southern ghost hunters 02 - skeleton in the closet (11 page)

Jackson shimmered and disappeared.

"Aw," Gregson said, looking to me for support. "See? Used to be when you did that, he'd rage at you and give it a good fight."

"Leave him alone," I told the bloodied officer. "He's a good person." 

The private opened his mouth to say something I was sure I wouldn't like when the lock on the front door clicked.

Marshall.

"Damn it, Ellis. You spilled coffee on me."

I made a beeline for the back, Frankie's urn clanking loudly against the keys in my bag. I'd just passed into the rear hallway of the library when I heard the front door creak open.

Faster.

I didn't know if they'd seen me, or if I'd closed the door behind me all the way, but suddenly it struck me through my panic that I was heading straight for that sinister-feeling ghost I'd detected earlier tonight.

There was nothing to do about it. I raced down the hall, down the back stairs, and flipped the lock on the door before I dashed outside.

Chapter Seven

"V
ERITY
,
WATCH
OUT
!" Frankie hollered.  

I didn't even see it coming. Could barely hear over the pounding of my blood in my ears as I rammed straight into frigid wall of air. I gasped, my breath leaving me as I fell into the darkness. Needles of ice stung my face and hands. I hit hard pavement with a bone-rattling crunch. My mind swam, screamed. Energy engulfed me and I heard Frankie curse and gurgle.

"I can't snap you loose. You gotta push through it!" His voice rose in pitch. He sounded far away. 

Halos of light glowed in the darkness. I could make out the outline of the parking lot and felt the burn of asphalt on my bloodied palms. It was as if I crouched behind a pane of dimpled glass. 

"Go!"

I lurched to my feet and willed my legs to move, setting off on a dead run that turned out to be more like a stumble. 

Pain shot through my stomach. I kept moving, and wheezed as I broke out of the freezing, draining, soul-sucking space. 

The chilly night air felt warm compared to where I'd been. I kept moving, putting more distance between me and…
it
. My vision cleared and I could see the parking lot, the lights, and the trees beyond.

Frankie reappeared inside my car. I ran for him as fast as I could, bent over, fumbling for my keys.

I threw open my door and tossed my bag onto the floor of the passenger side. He looked like death warmed over. "You okay?" I asked. He didn't respond. He just clutched his abdomen. "It still hurts?" I pressed. I'd gone from a screaming pain in my stomach to a dull throb the moment I'd broken out of that haze. His legs were missing and his entire torso flickered like a bad electrical connection.

He grimaced, his fingers digging into his stomach. "You trying to kill me?" he demanded. "Again?"

I shoved my car into gear. "Didn't think that was possible." I whipped the steering wheel around and pulled the car out. "At least we're alive and in one piece." Oh wait. He wasn't either of those things. "What just happened back there?" 

He lay back against the seat, catching his breath. "You ran straight through a powerful ghost and dragged me along for the ride. The poor sucker died slow, shot through the stomach."

"That spirit energy was everywhere." I hit the gas. "There was no way to avoid it."

"Yeah, there was," he groused. "Slow down," Frankie cried out. I thought he was overreacting until a tingling surge whipped down my body. I slammed on the brakes, flinging the contents of my bag out onto the floor and planting Frankie firmly into the passenger-side dash.

"Now look what you did," he said, his head wedged up against the windshield, his shoulder sticking out of the vent. "If I could actually feel physical objects, I'd be in a lot of pain," he griped, melodramatic as usual.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, seeing as he'd only injured his pride. Sure enough, the gangster faded and reappeared in the seat next to me.  

"I wasn't expecting that tingle when your power left me." I touched a foot to the gas once more, lightly this time, if only to appear less conspicuous as we traveled up the side driveway of the church. 

Frankie yanked his hat out of my glove box and shoved it back onto his head. "Take it easy next time. It's not like you never borrowed my power before."

"I had a lot on my mind," I said, pulling out as casually as I could for a person driving an avocado-green Cadillac.

Ellis's cruiser sat out in front of the library, with Marshall's car behind it. 

At least the streetlight was out right there. Darkness blanketed this portion of the square.

