Drowning in Amber (A Marie Jenner Mystery Book 2) (31 page)

“Son of a bitch.” Stewart pulled out a business card and flipped it onto James’s desk. “Call if you hear from her. Find out where she is, and call immediately. You understand?”

“Yes.”

Stewart stood over the desk a moment more, staring at James. “So where’s your car?” he finally asked. “That old Volvo finally give out on you?”

I blinked, and blinked again, but James didn’t. “I found a place to park it,” he said, and smiled like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “This is a bit of a tough neighbourhood.”

“Huh,” Stewart said. He glared, but James didn’t respond. I was afraid I was responding enough for both of us, if he looked at me.

He didn’t. Just turned on his heel after that incredibly uncomfortable moment, and left.

I waited until the door slammed shut before I asked the obvious question. “So, what do we do now?”

“Go watch Stewart,” James said shortly. “Make sure he isn’t waiting for us out there. I’ll try Honoria again. She should have answered.”

He picked up the phone and dialed as I scurried to the window and watched Stewart and his people come out of the building and head for a dark blue sedan parked in front of our building. They got in and sat.

“They’re not moving,” I said.

“They will,” Eddie murmured. “Keep watching.”

“I’m still not getting an answer,” James said. “We gotta go.”

“But Stewart’s just sitting there,” I said, still staring out the window. I could see the three of them having an animated discussion inside the car and guessed it wasn’t about where to go for lunch. I hoped they’d decide we weren’t worth their time and move on. “What about you sneaking out the back?”

“Won’t work,” James replied, as he put down the receiver again and walked into the front office. “He’ll follow me to my car. And I don’t want that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” James said. “Even he’d be able to follow me, if I left now.”

“What are we going to do?” I breathed.

“They’ll go,” Eddie said. He wasn’t even looking out the window anymore. “Trust me. One more minute and they’ll leave.”

“I don’t know, exactly,” James said. “They have to leave, or we’re stuck here.”

“Any second now,” Eddie said.

I could see the conversation inside the vehicle had turned decidedly angry. As Stewart punched the steering wheel of the sedan, I could hear short angry blasts from the horn. Then, without warning, the sedan lurched out into the steady stream of traffic. Horns blared as it weaved in and out between the other cars on the road. After a few moments, it was out of my sight.

“They’re gone,” I said.

“Told you,” Eddie said, sounding extremely self-satisfied.

“Good.” James ran back into his office, returning with his keys. “Let’s go before they decide to come back. We have to find Honoria and make sure she’s all right.”

“I think I should stay here.” The last thing in the world I wanted to do was have another meeting with Honoria the Clairvoyant, who felt it was important that I let everybody know about my little seeing-ghosts secret. She might forget that she promised not to say anything if we helped her. I didn’t think I’d be able to stand that. “You know. Just in case she calls back.”

“She has my cell number,” James said, then shook his head and headed out the door. “Whatever. Stay. Do what you want.”

“Somebody should be here if she calls!” I cried. The door banged shut on my words, and I sat down and held my head in my hands.

“Your headache back?” Eddie asked. “Gee, that’s too bad.”

“Shut up, Eddie.”

MARIE DIDN’T LOOK
too good. She sat hunched over with her head on the desk, rocking it back and forth, and occasionally saying, “shit” under her breath.

I wasn’t one to let somebody else’s bad day get in my way though. I had questions for her. And she was going to answer them.

“You ready?”

“Yes.” She didn’t lift her head from the desk, but she had answered me. Good enough.

“Do only the messed-up ghosts need help moving on?”

Marie glanced at me like she didn’t quite understand the question, so I tried again.

“Like me,” I said. “Noreen moved on right after she died. But me, I’m stuck. So, are you like a ghost shrink or something? You help the ghosts who don’t get the whole moving-on thing? Is that what you are?”

Marie laughed, but it was not a happy sound. “Sure,” she said. “Ghost shrink sounds as good as anything else.”

“Cool.”

I’d only had one shrink before. Court-appointed, the last time I’d been caught breaking into a Shell station. They’d decided that no one sane would throw himself through a plate glass window to get at a chocolate bar. Especially since the gas station was open at the time. Looking back on it, I could see why this decision was made, but I hadn’t been ready to give up my life of drugs and crime right then, so the shrink got nothing much out of me. Just enough for him to certify me sane but belligerent. I spent a winter behind bars for that.

At least I was warm.

“So how you going to do it?” I asked.

“Do what?”

“Help me move on?”

She stared down at the scarred wooden top of her desk, as though considering all the potential therapies she had at her fingertips. “I dunno,” she finally said. “Wanna talk about your childhood or something?”

“Really?” I couldn’t quite believe it was going to go this way, but decided to play along. “You want me to lie down on a couch?”

She stared at me, her eyebrows raised incredibly high. “I’d rather you didn’t,” she finally said.

“Oh.”

“Drug use usually stems from childhood trauma. So, let’s talk about your childhood. Did your dad beat you?”

“No. Just left.”

“Oh.” She said the word the same way the prison shrink had.

“Don’t read too much into that,” I replied. “He did leave, but I got it. It wasn’t my fault. It was my mom’s fault.”

“Oh!” Same sound as the shrink, and I almost laughed. They’re always so happy when they think they figure out which parental figure did the most damage. And they all think it’s either mommy or daddy issues.

