Audrey Claire - Libby Grace 01 - How to be a Ghost (15 page)

“And once I left?”

“He would be in control again. In this scenario, the man would find himself wet and wonder how he had come to be that way.”

“So he wouldn’t look out of his eyes and know he wasn’t in control? I’ve watched movies where—”

“Movies are fictional. Most have little basis in reality. As an added bonus, you could replenish your energy directly, maybe even faster.”

“It sounds too good to be true. What’s the catch?”

“Whatever you do, do not stay too long in the body.”

My eyes widened. “What would happen if I did?”

“Just do not.”

I grumbled in frustration. I could almost feel him shutting down. “How long is too long?” I tried instead.

He thought about it. “Let us say an hour.”

“An hour,” I repeated. When compared to my twenty minutes solid, an hour sounded like an eternity, but in this case, I would walk around as someone else. No one looking at me would recognize me. That might have its uses. “Okay, last question. How do I do it? Is there a trick?”

“That was two questions, and you do it the way you do everything else. You will it.”

“In other words, figure it out on my own.”

He neither confirmed nor denied, and in the end I let the subject go. Ian, by his taking a seat in the comfy armchair with the book he had selected from the shelf, was finished with me. I said my good nights, and he gave a polite if stiff reply without looking up. I drifted from his home invisible, and as I made my way to my own house, I spotted a patrol car parked on the street at the end of my drive. Clark had kept his word, but I didn’t know how long the protection would last with our tiny police force. I would need to gather some evidence and fast.

Chapter Nine

Attempting possession took a lot of self-talk to convince myself this was not a bad idea or that I was not doing anything morally wrong. Okay, maybe it was morally wrong, but I had a good reason, and going over that motivation helped me to bypass my conscious and appear in Clark Givens’s bedroom.

I hadn’t blinked in this time, feeling I did not want to catch Clark in a less than desirable state—or desirable considering I was a single woman missing the attentions of a man. Still, my conscious had put her virtual foot down at barging in on Clark, so I had visualized myself outside his house. I knew where he lived as I had driven down his street as I had done most if not all streets in my small town at one time or another. There was the time when I was in my early teens, Mama had decided we would join the Ladies in Summit’s Relief Association and sell baked goods door-to-door, so I knew the layout of my hometown pretty well. I was pretty glad at the time Mama’s whims didn’t last, so I didn’t have to suffer the embarrassment for long.

Putting aside my past, I had raised a hand to knock on Clark’s door and then remembered what I was. I couldn’t tell the chief of police I was there to take over his body. Not to mention I had decided not to be visible in case someone saw me appear at his house. Instead, I had drifted into his home in stages. I passed through the front door. Or rather, I
pushed
through the front door. Oddly enough, I felt resistance, as if tiny parts of me were solid and hard to force through. Once on the other side, I sagged toward the floor, worn out. I almost changed my mind and took this as a sign I should not do what I intended. Then I remembered Ian had told me I could recharge inside a person faster than outside.

Mentally dragging myself up, I listened to take in my surroundings. A TV played nearby, and I heard the distinctive clink of ice falling against glass. The layout of Clark’s hallway was similar to mine, and I navigated my way down it, peeking into doorways as I went.

The living room came into view with a couch facing away from the doorway and a large screen TV across from it. Isabelle occupied the couch, raising a glass of ice filled liquid to her mouth. As soon as I was flush with the door, she stopped and turned her head. “Clark? I thought you went to bed. Clark?”

I froze, biting my lip. She could not see me, so why was my stomach doing somersaults? I waited in silence until Isabelle turned back to her show, but when I willed myself to take a step, I was too nervous. I glanced down the hall to spot three more doorways and shut my eyes. A
whoosh
and I stood before the farthest door. An ear to the panels revealed light snoring. I had found Clark and passed through into his room.

Now I stood at the foot of Clark’s bed twining my fingers.
Come on, Libby, you can do this. Just try it. No big deal.

I stepped around the bed and made to sit on the edge, but in my current state, I didn’t cause the mattress to sag. Reclining next to Clark gave me an odd fluttering in my belly that had little to do with nerves. He was a big man, and I felt small and feminine next to him. I reached a hand out to touch his chest. The movement was a test of whether it would pass right through, and I had a flash of myself in a skimpy nightie. I jerked back on a gasp.

