Blood Game (8 page)

Silence. “You’re telling me that Joe Quinn is behaving . . . irrationally?”

“I’m telling you that for the first time since I’ve known him, Joe is doubting his—” She took a deep breath. “There’s no one more solid or confident than Joe. That’s not what I’m seeing right now. I don’t know if it has anything to do with you or not, but I tried to steer him in your direction. It was the only thing I could think to do.”

“You didn’t talk to him?”

“Dammit, he would have backed away from me. If he is having any kind of weird reaction, it’s not the kind of thing he would admit, much less discuss. He calls it all bullshit. I did my best. It has to come from him.” She paused. “I’m worried. I feel helpless. If he does come to you, help him, Megan. Please.”

“You don’t have to ask,” Megan said. “I’ll do what I can, though I don’t know what that will be. But I can tell you that it doesn’t always turn out badly.”

“You mentioned insanity and death. I’d say that’s pretty bad.”

“But it may have something to do with the strength of the individual character.”

“Well, Joe has plenty of that. And it may not have anything to do with you. I just had to hedge every bet.”

“I’ll let you know.” Megan hung up.

Eve gazed out at the lake. Had she done the right thing? She had guided Joe toward Megan even though she wasn’t sure that she believed that Megan’s talent was at the bottom of Joe’s problem. She had been afraid to do anything else.

She could only hope that there was a solution and that Megan would find it.

MEGAN TURNED TO HER UNCLE as she hung up the phone. “We may have a visitor, Carey. Better put on the coffee while I throw on some clothes.”

“At this hour? Who?”

“Joe Quinn.”

He frowned. “What the hell? After all the sarcastic bull he was throwing at you down at the swamp? I wanted to sock him.”

“So did I. But you can’t blame him for being cynical about me. Sometimes I don’t believe in this psychic crap either.” Her lips twisted. “Or wish I didn’t believe it. It would make life easier.” That was the understatement of the century. “And I don’t have any right to blame him for anything now.” She whispered, “I may have hurt him, Carey.”

“The facilitating thing?”

“Eve thinks he’s not behaving normally. And that would be hard for her to admit. She’s very protective of him.”

“I don’t remember him needing protection. You were the one being attacked.”

“And that cynicism would make it even more difficult for him . . . if something did happen.” Megan turned and headed for her bedroom. “Maybe Eve’s wrong. She wasn’t sure. Maybe it’s something else.”

Joe Quinn rang the doorbell forty minutes later.

His gaze raked her up and down as she opened the door. From the top of her dark hair to her feet. “You’re dressed. Were you expecting me?” His lips twisted. “Maybe some psychic premonition?”

“I don’t have premonitions. I have only two psychic talents of which I’m aware. That’s more than I want. Come in, Joe.” She stepped aside. “We might as well go into the kitchen and have a cup of coffee.”

“I don’t want to sit down and have a cozy chat. That’s not why I’m here.”

“No, there’s nothing cozy about you at the moment.” She doubted if that word would describe him at any time. He was all hard, lean strength and keen intelligence. “You’re angry, and you want to strike out at someone. Be my guest. I probably deserve it.” She turned toward the kitchen. “But we’d better pretend to be on good terms. My uncle is very defensive, and you’re not on his list of favorite people.”

“That doesn’t bother me.” He followed her into the kitchen. “I can handle him.”

“If you do, you’ll have me to deal with. He’s my only family, and I’m defensive too.” She sat down at the table and gestured for him to sit down across from her. “I tried to tell him you have a right to be angry, but he’s not buying it.”

He sat down but his posture was as stiff as his expression. “And why should I be angry with you?”

“Because I may have done you harm.” She poured coffee into their cups from the carafe on the table. “Have I?”

He didn’t speak for a moment. “I don’t believe all that stuff you told Eve. It’s something from a sci-fi movie.”

“More like a horror film.” Megan shrugged. “And not only for me.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “Is it, Joe?”

His lips lifted in a sardonic smile. “Are you reading my mind?”

“No, your body language.” She lifted her cup to her lips. “Tell me, can you read minds now? Did I do that to you?”

“Hell, no.”

“Good. I imagine that would be a nightmare.”

“Don’t you know?”

“I’m an amateur. I’m new at this. I do know that I caused that in one man. He went insane.”

