After Moonrise: Possessed\Haunted (2 page)

“Death is rarely a comfortable subject.” He paused and,
realizing there was a distinct possibility he had come off like a prick,
attempted to look understanding. “All right, Mrs. Wilcox, how about we start
over. You do your best to relax, and I’ll do my best to help you.”

Her smile was tight-lipped, but at least it was a smile. “That
sounds reasonable, Mr. Raef.”

“So, you’re here because of a death.”

“Yes. I am also here because I don’t have anywhere else left to
go,” she said.

He’d definitely heard that before, and it didn’t make him feel
all warm and cuddly and saviorlike, as it would have made some of After
Moonrise’s other psychics like Claire or Ami or even Stephen feel. Which made
sense. They could sometimes save people. Raef only dealt with the aftermath of
violence and murder. There was no damn salvation there.

“Then let’s get to it, Mrs. Wilcox.” He knew he sounded gruff,
intimidating even. He meant to. It usually made things move faster.

“My daughter Lauren needs your help. She’s why I’m here.”

“Lauren was murdered?” Raef dropped the gruffness from his
voice. Now he simply sounded clinical and detached, as if he was a lab
technician discussing ways to deal with a diagnosis of terminal cancer. He
picked up his pen, wrote and underlined
Lauren
at
the top of a fresh legal pad, and then glanced back at Mrs. Wilcox, waiting
semipatiently for the rest of the story.

She pressed her lips together into a tight line, clearly trying
to hold in words too painful to speak. Then she drew a deep breath. “No, Lauren
was not murdered. She is alive, but she’s not whole anymore. She’s only
partially here. I need your help to restore her spirit.”

“Mrs. Wilcox, I think there has been a mistake made in
scheduling. It sounds to me like you need to meet with another member of the
After Moonrise team—one of our shamans who specialize in shattered souls. My
powers only manifest if there is a murder involved.” He started to lift the
phone to buzz Preston, but her next words made him hesitate.

“My daughter
was
murdered.”

“Mrs. Wilcox, you just said that Lauren is alive.”

“Lauren is alive. It’s her twin, Aubrey, who was murdered.”

Raef put down the phone. “One twin was murdered, and the
other’s alive?”

“If you can call it that.” Her face was pale, her expression
strained, but she was keeping herself from crying.

Despite his bad mood his interest stirred. A living twin and a
murdered twin? He’d never encountered a murder case like that before.

“Mr. Raef, the situation is that one of my daughters was
murdered three months ago. Since then my other daughter has become only a shell
of herself. Lauren is haunted by Aubrey.”

Raef nodded. “It happens fairly often. When two people are very
close—siblings, husband and wife, parent and child—and one of them dies or is
murdered, the deceased’s spirit lingers.”

“Yes, I know,” she said impatiently. “Especially when the
murder is unsolved.”

Raef sat up straighter. This was more like it. “Then you
have
come to the right psychic. I’ll need to be taken
to the murder scene, and will also need to speak with Lauren. If her twin is
haunting her, then I can probably make direct contact with Aubrey through Lauren
and piece together what happened. Once the murder is solved, Aubrey should be
able to rest peacefully.” He rubbed his forehead, wishing the uncomfortable
feeling of yearning would get the hell out from under his skin. He was
not
that nine-year-old kid anymore. He was tough,
competent, and he knew how to handle his shit.

“Yes, peace. That’s what I’m here to find. For both of my
girls.”

“I’m going to try to help you, Mrs. Wilcox. You said Aubrey was
killed three months ago? And the murder hasn’t been solved yet? It’s unusual
that the forensic psychic wasn’t able to close this file.”

Her blue eyes iced over and the sadness that had been shadowing
them was frozen out. “Is solving my daughter’s murder what you mean by closing
this file?”

Damn! He’d actually said that aloud. What the hell was wrong
with him? He might not have the graveside manner of someone like touchy-feely
Stephen, but Raef usually showed more tact than offhandedly insulting an already
upset client.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry that my wording seemed callous. I assure
you that I am cognizant of, and sorry for, your loss.”

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The reason Aubrey’s file
wasn’t closed is because the police psychic couldn’t communicate with my
daughter about the murder. Either one of them.”

Raef frowned. “That’s highly unusual, Mrs. Wilcox. Did you give
legal permission for your daughter’s spirit to be questioned?”

