Cast the Cards (2 page)

“I
want you to direct me to it.” She fought to keep her rapid breathing under
control, but the darkness was suffocating.
Steady, won’t be any good to him
passed out.
Shock had begun to wear and in its place, terror had taken a
foothold.

“Okay.”
Her voice shook, but she held it together by the grace of God and the will to
survive that got people through when all they wanted to do was break down. Since
the area was impossible to see, she guess-timated where his body lay. “Scoot
back.” She heard the whisper of cloth. “I think you need to scoot up.” More
rustling then a thud.

“Ow.
This is as far as I can go.”  He wiggled, blocked the glow. “Okay… I got it.
Next time this car stops or slows we’re getting out. Come as close to me as you
can get.”

She
rolled over to him, pressed her body to his. Time passed. Minutes, hours, there
was no way to tell really. The driver applied the brakes.

“Ready?”
Clark asked.

“Yes.”
She nodded.

The
car came to a complete stop. A click sounded.
 He pulled the handle. Be ready.
Her muscles tensed. The trunk popped. She sat up, pushed it open with her
body, and found herself tumbling. He’d shoved her forward and out the car with
the momentum of his body. The ground rushed up to meet her and she curled into
a ball, rolling to the side.

She
landed onto a hard surface. Her body took the brunt of the fall but the side of
her face struck.  The world spun.  Beating back the dizziness, she struggled to
assimilate. The squeal of tires mingled with the sound of yelling and feet
pounding over pavement. The smell of burned rubber seared her nostrils.

Her
vision wavered and came back in focus. An older gentleman with white hair and
kind brown eyes kneeled in front of her.

“Miss,
are you all right?”

“Clark,
where’s Clark?”

“There
was someone else in there with you?”

“Oh
God.”

“We’re
calling the police now, ma’am. Help’s on the way.”

Leaning
over, she vomited. Tears streamed down her face. She knew with a certainty that
broke the foundation of her world in two that she’d never see Clark Carr again,
and it was all her fault.

***

Present
Day

Carey
woke with a sick feeling in his stomach. It was the anniversary of the day Clark
disappeared. He always got drunk the night before.
The one time I opt out of
doing something with my twin and everything goes to shit.  I can’t help but
wonder if having three people there would’ve deterred the kidnappers. Not that
I’ll ever know.

He
usually avoided torturing himself with what-ifs but today was its own special
brand of hell.  His thoughts drifted to Savannah and a sudden urge for a hair
from the dog that bit him hit. A shot of Jack wouldn’t hurt anyone. Who cared
that it was— he glanced at the alarm clock beside his bed—seven in the morning?
The pain wouldn’t have been so bad had it been shared. Unfortunately, his
pseudo sister could barely look him in the eye. She felt so guilty about it.
Henceforth the permanent split of what had once been the Three Musketeers.

 It
had been like losing two parts of himself instead of one. She was a big shot
F.B.I. agent now over at Quantico, but she’d be at the grave this year, same as
always. It was the one time a year he knew he’d see her, though they never
talked, just stood at the grave, sometimes not even together. She looked good
on the outside, tall, lithe, and put together.  Still, he guessed she never
really healed, because he didn’t hear about her having any male suitors, or
female for that matter.

She
lived for her job profiling. 
Pot meet Kettle.
It wasn’t as if he had
much going on outside of his gig as a cop. 
Never thought the name Carey
Carr would be synonymous with Protect and Serve—I was usually the one raising
the hell.
He sat up with a groan, forced his weary body from the bed, and
stumbled to the bathroom. When he walked through the door he did a double-take.
Clark stood by the shower stall in the exact same outfit he’d last seen him in—brown
boots, jeans, white undershirt, brown, blue and white-plaid button up and a
brown leather jacket.

“Damn
… I might have to leave whiskey alone if it’s going to make me hallucinate.”

“I’m
not a hallucination, Carey.”

“Isn’t
that what they all say?” He shook his head. “This shit it too fricking weird
for me. Turn your head, Imaginary Clark. I gotta drain the lizard.”

“Why?
It looks exactly the same as what I have.”

“Nice
to know even in my head you’re still a smartass.” Carey shook his head, freed
his dick from his boxer briefs, and aimed into the toilet.

“Aren’t
you going to ask me why I’m here?” Imaginary Clark asked.

“Pretty
obvious. Half a bottle of whiskey mixed with guilt and some anniversary angst.”

“Why
haven’t I shown up before?”

“I
don’t know? Can you ask me this when my head doesn’t feel like it’s being
ripped apart by a jackhammer?”

Clark
sighed. “Come on, Carey, you’re better than this.”

“Hey!
You don’t get to come in here on your ghost cloud and judge me. Life without
you is the hardest shit I’ve ever done, especially since Van split. Fuck I’m
talking to myself!” He snorted.

“You’re
really not.”

This
time Carey ignored Clark, flushed, moved to the shower, and turned the spray on
as hot as he could stand it. He pulled down his boxers, kicked them toward the
hamper, and stepped inside the basin. With his head under the water he clenched
his eyes tight and prayed to God when he left the stall
Ghost Clark
would be gone.

I
know I don’t talk to you like I should, but please take this away. I can’t.
 Ten
minutes and a good scrub-down later, Carey felt like a new man. The hangover
was tolerable, and the smell of alcohol had run down the drain. It was time to
get something in his stomach.  He stepped out of the shower and sighed. No
Clark. Toweling dry, he padded into his room, slipped on a pair of comfy black
sweats, a plain black T-shirt, and migrated to the kitchen. He opened the
refrigerator and jumped when Clark appeared to his right.

“I’m
sorry, I really hate to do this to you, but it’s important.”

“Damnit!”