Frankie gave his stomach one last rub. "And don't run through any more powerful spirits while you're connected to me." He shuddered. "That one hurt. Makes me squirmy, too, like I'm wearing somebody else's undershorts."

Yes, well, it had been even worse for me. "I felt like I was freezing to death. My mind didn't work right." I'd gotten a mild, icky, watery feeling the one time I'd accidentally touched Frankie. This had been a thousand times worse. 

I waited to flip on my headlights until we'd made the turn onto Main Street, glad to see it mostly deserted. Frankie rested an elbow on the window frame and stared out at the shops we passed.

"So how do I avoid run-ins like that?" I asked, exiting past the first row of shops, taking the back way through the residential neighborhoods as we wound our way home.

This particular street dated to the 1940s. Frankie continued to stare out the window for a minute before he turned to me.

"You ever just get a bad feeling about a spot?"

"Sometimes," I said, "even before I met you."

He nodded. "Everybody does." He removed his hat and slicked his hair back with his fingers. "Take tonight. When we were headed in, you didn't have my power yet and you still didn't like the parking lot by the back door." He replaced his hat, adjusting the brim low. "Even if you don't know why, a haunted death spot just doesn't feel right. Everyone has the ability to pick up on that. If you trust yourself, you know when something's off."

I thought back on the times I'd heeded my instincts, and the times I hadn't. One thing still puzzled me, though. "Tonight, when I was tuned in to your powers, I didn't see a ghost in that spot."

Frankie chewed at his lip. "I didn't, either." I could tell it bothered him. "Whoever it is, that's one powerful bastard."

"We'll avoid him from now on," I said as he settled back into his seat.

He aimed a pointed look my way. "We can sure as hell try."

My phone began to ring, and so I pulled out my hands-free headset. 

It was Melody. I told her everything that had happened since I saw her last, although I did leave off the part about avoiding Beau. He wasn't important, and besides, I had him handled. 

Mostly.

I adjusted my hands-free earpiece and fought with the wire because, well, it was an out-of-date, off-brand garage-sale purchase that was probably going to electrocute me the next time it rained. "I need you to see if you can find anything on a Madeline Angelica Learner, born June 12, 1933. Also anything on Leland Wydell I or a woman named Rosa."

"I'll work on it while I'm home tomorrow." She gave a small sigh. "The library will be closed again. Montgomery is going crazy, although he'll be plenty busy advising that movie director." 

I understood my sister. She wasn't sad about the library or Montgomery. She was trying to make sense of what had happened to Darla Grace. We all were. 

I was about to tell her that when I noticed Frankie staring at me. 

"What?" I prodded.

He straightened in his seat. "What do you want to know about Shifty?"

"Who?" I asked.

Frankie huffed. "Leland Wydell," he clarified, mocking the name. "We called him Shifty. He ran our whiskey operation," he added, as if it were no big illegal deal.

Wait. Frankie had said he was Beau and Ellis's great-great-uncle, which meant… "I've got to go," I told Melody. I'd explain later. I turned to Frankie. He hadn't been with me when I'd found the letter. He'd been too busy goofing off. But the generations lined up. Leland I would have been a contemporary of Frankie's, which meant… "You're related to Leland, aren't you?"

Frankie gave a defensive flinch. "I married his sister, Kate. She was the best getaway driver in six counties." He softened a bit. "Not that it's the only reason I went on the lam with her."

So Leland was in their mob outfit. "Beau always said his great-grandfather was an importer/exporter."

The gangster shrugged. "He was in a sense. When he wasn't breaking heads."

Nice guy. "I learned tonight that Leland had an older daughter, born two years before his son."

Frankie furrowed his brow. "No, he didn't."

I was about to argue when blue and white police lights lit up my back window. 

Frankie whipped his head back to see. "It's the fuzz," he announced. "Hit the gas!"

I yanked my earpiece out, getting tangled in the wire. "We are not getting into a police chase." In fact, I would have pulled up against the curb already if I could just get my cheap hands-free doodad to cooperate. Muttering under my breath, I pulled over in front of the quaint bungalows that lined Cypress Avenue. 

