“And I doubt that he did. He probably just enjoyed her appearance and her company.” She looked at him worriedly. “She’s still being protected, right?”
“Yes.”
“So...maybe one of these women is working in conjunction with whoever the killer is. Or another woman entirely. Maybe...maybe our instincts are all off! Maybe Tania is really evil, and Jess Marlborough’s roommates are terrible people, posing as desperate girls on the street just trying to get by. Nan could be pretty feisty!”
He gazed over at her. “Please don’t drive yourself crazy, second-guessing your instincts for the next two hours.”
She made a face at him. “You mean I don’t drive you crazy?” she asked.
He smiled. “I don’t think our instincts are that off. Cindy Hardy has been a question mark from the beginning. We still don’t know who she was seeing.”
“Maybe her mystery date is Dr. Henry Lawrence,” Stacey said.
“Maybe.”
“But they can’t have seen each other since the night that Billie Bingham and Lindsey Green were killed. Someone would have seen her come and go. She’s being watched.”
“Burner phones. They can connect, and we have nothing,” Keenan told her. “So, who is your money on?”
“Cindy Hardy,” she said.
“She isn’t very nice,” he agreed.
“I’ll bet you’re thinking that it may well be Sandra Smith.”
Keenan grimaced. “She isn’t very nice, either. And Agnes is a total witch. Thing is, it’s not illegal to be not nice. It’s not even illegal to be downright mean. And we always have to be careful. Some of history’s most heinous murderers have been able to charm people.”
“Oh, true!” Stacey said. She fell thoughtfully silent for a bit. “Keenan, do you think that we’re missing the boat entirely? We know—because of Bram—that there was a female involved. Logic tells us that there is more than one person involved, but only members of the Krewe would understand why we’re convinced at least one of the players is a woman. And we could be wrong because Bram could have been wrong. But say that it is a woman. We’re looking at nasty people. Do you think we could be fooled by that? Maybe Peggy was trying to make Colin Smith look bad, or maybe one of Jess’s roommates sold her out?”
“We don’t know, but they have been watched.” He was quiet a minute. “I believe that Adam—” he made air quotes “—anonymously made sure that their rent was paid and he sent groceries—keeping them off the streets. And their pimp is still in jail, no bail, so if they are innocent, at least they’re safe.”
“But nothing has happened yet. I’m sure the killer is gearing up for his next strike.”
“We work with what we have. And maybe we have something here.”
“Maybe,” she murmured. She glanced at him and grimaced, and then closed her eyes.
Waiting.
Watching.
Waiting.
It was certainly a very unglamorous part of the job. At least she was waiting with Keenan.
Even if it wasn’t exactly quality time, she was still glad that she was sitting in a car with him. She could say whatever came into her mind. She could close her eyes and rest.
They were running on empty.
Just sitting still...
She closed her eyes.
Night was almost fully upon them. She was so ridiculously tired...
She drifted, and she began to dream.
This time, the dream went a little differently. She was in the room again. The fog was as thick as ever, swarming, moving as if it was something that lived and reeked of both a warning and a promise of evil. The killer was there.
He knew that she was there. And he was angry.
“Catch me when you can, Stacey.”
He knew her name. He spoke to her from the depth of the shadows, calling her by name.
“Catch me when you can!” he said, repeating the phrase from a Jack the Ripper letter, real or hoax, that answer never known.
“If you can, Stacey...”
Her name was a hiss. And something about the sound made her nerves leap to life and fear invade her.
“Stacey! Stacey!”
She heard her name again, this time spoken firmly and tenderly. She opened her eyes.
Keenan had leaned over to draw her against him.
She straightened up, not awkward about him holding her but embarrassed that she had fallen asleep in the car again.
“Wow. I’m sorry.”
“Did you see something? About this place?” he asked her.
“No,” she told him, letting out a long sigh. “I was in that damned room again—and I can’t see. With the killer who I can’t see, and the victim I can’t see.”
“I know you’re frustrated,” he told her. “And I know your dreams are disturbing. But there is a bright spot to your sleeping.”
“There is?”
“Yep. They got the warrant. Adam knows every judge in DC, Virginia, West Virginia and Maryland. Jackson is coming with Angela and Raina—with the local police department on call, though the sergeant Jackson talked to was apparently dubious that they’d be needed. Dr. Lawrence is a fine surgeon, you know.”
“And maybe he is,” Stacey said.
“What did you see in the room this time? Anything new?”
“The killer saw me, talked to me—he was saying, ‘Catch me when you can’.”
“Pulled out of a letter sent to London police,” Keenan said.
“And he addressed me,” Stacey said. “By name.”
He pulled her close to him, despite the bucket seats. “I know it’s disturbing. But we know that he knows your name. He sent you the kidney.”
She nodded. “He’s so smug, Keenan. Are we completely on the wrong trail?”
“No. I don’t believe that we are,” he told her.
It had grown dark. A light was shining on Dr. Lawrence’s front lawn. It barely reached into the trees and the benches at the side of the house.
“Has...anyone appeared? Said anything else?” she asked.
“The fellow who called me a genius?” he asked dryly.