“I’m not insane.” His lips were tight, his eyes glittering.

“But you’ve been wondering.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. “I’ve had a few doubts. But I came to the conclusion that I either accept that you may not be the charlatan I thought you were, or I accept the fact that I may be heading for the funny farm. I find the former far more palatable. So I’m here to ask questions. So far, you’re not being very reassuring.”

“Tough. I don’t think you want reassurance. You want answers. I may not be able to give them to you, but I’ll try to help you find them. Ask your questions.”

“Ghosts. You hear the dead. Do you see them?”

Her cup stopped on the way to her lips. “No, and I never considered them ghosts. More like echoes of what happened at a given time and place.” She gazed at him for a moment before she put the question to him. “Do you see them?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. “Maybe.” He scowled. “Damn, that was hard to say.”

“Do you know who they are?”

“Bonnie. I thought at first that I was having a hallucination because of the stress of the years of trying to find her.”

“How many times have you seen her?”

“Once.”

“Then you could be right.”

“I wasn’t trying to find Nancy Jo Norris, and I saw her.”

“The girl who was murdered? I saw the story on the evening news.” She frowned. “How do you see them? Is it just a fleeting glimpse?”

“No, they talk to me. Like you, like anyone.” He started to stand up. “I’m done. I’m getting out of here. I sound like the nutcase I probably am.”

“Wait. Why did you come? What tipped the scales and made you think that maybe I could help you?”

“Nancy Jo told me that the man who killed her had grabbed her from behind, held a handkerchief over her nose, and knocked her out. The autopsy showed she’d been dosed with ether. It was slim evidence, but I grabbed at it.”

“I would have done the same,” Megan said. “And that’s not so slim.”

“Yes, it is. I’d say it’s wishful thinking, but I don’t like either option.”

“But you’ve already accepted one of them, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Any port in a storm. If you did this to me, can you undo it?”

She shook her head. “I think you’re stuck with it. But I’ll try to find out.”

“For God’s sake, don’t you know?”

“Dammit, I told you. I’m new at this. I didn’t even know I had any so-called psychic talents until a few months ago. I’m certainly no authority, for heaven’s sake. But I’ll call my friend Renata Wilger in Munich, and see if she knows someone who can help you.”

“Another psychic voodoo priestess?”

She shook her head. “Not really. Renata is a distant cousin, and she’s sort of an agent for a family business. But she has contacts.”

“What family? It sounds like the Mafia.”

“No. It’s the Devanez family.” She hesitated. She’d have to tell him. She owed him the whole truth. “It’s a very old family and some of the members have certain . . . talents.”

“A whole family of freaks? What the hell am I getting into?”

“Look, I know this is difficult for you. Well, it’s not easy for me.” She didn’t blame him for being impatient. Her explanation would probably not make it any more acceptable. “I found out I was a member of the Devanez family at the same time I learned I was one of these ‘freaks’ you’re talking about. The Devanezes were originally landholders in southern Spain. In 1485, they fled Spain to escape the Inquisition. The local peasants had gone to their priests and accused the family of every form of witchcraft from predicting the future to shape changing. Some of it was sheer superstition, but there was no doubt the family had certain talents. The family scattered to practically every corner of the civilized world and went into hiding. But Jose, the head of the family, believed in strength in Unity, and didn’t want the family to lose contact with each other. He created a ledger that listed names, addresses, even talents, of family members, and sent it out of the country with his brother, Miguel. Since then there’s always been a keeper of the ledger who visits around the world and keeps track of the family.” She paused. “And problems that we might be having because of any gift we might have.”

“And Renata Wilger can contact this damn keeper of the ledger and find me help?”

“Renata is the keeper of the ledger.” She added quietly, “And she’s my friend. She’ll do whatever she can.”

“I hate having to rely on you, or her, or anyone else.” His tone was edged with frustration. “I don’t want this. I’m clutching at straws. I don’t want anything to do with your mumbo jumbo.”

“Then walk away from me. Go to a psychiatrist. I’m sure that he’d tell you that after a few hundred sessions you wouldn’t see any more spirits. Or maybe you’ll just learn to ignore them.”

He was silent. “Do you think I’m imagining them?”

