Ghost Walking (A Maggie York Paranormal Mystery Book 1) (25 page)

“Why wouldn’t you?” Jenson interrupted. “What’s the matter with you two? She’s running around placing herself in danger, and you’re OK with that, Brandt?”

Maggie stiffened. “He’s not responsible for me.”

“Well somebody should be,” Jenson said, but he was frowning at Brandt.

Aw, hell. Now Josh was on the hot seat too. Maybe they needed to stop talking and listen.

“Uh, Captain, can we get back to why you called me?”

“Good idea, York, before you choke on your own foot.” He picked up a paper form. “Castile’s filed a formal complaint for harassment. No one here gives a damn. Except I don’t like hearing this way that one of my detectives has gone toe to toe with the city’s biggest crime boss.”

“I’m on medical leave. I didn’t think I needed to report in.”

Jenson’s dark gray eyes settled on her, hard, unflinching. “Brandt, leave us. Detective York and I need to have a private conversation.”

Maggie didn’t look at Josh as he silently got up and left. She sat unflinching, meeting the captain’s gaze—her own neutral, unchallenging—but when the door clicked shut, her chin rose a fraction.

“Don’t take an attitude with me,” he warned. “As long as you’re affiliated with this department—which right now is in question—you still report to me. Starting now…with the Castile business and anything else department-related. Do this my way, or hand in your resignation.”

Maggie didn’t even hesitate or question if he was bluffing. He wasn’t. She told him everything that didn’t involve Hurst or witchcraft or her feelings for Josh.

When she finished, he learned back. “What’s the deal, York?”

Maggie frowned, taken aback by the question. “Sorry, sir. I don’t understand.”

He tapped his fingers impatiently on the desktop. “You don’t appear mentally deranged. Yet you’re running around acting like a clueless rookie, confronting Castile without backup, charging into an active intruder scene—again without backup.” He paused. When she didn’t jump in, he went on. “This isn’t the behavior of the cop I knew six months ago. Even Coridan says you’re different. And Brandt thinks you’re hiding something.”

She shot him a surprised look, and he amended. “At least he thought so two weeks ago. Perhaps that’s changed.” He wrinkled his brows in speculation. “Is there something you should tell me, Detective? This is your chance.”

Since there was no power on earth—or beyond the veil—that could make her reveal her newfound heritage or gift to him, she offered the only thing she could. “Brandt thinks I’m over-compensating.”

Jenson narrowed his eyes. “Sound like shrink psychobabble. Is he talking about a loss of confidence as a result of the shooting?”

“I think that’s the theory,” she said a little stiffly.

“But you don’t agree.”

Maggie hesitated, knowing her future might hinge on her next words. “He might have been right at one time, but I’m fine now, sir. Yes, the shooting rattled me for a few days or weeks. But I’ve been kept away from a job I love for months, and my own case has stagnated until three weeks ago. Since then I’ve been doubted, even interrogated. If my recent actions seem extreme, what alternatives did I have? I don’t have a badge, I can’t get a warrant, and can’t call dispatch for backup. If you want me to quit doing things on my own, give me my job.”

* * *

A few minutes later, Maggie opened Jenson’s door and scanned the squad room. Brandt sat with one leg casually dangling over the corner of his desk, talking with someone on the phone. He spotted her immediately and disconnected. His brows shot up when she gestured for him to join them.

He gave her a questioning look as he walked past, and she did her best to warn him to listen, not talk.

The captain waited until they were both seated, his lowered brows a clear sign he wasn’t totally at ease with what he had to say. Despite the recent discussion, she had no idea why he wanted to talk with her and Brandt together.

Captain Jenson cleared his throat. “After an enlightening conversation on Detective York’s recent activities, I can’t say I approve of her tactics, but her theory of drawing Castile out has some merit.”

Maggie shot a look at Josh. He must wonder how much she’d said. She crossed her fingers that he’d realize it didn’t include any ghostly help.

“Even if it puts her out there as bait,” Jenson conceded. “In some ways Harry would be easier to protect, but we’ve gone to a good deal of trouble to hide his whereabouts, and at least Maggie isn’t an unarmed civilian. Plus she’s already placed herself in Castile’s gun sights. The department will back up what you two have started, but only under two non-negotiable conditions.”