Frankie stared at me. "You think Marshall saw you leave the library? You weren't exactly subtle."

"I don't know," I said, my throat tight. I didn't know what to think.

I planted my hands on the steering wheel, but the officer was taking his time. I took a chance and rolled down my window, squinting to see past the glaring lights. 

Curtains fluttered in the window of the house to our right and I cringed. Everyone in Sugarland would know by tomorrow I'd been pulled over. Nobody else in town owned a land yacht like mine.

I saw movement behind me in my side mirror and turned as Ellis approached the car. He was alone. I hoped. He leaned outside my window. "Hey. Didn't mean to scare you."

Too late. "What are you doing here?" Had something bad happened in the ten minutes since I'd left the library?

Ellis frowned and shook his head. "Marshall called in a deputy to take over." A muscle in his jaw twitched. "He seems to think I might have a conflict of interest."

"I'm so sorry. I tried to be discreet." I didn't know what I'd do if Ellis lost his job over me.

"You were good," he said quickly. He rubbed at the back of his neck, his biceps flexing. "It's my mom. We pulled up Darla's phone records. It seems Darla called her from the library late last night."

"Wow." Although I couldn't say I was surprised. Virginia Wydell was knee-deep in the business of glorifying the town and her family name, especially lately. "She could have been calling about Cannonball in the Wall." Then again, the letter Darla found could potentially disinherit the queen of Sugarland. What if Darla showed her hand to the wrong person? Virginia could be cold and calculating. I wouldn't put it past her to say or do something drastic. "What did your mom say?"

"I'm not the one questioning her. Marshall's headed over right now."

Virginia Wydell would have an excuse. She always did. The woman was too crafty to get caught in a simple lie.

"Ellis," I began, resting a hand on his. It was no secret how I felt about his mother. She'd tried to ruin my life and render me homeless. But I hated that he had to suffer like this.

And I really didn't want to make it worse by telling him what I'd found. There was no upside. Ellis would feel terrible. He'd feel obligated to confront his mom, who would know the evidence we were trying to find against her. And that I was behind it. She'd turn it all around on me. No doubt she'd enjoy that part. It's not like I had tangible proof. 

Still… I sighed. This wasn't about me. Ellis deserved the truth.

"Listen," I said, opening the door. He let me and I leaned next to him against the car. The police lights stung my eyes. "I have something to tell you. You mind turning those off?"

"Safety," he answered, as if he had no choice. "I don't want you to get hurt."

I hoped he meant that in more ways than one.

"Okay," I said. This place wasn't exactly private, but at least no one would be able to hear what we were talking about. I drew a deep breath, trying to decide how to deliver information that may very well alter his life, or at least change the way he viewed his family and where he came from. "I found a witness, someone who saw Darla right before she died. He showed me a declaration of parentage signed by your great-grandfather. Your grandfather wasn't supposed to inherit. He had an illegitimate half sister, born before him, who should have gotten it all."

He stood, stunned. "My great-grandfather?" 

"It appears he was keeping secrets."

His gaze found the pavement before it shot back to me. "I grant you most of the men in my family don't have the best track record, but are you sure about this?"

"I don't know what to say. I'm only telling you what I saw." He'd asked me to investigate on the other side, and this was what I'd found. "It's on the ghostly plane, so I can't actually show you real, tangible evidence."

Ellis ran a hand through his hair and let out a ragged sigh, but I knew better than to think he doubted me. Ellis had seen enough of Frankie's powers to believe in the other side. He just needed proof in the real world to do anything about it.

"Whoever killed Darla took the letter, and most likely the entire antique secretary. Not to mention Darla's record of ever finding it." I hadn't seen anything like it on any of the display tables, or in that back room.

He gave a sharp nod. "I'm going home to talk to my mom."

"Do you want to wait at my house until Marshall is done?" It would look bad if he showed up now.

"No," he said, watching me as if he didn't quite know what to think of this, of me.

"I didn't expect to find this," I said simply.

He reached out slowly and took both of my hands in his. "I know." His grip was tight, as if he needed something, some
one
to hold on to. "My mother may be a lot of things, but she's not a murderer."