Possession

Page 57

“Good. You know, fine. Okay. I’m all right.”
He wanted to put his arms around her and pull her into his chest. He wanted his body to be what she held on to as she struggled to find her footing. He wanted to be the guy she turned to when she needed something, anything.
Instead, they just stood side by side, as her eyes clung to her mother, father and sister. The emotion in her face was so powerful, it was like a tangible object, something with heft and substance and a handle to grab onto.
God knew she was going to be carrying that shit around with her for a very, very long time.
Just as he was about to tell her how sorry he was, she shook her head and met his eyes. “So, how’s work?”
Bizarre thing to ask about, considering what she was going through, but maybe she needed the distraction?
“Good. Fine. You know.”
Guess two could play at that game.
She nodded over at the tall, dark-haired man Jim had been tailing for the past twenty-four hours. “Is he the soul?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“Listen, Sissy, I can …” Do what? Take some more time off? Not going to happen. Devina might not have shown up here, but she was, as always, a busy little bitch.
You can’t blame a girl for trying.
God, he couldn’t believe she’d somehow infiltrated the spell around the mansion. And crap, he needed to tell Adrian what had happened. It was just so damned embarrassing. He had, however, redoubled the protection at the house. Maybe it had weakened because he’d had his head up his ass—
“… was he an angel, too?”
He shook himself back to attention. “I’m sorry?”
“The other guy? Who’s with my old teacher over there?”
Jim pivoted. “I’m so not following this. What?”
“Over by the Lexus. That singer with the ponytail. He’s got a halo, too—but everyone can see him.”
About twenty-five yards off, a blond-haired woman was getting into an SUV with a man who was tall and had long black hair. Neither one appeared to be particularly happy, but there was certainly no glow or anything around either of their heads.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Jim said gently. Damn it, he wanted to go home with her—
“The guy has a halo, like you and me.”
Cranking his head back around, Jim frowned. “Halo?”
Sissy rolled her eyes and made a little circle around her skull. “Can’t you see mine?”
“No. There’s nothing there.”
“Oh. Well, I see them. And you’ve got one, too.”
Sure, fine, whatever. “Listen, I hate to do this, but I’ve got to go.”
Duke Phillips was looking around as if searching for him, and if Jim didn’t make an appearance in the next nanosecond or two, the guy was going to be convinced he was losing his mind—not a good thing, considering Jim had been getting f**king nowhere with this soul yet.
“It’s okay, you do you.” Sissy glanced back at Adrian. “I think he and I are going for a drive. I need to clear my head. I feel … really weird … right now.”
Jim ground his teeth. “Okay. Yeah, sure. I get it. I’ll check in later, all right?”
“Sure.”
She was the one who turned away, and she did not look back as she went over to his buddy. On Adrian’s side? As she approached, the angel’s face had a softness to it that Jim had never seen before.
Great. Just f**king wonderful.
Chapter Fifty-two
“I was going to tell you sooner.”
Cait put the brakes on as she came up to one of the cemetery’s fleet of stop signs. Glancing over, she did not feel good about wherever G.B. was at in his head. He was staring out the side window, chin propped up on the knuckles of his hand, eyes narrowed coldly.
It was a reminder of how she didn’t really know him.
“But honestly,” she continued, unsure whether he was listening, “I didn’t know where things were going.”
Hitting the gas again, she tried to remember how to get out of the cemetery. She wasn’t so hot with directions on a good day, and this had not been a good day. Left?
Why the hell not.
Turning the wheel, she felt the graves press in on her, a chill frisking the back of her neck.
“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly. “I just … I would have liked a chance to see what you and I could be together. That’s all.”
He didn’t look at her. Just kept staring off into space.
“It’s complicated,” he tacked on.
“I haven’t handled this well.” She cursed under her breath. “It was so weird—I met both of you on the same night.”
And it was odd to think they seemed to know each other a little—what were the chances? Then again, Caldwell was a small city—not as close-knit as a town, sure, but it wasn’t a Manhattan or Chicago, either.
He rubbed his eyes. “This has just been a really strange couple of days.”
“I’m so sorry I’ve added to the difficulty.”
He didn’t say much else on the way back to St. Patrick’s, and though she hated to admit it, it was a relief to pull up next to the front door and put the SUV in park so he could get out.
Turning to him, she wondered what to say.
“Cait, I’ve got to tell you something—”
A phone went off, and the ringing was not hers. With a soft curse, G.B. shoved a hand into his suit coat, and as he looked at the number, he seemed annoyed.
“Hold on, I gotta take this.” He put the thing up to his ear. “Hello? Yeah, hey, Detective, how are you? You were? I didn’t see you during the service. Oh, yeah, thanks.” There was a silence. “I have rehearsals today—I’m actually in trouble because I’ve been gone for so long this afternoon. Okay. Fine. Yeah, I’ll come over again. Right now? All right, gimme a minute to get downtown.”
When he hung up, he shook his head. “The police want to talk to me some more.”
