The Seance (20 page)

“Someone needs to report this,” she said firmly. “She didn't trip, she was pushed. Someone attacked her.”

Everyone stared at her blankly.

“Look,” Saryn said, “I have to get this woman to a hospital. If you want to report a crime, call the police.”

He left, the nurses following with Marcy on the stretcher. Dan cast Christina a worried glance, then ran after them.

“Quite a night,” Adam Harrison murmured.

“What did you mean?” Jed asked Christina, eyes narrowed. “What did you mean when you said someone attacked her?”

“I…I don't know,” she admitted. “It just seemed like someone in the crowd was getting rowdy or something. I felt as if…as if I was being pushed.”

“Teenagers!” Ilona exploded.

And why not? Christina asked herself. Even if someone had pushed her, why was she so sure there had been any malice behind it? Ilona was right; it had probably just been some rowdy teenager. “Let's go get some dinner,” she said. “Seeing as the Grim Reader is done for the night.”

 

Jed hadn't intended to stay at Christina's house, but wasn't at all sure about “Uncle” Adam. Not that Christina would be alone with him. Genevieve and Thor would also be there—and Killer, of course.

But there was just something bugging him. About the house? Or about Christina?

She had almost certainly been right about whatever had occurred between Beau Kidd and Larry Atkins on that day twelve years ago when Larry had killed his partner. Larry didn't act like a man who was coming unglued because he had committed murder. He did act like a man with a serious guilt complex, a man who was afraid that he had killed his partner over a mistake. There was really only one explanation for why Beau Kidd had pulled his weapon: because he hadn't seen his partner and was afraid of who was out there in the dark.

But how the hell had Christina figured that out?

Ilona and Tony had opted to stay at the park when the rest of them went to dinner. While they were eating, Christina's cell phone rang. It was Dan, reporting that Marcie was going to be all right, though she didn't know what had happened. She only remembered waking up in the hospital. Despite the good news, Christina looked distraught when she hung up.

“What is it?” Mike asked her.

She shrugged. “He's worried—any more problems and the park might wind up closing.”

“More problems?” Adam asked. “What else happened?”

“One of the women who was killed, the second victim, worked at the park,” Christina explained. “And I hate to say it, but that mist tonight was a pretty major mistake on someone's part, a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

“They have insurance up the wazoo, I'm sure,” Mike said.

Dinner broke up and people started heading their separate ways at that point. Back at Christina's, Jed found himself striding in without waiting for an invitation. If his presence seemed unusual to anyone, it wasn't mentioned.

Christina immediately went into the kitchen to make tea, despite the fact that they had just eaten, and Jed realized that was simply the way things had always been done in that house when Christina's grandmother had been alive. You came over and you had tea. It was a nice tradition, he realized.

As they drank tea and munched shortbread, the conversation turned to diving for treasure, which was the way Gen and Thor made their living. Jed talked about some nearby underwater caverns Thor had never been to, and they decided to take a group dive trip.

“Better do it before it gets much later in the year,” Christina said. “That water gets chilly.”

“How far are they from here?” Thor asked.

“I'd say an hour and a half,” Jed said, and as he spoke, he realized he was seeing a map of the state in his mind's eye.

A map with all the highways.

And an
X
where each body had been found.

Twelve years ago, the first and last had been found alongside I-4, off International Drive, right where the tourists went. Another was found off the turnpike, two more off the Beeline Expressway.

This time…

The first body had been found just off I-4, off International Drive, the next two by the turnpike.

The killer was even choosing the same highways as the dumpsites for the bodies.

He surfaced from his thoughts when Christina said, “I'm going to have a get-together on Saturday night.”

“A big party?” Jed asked “No, just Tony and Ilona, Mike and Dan, you and Ana, Adam, Thor and Genevieve. And myself, of course.”

She was testing the idea out on him, he realized. Why? “That sounds nice,” he said. “Will Dan be off?”

