The Vengeful Dead (10 page)

Chapter 12

Two hours out of Chicago and the cries of her baby boy rang like tornado siren in her head. They had not faded. They never would. Her baby boy would be screaming for justice for all eternity, because the one who should have protected him was as dead as he was. The living had failed as well, incompetent and uncaring for a woman who had tried to do right only to experience a horrible wrong for all of her efforts. The living were not concerned with justice, but the dead cared a great deal. It was the only thing that mattered. There was no tomorrow when you were dead, only the moment. And this moment was consumed in a storm of rage and vindication.

I will get you justice
, Morgan’s voice pleaded.

“Not strung out on Oxycontin, you won’t.” Rosa glanced up at the face in the rearview mirror, sallow and pale, with red-rimmed eyes, puffy from a lack of sleep. “Look at you! Sorry-assed nigger detective. Chicago’s finest! What a crock of shit. Your kid proud of you? Your mama? Fuck you and your justice.” She swept the hand across and broke the mirror off its mount, sending it tumbling to the floor. “I’m doing just fine.”

Please! If you let me go, I will bring them down. I’ll kill them all. I have the resources.

“You’re weak and a man whose begging makes me sick. If you’re strong enough, then break free and show me justice. But you’re no man, Detective Morgan. You’re just a fucking addict!”

No, wait! I’m not. I can prove it.

She pushed his voice back until it faded into her boy’s plaintive and angry cries. “Not proving nothing with this body, Detective.”

The drive heading back into the trees off the county road was not marked with an address. Of course, it didn’t matter that every other drive was. One could never give credit to Rennie Vasquez for being brilliant. Charming and vicious perhaps, but the man’s brain only had two gears, fight or fuck. She parked the car and noticed that Morgan’s hands had a slight tremble to them. She clenched them for a moment and then relaxed. For now, it was gone, but withdrawal was really starting to wear on Morgan’s body. Having kicked over the cocaine bucket three years ago, she knew how quitting was only just the beginning.

The rutted gravel drive disappeared beneath a lightless, cloud-covered sky, and the falling October leaves. Fortunately, she had been down here before and knew more or less how it took a gentle curve to the left through the trees to a clearing. The mobile home on the right was storage, and overflow sleeping when they had more than five or six people down here, but the lights were only on in the one on the left.

She absently rubbed at her belly. “You ready for this, little man? Mama is going to cut open Loopy Lopez for you, so you can watch him bleed out on the ground like the pig that he is.”

Somewhere inside, beyond the raging wail, Morgan screamed out in frustration, unable to stop his body from obeying the invader’s commands.

Rosa pulled the Glock from its holster. “Shut it, Detective Morgan. I’m just doing your fucking job.”

The leather loafers clung to the soggy drive, making soft, slurping noises as Rosa came out from under the trees and marched toward the lit-up mobile home, the Glock dangling with a deceptive casualness from her hand. Laughter bubbled out of a corner window when she came alongside. A woman, whose voice she did not recognize, giggled and then turned to husky desire. The man, however, she knew. It was Loopy, coked up and screwing his brains out. Rosa paused, hand clenched around the pistol’s grip, itching to empty the clip into the thin walls, but then gathered herself once again and continued on to the door.

The stairs creaked beneath her feet, but nobody would be hearing much of anything with the television blaring in the living room. She could sense the souls of two more wretched clones in Rennie’s drugaddled army, half-dead already. Rosa pulled open the screen door and stepped up to check the door. Locked. This time around, they would not just walk up to answer the door. They didn’t come down to this hole expecting visitors.

Rosa held the screen in one hand and aimed the gun at the lock. Morgan’s voice cried out from the depths.
Don’t do this! You’re ruining my life!

“Already ruined, Detective,” she replied and fired at the door, following it quickly with the heel of her shoe.

The splintered door flew open, giving Rosa a wide-angled view of the kitchen, living, and dining room area. Someone jumped back from the fridge, while another scrambled off of the couch. She recognized him.

“Hello, Miguel,” she said, and turned the gun upon him.

“What the fu—” he began, but never finished, when the bullet caught him just above the ear and sent him flipping backward over the couch.

A scream came from down the hall in the bedroom, and Rosa turned toward the sound. In the kitchen, the other guy had pulled a knife from a block on the counter. His screaming charge made it about three steps when Rosa fired again, blowing out the guy’s knee. He stumbled to the floor, the knife bouncing off of the linoleum and stopping at Rosa’s feet. She reached down and picked it up; it felt a bit small in Morgan’s large hands.

“Thanks,” she said, and fired off another round, blowing off the left side of the guy’s face.