“You perv!”

I slapped a hand over my mouth when he fidgeted and scratched his chest. Maybe since I had seen into his head, I was halfway there. The second time, I scooted closer to him and hoped he hadn’t moved on from just looking at me in his dreams to doing other things.

Maybe because I willed it, I didn’t fall through the bed or pass through Clark to the other side. I somehow melded with him, and a sinking sensation came over me. I descended to the deepest part of his being. The sensation overwhelmed and intrigued me, but it all settled quickly. At first, I saw nothing but a landscape of pitch black. Slowly, light began to appear, but it didn’t brighten enough for me to make out anything. I feared I had somehow failed, and then chuckled. I needed to open my eyes. Or rather, I needed to open Clark’s eyes.

After I had done so, I realized I had heard him laugh, a deep, rich sound, and it felt foreign and familiar at the same time. I was Clark. I sat up and threw my feet over the edge of the bed. They were huge, and I wiggled my toes. I stared in awe at my hands and squeezed them into fists. A small squeak of wonder escaped me when I identified a new stimulus. I could smell!

Clark had showered before hitting the sheets. I smelled his shampoo and his soap. They tickled my nose in delight. Yet, beneath them was Clark’s natural manly scent. I wasted a few minutes sniffing his forearm over and over and chuckling like a loon.

Remembering I had a time limit, I hurried to find clothes and turned my head, face flaming, as I dressed his body. A woman who had been married and had a son should not be embarrassed, but in this situation, I would be no better than a peeping tom had I played footloose and fancy-free with Clark’s body. My conscious was not dead, just hog-tied.

I stood up from the bed and started across the room. A glimpse in the mirror made me pause. I’d been striding with my usual purposeful step. Something told me a man did not sashay. Another giggle at Clark’s expense, and I soon had at least an imitation of his swagger. I smoothed back the hair on Clark’s forehead as I studied him in the mirror. He was so handsome. Not in a perfect sense. An old scar on his cheek and the right corner of his mouth, hardly noticeable unless one stood close made him perfect in the way that mattered to a woman—rugged and strong. When I recalled the dreams he had been having, I wondered if after this was over and I had my body back, Clark and I could go on a date. The thought boosted my confidence as I bumped into the door, remembered I couldn’t pass through, and used the doorknob to get out of his room.

I started down the hall in a hurry, but Isabelle stepped out of the living room and blocked my path. Clark’s heart hammered in his throat, and I heard his gruff voice when I spoke his sister’s name. “Isabelle, I… uh…”

“I thought you were asleep?” She peered at me, and I ducked my head. If a person could see into your soul, they may be able to do it through the eyes. Whose soul would Isabelle see if she looked into Clark’s? I wasn’t taking the chance to find out.

“I had a sudden urge for cookies,” I lied. Wow, the fabrications were coming faster these days.

“Who is open at this hour?” she demanded.

Frustration that wasn’t mine washed over me, and wondered if Ian was correct in his assertion that Clark would not know I possessed him. Ian had been right so far about everything he told me, but that didn’t mean the man was infallible.

“The gas station out on—”

“I thought you were going to start eating healthy, Clark,” Isabelle scolded, cutting me off. “We agreed.”

“
We
didn’t,” I blurted and squeezed past her. I heard her gasp as I grabbed Clark’s keys off the table near the door and hurried out. I hoped I wasn’t letting him in for a longer lecture later, but I suspected it wouldn’t be the first time in the poor man’s life.

I drove Clark’s squad car and resisted the urge to play with the radio. I recalled Clark’s demand that his deputies stop using it to spread gossip. He would have a lot of explaining to do if I screwed with it now. I can’t express how good the leather steering wheel felt beneath my palms and the power at the mercy of my foot on the pedal.

When I arrived at the station, I muttered an excuse about having a few thoughts on the case that I wanted to review and charged into Clark’s office. The deputy on duty didn’t even blink twice, which made me think this was nothing new. I dropped into the chair behind Clark’s desk, glad to see he hadn’t put the files away in a cabinet. All of the ones related to George’s murder were labeled and stacked neatly. I checked the time and found I had plenty left over and began to sort through the data.

