom Festival in full swing drew over 1.5 million visitors every year, but few walked the beautiful paths at dawn.

  Harper loved to jog at daybreak, a habit started during basic training that quickly became the best way she knew to clear her mind and start each day. Washington boasted myriad parks suitable for running, but none so exquisite as the Tidal Basin during March and April. The backdrop drew only a few committed joggers at that time of day––one of whom just happened to be Mayor James Pearson. For the past few weeks, while Emily recuperated and Alyssa was laid to rest, Harper had seen the mayor jogging the pathway nearly every day. So, when the subject of a brief meeting came to light, his suggestion to meet after their morning routine played perfectly into her plan.