Behind the closed door at the end of the hall came the sounds muffled hysterics and Loopy’s harsh swearing, telling the woman to shut up. Rosa did not pause and marched down the dark, wood-paneled hall, kicking open the hollow door with enough force that the lower hinge broke free.

The skewed door interfered with Loopy’s lunging attack, and Rosa found herself knocked back into the doorframe, switchblade buried in Morgan’s thigh. She brought the butt of the pistol down on Loopy’s head and sent him staggering back into the room. It was accompanied by the women’s scream and the shattering of glass. She was attempting to crawl out of the window. Even ghost-powered reflexes were not enough to get off a clean shot, and the bullet pierced clean through the woman’s calf before she tumbled out to the ground below.

Loopy struggled to get to his feet in front of her; one carefully placed toe beneath the chin took care of that and sent him sprawling back on the bed. Rosa took three quick steps over to the window and saw the screaming woman attempting to limp away through the mud.

“Lie with the devil, you stupid whore,” she said, and calmly buried a slug in the woman’s back.

On the bed, Loopy groaned, too dazed to get up. Rosa tucked the gun into the back of Morgan’s waistband and flipped the butcher knife around for a more secure grip. “How’s it going, Loopy? Miss me?”

His over-dilated, glassy eyes tried to blink away the fog of getting coldcocked. “Wha . . . what? Who are you?”

Rosa reached down and clamped Morgan’s hand around Loopy’s throat. “It’s Rosa, you loaded little shit. My baby boy says you can rot in hell.”

He clamped his hands on Morgan’s powerful arm, vainly trying to free the pressure off of his throat as Rosa continued to squeeze and push his head down into the mattress. There was a sickening crack from his larynx as it gave way to the crushing force of Morgan’s hand being driven with supernatural strength. His scream came out as a gurgling cry and changed abruptly to a grunt when Rosa drove the knife down into his groin.

Chapter 13

Jackie rubbed some gel into her hands and scrunched her hair. It was the first time in months that she had made an effort to do anything with it at all.
Wash and wear
was her hairstyle motto. Scrunching was as far as it would go, however. If she wore any makeup, Belgerman would see through her efforts in an instant. A little deodorant, a spray of perfume that Laurel had bought for her birthday three years before and still was only half empty, a swish of mouthwash, and Jackie was good to go.

She studied her face in the mirror over her bathroom sink. Other than the dark circles under her eyes, she didn’t look too bad, did she? “You can do this,” she told herself. “You’re OK.”

Nick had called her at 8:30
AM
. “Go see Belgerman,” he said. “Tell him everything and that you want to be on this case so you can figure this out.” She had still been on the couch. Ten hours of dreamless sleep. She would have to kiss him again for that. “And because of Laurel’s abilities, he’ll be on board for this. Just look confident and don’t give him a reason to say no. Call me when things are situated, and I hope you slept well last night.” He clicked off before she could reply. The annoyance of the abrupt cutoff got her up out of bed until she realized he had likely done it on purpose. Bastard already knew her better than he should.

She walked back to the bedroom to get dressed and called Nick back. “He’ll call you and want to verify this you know.”

“I’ll sign a contract if needed. I want to figure this out, Jackie. I feel partly responsible for your situation.”

“Well don’t,” she’d told him. Even though part of her blamed him, she knew this wasn’t his fault. “And thanks for helping. You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

“Damned if I know why.”

She could sense him smiling on the other end of the line. “Your hard edges suit me.”

Jackie laughed and Nick chuckled along with her. “You’re crazy, Nick. You should be running in the other direction as fast as you can.”

His mirthful tone subsided. “Sheriffs don’t run from anything, Jackie. Besides, I know a good thing when I see it. Call me when Belgerman gives the OK for us to work this.”

A good thing. If she was Nick’s notion of a good thing, then he had some issues. Jackie pulled on gray denim jeans and a button-down black blouse. For a moment she pondered digging the dress flats out of their box in the closet, but then went ahead with her boots. After toasting a bagel and feeding Bickerstaff, she was ready to head in.

Normal soon went out the window when Jackie pulled through a Starbucks to get a coffee. She had almost ordered a tea to go with the coffee. The empty seat beside her suddenly became a vast hole. She was going into work alone. The morning banter was gone. Laurel’s morning review of the day’s activities was no more. And thanks to Jackie’s big, fat mouth, who knew when she would be seeing Laurel again.

The silence grew louder with each passing mile. By the time she pulled into her parking space, the meager confidence she had built up was gone. Belgerman would say no. He could be extremely hardheaded about something when he set his mind to it. He would see her desperation and know she wasn’t ready for this. Look what had happened the last time he gave in and let her stay on the case. He had nearly lost two agents instead of one. No way would he risk it on the freaky paranormal shit again, not with a basket case of an agent who had inexplicably gained psychic abilities.