“Which are?” Brandt prompted when the captain didn’t continue immediately.

“Constant surveillance on Maggie—I assume it won’t be a problem for you to continue—and that we locate and do the same with Castile. Twenty-four/seven.”

“Are you thinking he might handle the job himself?” Brandt asked. “He hasn’t done any dirty work in twenty years.”

“No, we won’t get that lucky, but by the time he or we make the final move, I want the name of every person who goes near him. We still have a mole in our building. When Castile goes down, I want every associate with him. And I want to be able to put our hands on him the instant we have enough for an arrest warrant.”

Brandt smiled and nodded, clearly sharing the sentiment. “We’ll do our best. Is that all, sir?”

“No. I want a concrete plan on my desk before you or she goes poking the bear again. I don’t care if it takes hours, days, or weeks, but bring me a workable plan. And…” He wiggled his finger like he’d done in the beginning. “I don’t want to see any evidence of this business between you on duty. I don’t give a damn what you do in private, but I don’t want to see it or hear about it. Understood?”

Maggie swallowed a laugh. “Yes, sir.” She didn’t dare look at Josh, but she assumed he’d conveyed his agreement because the captain seemed satisfied.

“OK. Get out of here, and keep your heads down.”

Maggie nearly raced out of the office, trying to contain herself. As soon as they were out of the building, she laughed and grabbed his arm with a big grin.

“What’s got you so revved?” he asked. “Does sticking your neck out make you this happy?”

“No, it’s what else he told me before you came back. If I don’t get myself killed, and I pass a psych exam, I could be reinstated when this is over.”

Josh’s grin matched hers, and he drew her into a quick hug. “Terrific! I knew he was a smart man. Who else can he get to work when they’re on medical leave or is so thrilled with putting her life on the line? He’d be a fool if he didn’t want you to return.”

She stepped back and cocked her head. “He said that’s what you told him two weeks ago.”

“I guess I did.”

Josh acted like vouching for her was no big deal. It was to her.

She frowned. “But, Josh, that’s when you thought I was crazy and a killer.”

“I did not.” He smiled, tucked an arm around her, and pulled her in the direction of her car. “You would have shot him, not do a messy job with a knife. And never crazy. A little unique, maybe, but I knew you were sane the moment I met you.”

“Really? Was that the moment I was pointing a gun at you?”

“You didn’t shoot.”

“That’s true.” She twisted her head to look up at him. “And what about Hurst’s ghost?” She felt him sigh.

“I know you’re not making it up. Can we take one thing at a time? Right now I’d rather worry about the real people I know can hurt us.”

It wasn’t the answer she’d wanted, but it wasn’t bad.

Two hours later, Maggie rubbed her temples and uncurled her legs from the living room couch in her apartment. They’d been brainstorming possible plans since leaving Jenson’s office. “You’re right, Josh. Everywhere we turn there are more questions. We can’t set up a plan unless we have some idea who we’re after and who we can trust at our back. The captain wants to take down Castile’s flunkies, but we don’t know any of the major ones—the traitor inside District 13, the hit man who took out Hurst and/or Pardson, the driver of the Tahoe in the swamp, the intruder at my apartment. Or who and why Wernier was shot. All loose ends.”

She paced across the living room, turned, and came back. “Maybe that’s why Jenson was so annoyed. I jumped the gun. He wants a clean sweep, and all I’ve been looking at is the head of the snake.”

Brandt pushed out of the chair and put his arms around her, resting his chin in her hair. “I love the way you get all fired up about something. But we’re not going to solve this tonight. Give it a break. Why don’t I take you to dinner, we’ll visit Mom, and start on this again in the morning?”

She leaned against him, took a deep breath, and dialed it down. He could do that for her, bring her back from the brink. “Does this include time for pillow talk?”

He kissed her forehead. “It’s on my agenda.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

By Monday morning, Maggie and Brandt had concluded no plan was going to work as long as Castile’s mole operated freely within the PD. In fact, he or she might be the key to crack Castile’s network. Consequently, an update on Vice’s investigation was at the top of their list, and Brant called Wernier’s partner, Toby Sloane, to set up a meeting for early afternoon.