“Of course,” she snapped. “But it’s not that simple with Aubrey
and Lauren. It never has been.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t understand what—”

Her imperiously raised hand cut him off. “Perhaps it would be
easier if I showed you.” Without waiting for Raef’s response or permission, she
stood and walked quickly to the office door. Opening it she said, “You can come
in now, Lauren.”

The woman who entered his office looked like a younger version
of her mother—a leggy, twentysomething blonde with waves of platinum hair so
light it was almost white. Her body was lusher than her mother’s, who had the
appearance of too many carb-free years and maintenance liposuction. Lauren, on
the other hand, looked like she might enjoy a burger and a beer once in a while.
Scratch that—the expensive silk knit sweater and the designer slacks and shoes
said she might enjoy a fillet, a fancied-up potato and some expensive red wine
once in a while.

His gaze traveled from her curvy body to her gray-blue eyes,
and he felt his own narrow in response to what he saw—emptiness. Her smoky eyes
were as expressionless as her face.

Lauren stopped in front of his desk and stared blankly over his
shoulder. Then there was a shimmering in the air around her, and a transparent
duplicate of her materialized.

It was as Raef got to his feet to face this new apparition that
it hit him like a punch in the gut. The ghost radiated waves of
emotion—yearning, desire, loneliness, longing—emotions Raef had never picked up
from another human being, dead or alive, since his psychic talent first
manifested that day so many years ago.

He tried to throw up his mental barriers, the ones he used at
murder scenes to successfully block out the lingering spirits and their terror
and pain and anger, the only emotions he had, until now, ever been able to Read.
But his barriers weren’t working. All he could do was stand there and be
battered by the desire and longing that emanated from the ghost.

“Kent Raef?”
The spirit’s voice
drifted through his mind.

He cleared his throat before he answered, but his voice still
sounded scratchy. “Yes. I’m Kent Raef.”

The spirit sighed with relief.
“Finally!”
She glanced at her twin. Lauren blinked, as if coming
awake after a long sleep, and the ghost and the girl exchanged smiles.
“Good job, sis.”

“You knew I’d figure it out eventually,” Lauren said.

“And you know it bothers me terribly when you speak to the air
like that,” said Mrs. Wilcox.

“I can tell that corncob is still firmly
inserted up your butt, Mother,”
said the ghost.

Lauren coughed to cover a giggle, which was echoed by the
ghost, who laughed out loud.

The laughter in the room raced across his body like static
electricity, tingling and bringing all the nerve endings in his skin alive,
totally disconcerting him.

Raef pulled his thoughts together.
Ignore
the emotions. You can figure out what the hell is going on with that later.
Right now he just needed to do his job—solve the murder, put the spirit
to rest, close the case file.

“Aubrey, why don’t you tell me about your death and from there
I can—”

Raef was interrupted by a shriek that moved across his skin
with the force of a blow. Aubrey’s mouth was wrenched open as she screamed in
agony, a sound that was echoed eerily by her living sister, then her spirit
wavered, like heat waves off a furnace, and she disappeared.

CHAPTER TWO

“So you saw, or at least heard something?” Mrs.
Wilcox’s words were clipped, and in the silence that followed Aubrey’s
disappearance her voice sounded unnaturally loud.

“Aubrey manifested and spoke to me. Briefly.” Raef answered
her, although he didn’t look at the older woman. Instead, he was watching Lauren
carefully, noting that her empty expression hadn’t returned, and even though her
face couldn’t be called animated, she at least didn’t look zombielike anymore.
And also noting that the torrent of emotions that had poured from Aubrey had
been abruptly cut off. He cleared his throat, wishing like hell his coffee had a
shot of Jack in it. “Please have a seat, Miss Wilcox. There are several things I
need to go over with both you and your—”

“Why don’t you go home, Mother?” Lauren surprised him by
interrupting in a brisk, no-nonsense voice as she sat in the chair beside her
mother’s. “It would probably be better if I answered his questions alone.”

“What if it returns, Lauren?”

“Mother, I’ve told you before that I see Aubrey a lot. She’s
dead. That doesn’t make her an it. She’s still Aubrey.”

“I wasn’t speaking of your sister’s ghost,” Mrs. Wilcox said
coolly. “I’m referring to the horrid fugue state that sometimes comes over
you.”

“Mother, I’ve tried to explain this to you before, too. It
doesn’t just ‘come over’ me. There’s a reason for it.” Mrs. Wilcox’s face
remained implacable and Lauren sighed. “I’m not going to be driving. If I zone
out again I’m sure Mr. Raef can babysit me long enough to get me home.”

