Drowning in Amber (A Marie Jenner Mystery Book 2) (30 page)

“Do something,” I whispered to Marie.

Marie squatted next to the poor ghost dog, putting her hands near the place where her back fur would have been if she’d still been alive. Neither James or Veronica noticed what she was doing, because James had jumped into the creek to help Veronica get the carcass from the creek to the shore.

“It’s okay, girl,” Marie whispered to the ghost dog. “You’re okay. You’re a good dog.”

The ghost howl wound down, until only the whine was left. The ghost looked at Marie, and then over at Veronica, who was sitting on the edge of the creek, sobbing, as James gently hoisted the dog’s soaked body up to dry ground, and then at Marie again. That’s when the small flickers of light started to form around the ghost dog and Marie.

“I’ve seen that before,” I whispered.

Marie ignored me. Kept her eyes closed, and ran her hands through the place where the fur would have been, whispering, “Good dog, you rest now,” over and over as the bright white twinkles of light formed and coalesced around the two of them.

The flickering lights became a small blizzard. James, who had been consoling Veronica, looked at Marie, concern splashed all over his face.

“Marie? Are you all right?”

No answer, just the low murmur of her voice saying “good dog” over and over, and her hands moving over the ghost fur as the dog began to relax, slumping further and further down on the ground until she was lying flat, with her chin between her front paws.

James reached out one hand to touch her just as the blizzard of light swirled around and around in a tornado and the ghost dog let out one more whine.

A dog howled somewhere up the hill, followed by another, and another, and James jerked away from Marie without touching her.

“What’s going on?” he asked, and walked to the edge of the woods, to see what was happening in the dog park.

What was happening was the other dogs were sending one of their own on. That’s what I think.

The blizzard of light was almost gone, and with it the ghost dog. Just a faint outline on the leaf-covered grass and then, as the last of the lights flitted up toward the sky, even that disappeared, and Marie was alone. She sighed once, almost sounded like she was crying, and then slumped over the spot where ghost Gypsy had been.

“You should see this,” James said, walking back to Marie. “Those dogs are—” Then he saw her lying on the ground, unmoving.

“Marie!” he cried and ran to her, gathering her in his arms. “Are you all right?”

She moved weakly for a moment, as though recovering her senses, then opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

“Did I do it?” she asked.

“What?”

“Oh.” Her smile faded. “Oh. I must have—” She struggled briefly, and he set her back on the ground.

“Sorry,” he said. “I thought—”

“I’m all right,” she said. She walked away from him and toward Veronica, who was still boohooing over the body of her dead dog, and tripped over a root hidden in the fallen leaves. James stuck out a hand to help keep her upright, and she glared, yanking her arm from his. “I said I’m fine,” she snapped.

“Quit being such a bitch. He’s just trying to help,” I said. But all she did was ignore the shit out of me and walk over to Veronica, putting her arm around her shaking shoulders.

“We should move the body,” she said.

Veronica nodded. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without her,” she whispered. “We’ve been together every day since she came into my life.” She sniffled and pressed her sodden tissue to her face. “This is so hard.”

“I know,” Marie said, signaling over her shoulder for James. “Go get a blanket or something.”

“Will do.”

In short order he was back with a rough brown blanket. He quickly wrapped the dog’s body, then pulled it up into his arms. He led the way out of the grove of trees, with Veronica and Marie following, arm in arm. Then came me. Last ghost left in the dog park.

James loaded the dog’s body in the back of Veronica’s Suburban. When he closed the back, Veronica walked up to him, cheque in hand.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I wish it could have been a better ending,” he replied.

“So do I.”

She got in the Suburban and drove away, a funeral procession of one. We watched until the vehicle disappeared over a hill, then turned to James’s car.

“Let’s get out of here,” Marie whispered. “I’m exhausted.”

“CAN I HAVE
another glass of water?”

I hated the weak whiny sound of my voice, but moving on Gypsy the dog had been as draining as moving on a human, and I didn’t have anything more left.

It didn’t help that we’d taken the car back to the parking lot, and I had to walk four more blocks to the office. Just made me even more weak and whiny. If that was possible.

James continued to be a gentleman and got me another glass, which I guzzled greedily like I was dying of thirst, which I was, almost. But then he blew it.

“You must have tied one on last night,” he said. “You’re really dehydrated.”

“Let it go, James.”

I set the glass down and flicked on the computer so I didn’t have to look at him anymore. Then Eddie laughed, and that set me off. He should have known better. He’d actually seen what I did. And why I was so dehydrated.

“Leave me alone!” I roared, insta-anger huge in my chest and pushing to get out. Through my mouth. “I don’t need to listen to you! Just leave me the hell alone!”

“Jesus, lighten up, woman,” Eddie barked. “Can’t you even take a joke?”

James didn’t answer me at all. Just stomped off to his office and slammed his door.

“Frigging wonderful.” I hammered away at the keys, getting exactly nowhere and pissing myself off further. “Why don’t you go away, Eddie? I don’t have time for you and your jokes.”

I just wanted a little quiet time to pull myself together, maybe have another drink of water and eight hours sleep. That’s all I wanted.

What I got was the other guy in my life—the dead guy—losing it on me, too.

“Look,” he snapped, all humour gone. “I told you. I’m not leaving until you and I have a talk about that moving on thing. Remember?”

“Yes,” I hissed, still staring stubbornly at the computer monitor.

“Well, why haven’t you?”

