A Barricade in Hell (15 page)

“He's right. It could be anyone.” Gabe wanted to hold tight to Jack's certainty that only a stranger spent days floating on the shifting currents of the bay. But believing only strangers came to violent ends—or would fetch up against mussel-encrusted pilings—was a lie, and he tried very hard not to lie to himself.

Gabe fetched Delia's coat first, helping her slip it on before getting his own. Jack did the same for Isadora, dragging her coat and scarf out from under the desk. Dora braced herself against the back of the chair once her coat was on, shaky and unsteady on her feet.

The clammy caress of fear along his spine was a warning, one he'd do well to heed. Sending the two women home alone suddenly struck Gabe as a bad idea. “Do you drive, Patrolman Dodd?”

“Yes, sir.” Randy's eyes flickered to Isadora and back to Gabe. “I drove my mother to town every week when I lived in Indiana. I can drive.”

“Good. I want you to take Mrs. Ryan and Miss Bobet to my house. Use Miss Bobet's car. That will be easier all around.” He kissed Delia on the cheek, running a finger along her chin before stuffing his fedora on. “And I want you to stay with them until Lieutenant Fitzgerald and I arrive. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir. You can trust me to get them home safely.” Dodd was new to the force, untested and unscarred, brimming with the confidence of youth. The last time Gabe remembered being that young and sure was long ago, before the quake and fire; before Victoria died.

Victoria's death had changed him. Gabe didn't know if he'd survive losing Delia. He'd do everything in his power to keep from finding out.

“Make no mistake, Patrolman, I am trusting you. Don't let me down.” He exchanged smiles with Delia and left the office, not quite at a run, but close. Gabe's heart sped up, traitorous and threatening to make him as breathless as the rookie he'd entrusted with his wife's safety. Henderson wouldn't send for them unless he had good reason.

And the only reason that came to mind was that Amanda Poe's luck had run out.

Delia

I couldn't fault Dora for leaning heavily on Randy Dodd's arm, nor accuse her of making a pretense of fatigue as an excuse to flirt. Even with Randy's help, the lingering residue of the ritual surrounding Bradley Wells's death brought her near to collapse. Leaning on him would likely help draw away the strong emotion threatening to lay her low, or so I hoped. I'd not seen her tremble quite this hard in the past, her face pale and drawn to the point she resembled one of the ghosts wandering the police station's halls.

We'd gone more than halfway across the lobby when Isadora suddenly stopped and looked back at the desk sergeant's station. She frowned and shut her eyes for an instant, appearing even more wilted once she opened them again. “Dee, I need to see Archie. You can wait in Gabe's office if you like, but I can't in good conscience be here and not take a moment to speak with him. This won't take long, I promise. I'm sure I can count on Randy to escort me through the cell block.”

“Captain Ryan didn't say anything about visiting prisoners.” Randy licked his lips and pushed his hat back, peering down at Dora. He was a good eight inches taller, long limbed and lanky, with the kind of frame that would no doubt gain muscle with age. “He told me to take both of you right home and stay with you. Even if he didn't explain why, there's a reason he didn't want you left alone. I'm not sure he'd approve of us traipsing through the jail with you on my arm, Dora. Matter of fact, I'm positive Captain Ryan would be pretty angry about me ignoring his instructions.”

“I wouldn't dream of doing anything that might get you in trouble with Gabe. All I'm asking is that we delay leaving a bit until I talk to Archie. This is important. I have to see him.” Dora's eyes had that faraway, searching quality that said she wasn't looking at the physical world, but beyond the top layer and into the realm beneath. We both saw manifestations of ghosts everywhere, echoes of who they'd been wandering amongst the living, unwilling to move on and let go. But that was all I saw, echoes of how they'd looked in life or at the moment of death. I'd no doubt what she saw was far deeper, more disturbing.