Jackie continued the negative thought process on the elevator ride up and was muttering to herself by the time she stepped out on her floor. She took a deep breath. The smells were the same. The sounds were familiar. The row of cubicles and doors opening into conference rooms all looked the same, yet it all felt different. Jackie got the sickening feeling in her gut that she no longer belonged.

Down the aisle a dark-haired head poked around a cubicle wall. A smooth, blue-eyed face looked her way and Jackie’s stomach seized for one brief second. The person was seated in Laurel’s space.

“Hey,” he said. “You look lost. Can I help you with something?”

Jackie took a step forward and then stopped. “What are . . . who the hell are you?”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “McManus. You Agent Rutledge by chance?”

The air in the room began to evaporate. Why was he here? He shouldn’t be here already. Couldn’t. “Who told you to take that desk?”

“The desk?” He looked confused, looking back as though he might be missing something. “They told me to take it when I came in earlier. You’re Agent Rutledge, aren’t you?”

“They? What they?” She refused the urge to run up and yank him out of the chair. “That isn’t your fucking desk.”

“Whoa, hold on,” he said and stood up. McManus walked toward her, the easy smile on his face dissipating with each step. He stopped a few feet away. “You’re Rutledge, right? Isn’t that your desk next to mine? It’s my understanding that you’re my new partner.”

They were doing this to her on purpose. Had to be. Didn’t want to even give her a chance to get things situated and put right. Jackie stared at his proffered hand like it was on fire, then at the face now creased with concern. She ignored him and walked past. “That’s not your desk.”

Jackie stopped at Laurel’s cubicle. McManus’s jacket lay draped over the back of her chair. A picture of a preteen girl sat in a silver
I Love Dad
frame next to the computer monitor. A black coffee mug steamed away next to it. He was getting settled already and Laurel’s boxed up items were now missing from the cubicle’s corner.

“Where are the boxes?” she demanded. “Where’d the fucking boxes go that were sitting right there?” Her finger jabbed repeatedly at the empty corner.

“Ms. Carpenter’s things?” McManus stood a few feet behind her. “I put them over there by your desk. Figured you’d want to do something with them.”

The fact that he knew her name angered Jackie even more for some inexplicable reason. He was invading private space, space that Jackie, unreasonable though she knew it to be, felt should still be under her control. It should have been her job, her goddamn right to complete the closure on Laurel’s space.

“Move your shit,” she said. “You’re getting another desk.”

“What?” He looked perplexed. “You’re kidding, right? This one of those ‘new guy’ things you do?”

Jackie stepped over to her desk and picked up the phone. “Get me building maintenance.”

She glared at McManus, who looked unsure about the whole situation. He clearly didn’t believe she was serious.

“They said you might be a little weird about this.”

Weird?
“What’s that supposed to mean? Who said that?”

“Um, one of the guys. Last night, we were having drinks,” he said, measuring his words as he spoke. He knew he was treading on some thin ground.

Jackie’s hand clenched around the phone. “What else did they say about . . . Maintenance? This is Agent Rutledge up on Five. I need you to get up here and exchange a desk. No! I don’t give a fuck how busy you are. Get up here now or I’m coming down there and dragging your ass up here.” She slammed the phone down. “What else did they say?”

He took a step back. “Look. Nothing. It was just the guys having drinks, welcoming the new guy sort of thing.”

Jackie’s bark of laughter held no humor. “Bullshit. I’m sure they had all kinds of crap to say about Agent Rutledge.”

He moved over to his cubicle and grabbed his jacket off the chair. “Ok, I can see there’s an issue here. Maybe we should’ve talked first before I set up shop.”

“Fucking bet your ass we should have.”

“I’ll just go get some more coffee or something while you get things dealt with here.” He picked up the nearly full cup and backed away.

“What’s going on?” Belgerman stood in his doorway down at the end of the aisle. He took one look at Jackie and his shoulders slumped. “Morning, Jack. There a problem?”

Shit. Her anger twisted into apprehension. “Nothing, sir. I wanted to get things situated for McManus here, but he . . . he’s early.”

He walked up, forehead wrinkled with curiosity. “Situated? What needs to be situated?”

McManus sipped at his coffee, looked at Jackie, then at Belgerman. “It’s all good, sir. Just a little confusion about what to do with Ms. Carpenter’s things before I settle in.”

“I see.” He gave Jackie a wary glance, and then took in the boxes on the floor behind her. “Aren’t those her things right there?”

The elevator dinged and one of the maintenance guys stepped out. “Hey,” he said, “what’s this about needing to exchange a desk?”

Jackie sighed. Fucking-A. Welcome to the Jackie is a lunatic show.