“Yes, he can put in for the early shift. He's not the only Grim Reader, of course, plus he's got his role as Zeus now, and they'll be starting rehearsals soon. In another couple of weekends, the whole Halloween thing will be over, anyway.”

It seemed like a long explanation, he thought. Was she nervous? “Any special reason for this get-together?” he asked her.

“Sure…to get together,” she said.

Genevieve yawned then, and everyone started excusing themselves to go up to bed. Jed had just reached the upstairs landing with Christina when his cell phone rang.

It was Jerry Dwyer.

He dreaded learning that another body had been found, but Jerry hadn't called to report another murder.

“There's going to be a wake tomorrow night for Allison Chesney. Seven to nine. You coming?”

“Thanks. I'll definitely be there.”

“Yeah. You never know who might show.”

He hung up. Christina was staring at him. “Allison Chesney's wake is tomorrow,” he told her.

“I know,” she said.

“I was thinking it would be a good idea to go.”

“You were? Me, too.”

“I was thinking I should go.”

“Jed, I actually knew her.”

He hesitated. “Sometimes a killer will go to a funeral or a wake. Depending on what makes a monster tick, sometimes he takes pleasure from seeing his victim's loved ones mourning her. I don't think you should go.”

“But I do.”

“Christina…I don't want the killer to get a good look at another gorgeous redhead,” he said.

Once again, she stared at him before turning away. “These killings have to stop!” she said passionately.

He walked over to her, taking her hands. “Christina, I know that. Is there something I don't know? Something I should know?”

She seemed to be looking past him. And she looked irritated. “No,” she finally said.

“Then…?”

She shook her head.

“Do you mind that I'm here?”

“No. But I'm exhausted.”

“I see.” Was that like, Not tonight, dear. I have a headache? They hadn't really been together long enough for that, he thought. But the only thing he said was “All right.”

He walked across the room, stripped off his shirt and jeans, and slid beneath the sheets. When he turned back to look at her, she was staring across the room, toward the door.

“Go away,” she whispered.

He started to rise. “What?”

She spun around. “What?” she echoed.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!”

“Didn't you just say, ‘go away'?”

“No, not to you. Really.”

She stripped with an admirable and arousing speed, sliding next to him beneath the sheets, far too naked to be ignored, so he pushed aside the question of who she had been talking to and simply took her into his arms.

She pressed closer and closer to him, as if she were trying to become one with him.

Her flesh rubbed against his, her nipples hard against his chest. She slid her arms around his waist, and her hands moved, fingers teasing, so light at first. When he didn't allow himself to react, her touch became more insistent, more erotic. There was no way in hell that what she intended could be misinterpreted—or resisted.

He drew her more tightly into his arms, his mouth fusing to hers. Her body seemed to melt against him, insinuate itself with explicit intimacy against his hollows. He broke the kiss and stared at her. Her eyes were brilliant, and he could hear the rampant thunder of her heart.

Her lips were wet, parted…

She rose against him, meeting his eyes again. “Just hold me,” she said. “I'm not feeling tired after all.”

Evidently not, he thought, wondering what had changed.

Her lips skittered across his flesh like liquid fire. Her mouth closed around him.

He made love to her until they were both panting and exhausted, and then he held her through the night.

Still, he was puzzled. She kept staring at the door, as if she were afraid that someone was going to enter. Someone she didn't want to see.

 

She was dreaming. She knew it, but she couldn't stop it.

She was in a room, but there was a blindfold over her eyes, so she couldn't see, And everything ached. Everything. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't move, because there were ropes binding her wrists and ankles to a chair. She couldn't even scream, because she was gagged.

Suddenly she heard footsteps. Leisurely footsteps, coming closer…

Her terror was overwhelming, because she knew what was going to happen. Knew…

She wanted to escape. She had to escape.

Christina.

Beau Kidd was calling to her. She recognized his voice.

Help me. Get me out of here, she pleaded.

My hand, take my hand…

“Christina?”

She woke up to find Jed at her side, staring at her with concern in his eyes.