“Please,
believe it’s me. You want me to Swayze something?” The refrigerator door jerked
out of his hand and closed.

Carey’s
hand shook. Afraid to believe, he hesitated. “Clark?”

“Yes.
I’m really here, and you need to pay attention because this is about Savannah.”

Carey
took a shaky breath and nodded. “Okay, this is happening.”

“You
believe me now?” Clark leaned closer.

“That
or I’m completely insane which isn’t likely to just happen overnight.” He clung
to the logic in his response. When all logical answers failed it was time to
think outside the box. Extending a shaky hand, he touched Clark’s arm and
jumped.

“You’re
solid!” 

“Jeez.
Nice to see your own deductive reasoning outweighs my mad ghost skills.”

Carey
smirked. “I don’t want to get sappy, but I’ve missed you, asshole.” His voice
broke and he cleared his throat to dislodge the lump that choked him. He threw
an arm around his brother, hugging his body to him as tears escaped his eyes.
Clark’s body was whole, albeit cooler than normal, as he returned the hug.

“I
would’ve come sooner if I could’ve, I swear. It doesn’t work that way.”

“I’m
just glad you’re here now.”  Pulling back, Carey wiped his eyes with the back
of his hand. Clark’s words from earlier registered, bursting his bubble of joy.
“You said this was about Vannah?”

“Yes,
she’s in danger.”

“Hate
to break it to you, little brother, but that’s kind of in her job description.”

“Younger
by one minute, ass, and not this kind of danger… They’re back.” The whispered
tone was full of apprehension.
Why would a ghost be scared?

“Who?”

“The
killers who took us want to finish what they started.”

“Over
my dead fucking body.” Carey balled his hand into a fist.

“That’s
what I was hoping you said,” Clark whispered, a look of relief on his face.

“Tell
me what I need to do.”  

“First,
speak to her.”

“Easier
said than done, Clark.” He ran a hand through his hair and blew out air.

“What
happened between you two?”

“I
don’t know. Things got fucked up quick. Maybe seeing your face when she looked
at me was too much? She pulled away, went inside her own head, and never really
came back out. Next thing I know she’s switching schools, her major, and
avoiding me like the plague. I tried to contact her for a while, and then I
just…” Carey shrugged. “I figured if she needed me to back off to be okay, then
that’s what I’d do. It hurt like a bitch though. I won’t lie.”

“That
doesn’t sound like her.”Clark looked crestfallen.

Carey’s
heart bled for him.
Poor guy comes back and everything is upside down.

“That
carefree girl who wanted to teach impressionable young minds and heal the world
one person at a time is long gone, Clark. I’m sorry.”

Clark
ducked his head and nodded. “No, I knew she wouldn’t be the same. I just
hoped…”

“I
know. “ Carey sniffed, sucked back tears. 
Time for a safer topic.
“You
said the people that did this to you are back?”

“Yes,
they’ve been at this game a long time. There have been more victims than anyone
can imagine.”

“Why?
What’s their motive?” The senseless violence people inflicted on others
sickened and confused him. You have an issue so you take it out on an innocent
victim?

“I
don’t know.  I’m not told everything. I do know you need to stay close to
Savannah. It’s a matter of life or death. She needs someone to watch her back
at all times, and you’re the only one I trust to do that.”

“I
hate to break it to you but she runs with the big dogs. The F.B.I . I’m a lowly
police sergeant in Dale.”

“It’s
not going to matter.” Clark shook his head. “They’ll bring this fight to your
doorstep.”

“What
do you mean?”  Goosebumps broke out over Carey. Silence stretched between them.
“Clark?”

Clark’s
demeanor changed. The spark left his eyes and his shoulders slumped. “You’ll
see. I have to go now.”

“Are
you kidding me? Right now?”

“Get
in touch with Vannah. It’s important.” Clark’s form wavered.

“Don’t
you leave me with that half-cocked answer!”

“This
isn’t on my terms –” Clark disappeared in mid-sentence.

“Fuck!”
 Turning, he slammed his fist into the wall. Pain radiated up his fingers. He
hugged the injured hand to his chest.

Did
that really just happen?
If I was smart I’d cook myself
breakfast and forget the whole thing.
The idea sounded good. If there was as
remote chance Clark had been here, he’d do what he asked.  Despite everything,
he still cared about Savannah, and he’d do anything for his brother.

Looks
like I’m in for a trip down memory lane. Whether Savannah wants it or not. 

Chapter Two

“West.”

Savannah
looked up from her desk and frowned. It never failed—the second she was trying
to leave the office something important needed tending. “What’s up, Davis?”

“Package
for you.” The dark-haired man held up a manila envelope and shook it back and
forth.

“Thanks.”
She took the yellow square from him and placed it in her weekend satchel. She
always took a few days off this time of year.

“When
you headed back this way?” Davis’s brow furrowed as she locked her desk, zipped
up her satchel, and stood.

“What?
You gonna miss me?” She lifted an eyebrow and smirked.

Davis
rolled his eyes. “You wish, West.”  

They’d
butted heads when he first joined the team, but now they had a sibling-like
relationship. Their quips were in jest.

“I’ll
be here Monday, bright and early, ready to whip you back into shape.” Winking,
she turned to her partner. “I’ll see you Monday, Blanton.”

“I’ll
hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

She
snorted. “Right, ‘cause it’s a regular C.S.I. down here.”  Chuckling to herself,
she walked down the aisle and out of the office. If only TV viewers knew how
dull profiling really was.

The
majority of her time was spent at a desk, hunting through papers and databases.
In many ways they were almost contractors, working on whatever needed their
attention at the moment. To her it was all relative. Even one step closer to
catching the people who’d committed these heinous crimes was better than
nothing.  It was her mantra. The one thing she believed with her entire soul that
kept her from going crazy.