“Lauren, I…” her mother began, and then seemed to check
herself. She stood and inclined her head formally to Raef. “I assume you will be
certain my daughter returns home safely?”

“I will,” Raef said, not liking the family drama he’d stepped
into.

“Then I will speak to you later, Lauren. It was a pleasure to
meet you, Mr. Raef.”

After the door closed behind her mother, Lauren sat and met
Raef’s gaze. “She’s not as cold and uncaring as she comes off as being. But all
of this is just too much for her.”

“Define
this,
” he said.

“
This
would be my sister’s death
and the fact the police have been unable to solve it. Add a dash of Aubrey
haunting me with a sprinkle of possession and stir in a big blob of my soul
being drained and you get a recipe that would freak out anyone’s mom.” Lauren’s
voice was calm, her body appeared relaxed. It was only in her blue eyes that her
desperation showed.

Raef got up and walked to the credenza. He topped off his
coffee and then poured a generous cup for Lauren. “Cream or sugar, Miss Wilcox?”
he asked over his shoulder.

“Both, and if we’re going to work together I wish you’d call me
Lauren.”

He fixed the coffee and then handed it to her. “Lauren it is.
My friends call me Raef.” He resumed his seat and gave her a brief smile.
“Actually, my enemies call me Raef, too.”

“Do you have many enemies, Raef?”

“Some,” he said. “Do you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“How about your sister?”

“No. That’s just one of the reasons this whole thing is so
awful. None of it makes sense.”

“Tell me what you know about your sister’s death, and I’ll see
if I can begin making some sense out of it.”

“I don’t know where to start.” Lauren’s impassive expression
tensed and when she sipped her coffee Raef noticed her hands were trembling.

“Start at the beginning. When was she killed?”

“July 15. She was alone, even though she shouldn’t have been.
I’m almost always with her on jobs—” She paused, flinched in obvious pain. “I
mean, I
used to
almost always be
with her.” Lauren corrected herself and regained her composure, then
continued in a steadier voice. “July is in the middle of our busy season for
maintenance, so we often had to split up to finish jobs on time.”

“Maintenance? What type of work did you and your sister
do?”

“Landscaping. July can be a rough month on plants if we don’t
get enough rain and the Oklahoma heat turns up early, like it did this past
July. Plants burn up if they’re not maintained properly through the heat. Aub
and I own Two Sisters Landscaping. Or at least we did.” She faltered again, and
took another sip of her coffee. “I’m sole owner now.”

“Of the company? As in you are the biggest stockholder?”

“Own the company as in Aubrey and I started it, ran it and were
its first two employees.” She met his eyes. “Yes, we actually got our hands
dirty. A lot.” She held up one hand and Raef’s brows lifted in surprise when he
saw that instead of being well manicured and delicately white, Lauren had short,
bluntly clipped nails and obvious calluses on her work-hardened palm. He would
have never guessed that the daughters of a rich Tulsa socialite would be into
something as blue-collar as landscaping.

“I would have thought a psychic would be better at hiding his
thoughts,” Lauren said.

Raef looked from her hand to her eyes. Then, much to his own
surprise, he heard himself admitting, “I usually am.”

“Dirt-digging girls from rich families must seem pretty unusual
to you,” Lauren said.

Raef gave her a lopsided smile. “Sounds like it’s a reaction
you’re used to.”

“Let’s just say our family wasn’t thrilled when Aubrey and I
opened the business six years ago. We were lucky they couldn’t stop us.”

“Explain that,” Raef said. He didn’t feel the prickle of
foreboding he usually did when he stumbled on what would eventually become a
lead for solving a murder, so he really didn’t need to question Lauren about her
family’s attitude about her business, but he realized he
wanted
to question her—wanted to know more.

And that was odd as hell.

“Aubrey and I received an inheritance from our grandfather when
we turned twenty-one. It was ours to do whatever we wanted with—so we started
our own business, but instead of buying a chic little boutique in Utica Square
someone else could run, or following family tradition and investing in real
estate, we bought plants and dirt. At least, that’s how our mother put it. Our
decision wasn’t popular, but it was ours to make.”

“So, how was business?”

“Excellent. It still is. We have five employees and have had to
actually turn away jobs. That’s why Aubrey was alone that day—we’d overextended
and she was the expert in aquatic plants. So she went by herself to Swan
Lake.”

