Read The Lingering Dead Online

Authors: J. N. Duncan

The Lingering Dead (6 page)

She slammed the door behind her and bolted for the car, bare feet soaking up the cold November rain. The door opened before she could get into the car, and Nick's silhouette stood behind the screen door, watching her. After three tries, her trembling hand finally got the key into the ignition, and Jackie gunned the engine, spinning the wheels backing out of the drive. Once on the road, she fumbled in her purse for the cell and punched in the last number she would have ever expected to call.
The other end picked up after four rings. A sleepy, confused voice answered. “Jackie?”
“Tillie?” Jackie swallowed, trying to keep the blubbering stammer out of her voice. “I need to see you.”
“What time ... Jackie, it's after—”
“Please, Tillie!”
“What's wrong? Where are you?”
“I'm ... I'm on my way home.”
“All right,” she said. “I can meet you there. What happened?”
Jackie hung up without answering, wiping at the tears streaming down her face, and blew through a stop sign on the rain-slick road.
My worst nightmare is what happened.
Chapter 5
“Dear, you called me in a panic,” Tillie said. “I've never heard you so ... frightened before. Nothing you've told me so far,” she said with a sympathetic shrug, “says why you were so scared. Did he hurt you?”
Jackie hung her head once again. Here it came. “No.”
“Threaten you in some way?”
She groaned. “No, nothing like that.”
“Then what was it, Jackie? Help me understand.”
Heat flushed into her face. “I tried to sleep with him.”
“Oh,” Tillie said quietly. “That did not go well, I take it?”
Jackie rubbed her hands over her face.
God, how to explain this mess?
“Not unless chest pains and hyperventilating means good sex.”
“Oh, dear,” Tillie said. “That sounds like you had a panic attack.”
“Yeah, something like that. Nick said the same thing. I couldn't breathe, Tillie. I thought I was going to pass out.”
“What did Nick do?”
“He tried to use his vampire-voodoo-charm bullshit on me,” Jackie said. Anger knotted up her stomach again at the thought. “So I left.”
Tillie leaned across the coffee table and placed her hand on Jackie's knee. “That does sound frightening, Jackie. I'm sorry you had to experience that.”
She nodded. “Yeah, me too. Probably thinks I'm bat-shit crazy now.”
“You aren't,” Tillie replied. “I think you're just afraid to let him in.”
Jackie laughed. “Oh, I let him in all right.”
Tillie gave her a stern look. “Emotionally, dear. Afraid to let him see the real you.”
“The real me.” Jackie flopped back against the couch. “Not even sure
I
want to see the real me.”
“And therein lies your problem,” Tillie said, and patted Jackie's knee. “How can anyone get to know you if you're afraid to know yourself?”
Jackie groaned. “I know, I know. But what if ...” She sighed, took a deep breath and then slowly let it out. “What if he doesn't like what he sees? What if nobody does?”
“They don't matter, dear. It's more important that you like what you see. So, the question is, when you look at Jackie Rutledge, what do you see?”
Not what you'd hope to.
“I don't know. I—” She stopped when the cold rush of Deadworld swept through her. Laurel was coming. “Shit. Laur, not now, please.”
Laurel did not make her typical, casual entrance, stepping through the veil between the living and the dead. She tumbled in, like a runner who abruptly catches her toe on a crack in the sidewalk, rolling across the living room floor, through the piano and out into the hall. Jackie leaped to her feet.
“Laur? What the hell?”
On her feet as well, Tillie laid a hand on Jackie's arm. “What is it? What's wrong?”
A moment later, Laurel stepped back through the wall into the living room. She readjusted her blouse while looking furtively around the room. “That was a little too ... Dr. Erikson? Why is ...” She looked back and forth between Jackie and Tillie. “Oh, no. Hon, what happened with Nick?”
“Laur, why are you here?” Jackie demanded. Could she never have a breakdown in peace?
“Laurel is here?” Tillie asked, stepping away from Jackie to the middle of the room, looking around curiously. “Where is she?”
Jackie threw up her hands in frustration. “Yes, she's here. Maybe we could have a group therapy session.”
“I'm so sorry,” Laurel said. “I didn't have any choice. I need to stay with you for a while.”
“What? Why?”
“That thing is back,” Laurel said. “It almost got me.”
The idea that Laurel'd had a spat with Shelby went out the window. “What are you talking about?”
“The Spindly Man,” she replied. “That green-eyed thing is here.” Laurel pointed up over Jackie's head. “On the other side.”
“We knew that.” Jackie followed the line of her finger but saw nothing. “Was it chasing you?”
“No, hon. You don't understand.” Her hand swept across the room. “It's here on the other side. Right outside of your apartment. I think it's looking for you.”
Jackie's knees suddenly went weak and she collapsed back onto the couch. She remembered that lanky, quill-covered monster as clear as the day she saw it crossing that bridge in Deadworld, when those, eerie green orbs turned their focus on her. “Well, shit.”
Tillie stepped over to the couch and sat down next to her. “What is it, dear? What's wrong?”
Jackie shook her head in disbelief, staring blankly at the wall, her hands clasped together on top of her head. “Everything. I think we're done for now. I need to get out of here.”
Three hard knocks on the office door startled Jackie awake. She nearly tipped her chair over backward jerking her feet off the desk. She had seen Tillie off and driven around aimlessly, blasting random radio stations on the stereo, until she had found herself near the office. Even Laurel's usual soothing words had done little to settle her nerves or her stomach, and she'd wandered the office while Jackie downed another shot of tequila from the office bar and fell asleep staring at the ceiling of her office. The clock on Jackie's desk phone now read 8:30
AM
. Three hours of sleep. Fabulous.
“Jackie? You in there?” It was Shelby's voice, and not the happy-go-lucky tone Jackie was used to.
