Final Words (26 page)

“Wait.” Reaching out, he touched the small of her back. “I
believe Pamela has something of yours. A credit card?”

“Oh. Oh, yes but I can get it later.” Emma tried to step
around him but his movements herded her toward his office.

“It’s no trouble. I believe it’s in Pamela’s desk.” Opening
his outer office door, he ushered her inside. “She’s at the post office right
now but I’m sure I can find it.”

As the door closed behind them, panic clawed at the back of
Emma’s throat. Alone. She was alone with a possible killer.

Does he know I’ve been in his files?

“How have you been feeling?” he asked as he led her toward
Pamela’s desk, his fingers pressing into the small of her back.

“Fine,” she answered quickly. “I’ve been fine.”

Releasing her at last, he stepped behind the desk and opened
a drawer. “Are we set up for another session this week?”

“I haven’t had a chance to make an appointment. We’ve been
so busy at the morgue.”

“Here it is.” He lifted her credit card out of the drawer.
His eyes narrowed at the corners as he handed it to her. “Odd that you would
lose it here.”

“I thought so too.” Emma launched into the explanation she’d
prepared after Pamela had phoned her. “But you remember I was feeling emotional
last week. When I dug in my purse for a tissue, the card must have fallen out.”

“I have a box of tissues on my desk.”

“I guess I didn’t notice. Now I really have to go.”

Paul shifted between her and the door. A sudden flush made
the scratch on his cheek stand out in a jagged white stripe. He looked down at
her legs. “You have sand on your stockings.”

Emma followed his gaze and she noticed granules of sand
clinging to her calves. A narrow run scarred the stocking around her inner
right ankle.

“Have you been walking on the beach, Emma?”

The silky tone of his question brought her head up slowly.
His flat gaze chilled her. He knew. Somehow he knew.

She nearly fainted with relief when the outer door opened
and Pamela breezed inside.

“Hello, Dr. St. Clair.” Curiosity flickered across the woman’s
face. “You didn’t have an appointment today, did you?”

“No.” Emma forced herself to calm down. With his secretary
here, Paul wouldn’t dare do anything. “No, I was in the building and ran into
Paul and decided to pick up my credit card.” She lifted the card in the air,
saw it shimmering with sweat from her hand and quickly tucked it inside her
purse. Her gaze shifted to his once more but he was smiling again. She might
have imagined the threat in his eyes. After all, how could a little sand give
her away?

“You should be careful with those things.” Pamela stepped
between Paul and Emma, forcing the psychiatrist to step aside. “Keep them in
your wallet and not just loose inside your purse.”

“I’ll do that.” Taking advantage of the moment, Emma bolted
for the door. “I’ll call you later for that appointment. Bye!”

* * * * *

Jason slammed on the brakes at the curb and leaped out of
his car. Rounding the front of the Mustang, he stopped when he saw Emma hurry
out of the building. Anger quickly overcame relief as he realized she was
alone.

“Where’s Charlie?” he demanded as she reached him. “I told
you not to come here alone.”

“I went to the beach to find a murder weapon and then I ran
late for my appointment and where the hell were you, anyway?”

He realized she was shaking. Her eyes darkened, the blue
little more than a thin rim even in that bright sunlight.

He softened his tone. “I got held up at court. I sent
Charlie to go with you but something called him away. Are you all right?”

She nodded and pushed at him until he let her step off the
curb. He saw her SUV parked in a far corner of the parking lot.

“Emma, what happened?” he asked, keeping up with her as she
marched toward it.

“One of the spirits, another of Paul’s patients, told me he
was hit on the head by a pipe and I went to look for it. I know I promised not
to do anything so stupid but there was a police officer there and I didn’t
think there was any danger.” Reaching her SUV, she pressed a hand against the
driver’s side window it as if to steady herself. “And just now…inside…I ran
into Paul. I think he’s suspicious.”

“Damn it, I knew something like that would happen!” His
hands automatically went to fists. “What did he do? What did he say?”

“Nothing. It was just his manner. He pulled me into his
office and he-he acted like he wasn’t going to let me out. Maybe he saw me at
the beach. I think he knew I was looking for the weapon that he used to kill
that young man.”