“I’m shitting you.” I laughed. “They just couldn’t make a go of it. Mom’s a bit fucked-up—come on, you met her, you know what I’m talking about—and Dad had a nice little drinking problem. Since it wouldn’t go away, he did. Mom blamed herself and decided to make up for it by having the cleanest house on the block.”

“But you don’t blame her for everything?”

“Nope. I used to, but then I stopped that.”

“Why?”

“Because I realized she couldn’t help the way she was. You should have met
her
mother!”

“Huh,” she muttered. “You’re fairly self-aware for—”

“A ghost?”

“No, actually, for a drug addict,” she replied. “So, why the drugs? If you get that your parents screwed up, but you felt they did their best at the time—in other words, if you forgave them for your childhood—why did you resort to drugs?”

“I resorted to drugs before I figured out about my parents. By the time I let them off the hook for my shitty little life, I was well and truly hooked. I couldn’t figure out how to live my life without them.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” I said. “I went to crystal meth, baby. Started there, and stayed there my whole, short, and pitiful life. That shit is a gateway drug to hell. Don’t let anybody tell you any different.”

I sighed, wishing I didn’t have to tell her any of this. It sounded so stupid. Which it was.

“After the last time I was picked up by the cops, I decided to do a little research to try and get off the old meth train.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I couldn’t. Coming off—well, it wasn’t just the physical sickness and then the depression, though that was pretty bad. Nope, it was the realization that my life was a big pile of crap. That’s what kept pushing me back to drugs. My life was so bad, and I had engineered the whole thing. I couldn’t not be on drugs.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” The sympathy in her eyes made me feel sick, so I turned away and walked over to the window. At least when I looked out there, I just saw idiots running around looking for the good life. I didn’t have to see my failure reflected in the eyes of my ghost shrink.

“I don’t understand,” Marie finally said, forcing me to turn back to her.

“What?”

“I don’t understand why you aren’t ready to move on. You should be. You’ve forgiven your parents, understood that your life was designed by you and that it ended up this way because of decisions you made . . . What’s holding you here?”

“I don’t know! Jesus, I’ve confessed all my frigging sins, so why can’t you figure this part out? Why do I have to do it all?”

Marie suddenly laughed, and she sounded relieved. I glanced at her, and she looked like she had a clue. Maybe she knew what it was I had to do.

“What?”

“Holy crow,” she said. “I’m an idiot! The answer was right in front of my face the whole time. You don’t need to forgive anyone. You need to be forgiven. By your mom. Or maybe your friend, Luke.”

“Luke Stewart?”

“Yes.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “You talked about thinking it was your fault he was dead. Could that be what’s holding you here?”

Something thunked in my chest like a big lock suddenly sprang open. “Might be,” I whispered.

“You think about that,” she replied, her voice more gentle than I’d ever heard it. “Because if it’s either your mom or Luke, I might be able to help you make amends.”

“How would you do that?” I felt something—hope, or something close—warm my chest.

She smiled, and the warmth grew. I almost believed she could do something for me. Something real.

“Trust me—” she started, then stopped mid-sentence when the frigging phone rang.

“Ignore it!” I barked.

“It’ll just take a second,” she said, and picked up the receiver.

I could tell by the look on her face it wasn’t going to take a second. It was going to take a hell of a lot longer than that. She was talking to James, and he was giving her nothing but bad news.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” she asked. “How can that be?”

She listened for a moment, and her face went back to looking pinched. “Well, that’s fantastic,” she muttered. “What should I do?” She listened for another minute more, then snapped, “Of course I’m willing to help you! Don’t be an ass!”

“I’ll go check out her apartment,” I said. She ignored me. “I said I’ll go check out her apartment,” I said, louder this time.

She snapped to attention and hastily put her hand over the receiver. “Would you really? Maybe she went back there—”

“Happy to.”

Actually, I wasn’t. That blonde chick creeped the hell out of me, but if Marie was going to do something to help me move on, I could afford to be altruistic and shit, and help her.

“Great,” she breathed, then pulled the receiver back to her ear. “I’ll do what I can from this end. Just keep looking for her. Yes! I’ll be here when you get back!”

She slammed down the phone and shook her head. “That guy drives me crazy!” Then she turned to me. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said. “I’m going to help you in any case, Eddie. Really.”

“I know,” I said, and when I smiled at her, it felt real. “I want to.”

“Thanks.”

“When I get back—”

“I’ll help you move on.”

“Cool.”

But as I walked out the door, I didn’t know if it was so cool. She’d talked about making amends with Luke. But Luke was dead. The only way I could make amends would be through his father, and that son of a bitch deserved to rot in hell for the way he’d treated Luke. And me.

I hoped she knew what she was doing.

I ALMOST DIDN’T
make it to Honoria’s apartment. Took the long route, through the park, and saw a buddy sitting there, high as a kite, and thought, “What the hell, one hit, just for the road.”

Yep. Actually thought that. Would have been so easy. Just had to step in, and I would have been there.

It was the thought of going into Honoria’s apartment again that had pushed me to the addict thought again. I was sure of it. Man, that chick freaked the hell out of me. Every time I was near her, it felt she was looking right into my soul. Seeing right into my soul. Marie—I didn’t get that vibe from her. She could see me, and talk to me, and all that shit. But she did not look directly into my soul. It’s more like one person talking to another with her. I could hide what I wanted. Couldn’t do that with Honoria. She saw fucking near all.