She smiled. “Anyone?”
He shook his head. “They must think that we’ve driven away—I wanted to be out of sight, and I didn’t want to be seen walking around. Once the warrant gets here, anything that we find will be legal.”
“Do you think that the ghost in the T-shirt and jeans is one of the men on a missing-persons report?”
“I think it’s likely,” Keenan said. He smiled at her. “I know you’ve been through these dreams before. And you’re an excellent partner, an amazing rookie. But might they get to be too much for you?”
She looked at him smiling and slowly shook her head. “No. I’m ready to dream more. And listen more, open up to all possibilities.”
“Cool,” he said, still evidently a bit confused.
“I talked to Raina today. She made me feel more grateful for being...weird, or gifted. Take your pick!”
“I say gifted,” he told her.
“They’re coming,” she said.
“Jackson and team? I don’t see lights—”
“No, the ghosts are coming, heading this way, out of the forest.”
She smiled at him.
Open up.
She had done so, and she had sensed that they were being sought, and when she had turned, she had seen them.
Four men. One was in a polo shirt and khakis. Their leader was the man in the jeans and rock-band T-shirt. One was in a short-sleeved cotton shirt and cargo shorts, and the last was in jeans and a T-shirt that advertised a theme park. They were all in their twenties or early thirties.
Keenan and Stacey both got out of the car.
“See, they didn’t run!” the young man in the cargo
shorts said.
“And they see us!” the theme-park-T-wearing man said.
“We’re FBI. Trying not to be seen waiting,” Keenan informed them. “And we are assuming that something damned bad happened to you and that’s why you’re hanging around. You’re buried on these grounds somewhere?”
“Hey, so, he is a genius!” rock-band man said.
“You are buried here,” Stacey said. “D-did Dr. Lawrence kill you?”
“Don’t know. Here’s what’s sad,” rock-band man said, and he looked at Keenan as if he was a bit embarrassed by having behaved like a jerk. “Not one of us knows what happened to us. We were attacked. Jumped. Each of us! Then, a searing pain in the head. Blackness...falling, falling, falling...into a whirling pit of darkness. And then, here...and, miraculously, finding one another.”
“It’s horrible. Not a clue. We don’t know what happened,” the cargo-shorts man said. He had dark hair with a clipped, businesslike cut. He seemed to be the oldest in the group, but at that, not much past thirty if he had even reached the triple decade mark.
“We just woke up here,” the fellow in the polo shirt said. He was fit; he might have been playing polo or some other sport before he was taken by surprise. “We don’t even know just where the hell we are!”
“How we got here, and how on earth we are...what we are,” rock-band man said.
“Just blackness,” Cargo Shorts said.
“We’re getting good,” Rock Band told them. “We can get around—we’ve gotten to know one another. Kinda cool—if we’re crossing the road and a car comes, it doesn’t matter.” He winced, shaking his head. “We are aware that we are deceased. I’ve tried to learn to open the mailbox, but I can’t quite do it. So we don’t have an address.”
“You’re in Virginia, just northwest of Richmond,” Stacey said. “I’m Stacey Hanson, and this is Keenan Wallace.”
“Oh! Sorry. Let me make introductions,” Rock Band said quickly.
He was Tim Dougherty, Polo Shirt was George Seasons, Cargo Shorts was Ronnie Gleason and Theme Park was Harvey Ryan. They introduced themselves and started to offer their hands.
Keenan and Stacey shook them...in a way.
“So, you’re out here, I take it,” Tim Dougherty said, “because the doctor who lives in that house might be the one who murdered us?”
“Talk about a genius,” George Seasons said, grinning, his smile taking the sting out of his words. “This is his property.”
“And when have you ever seen him out in the yard?” Harvey Ryan asked.
“Do you know when you were buried?” Keenan asked. “Was it together, or one at a time? Do you know anything?”
“I know I was on vacation,” George said. “I had a few too many at a bar near Lafayette Square. Then, like Tim said, sudden pain. Blackness...and then waking up or whatever to find Tim staring at me. Then, pain again,” he added softly. “Realizing I was dead.”
“I’m so sorry,” Stacey murmured.
“You think that maybe we’re here,” Ronnie Gleason said, “because...it was so sudden. So unfair. Then again, I like you guys, but man... I’m not sure I want to spend eternity hanging out with you in a little bit of forest.”
“Hey, these guys see us. They must know something. Are we...stuck here?” George asked anxiously. “It could be worse. I mean, I don’t mind being...well, something. But I don’t particularly like it being here.”
“If we tried to leave the area, would we go up in dust, disappear, cease to be?” Harvey asked.
“We don’t really have all the answers,” Keenan said.
“And maybe you are here to help us,” Stacey said. “We would have driven away with nothing, but you called out to us.”
“Yeah, forgive me for that ‘genius’ thing,” Tim said to Keenan.
“Not a problem.”
“Do you know what happened to us?” Ronnie asked.
“To be honest, since your bodies have never been found, I believe you’re all still listed as missing persons. We don’t know what happened to you. We are out here because of some vicious murders that have taken place in the DC area. A killer the media has dubbed the Yankee Ripper.”