Her night-light was on, as always, and she could see his face. Feel the vitality and heat of his body, the power of his slightest movement. The life in him.

“Hey,” he said, and softly touched her face. “Nightmare?”

It was fading already. She could barely remember anything at all.

Not that there was anything to remember, anyway. She hadn't seen anything, hadn't seen anyone. All she had was an impression, a trick of the mind.

She moved closer to him, secure in the clasp of his strong arms. “I guess,” she murmured.

“We all have them sometimes,” he told her.

“You have nightmares?”

He hesitated, then said, “Sometimes we live our nightmares.”

She exhaled, watching the shadows play across his face. “And sometimes we have to let them go,” she told him softly.

He smiled slowly, smoothed back her hair. “You all right?”

She nodded. And she was all right, of course. It had just been a nightmare. It meant nothing.

So why did she suddenly feel such a sense of fear? Of danger awaiting her somewhere in the darkness?

C
hristina awoke and found herself relieved that Jed had gotten up early and, according to the note he'd left her, gone downtown to meet Jerry. She quickly showered and dressed, reflecting on how amazing it was to find herself feeling that way, given that she had been at least a little in love with Jed Braden most of her life. And she was grateful that he'd been there, but there were some dangers even he couldn't help her fight.

Like those in her mind.

Or the fact that she was seeing a ghost.

And now…what? Was she feeling what the victims had felt?

Downstairs, Adam Harrison had already made coffee. He was sitting in the wing chair in the parlor, her box of newspaper clippings at his side. “Morning,” he said.

She looked around. The parlor was quiet. “Have you seen…Beau?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Sorry. Genevieve may see him, but sometimes…well, it's really up to him. That's why we need to have a séance,” he told her. “Sometimes ghosts only appear to specific people, and for specific reasons. Other ghosts will appear to several people, or just to anyone.” He offered her a rueful grin. “It's not an exact science. Beau may be feeling uncomfortable now, with the house suddenly so full,” he told her.

He hadn't had any difficulty showing up last night to remind her that he needed her help, she thought. He'd sat in the chair in her room, insisting that she tell Jed all the information that he gave her. But when she had given him an imploring look and begged him softly…he'd left.

In the daylight, her anger was asserting itself. He showed up to haunt her, to confuse her and make her talk to the air, so Jed would think she was genuinely crazy. To give her horrible nightmares…and then leave without telling her anything useful.

Thor and Genevieve came in then. “Good morning,” Thor said.

“Beautiful day, isn't it?” Genevieve said cheerfully.

“Coffee on?” Thor asked.

It might have been an ordinary visit. Except that when Thor left to get coffee for himself and his wife, Genevieve walked into the center of the parlor and stood very still.

“Anything?” Christina heard herself ask hopefully.

Genevieve let out a sigh. “Yes…and no. I can feel something, but…” She smiled. “Let's take a trip to the cemetery, shall we?”

“Sure.”

“What's wrong?” Genevieve asked her.

Christina shook her head, then tried to explain. “I had a nightmare last night. I was tied up, gagged and blindfolded.”

“Does the killer bind, gag and blindfold his victims?” Genevieve asked.

“I…don't know.”

“Okay, what then?” Genevieve prodded.

“Then I woke up.”

Genevieve watched her thoughtfully. Adam Harrison stepped closer and looked into her eyes. “It's possible that…”

“That…?” Christina asked, not entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“We know Beau Kidd has made a connection with you,” Adam said, “so maybe, because of Beau, one of the victims is managing to speak to you, as well.”

“Oh, God. So I was feeling what she felt. Before…” Christina stared at him, fighting a wave of debilitating fear.

“It's all right. You woke up. But no one ever really knows how far the mind can go. A dream like that is all right, Christina,” Adam said reassuringly. “A dream could end up providing the clue that cracks the case. The dead do tell tales.”

 

Jed waited in Jerry's office until his friend came back and tossed a file on the desk. “It's all copies—you can have everything there,” he said.