Boy, this day kept getting better for him, didn’t it. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it is. Listen, I’ve got to go, but can we—”
“Absolutely. Just give me a call whenever you’re free.” The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel like he was an afterthought. “I’m going to be working at home tonight, finishing up the book.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He got out as if he were distracted, but come on. The police were on his phone about a murder. How could he not be thinking about something other than his dating status?
G.B. walked off in a hurry, crossing the road and getting into an older-model BMW. As he tore off, he didn’t glance at her as he passed by, but she sure as hell got a good look at him—and that chill went up her neck again.
The expression on his face was positively volcanic. He was furious, his profile shockingly ugly.
Shaking her head, Cait got out, walked up to the cathedral’s grand entrance and pulled open the heavy doors. Inside the foyer, Sissy’s art was still on display, and as Cait went over to start packing things up, the sound of her heels on the marble floor echoed loudly.
Funny, the space hadn’t seemed so large with all the people in it. Empty now, the narthex appeared as big as a football stadium.
She’d left the portfolios in the coatroom, and it took her no time at all to load up the artwork carefully and leave it out in the open. Reaching into her bag, she went for her sketchbook, intending to rip free a page and write a quick note—
Damn it, she’d lost the thing, remember?
How was she going to—
“I’ll let her parents know where it is.”
Wheeling around, she found that janitor standing right in front of the double doors that opened to the pews and the altar.
“Oh, thank you. I don’t want Sissy’s things to get lost.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to them.” He nodded to the easels. “May I help you carry these out?”
“I can do it. But thanks.”
The old man helped her anyway, allowing her to make only one trip.
As she closed her SUV’s hatch, she turned to the man and felt the oddest urge to hug him. But that wouldn’t have been appropriate.
“May I give you a piece of advice?” he said, smiling in a way that made his eyes nearly disappear under their burden of wrinkles.
“Please.”
“Talk it out.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You need to talk it out. If you do that, everything will be all right—eventually. If you don’t, you’re going to miss the life you want.”
Poor old guy. Clearly dementia was setting in.
Not wanting to upset him, she patted his arm. “Okay, I promise. I’ll do that.”
Getting into her car, she gave him a last wave and took off, heading for home. She’d gone about three blocks when she figured out where her sketch pad was.
“Son of a gun,” she muttered.
And she might as well go back and get it.
Rerouting didn’t require a huge time suck, and she kept to the surface roads as she went toward downtown. Closing in on the thick of the city, she was relieved to find that the traffic was light; then again, it wasn’t quite the tail end of the workday yet, rush hour still about an hour off.
Her parking space, the one nearly across from the Palace, was open again, and she parked smoothly and locked up. Waiting for a break in the flow of cars, she jogged across and hoped that her luck with janitors continued.
Nope. She was able to get into the public foyer, but the lobby was locked and empty. Going over to will-call, she peered in. Nobody was in the office—
The staff-only door opened wide and she turned. A police officer was coming out, and he paused to look behind himself like he was waiting for a colleague.
“Excuse me,” she said to the guy. “May I go down to the office? I think I left something here the day before yesterday and I want to see if anyone picked it up.”
“Do you know where you’re going?”
“Just through this hall.”
“Okay, g’head.”
She walked fast down the corridor, passing by some other cops, probably the ones the uni at the door was waiting for. As she went along, it was ironic that she was yet again looking for a lost-and-found box. Maybe she’d have more luck than when she’d been on the search for her gold earring.
Coming around the corner, she straightened her skirt as she approached the glass office. She was not looking forward to going rounds with that receptionist again, but who else was she going to ask?
It turned out that the reception space was empty, but as she tried the glass door, she was able to pull things open. “Hello?”
The desk was orderly, the computer screen displaying a slowly rotating Palace logo, the phone ringing quietly.
“Hello…?”
There were clearly more offices in the back, a rear hallway going off in two directions, but she didn’t want to intrude—
Her foot hit something unexpected, her balance instantly going haywire as she tripped forward. Catching herself on the corner of the desk, she looked down. A cardboard box filled with personal effects was on the floor: Aluminum travel mug. Plant. Picture of—
Frowning, Cait knelt down. Without touching anything, she got close enough to see the image of two young women standing side by side on a beach, their arms around each other’s shoulders. The one on the right was…
An odd foreboding brought her head up and around to the empty chair behind the desk.
“Can I help you?”
Cait jumped up. A man had come in, an exhausted, half-bald, used-to-be-good-looking man in wrinkled clothes.
“I—ah, I’m sorry to bother you. I was looking for the receptionist?”
He recoiled like she’d slapped him. “You didn’t hear?”
Before she asked … before he answered her … she knew who had been killed. “No, no, I haven’t…”
“Jenny’s dead.” He marched past her. “So unless you’re applying for the position, I can’t do anything for you.”
And that was that. He disappeared down the inner hall, a door slamming shut a moment later.
Cait didn’t stick around. Trying to find her sketchbook was such a low priority compared to what was going on here.
At least it was a relatively new one. The only thing in it … had been those sketches of G.B.
By the time G.B. got out of his second round of questioning, he had reverted back to his old ways, the ones he worked so hard to hide, the ones that had gotten him into trouble before.
Unfortunately, his submersion into himself so complete, he was having trouble seeing what was ahead of him.