Incensed, Jason whirled toward the building but Emma caught
his arm.

“Don’t go charging in there,” she said, her voice a shade
calmer. “I’ll be all right. I just got a little panicky.”

He pulled her hard against him. “Don’t ever do anything like
that again,” he ordered, resting his cheek on top of her head.

“Believe me, I won’t.” Her arms went around his waist. “And
that’s the truth. I’m not as brave as I thought.”

“The hell you’re not!” He held her tightly. “You’re the
bravest woman I ever met. And one of the most stubborn too.”

“I’m not feeling brave right now. I just want to get out of
here.” But she held onto him for a moment before suddenly looking up at him
with wide eyes. “Oh, I can’t believe I almost forgot to tell you. Leonard
Fletcher killed your sister!”

Jason’s heart surged into his throat. “What?”

“He confessed to hitting a woman with his car. Then he was
so scared that he drove his car to some abandoned pier south of town and sank
it in the bay near Waterside Estates.”

“I know that pier. But who is this guy, Emma? Did you meet
him somewhere? Why would he confess to you? Where—” Suddenly, he realized what
she was saying. His hands fell away from her. “Leonard Fletcher is dead, isn’t
he?”

“His body came into the morgue today.” She stared hard at
Jason. “You said you would try to believe me. You’ve gone along with me in
checking out Paul but this—
this—
is the thing to trust me on. It can only
help you.”

He wanted to believe her. God knew that he did. And looking
into her eyes—so earnest—he almost could.

“All right,” he finally said. “I’ll check it out. But you go
straight to your office and wait for me.”

Her fingers twisted in his sleeve. “You can’t come with me
now?”

“I left the courthouse before they called me in. Marta will
skin me alive if she calls me to testify and I’m not there.”

“You’re right about that.” Releasing him, Emma opened the
door of her SUV. “You’d better get back there.”

Jacob hesitated. “Are you sure you’re all right to drive?”

“I’m okay now that I’m out of there.” She smiled at last,
apparently more in control now and got into the SUV. “I’ll be waiting at my
office. I promise.”

“I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

He closed the door. Stepping back, he waited until she
started her vehicle and drove away. Fear churned in his gut as he returned to
the Mustang. If Paul Sanders believed she could do what she claimed and if the
man thought Emma had any inkling of what
he
might have done…

Not for the first time, Jason found himself wishing that he
did totally believe her, that Emma really could communicate with the dead. And
that she could prove it.

Or had she proven it already? Jaime Campanero. Craig Potter.
Tyrone…

Jason shoved his key into the Mustang’s ignition. He was so
close to accepting, to believing. One more thing would tip the scales. Maybe
that one more thing was proof of Rose’s killer.

He started his car. After he testified, a trip to that
abandoned pier just might prove it.

* * * * *

“You can cover him now,” Emma said and Skitch lifted the
sheet over the last body of the day. Her young assistant had seemed quiet all
afternoon, speaking only in reply to questions and then keeping his answers
short and to the point. He’d lost his ease with her and she could blame no one
but herself.

As he stripped off his gloves, she took a deep breath. “Skitch,
I’m sorry things are strained between us. I guess I was more affected by what
happened than I thought.”

He tossed his gloves into a disposal bin. “I understand.”

“I know you feel that you have to keep an eye on me and—”

“I do have to keep an eye on you,” he interrupted. Then he
moved to the gurney that had been used to bring the last body into the autopsy
suite. The wheels creaked as he rolled it near the autopsy table. He kept his
head down as if avoiding her gaze. “Dr. Powell and Ms. Zamora told me to watch
you, to make sure you weren’t… You know…” He huffed out his exasperation. “We’re
just worried about you, Doc.”

“I know, Skitch and I appreciate it.” She stripped off her
own soiled gloves and tossed them in the bin. “Things will be different from
now on. I promise.”

He stared down at the body. “I just hated to spy on you.”

“You did what was necessary and you probably kept me from
making mistakes.”

The young man heaved a sigh of relief and lifted his head at
last. “Thanks.”

Emma smiled. “Why don’t you knock off for the day?”