Raef felt a shock of recognition, and couldn’t believe he
hadn’t put two and two together before then. “Aubrey Wilcox, middle of July,
electrocuted to death while she was working with the water plants on the Swan
Lake island.” Then he realized why he hadn’t recognized the name on his
appointment book. It wasn’t a murder investigation. The death had been ruled
accidental. What the hell?

“It wasn’t an accident,” Lauren said firmly, as if she was the
mind reader.

“But if I pulled the police report it would say your sister’s
death was accidental, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. Does that mean you won’t take the case?”

“No, I’ll take the case.” Which was nothing unusual. Sometimes
families needed his services for closure. Hell, not just
his
services, but psychics in general. The police could tell the
bereaved over and over that it was suicide, or an accident, and they would still
hold on to the hope that there was a bad guy, a reason, a focus for their rage
and despair. That’s where a Psy came in—and it was one of the reasons they’d
become big business, even in a world that was mostly filled with Norms who were
uncomfortable with psychic Gifts. By communicating with the spirit of the dead
person directly, a psychic could help families come to terms with the truth,
move on, find closure. Of course, Raef personally usually preferred a good,
old-fashioned murder case—hatred and anger he could deal with. Despair was
another story.

“Aubrey told me she was killed.”

Raef shook himself mentally. “I thought your sister’s spirit
was having a hard time communicating about her death.” He’d witnessed that. He’d
asked her about her murder and she definitely
hadn’t
communicated with him.

“She
is
having a hard time
communicating. When I say she
told me
I don’t mean
that she actually said, ‘Hey, sis, I was murdered.’ I mean she told me in here.”
Lauren closed her fist over her heart. “There are things she’s not allowed to
put into words, but I can
feel
them. She and I have
always been two halves of the same whole. I don’t know how else to explain it
because if you’re not us, it might be impossible to comprehend. Add to the whole
confusing mix that whatever is going on after Aub’s death is affecting me, and
you have some serious weirdness. Raef, the truth is, even I don’t understand
what’s really happening. I was hoping you could help me—help us. Please help us,
Raef.”

Raef paused, studied Lauren and collected his thoughts. When he
finally spoke it was slowly, as if he was processing information aloud. “The
police ruled her death an accident, but your twin has made it clear to you, and
only you, that she was murdered. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And even though she manifests to you, which I’ve witnessed,
there still seems to be some barrier between the two of you, as if she’s being
blocked or controlled by another force?”

“Yes, especially when she tries to communicate with me directly
about her murder.” She sounded incredibly relieved. “You can’t know what a
relief it is to talk to someone who doesn’t call me a freak and who will
actually listen to me!”

His smile was authentic, but grim. “Try being a nine-year-old
who can Track negative emotions, and only negative emotions. I understand what
it’s like to be discounted and called a freak.”

Lauren expelled a long breath in a relieved sigh. Her shoulders
relaxed and she finally took a sip of her coffee. “Good. Then we talk the same
language.”

“So your sister is actually possessing you,” he said, looking
up from the notes he was taking. That was unusual. Possession by a spirit wasn’t
unheard of, of course, but spirits didn’t usually possess family members. He
couldn’t remember ever hearing of one twin possessing another.

“Well, I don’t know if you’d call it real possession. She
manifests, like she did earlier, and we can talk.” She paused, blinking hard as
if trying to keep herself from crying. “I miss her. A lot. I don’t feel normal
without her.” Lauren shook her head and wiped at her eyes. “But that’s not
what’s important. What’s important is that when she does try to communicate with
me about her death, she gets ripped away from here and I can feel what’s
happening to her, and it’s like…” Lauren’s words trailed off. She shuddered.
“It’s like I’m being killed, too.”

“Hang on. Your sister’s already dead. Maybe what you’re feeling
is her struggle to stay attached to you while her spirit is being drawn to the
Otherworld. Lauren, the truth is that for most spirits it is difficult for them
to remain on this plane of existence. They should be moving on.” He tried to
speak soothingly, but he wasn’t good at the touchy-feely stuff. Plus, it was
looking more and more as if he should just refer Lauren and her family, dead and
alive, to the After Moonrise medium.

“You’re not getting it,” Lauren said, looking more and more
animated. “Aubrey isn’t moving on. She can’t. He’s not done killing her.”

“Come again?”

Lauren sighed. “This is what Aubrey has been able to tell me:
her killer has bound her spirit. He’s bound all of their spirits. Physical death
was just the beginning of their murders. He doesn’t stop until he drains their
souls of life, too. You have to find him. He’s not done killing.”