Belgerman frowned. “The desk? What’s wrong with the desk?”

McManus said nothing, waiting with cup held to his lips for Jackie’s reply.

“He needs a new one,” Jackie said. “This one isn’t right for him.”

The maintenance guy looked confused. “What sort of desk did you have in mind? Aren’t they all pretty much the same?”

“Look! He just needs a new desk, OK? Find him one and switch it,” she said. “There’s got to be a spare one around here.”

More confusion. “You just want me to switch it for another one?”

“Yes! Is it really that hard to explain?”

Belgerman shook his head and walked back toward his office. “Jack, can I talk to you for a moment, please?”

She pointed at the maintenance guy, then at the desk. “You. Just do it.” She hurried after Belgerman. He closed the door behind them after she entered.

“What are you doing, Jack?” His voice was filled with more than annoyance. “It’s McManus’s first day and you’re already giving him shit.”

“Sorry, sir,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting him here so soon.” Butterflies were doing a jig in her stomach. Her mouth had gone bone dry. Oh, yes. Confidence was the word of the day.

Belgerman turned and leaned against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “When were you expecting him? I’m not really expecting you for another two weeks.”

“I was expecting . . . I don’t know when I was expecting him,” she said. “I just thought I’d have more time to prepare.”

“You check the file I gave you?”

“No, not yet.”

“Be a good place to start.”

“I know, I know. I’ll get to it today,” she replied. Jackie took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her stomach, hoping to calm her nerves. “But McManus isn’t what I came in for.”

“You’re here about your crime scene visits,” he stated. “Anderson told me he wanted to test your abilities. He believes your . . . experience may have given you some psychic connection to the spirit world.”

Jackie nodded.
How to explain this? How do I not sound like a complete lunatic?
“It would seem so.”

He waited while Jackie gave him a halfhearted smile. “And?”

“And . . . well, I don’t exactly know how to explain it, sir. It sounds completely crazy.”

Belgerman unfolded his arms and braced his hands upon the desk. He gave her that fatherly,
this is me you’re talking to
smile. “Any more crazy than chasing vampires and ghosts? Or escaping a burning building by crossing into the realm of the dead?”

Jackie laughed nervously. “I suppose not, if you put it that way.”

“So, what happened?”

She let out her breath in a rush. “I heard a ghost at the first crime scene, a screaming baby.”

The easy smile vanished. “There was no baby. Wait. You heard the screams of the murdered fetus?”

Jackie nodded. “Yes. When I touched the blood stain on the mattress, something happened. I saw something there, squirming in a pool of blood, and its screams were right inside my head, like it was right there.”

“Christ, Jackie. I’m sorry,” he said. “That must’ve been awful.”

She blinked. Just like that? No
what the fuck are you talking about?
He didn’t even look skeptical. “It was. Sir? You don’t find that utterly insane?”

“It is insane,” he replied. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

“But sir. This is me we’re talking about here. The falling apart nutcase who just lost her partner. You don’t think it might be the result of . . .” She shrugged helplessly. “Totally losing it?”

“Are you? Losing it, I mean.”

“Not like that,” she said. “It’s been hard, sir, really fucking hard. I can’t lie about that.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I’d know you were lying if you said otherwise.”

“But I’m not crazy. It happened. I know it did. I just don’t understand it.”

“Did you go to the other crime scene?”

“Yes.” OK, here came the fun part.

“Same thing?”

“Not exactly.” He waited for her in silence again. “I punched Mr. Anderson in the face.”

After pausing to make sure she wasn’t kidding, Belgerman burst out laughing. “I’d have liked to have seen that. Was it after touching bloodstains again?”

Jackie nodded. “But I couldn’t remember doing it. I even screamed at him that I wanted him to die.”

Belgerman looked concerned now. “The spirit went through you and attacked Anderson.”

“I guess,” she said. “I’m not sure what happened.”

“What does Anderson have to say about all of this?”

“He says I need to figure out what’s going on and learn how to control it.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “That kind of goes without saying. Are the two events related, Jackie?”

“Honestly, sir? I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know how to deal with any of this. This was all Laurel’s area of expertise.”

Belgerman sighed, a wave of sadness rolling across his features. “I know. You want in on this case?”

“Sir?” Really? She wasn’t even going to have to ask? “I need to figure this out. It’s got me scared and freaked out.”

“Anderson is on board with this from what I’ve gathered.”

“He said that he and Ms. Fontaine would sign a contract to that effect if needed.”

Belgerman nodded. “They will. I’ll sign them on as a consult on this case.”

Jackie jumped up and down on her toes. “Thank you, sir. Goddamn. Thank you.”

“I need to discuss this with Tillie,” he said. “She won’t be very pleased.”