“Haven’t I what?”

“Helped me move on? Why would you help a dog, but you won’t help me?”

I whirled my chair around so I was looking right at the seething ghost. He was even throwing off a little ecto goo, which I hate. But I ignored it. He had to understand he’d brought most of this on himself.

“You told me you didn’t want to move on. When we first met. Do you remember that?”

His forehead wrinkled, and the ecto goo eased as he thought, hard. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I remember.”

“So what’s the problem? You didn’t want to move on, so I didn’t move you on. I did exactly what you wanted. Then, when you said you wanted to move on, I said I’d help. Remember?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you so pissed?”

“Because I didn’t understand,” he said, anger seeping back into his voice. “I didn’t get it. It wasn’t until I talked to Noreen—”

It was my turn to wrinkle my forehead with hard thinking. “Oh. The woman at the park. Your friend.”

“Yep, that’s the one,” he replied. “She died and she moved on. All on her own. Hanging around isn’t right. Isn’t what we’re supposed to do. She told me that.”

“So?”

“So!” he roared. “So? Are you kidding me? You’re supposed to be the leader here! You got the power!”

“I’ve got the power?” I hammered a key, hard, lost my connection to the internet, and slapped the computer shut. “What frigging power do I have? I can see you. Talk to you. How is that powerful?”

“You know how this stuff is supposed to work,” Eddie said again. “Why didn’t you tell me? Lead me?”

“Why don’t you take responsibility for your own actions?” I barked back, absolutely at the end of my rope. What right did he have to tell me I was the one who was supposed to fix his death? Make sure he followed the rules? He’d never followed the rules in his life. Why was it up to me to make sure he did the right thing dead?

“I didn’t want any of this,” he said. He backed away from the desk as though my anger frightened him. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Do you think I did?”

“But you did,” he said. “You were the one looking for me. Remember?”

He was right. I had searched him out, and I’d done it so we could solve this stupid case and make some cash.

I was still too angry to admit any wrongdoing on my part, though. So, I acted like an even bigger jerk instead.

“Why don’t you hit the road if you hate the way I’m doing things so much?” I snapped. “You are nothing but a pain in my ass, Eddie.”

He took another step away from me, a stricken look on his face. “You really
were
just using me, weren’t you?”

God, yes I was. “No. Not really. It’s just that you told me—”

“You should have explained the rules better.”

“I barely understand the frigging rules, Eddie.”

“Maybe you should learn them, then,” he said. He shook his head and walked back to the window. “Because I don’t understand at all. I need some help here, and I think you at least owe me that.”

He was right. I did owe him that.

I knew it was better for ghosts to move on than to keep hanging around. And I knew I had the capacity to help him, just like I had with the dog.

“Dogs are easy,” I muttered.

“What?” Eddie asked, still staring out the window.

“I said dogs are—”

Then I stopped as the front door flew open and the drug cop Stewart and two of his cronies stormed in, looking mightily pissed. He hammered on my desk with an open fist.

“Where the hell is she?” he bellowed. “I need to talk to her. Now.”

Eddie backed away from my desk, looking frightened. I imagined I looked pretty frightened myself.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I said, even though I could guess, and wished James would step through the door and deal with this situation. He didn’t.

“Honoria Lowe,” Stewart yelled. “She’s not at home, and she’s not answering her cell. Where is she?”

“I have no idea.” I was glad James hadn’t told me where he was taking her, because now, at least, I didn’t have to lie to a police officer.

“I don’t believe you,” Stewart said. His buddies both leaned in, looking seriously scary.

“I really don’t,” I said again, hating how small and frightened my voice sounded. I pulled myself out of my chair and backed to James’s office door, eyes still on Stewart. I felt like I was watching a snake about to strike. “Let me get James. He might be able to help you.”

I knocked on the door, smiling weakly at the cops. No answer.

“James,” I called, knocking again, a little harder this time. “We have company.” Still no answer, so I threw open the door and yelled, “James! The cops are here!” as loudly as I could.

James was sitting behind his desk and didn’t even jump when the door flew open. “What do they want?”

“Honoria. They can’t find her.”

“Oh.” He looked back down at the computer screen and pressed another button. “So?”

“They think we know where she is.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Stewart pushed past me, his cronies following. “I know you two have contact with her. Tell me where she is. Now.”

James surprised the heck out of me by picking up the telephone. “No problem,” he said. “I’ll call her and set up a meeting.”

“We called her,” Stewart said. “No answer.”

“It could be she doesn’t want to talk to you,” James replied. “She doesn’t trust people she doesn’t know.”

“I’m a cop,” Stewart growled.

“So?” James pushed the last button and held the receiver to his ear.

Stewart didn’t seem to have a good answer. Just snapped his mouth shut and waited. We could hear the phone ring faintly through the receiver. Three times. Four. As the fifth ring started, James looked concerned.

“She always answers.” The sixth ring. James pulled the receiver away from his head and stared at it, then, when the seventh ring started, hung up.

“So, she didn’t answer you either,” Stewart said, rather unnecessarily.

“No, she didn’t.” James looked extremely worried, then tried to cover it up by looking nonchalant. It didn’t work.

“Do you know where she is?”

“No.” I tried not to look at James in surprise. He’d just lied. To the police. “We contact each other by phone.”

“So, you got no better idea what’s going on with her than I do?”

James stared at the phone as though through sheer force of will, he could get it to ring. “No, sorry.”