“I understand why you want to speak with Archie, but be reasonable. You're very tired.” I tightened my grip on Dora's arm, doing my part to ensure she wouldn't slide to the floor. Randy stood on her other side, completely in the dark about why she'd taken a fancy to visiting cell blocks. I doubted he knew why Archie Baldwin was being held or what it meant. “We can visit tomorrow after you've rested. Besides, Gabe never gave his permission. Showing up unexpectedly might make things much worse for Archie.”

“Oh posh, Dee. I don't plan on holding a séance in his cell or anything outrageous. I just want to speak with him. Perhaps today he'll remember more of what happened or where Mandy might have gotten off to. And if I'd had the presence of mind to mention this before Gabe and Jack left, we wouldn't be having this discussion.” She gently pried my fingers off her arm and stood straight. “I've been down that hallway before while working on a case. I'll go alone if need be and ask Gabe's forgiveness later.”

She'd do just that too, drawing on some hidden well of strength kept against time of need. Dora was the strongest person I'd known, but even the strongest have limits. I'd rather she didn't find hers.

“If I can't make you see reason, then it's probably best if I give in gracefully and go with you. That way I can at least try to keep you from pitching onto your face.” I threaded my arm through hers and gestured toward the hall leading to the back of the station. “Are you coming, Randy? We really won't change her mind.”

“Mrs. Ryan … Delia, I'm not sure this is a good idea.” He looked between us, searching for the smallest sign we'd relent. “But the captain ordered me to stay with you, so I really don't have much choice. What's the prisoner's name?”

Isadora leaned on me now, small tremors rippling through her at odd intervals. Recovering from viewing the evidence was taking her longer than in the past, making me uneasy, but I'd no way to know how much to worry. Neither of us was used to dealing with rituals of any sort. “Archie Baldwin. We'll be on our way in two ticks if you ask Sergeant Morgan what cell Archie slept in last night.”

He obtained the number and led us past interrogations rooms and into the area occupied by prisoners. The cell block was oddly quiet when we entered, most of the cells either empty or the occupants sleeping. Those who were awake stared or made rude comments. A few men watched Dora and me pass with a flat, emotionless expression that made my skin crawl. The feel of eyes on my back lasted until Randy led us around a corner and through a door that opened into a long, bright corridor.

“Sarge said Mr. Baldwin is the only prisoner in this section.” We were out of sight of watching eyes, and Randy took Dora's other arm, holding her up. A faint flush of color returned to her cheeks. “Baldwin's in the big cell at the very end. I can't let you inside, but you won't have any trouble talking through the bars. Just promise me neither of you will get close enough he could grab you.”

Dora patted his arm. “You have my word. Based on Jack's description, it's possible Archie might not be in his right mind. I don't think he'd harm either of us, but best not to tempt fate.”

We turned a corner onto the row of cells where we'd find Archie. The sound of heartbroken sobbing and incoherent muttering filled the corridor.

Randy frowned. “I need to make sure everything's all right before I take you any closer. The two of you wait here. I'll be right back.”

We did as he asked, watching as his long, rapid strides took him down the empty hall. The light was murky at the end holding Archie's cell, and filled with what I first took for shadows. Randy moved right through them, but the shadows deepened around him and took shapes that grew more distinct.

Soldiers' ghosts packed the corridor in front of Archie's cell—so many, I couldn't begin to count the dead men crowded up against the bars and spilling inside. Helmets and gas masks dangled from phantom fingers, their rifles slung over a shoulder and rucksacks strapped to their backs. Most of the blood-splattered uniforms and insignia were Belgian, a few were French or British, fewer still were German.

All of them watched Archie tossing restlessly on the cell's hard cot, whimpering and crying out in his sleep.

“They're haunting him. There must be hundreds of soldiers, Dora … hundreds…” The truth of what was happening struck me, awaking horror. “His unit must have been under attack when he deserted. They blame Archie because they died.”

“And they hate him for still being alive.” Dora's mouth pulled into an angry line. “No wonder Archie's raving. None of us will get any sense out of him until we clear this lot out. We won't be leaving as quickly as I'd planned.”

“Are you sure you're strong enough for this?” She was already pale and sweating. I worried that banishing so many ghosts would cause her more harm.