Jed arched a brow to him. “What did you find?”

Jerry had taken the chair behind his desk. “Amazingly little. I suspect their private work stays private, but there are a few articles in there about several cities, even a few states, hiring Harrison Investigations in…abnormal circumstances.”

“Like UFOs?” Jed asked.

“No, more like things that go bump in the night.” Jerry leaned forward, opening the folder. “Here's one…a Florida story, even, about Old Dixie Highway, outside St. Augustine. There was a rash of abductions of teenagers. The locals were claiming there were lights in the trees by the highway, that the kids were being abducted by the ghosts of three women who'd been hanged there by a lynch mob soon after Florida became a state. The city brought in the state, and the state brought in Harrison Investigations.”

Jed looked skeptically at Jerry. “Let me guess. Harrison Investigations performed some sort of a voodoo rite and the abductions stopped?”

Jerry leaned back, shaking his head. “Harrison Investigations found the kids being held in a shack in the woods. One kid's dad was head of an oil corporation. The kidnapper, an ex-employee with a grudge, intended to ask for ransom eventually, but first he wanted his old boss to suffer.”

“The police couldn't find this shack, but Harrison Investigations did? Was there ever an explanation?”

“Adam Harrison found the shack himself,” Jerry said. “He claimed he heard noises when he was walking through the woods.”

Jed shook his head, clearly still doubtful.

“Our own fed, Gil, told me that Adam Harrison is totally legit. He hasn't worked with him personally, but he knows people who have, and they swear by the guy.”

Jed stared at Jerry, feeling irritated. He didn't know why, but he'd wanted to find a reason to mistrust the man, especially once he'd discovered the Harrison Investigations angle. The guy had to be some kind of charlatan. Didn't he?

“What I want to know,” Jerry told him, “is why this man just appeared on your girlfriend's doorstep.”

Jed shook his head, not bothering to dispute Jerry's use of “girlfriend.” In fact, he realized to his own amazement, he kind of liked it. “Nothing to do with the case,” he said. Which he knew was a lie, but since no one was letting him in on the truth…

“He just arrived?”

“Yesterday. He came with a couple of her friends. Christie's known the wife, Genevieve, forever,” Jed explained. “She's married to some guy named Thor.”

“Genevieve Wallace and Thor Thompson?” Jerry asked.

Jed frowned, staring at him. “Yeah. How did you know?”

Jerry offered him a wry grimace. “Thor's not exactly a common name. And there's a story there. They were involved in a dive down in the Keys and somehow unearthed a centuries-old mystery—and a killer. I read about it. It was in all the papers. How the hell did you miss it?”

Jed stood without answering, picking up the file Jerry had put together for him. “Thanks.”

“Hey,” Jerry called as he started out of the office. “I'd love to meet Adam Harrison.”

“I'll see if he can do lunch next week.”

“Cool. Let me know.”

Jed gritted his teeth. Jerry was serious.

But as he walked out onto the sidewalk, Jed realized that he was glad of one thing. Adam Harrison might be nuts for believing in the supernatural, but at least he was a legitimate nut.

And he did feel better knowing there were more people in the house with Christina, because there was no escaping one crucial fact: she was a beautiful redhead.

He was still searching for a deeper connection between the victims. Or was it entirely random and based on looks? But where was the killer first seeing his prey? How did he know who to snatch, and how to snatch her so she disappeared into thin air? Why did no one ever scream when she was being taken? What trick was the killer using?

 

They bought bouquets. Lots of them.

“I still don't understand what we're doing,” Christina told Genevieve as they walked along a path through the cemetery. “I don't believe—I can't believe—that the souls of the people I loved are still here beneath the ground or in a coffin, or…or that they stay behind at all.”

Genevieve was quiet for a minute. “Sometimes souls do remain behind.”

“So how come I can't say hi to my mom, and tell her that I love her and miss her? Why do I have to see a man I never knew when he was alive?”