But Maggie had been edgy all morning. Something felt off. She’d checked the hallway twice, wondering if Hurst was nearby. The sensation was more than cop instinct that came from the gut, but rather a nagging, ominous presence inside her head. Not the same atmosphere surrounding Hurst nor the eerie feeling of death scenes, yet linked with them in an indefinable way. She shrugged her shoulders a couple of times as if she could shake off the bad feeling.

Although Josh didn’t feel the same uneasiness, he didn’t discount it, pointing out that the same forces allowing Maggie to see ghosts might manifest in other ways. Deciding it was a time for extra caution, including hiding their activities from the eyes of the precinct’s mole, Brandt called Toby back and changed the meeting location to a coffee shop across town.

Toby showed right on time, but his drawn face said he wasn’t happy to be there. He and Wernier had been partners and friends for eight years, and clearly Toby didn’t want to talk about it. He was quiet, distant, until he realized they were following up on the lab leak.

His demeanor abruptly changed, and he leaned across the table. “You think that’s why he was killed? I’ve wondered. Everyone is focused on this undercover protection case, and a recent narcotics sting that went sour, but he was more invested in the lab leak.”

“That was my impression. We’d talked a couple of times.” Brandt absently stirred his coffee even though he drank it black. “The night before the shooting, he told us he’d have good news soon. Any idea what he meant?”

Toby wrinkled his brows. “I heard he’d said something like that. I figured he was following a lead. But like I told the commander, I was interviewing a witness that morning, and I’d only seen Shanks briefly. He mentioned lunch—and wanting a blackened catfish po’boy. Then he said he had to see someone first, but he’d be back in plenty of time.” A shadow crossed his face.

Maggie pressed. “No mention of a name, a place?”

“I wish I had asked, but I didn’t.” Toby spread his hands in frustration. “I had the impression it was an informant.”

“A regular he’d used before?”

“Yeah. Maybe. He didn’t say so, just a feeling. You know, at ease, like he’d done this before and wasn’t worried.”

Maggie did know. A cop got to know regulars, even trust them to a degree, know their limits. New ones made you nervous. Had one of Shanks’s regulars betrayed him? If not, had his informant seen the shooting? Known the sniper? They needed to have a chat with his CI. Wouldn’t it be ironic if Wernier’s death was the case that brought Castile down?

It was past lunchtime, and Maggie couldn’t get the reference to po’boys out of her head. She hadn’t had one for weeks, and they were in Josh’s car on the way to a favorite cop cafe when Coridan called.

“Hey, partner.” His cheerfulness sounded forced. Not unexpected considering the mood at the NOPD. “I haven’t talked to you in a couple of days. This Wernier shooting has all of us working long hours.”

“I can imagine. Wish I could help.”

“I thought you might be back soon. I heard you met with Jenson.”

She laughed. “Geez, what a bunch of gossips. Who told you that?”

“Don’t remember exactly. I heard Brandt was there too, so maybe he mentioned it to someone. Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Are you coming back?”

Maggie frowned. Josh wouldn’t have told anyone. Why had Coridan suggested it?

“I honestly don’t know,” she said. Jenson had asked her to keep that part of their discussion confidential, and she’d already told Josh. She held back from sharing again. Besides, it wasn’t guaranteed. “He didn’t rule it out entirely.” That should be vague enough.

“What’s it depend on? Can I help?”

“Wish you could. I think it’s up to me.” Her other phone line beeped in. Perfect excuse to avoid further questions. “Thanks for the offer, but I have to take this call. We’ll talk later.”

She switched to the other line and straightened at Dalia’s sharp voice.

“I have to see you right away,” her cousin said. “Can you come now?”

Maggie glanced at Josh. It was way too soon for him to meet her unusual relatives. “Um, I’m working. Police work. Why don’t I stop by later? Or maybe tomorrow.”

“No, dear. This won’t wait. It’s important.”

Damn. Now what? “OK. Thirty minutes.” That should give her time to stop at home and pick up her own car. She disconnected.

“Problem?” he asked.

“My cousin wants to see me. It’s probably nothing, but she’s insistent. If you swing by the apartment, I’ll drive myself.”

“I can take you.”

“It’s really not necessary. No reason to bore you with family stuff.”

He threw her an amused look. “Afraid the relatives will scare me off?”