“Yeah, one sec,” she said. Jackie grabbed the almost-empty tequila bottle and dropped it in the garbage under her desk. Her mouth felt full of tainted cotton balls, and her head swam loosely upon her neck when she got to her feet.
When she unlocked the door, Shelby pushed in before she could even pull it open. She carried a duffle, slung over one shoulder, which she unceremoniously dumped on the floor beside the door as she marched in. It took Jackie a moment to realize that it was her duffle.
Jackie stared down at the bag. “What's going on?”
Shelby handed her a large cup of coffee from Annabelle's. “Here. We're starting that case today.”
Jackie took a sip of the delightful, hot black-gold. “We are?” What the hell was going on? “What happened to Monday?”
“Freaky alien monster thing hovering around your apartment is what happened,” Shelby said. “We're getting out of town for a couple of days to see if it goes away.” She pointed at the duffle. “Laur helped me snag some of your clothes. Nick is getting the plane fueled, and we're meeting him out there at ten. So, let McManus know or whatever needs to happen, and let's get the fuck out of here, OK? OK. Let me know if you need anything before we go, and put on some perfume. You smell like a distillery.” She turned around and left.
Jackie watched her go, too stunned to even snap back at her. Knocking Shelby Fontaine off-kilter took some doing. The Spindly Man had unnerved her, and that was a good enough answer right there as to how serious this was. And Nick was fueling up the plane. What plane? When did they get a plane?
Cynthia was out front assembling folders on her desk, and clearly had been doing so for a while. Jackie eyed the groups of papers going into each folder. “How long you been here, Cynthia?”
“Oh, an hour or so, I guess,” she said. “Just putting together what we have on Thatcher's Mill for you all to take and read on the plane. Not sure how much of it is useful, but it's what I've been able to pull up on short notice.”
“I'll call McManus and get him and the geeks on it before we go,” Jackie said. Cynthia nodded and pulled another stack of papers from the printer. “Cynthia, you might want to go to my apartment and see if you can—”
“I don't know what it is, Jackie,” she replied. “All I can tell you is, that thing isn't dead and it isn't human.” She looked up at Jackie with a wan smile on her face. “And yes, it freaks me out, too.”
“Hmm, yeah. You could say that,” Jackie said. “Could you tell if it has malicious intent?”
She shrugged. “It isn't human, Jackie. I don't know.” She stepped over and brushed her fingers across Jackie's hand. “And I'm sorry last night didn't work out.”
Jackie rolled her eyes, but could tell the feeling was genuine. “Could be worse.” Though how was not something Jackie could imagine.
Cynthia laughed. “Isn't that always the case? Well, anyway. I hope it does. Your auras are a good match.”
Auras. What the hell did that mean? They both glow red or something? Jackie did not feel like talking about it now. She had to figure out how she was going to ride on a plane with Nick without throwing up.
“Cynthia, how long have you known Nick?”
She stopped and set the papers down on her desk, and stared at Jackie for what seemed like a minute. “I've known and loved him for years, Jackie. He's one of the best people I've ever known. If you can't trust him, then there's nobody you can.”
Not quite what she was going to ask, but still enough to impress. It was just weird how these people all seemed interconnected. She nodded.”. Thank you.”
“And, Jackie?” she said. “If you have any questions about anything, you know, psychic, please ask me anything. I'm more than happy to help you come to grips with all of this. I can't imagine how hard this has been.”
Jackie gave her a fleeting smile. “If you can figure out what the hell that thing is on the other side, that would be great.” She turned away, knowing there was no answer to that one yet, and walked back toward her office to figure out what she would need to take on this trip.
An hour later, they were on their way to Midway Airport. Shelby kept glancing into the review mirror.
“If I didn't know better, I'd think we were being followed,” she said.
Jackie sat up in the backseat and looked out the back window. “Really? Where?”
“That blue Jeep a couple cars back,” Shelby replied. “We're almost to Midway, so we'll see in a minute.”
Jackie's first thought was FBI, but it was not a government vehicle, and from what Belgerman had told her, the investigation into her actions involving the death of Detective Morgan were done and/or shelved. Chicago PD had been pissed about the whole thing, but it all quieted down once it was made public that she was no longer an active agent. For all they knew, she had been fired.
They pulled off of Sixty-Third Street into the hangar area for private aircraft. The Jeep slowed up behind them in the turn lane but then continued on after they crossed traffic. Jackie got a good look at the driver as they pulled away.
“Shit. I know that guy,” she said, disgusted.
“FBI?” Shelby wondered. “Chicago PD?”
“No.” Jackie shook her head in disbelief. “It's a fucking reporter.”
“What?” Shelby and Cynthia chimed in together.
“He was investigating the Tannenbaum fire,” Jackie replied. “He wanted to know how I got from there to the hospital quicker than the ambulance did.”
“That the same guy who showed up at your apartment?”
Jackie watched the Jeep disappear as they pulled in between the hangars. “Yeah. He doesn't seem to be leaving well enough alone.”
Laurel's voice sounded off in her head.
If he thinks he has something, he won't let it go if he's any good.
Jackie turned back to face the front.
I know. Let's hope he sucks.
He did not strike her as being some glorified story chaser, though. She would see him again, no doubt about it.
They pulled up outside a corrugated metal hangar, right next to Nick's purple Porsche. Shelby popped the trunk lid of Cynthia's car and stepped out. Jackie sat staring at the gray metal wall, knowing that somewhere on the other side was Nick Anderson, the last person in the world she wanted to see or talk to at this moment.

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