Obviously feeling better, Skitch stepped to the clean-up
sink and washed his hands. “You in a hurry to get out of here too? Big date
with Detective MacKenzie?”

“I hope so. He said he’d meet me here after court.”

“I’ve got big plans of my own. I scored tickets to the
baseball game in Houston.”

Emma glanced at her watch. “It’s after seven, so you’d
better go. I’ll wait for Talbot to come for this man.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Go on. You don’t want to miss that first pitch.”

“I don’t want to miss that first hot dog. I’m starving!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “See you tomorrow, Skitch.”

“Good night, Doc.”

Relieved to have eased some of the tension between them,
Emma washed up and then headed for the cooler room door. Opening it, she
stepped inside the super-chilled area. Deep drawers lined three of the walls.
On the fourth, the loading bay door stood open. Talbot pushed a gurney inside.

“Got a fresh one for you, Dr. St. Clair,” he said.

Emma shook her head. “Not tonight, Talbot. I was just coming
to tell you that I’ve finished with my last case and everyone else has gone. We’ll
save this one for tomorrow.”

“But this is that lady cop everybody is all riled up about.”
Weariness etched the elderly man’s face. “Old Jimmy drove quick as he could.
But the van was actin’ up again and it took him longer to get here than it
should’ve.”

The chill that shuddered through Emma had nothing to do with
the low temperature in the cooler room. Slowly, she moved toward the bagged
body. “Lady cop?”

Talbot looked at the tag on the bag. “Yes, ma’am. Layne
Simmons. I hear she was a detective from over in Houston.”

Emma clenched her hands together.

“Dr. Powell called earlier and said someone would take care
of her right away,” Talbot continued. “I’ll set her up an’ then put this one
away. Then I gotta go help Old Jimmy with that van before he gets another
pickup call.”

Emma forced her hands open. “All right, Talbot. Please bring
her in.”

* * * * *

Feet stumbling in the sand, Jason approached the cops
gathered at the base of the elevated pier.

It’s true. God, it’s true.

Although he’d had every intention of trying, he hadn’t
really thought he would come to accept Emma’s claim. Deep down, he’d suspected
that her ability to communicate with the dead would turn out to be
stress-induced hallucinations or something like that.

Now he was a true believer.

On his way back to the courthouse, he’d phoned the officer
in charge of the police dive team and asked if they could look into a possible
sunken car off the abandoned pier. The team had moved fast. By the time Jason
finished testifying for Marta, the car had been located, lifted out of the
water and its owner identified.

It had been registered to Leonard Fletcher.

He’d barely processed that impossible information when he’d
gotten a call on his car radio. That was when he’d learned what had happened to
Charlie. He’d also learned that Emma had been right about more than Leonard
Fletcher. Instead of heading for the abandoned pier and his sister’s no-longer-cold
case, he’d driven to this public pier at the other end of town for a fresh one.
Another personal one.

Leaving his Mustang at the curb, he crossed the narrow
stretch of beach that led down to the pilings beneath the pier. In the shadows
there, he could just distinguish Charlie from the other men. Looking up, his
partner turned from the scene.

“Where is she?” Jason demanded, excitement and despair
warring within him as his friend approached.

Charlie raised both hands and put himself between Jason and
the group of officers. “She’s already gone to the morgue.”

Remorse slammed into him, anchoring him to the present. “How
long has she been dead?”

“About a day.” Gripping Jason’s shoulders, Charlie turned
him back toward his car. “There isn’t much to see here.”

Jason looked at his partner. Considering what Emma could do,
maybe he didn’t need to see anything. But how much of her story could he tell
Charlie? None of it, he realized.

“Layne wasn’t working a case here,” he said. “I checked with
her captain in Houston. He put her on probation two weeks ago and ordered her
to get anger-management counseling.” He took a deep breath. “She was here to
see Paul Sanders.”

“A good psychiatrist. She could have chosen worse.”

Jason clenched his fists. “She chose her own killer. Sanders
did her, Charlie.”

The older man frowned. “What makes you say that?”

He raked both hands through his hair. “I just know. Were
there any witnesses?”