Dora sighed and held my arm tighter. “I've little choice.”

Spirits on the outer edge of the assembled host turned toward us, their hostility slamming into me, cramping my stomach and leaving no doubts about their intention. They meant to keep us from Archie or attempting to banish them. They meant to keep tormenting him.

I took a step back. Something here was very wrong.

Isadora stepped back as well, fingers digging into my sleeve. She called out, voice strained. “Randy, is it possible for Archie to be brought to an interrogation room while I speak to him? Or moved to either Gabe or Jack's office?”

“Not without either the captain or the lieutenant giving permission to move him.” He glanced at Archie, hesitating for an instant, before coming back down the hall. “What's wrong?”

“I'm not feeling as well as I thought.” She stared down the corridor at the ghost army, shivering violently, and took hold of Randy's arm. “Dee was right. We should wait and visit tomorrow. Take us home, please.”

He didn't question her. We went back the way we'd come, past leering inmates and silent men with soulless eyes. The hostility radiating from the ghosts haunting Archie lessened with distance, but never disappeared. As strongly as I felt the spirits, I couldn't imagine the effect on Dora.

Randy left us on a bench near the front door and went to fetch the car. Dora leaned against my shoulder, a hand covering her eyes, pale and much too quiet. How drained she was frightened me. “Are you all right?”

“No, Dee, I'm far from all right. My pride has taken a mortal blow. I don't remember the last time a spirit forced me to back down.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and sat up straight. “In addition to feeling rather foolish, I have a splitting headache. Given time and enough whiskey, I'll recover from both. I'm also trying to work out what happened in there.”

“Oh.” I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the bench, holding tight to something real and solid. Cold from the iron frame seeped through my gloves. “I was hoping you knew and could tell me.”

She stared across the lobby, but I knew she didn't really see the crowded benches or the people coming and going. “Not yet. The only thing I can say with certainty is that the spirits around Archie acted very strangely. I can't recall any ghosts I've run across working in unison. Spirits are selfish, single-minded. It's not in their nature to form packs or cooperate.”

“And the odds of hundreds of ghosts all deciding to haunt Archie are vanishingly slim. I'd say the same was true of the spirits following Gabe.” I spotted Randy coming back into the station. Relief that we hadn't wandered away or disappeared brightened his face at the sight of us, making him look very young and making me feel so much older. I got a hand under Dora's elbow and helped her stand. “I'm finding it difficult to credit anything that's happened of late to chance.”

“Nor should you. Too many odd circumstances have come together around us. And I don't just mean you and me. I include Gabe and Archie in that as well. Dismissing the idea that these things are connected somehow could be courting disaster.” Dora wrapped her long scarf over her hair and tucked the ends inside her coat, preparing for the cold car trip home. “Even putting the ritual aside, everything about this feels orchestrated. Someone is setting up a deliberate pattern of some sort, gathering power. Don't ask me how Archie became entangled, but I've little doubt that's what happened. The trick will be to free him without breaking Archie's mind completely.”

“You think it's one person, not a group.”

Dora nodded. “Ultimately, yes. Others may be involved, but one person is the driving force behind whatever is going on.”

I let the idea settle around me, accepting without question that Isadora was right. She'd taught me to trust my instincts. Even if I couldn't see the whole of this pattern yet, I knew one existed. “This person can't have been here long or you'd have seen evidence before now.”

Randy reached us, cheeks flushed from the cold. Dora took his offered arm and we strolled toward the door. “Your faith is touching, Dee, but an hour ago I'd have sworn the last shaman and sorcerer in Chinatown was dead. But I know to watch now, and it's only a matter of time before this person tips his hand.”

Men and women dodged around us, intent on whatever mundane business brought them to the police station, people blissfully ignorant of blood rituals, unaware of hauntings and hostile ghosts. A very small part of me longed to go back to living life on one plane, grounded in a world that always made sense, and where evil was spoken of only in Sunday's sermon.

But I'd shut that door years ago. No sense dwelling on what-if and might have been.

 

CHAPTER 10