“No one really knows, but I'm guessing your mom knows you loved her very much. Same with your dad,” Genevieve said. “They were good people, and they lived good lives. Whatever heaven really is, I'm sure that's where they are. But some people…some people stay behind, and other people can see them. Think of a dog whistle. The dog hears it just fine. We don't.”

“Speaking of which…” Christina dropped down to pick up Killer. No need taking a chance on him running off and getting into trouble.

“Your parents and grandparents first?” Genevieve suggested.

Christina saw that Adam and Thor had gone ahead and were already waiting at her family grave site. She and Genevieve joined them, and she arranged some of the flowers, then stepped back and pointed to a nearby grave. She closed her eyes, feeling the breeze waft across her skin and through her hair, and pictured the scene as it had been twelve years ago.

The priest, reading the service.

Beau Kidd's mother, crying her eyes out.

When she opened her eyes, the others had moved closer. “Genevieve?” Adam said softly. She nodded, then walked over to Beau Kidd's grave, knelt down, placed a bouquet of flowers and laid a hand against his stone.

 

The world had to know her brother was innocent, Katherine Kidd thought, walking along the sidewalk that surrounded the cemetery and feeling an overwhelming sense of sadness. Beau's name had to be cleared. She felt a moment's anger as she wondered if the powers-that-be would eventually wind up shooting some other innocent man and claiming the killer had only been a copycat after all.

That couldn't happen.

The truth had to come out.

Beau's death and the widely accepted accusations had ruined their lives. Her mother was no more than a shell of her former self. They'd only been able to stay in the area because they'd had some genuinely good friends, people who knew that Beau couldn't have been guilty, no matter what everyone else said.

But she'd had some very bad times, growing up. Very bad. Teenagers were often cruel by nature, and so many of them had pointed at her, whispered about her. She had learned in high school to stay away from boys, to keep her distance from the popular crowd. If she kept a low profile, she wouldn't hear the whispers.

She hadn't gone far away for college, but somehow, in Gainesville—which she had chosen so she could be near her parents if her mother fell into one of her depressions—she had found that there were people willing to let the past stay buried.

Like her brother.

She'd majored in theater arts, with an emphasis on scenery design. She had a perfect job in her field now, and she was gaining a reputation. She was doing well.

Yeah, right. She was twenty-five, lived with her parents and didn't date.

She stopped walking for a moment, looking through the wrought-iron fence. The cemetery was really quite beautiful, she thought, So many of the old oaks flourished here, but then, it was a very old cemetery. She smiled, thinking of the transplants she worked with. So many New Yorkers, a lot of Midwesterners. They thought of Florida as new and raw. They didn't realize just how old some of the little towns and cities were. The path she was on led her under the trailing moss draping from the old oaks like dripping tears.

Most of the funerary art was old, a lot of it broken, some covered with lichen, giving the cemetery a forlorn and haunting feel. Even the sidewalk that rimmed it was broken in places, tree roots cracking the concrete and breaking through. Too often the city looked to the new when it came to repairing things, seldom to the old.

She was just about to head into the cemetery itself when she felt the wave of cold rush over her, followed by the sensation of being followed. She turned around to look, but the sun was in her eyes, blinding her.

Suddenly she heard a car engine rev, and a vehicle went rushing by her, sending adrenaline jetting through her.

Had someone been planning to run her down? Or was she getting paranoid now, afraid of threats that existed only in her own mind?

She turned around again and saw a woman approaching her, a tall redhead, with stunning blue eyes, carrying a Jack Russell terrier. She was followed by another woman, and two men, one older and the other blond and extremely tall.

Maybe these people had been following her. They could have tracked her from inside the cemetery. Or had she been stalked by whoever was driving that car, and then they had hurriedly driven past because…

Because these people would have been witnesses if something had happened to her.

“Hello,” the redhead said. “Katherine? Katherine Kidd?”

“Yes. Who are you?” Katherine demanded.

“I'm Christina Hardy. I…well, I know this will sound very strange, but my grandfather was buried the same day as your brother. I…brought him some flowers.”