“No, I think you’re too hardheaded to imagine anything.” She made a face. “I think I zapped you.”

He shook his head in disgust. “It just shows how far gone I am that that statement fills me with relief.”

She got to her feet. “I’ll call Renata. I need someone a hell of a lot more knowledgeable than I am to tell you what to do. I don’t even know where to start.”

“I’ll tell you where to start,” Joe said. “I want you to come with me to Allatoona.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“I want you to tell me if you hear Nancy Jo Norris and what she tells you about what happened to her. As long as I’m able to extract information from a victim, I might as well make use of her.”

“Very professional. Is that all?”

“No.” He hesitated, then said bluntly, “This weirdness scares the hell out of me. I don’t know how to handle it. I want company.”

FIVE

JOE FLASHED HIS BADGE AT the police officer on guard duty at the Allatoona crime scene. “We’re just going to have a look around. We won’t be long.” He nodded for Megan to go ahead. “I see the TV trucks are still here.”

The officer nodded. “They’re hoping to shoot some more footage of Senator Norris. It was like a circus here a few hours ago. They were on him like bees after honey.”

Not a good simile. There had been nothing honey-sweet about Ed Norris. His bitterness had been machete-sharp. Who could blame him?

He caught up with Megan. He pointed to the chalked outline. “That’s where we found her.”

“I don’t think that’s where he killed her,” Megan said. “It feels . . . wrong.”

“Why? Do you hear anything?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. It just isn’t right. Where did you see her?”

“In those trees. It was dusk.”

Now it was dark, and the shadows of the trees made the darkness seem heavy, forbidding.

“Sad. She’s so sad,” Megan murmured. “She’s beginning to understand.”

Joe turned to look at her. “Echoes?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. Something different.” She moved toward the trees. “I think that’s where she died. Not there by the lake. Is that possible?”

“Yes, we’ll know when we get the forensic report.” He followed her into the darkness.

He could feel the tension beginning to grip him. Stupid. He was looking straight ahead, afraid to gaze to the right or left. Afraid of what he’d see.

“It’s suspected of being a ritual killing,” he said. “The bastard could have killed her here, stripped her, and carried her out to the bank for his ceremony.”

“I think that’s what probably happened.” Megan’s gaze was traveling around the woods. “There’s . . . fear here.”

“Then why can’t you hear her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want to hear her. Or it could be I’m still numb from listening to the children on that island in the swamp. Perhaps they’re getting in the way.”

“That’s a lot of ‘maybes.’ “

“It’s the best I can do.” She glanced at him. “You asked me to come here, but I’m not helping much, am I?”

“No. I wanted you to hear her. I wanted you to give me some wise revelation that would prove I’m not completely bananas.” He shrugged. “But you did the next best thing. She hasn’t made an appearance. You may have scared her off. That’s pretty valuable too.”

“Then may we leave now? This sadness is overpowering.”

“I guess we might as well.” He gave another glance around, then started to turn to go. “To tell you the truth, I have to admit I’m relieved that—”

“ Don’t you dare leave me.”

“Oh, shit.”

Blond hair, red collegiate sweatshirt, blue eyes blazing at him. Nancy Jo Norris stood at the edge of the trees, blocking their path.

“What is it?” Megan was gazing at Joe’s face.

“The resident spirit of the wood.” He had to be flip because he was feeling that same sense of panic he’d felt before. “You don’t see her?”

“No.” Her gaze was following Joe’s to the place where Nancy Jo stood. “Nothing.”

“Stop ignoring me,” Nancy Jo said. “Of course she can’t see me. No one can see me. Not even Daddy. I tried and tried to talk to him, and he didn’t hear me, didn’t see me. I reached out and touched him, tried to hug him, and he didn’t even feel it.” She was blinking back tears. “He was hurting and I wanted to help him but he couldn’t feel me.”

“I can’t solve your problem, Nancy Jo,” Joe said. “I don’t know anything about this.” He turned to Megan. “Do something.”

She shook her head. “She’s your ghost. I can’t even hear her echoes. You’ll have to deal with her.”

Nancy Jo was glaring at Megan. “Is she some kind of ghost hunter? Is that why you brought her?” she asked bitterly. “I used to watch TV shows about ghost hunters. My roommate, Chelsea, and I used to make fun of them.”