“Ripper...like Jack the Ripper?” Ronnie asked.
“Yeah. Like Jack the Ripper,” she said.
“But none of us was a prostitute,” Harvey said. “Not that men can’t be, I mean. We couldn’t have been killed by the same killer, right? This had to be something else.”
“Great. Another serial killer. Does it really matter?” Tim asked, adding glumly, “Dead is dead...and we’re dead.”
Harvey looked at Keenan. “Jack the Ripper gutted people, right?”
Keenan and Stacey glanced at one another.
“Uh, yes,” Stacey said.
“Were we...gutted?” George Seasons asked, looking glum.
“We don’t know since we haven’t found your bodies yet,” Keenan said.
“Go find them! Maybe if we get real burials, we get to go to...well, heaven,” George said. “I... Yeah, I believe in heaven. Something more. More than this!”
“We don’t have that kind of answer,” Stacey said softly.
“But you’ll go get our bodies, right?” Tim said.
“Yes, but if we go before our warrant gets here... Well, it gets complicated in court. With a search warrant, everything we find is admissible—”
“If you found a body, it wouldn’t be admissible?” Tim demanded.
They didn’t have to answer. Keenan saw headlights coming down the road.
“Our team is here. They’ll serve the warrant,” Keenan said.
“Should we...go away? Hide?” Harvey asked nervously.
“We’re ghosts. Why the hell would we hide?” Tim said wearily. “They can’t see us anyway.”
Keenan looked at Stacey; they both grinned.
“Actually, these people will see you just fine,” Stacey assured them.
“You mean...” Ronnie began, “you have more people coming who will see us?”
“Exactly,” Keenan said.
“Where have you been all our lives?” Ronnie asked.
“You mean, where have they been all our deaths?” Tim said, shaking his head.
A car pulled ahead of Keenan’s. The doors opened. Jackson stepped out of the driver’s side, Angela from the passenger’s side, and Raina—with two huge, handsome German shepherds emerging with her as well.
“Dogs!” Harvey said with pleasure.
“Must be cadaver dogs,” Tim told him. “But yes, please, bring them on!”
“Hey, guys,” Angela said, waving. Raina was making sure that her dogs were behaved and under control, paying attention to her.
Jackson called out to them. “I’m heading straight to the house with the warrant.”
“We’ll get moving!” Keenan called to him. Angela and Raina were both staring at the ghosts. One of the dogs barked.
“Angela, Raina, please meet Tim, Ronnie, Harvey, and George. Guys, that’s Jackson heading to the house. Now we can find your bodies,” Keenan told them.
“Dogs!” Harvey said. “I have always loved dogs!”
“Brutus and Butch,” Raina said, introducing the dogs. “We’ll get off the road, and I’ll let them loose. They’re not quite done with training, but they’ll find you!”
“They’re beautiful!” Stacey said. “Is it okay to say hi?”
“Today? Yes. Usually, I’d say no, as they need to concentrate. But these are still learners, and it would be good for them to recognize you as a friend. Won’t hurt to give him one of these treats,” Raina said, handing her a handful of little nuggets. “They’ll love you more.”
Stacey hunkered down to talk to the dogs, thanking them for their help.
“That way, in the trees, I believe, just beyond the coz
y little garden sitting spot...where no one ever sits,” Tim told Raina.
“Fine. Let’s see what these boys can find.”
They moved in. She gave the dogs their freedom.
Brutus, nose sweeping the ground in front of him, headed right for the area that Tim had indicated.
Butch did not. He ran farther into the forest.
“I’m after him!” Stacey said, heading after the dog like a bolt of lightning, calling out, “It’s good he likes me.”
“No! Not alone, you’re not!” Keenan yelled after her. “Even with the dog!”
But she was moving. She knew he would race after her and be glad that he had very long legs.
They didn’t have to go far.
The dog was on to something.
A corpse, Stacey thought. Because Butch wasn’t fully trained, but he did know what he was looking for.
Butch was already digging furiously in the ground.
Stacey watched him.
The dog was barking and barking. Stacey glanced back at Keenan and then at the dog. “Oh, we have to stop him! It’s a—”
Crime scene.
“Butch!” she said firmly, walking forward to grab the dog’s lead. “That’s enough, boy. You’ve done your duty! Good dog!” She petted him and praised him and gave him some of the little dog treats that were his reward for a job well done.
The dog whined and obediently sat.
Keenan strode forward to the spot where the dog had been digging.
“I think that Tim knew where their bodies were,” Stacey said. “But Butch hasn’t graduated yet, so maybe—”
“Butch did just fine,” Keenan told her.
“Well, I mean, of course he did. He’s a dog, and—”
“Stacey, no,” he told her, redirecting her attention. “There’s more than one burial site here. Look.”
And then she saw the forearm and hand sticking out of the dirt, bone glowing, patches of flesh having rotted away.
Sixteen
The night was alive with lights now, and people.
There were far more than four bodies to be discovered.
Keenan stood with Stacey, aware that the four ghosts stood just behind them, watching all that went on as well.
Dreaming Death Page 24