Inside the first folder was a handwritten note that Luis Riley wanted Clark to return his call about the case. I hoped Clark hadn’t given him any info, especially when it came to me. Come to think of it, I hadn’t read the paper since my “accident,” so I had no idea if I had been named there yet or not. Then again, no one had looked at me askance so far. Perhaps Clark had kept my involvement quiet. I appreciated him even more for that.

So many people had been interviewed. I wondered how Clark ever had time to himself. Most of the interviewees were those who had used George Walsh’s home improvement services, which he did on the side when he wasn’t running the hardware store. From Clark’s notes, most had no reason to kill him. A few had petty squabbles like overcharging or wrong color paint. I doubted these types of issues would lead to murder, but one never knew.

My eyes hurt after a while of reading boring accounts that gave me zero insight, and then I came to a folder with my name on it. My heart—or Clark’s—hammered. I swallowed, feeling his Adam’s apple bob. I flipped open the red manila folder and blew out a breath. The folder contained a write-up of what I had shared with Clark about the camera found in my vent. Clark had also noted the camera matched the surveillance equipment inside and outside of the hardware store. My—uh Clark’s—blood ran cold. Did this mean George had been the one to videotape me? Why?

“Okay, calm down, Libby. Same brand means nothing. This is a small town, and wouldn’t Clark have said something if he thought George was spying on me?”

The door opened, and the deputy looked in. “You say something, chief?”

“No,” I said, jumping in my seat. “Uh, and knock before entering! Close the door, and don’t disturb me!”

“Sorry, chief.” The man shut the door softly, and I sagged back in the chair. I wasn’t used to yelling at anyone, and pretending to be Clark set my teeth on edge. I blew out a few breaths to relax and returned to the folders.

What about the feed? I searched through the paperwork and found that both my camera and the hardware store’s cameras were destroyed. Clark had consulted with an expert, and even he ran into a dead-end trying to trace where the video might have sent its recordings. Nothing on the premises indicated a device where the feed was stored. I groaned, knowing it was probably me who broke the cameras at the hardware store, just as I had fried the one at my place. I might have destroyed evidence without knowing it. The camera inside the store might have shown who killed George and revealed the culprit who kidnapped me.

A new thought occurred to me. The mayor had mentioned having an electrician in. What if that electrician had left the cameras there as well? I uttered a small curse, which might have been common for Clark but not for me. I’d used my “powers” at the mayor’s office as well when I broke her lights. Boy was I batting a thousand. Still, it was worth checking out.

I quickly left the police station and headed over to the mayor’s office, which was within walking distance. The building lay in total darkness, and I checked the bundle of keys on Clark’s belt on a hunch. The king of organization, Clark had labeled each key, and I was able to pick out the ones for the mayor’s office. Before I used it, I scanned a few of the others. Who knew Clark had this kind of access. He was like a town janitor.

“Suspicious, Clark,” I whispered.

I checked my surroundings for anyone that might be watching and then let myself in. Despite the place appearing abandoned and me in full police uniform, I couldn’t help creeping along on tiptoe. A
thump
and a cry of pain that did not come from Clark froze me to the spot. I held my breath and stared into the darkness, but I could see nothing but shadows shifting. Someone was in here with me.

I jerked on the handle of Clark’s gun, but it wouldn’t come out of the holster. Then I remembered the snap and felt around for it. I got it undone and swung the heavy service revolver in the general direction of the suspect. “Police. Freeze!”

The person might have heard the wobble in my voice, and at the back of my mind, I considered the fact that if I were the police I might have also whipped out a flashlight with the gun so I could see what the suspect was doing. The next instant, he or she charged at me and banged into my shoulder as he headed for the exit. Clark being so big, his body did not fall over, but I did lose my balance what with the gun in one hand and feet I wasn’t used to. I fell into a couple chairs and crashed onto the floor, but my life might depend on finding out who had invaded the mayor’s office and why. I jumped to my feet and ran after the suspect.