Audrey Claire - Libby Grace 02 - How to Blackmail a Ghost (12 page)

“I promise.”

He raised a hand as if he would touch my face again, but he paused with it inches away from my cheek. Then, one second he stood before me, and the next he was gone. I didn’t know what to expect when we talked, but I both looked forward to it and dreaded learning more about him.

Chapter Twelve

In the early evening the next day, I decided to return to the hardware store to do a little inventory. Rather than willing myself there, I had taken the long route and walked on the street. I imagined a cool breeze blew, and I heard night birds tweeting in the trees. Fellow citizens returning home from work or heading out for the evening greeted me, and I offered a bright smile and friendly hello in reply. My experiences up until that point seemed unreal. Here I was a ghost, strolling along as if I lived, and no one was the wiser. At least no one but my blackmailer.

I feared this person and having them uncover my secret before I decided when I would go away. After Ian left my house, I had thought more on my decision. While I welcomed getting to know him better, I stood firm by my belief that his life too was affected by my presence. He liked solitude and quiet. Yet, I had called upon him to erase memories and investigate alongside me. I stopped walking. For anyone else, what I had asked Ian to do might actually be considered an adventure—well, if they had his glamouring ability of course. If Ian weren’t a recluse, he might have enjoyed himself.

Continuing my journey to work, I turned my thoughts to Sharon Roache. The secretary might have killed Sadie to keep her secret. I frowned. That seemed extreme though. Many unmarried women got pregnant out of wedlock. Even in the south, it wasn’t the stigma it once was. Sure, some old fogies might look at Sharon funny, Sadie Barnett included while she lived, but who cared? Sharon didn’t strike me as the type of woman who could deal with Olivia Walsh’s icy tongue and cow at Sadie’s.

As I turned onto Main Street, I directed my attention outward and was surprised to find the object of my musings just ahead of me. No better time than the present to talk to Sharon again. I quickened my pace to draw up beside her and pasted a huge smile on my face. “Sharon, I hear congratulations are in order.”

She blinked at me, confused. “What are you talking about?”

I pointed at her belly, still grinning as if her news were the talk of the town. “Your baby, of course. I always loved little ones and wished I’d had more. It’s wonderful when I hear about new mothers, so I wanted to say congratulations. When are you due?”

Instead of the happy or at least accepting response I expected, shock registered on Sharon’s face, and she shifted from one foot to the other. Her gaze skidded past my shoulder, almost hopeful. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

I couldn’t tell her how I had found out, so I headed off any questions with, “Oh, everyone knows. It’s all over town. You know how these things spread.”

My claim would not turn back on me. I had found gossipers pretended to already know the juicy news that other gossipers tried to share with them. No one wanted to admit to being the last in the loop.

Sharon clenched her hands at her sides, and the handbag she’d held on her shoulder slipped off. I reached out to help her since it seemed obvious my knowing about her condition had upset her.

“I’m sorry. I thought it was joyous news for you. Let me help you with that bag.”

A heavy hand on my shoulder jerked me backward. “Don’t touch her! I don’t know what
you
would do to her.”

I gaped at Bart, who came up behind me and walked around to stand next to Sharon. When had I become the walking plague? His words hurt my feelings as they closely matched Isabelle’s when she warned her brother away from me.

“I was just telling her—”

“It’s not your business,” he snapped.

I gasped and looked from Sharon to Bart and back again. Her cheeks flamed red, and she wouldn’t meet my gaze. Bart glared daggers at me. “You’re the father, aren’t you?”

“Just stay away from Sharon.” He loomed over me, angry and threatening.

I held my ground, determined not to be cowed by this man, even though I felt like going invisible and whisking away as quickly as my ectoplasmic energy would allow. “I don’t know why you have such a short fuse lately. Others have even commented on it, but I refuse to be take the brunt of it.”

“Who have you been talking to about me?”

Too late, I recalled where I had heard others talking about his anger. I couldn’t tell him I had been listening in at the pool hall. “That doesn’t matter.”

Bart advanced closer, and I continued to back up. Sharon grabbed his arm to pull him back. “Stop it, Bart. Leave her alone.”

Bart shook Sharon’s hand off and advanced on me. I started to think he would attack and weighed my options. I couldn’t disappear right there in front of the gathering crowd, nor could I let him hit me. Would he stoop so low, a man of the law and up until recently a good person? I did not want to find out.

Before I could make a decision either way, Ian appeared out of nowhere and hoisted Bart off his feet to dangle in the air by one hand. A collective gasp rose in the air from the crowd, including mine.

Ian thrust the officer against the wall, hard enough for Bart to cry out. Bart struggled to free himself, grasping at Ian’s hand, punching at Ian’s side without effect. I stood there staring with everyone else, my mouth hanging open. The next instant, Clark pushed through the onlookers.

“What’s going on here?” Clark demanded. When he spotted Ian and Bart, his eyes narrowed. “Put my officer down, Mr. McClain.”

Ian didn’t acknowledge Clark’s presence. His gaze never left Bart’s, but I had the feeling Ian did nothing to Bart’s mind. Ian stood calm and quiet, but I somehow knew he was angry.

“I said…” Clark began and reached out to grab Ian’s arm. Instinct told me I couldn’t let Clark make contact. I wrapped fingers around Clark’s forearm, tugged, and shuffled in front of him. He saw it was me and seemed to question my involvement. At his momentary hesitation, I grabbed Ian’s arm and pulled as I had done with Clark. I might as well have been dragging on a band of steel for all the movement I produced in Ian.

I leaned in closer to him and whispered, “Please, Ian. Put him down.”

Ian came to life. He let Bart down to the ground, and Bart shook himself as if he had wrenched himself free of Ian’s hold. His face flamed red, and speculation spread through the onlookers as to whether Ian would be arrested for assaulting a police officer. I whirled to face Clark.

“Don’t arrest him, Clark, please. He was just defending me. He meant no harm.”

Clark took in each of us in turn, but when he looked at me, I saw the speculation. I hadn’t helped Ian in admitting what he had done he did for me.

“What was this all about?” Clark said through clenched teeth. I clicked my own teeth together. I had said enough. Clark’s temper seemed to rise when no one answered. “Well?”

“Ask her,” Bart snapped and nodded to me.

“Shut up, Bart.” Sharon gave him a shove, but he ignored her.

“If I can’t get answers here,” Clark told us, “then we can all go down to the station and have a chat.”

The crowd groaned in disappointment.

“Go on. Get out of here,” Clark shouted. “There’s nothing more to see.”

Taking their time, the crowd dispersed, and Clark spun toward his vehicle parked at the curb. I had picked a great spot to question Sharon, just the right place to get into trouble with the law.

“Do you need a ride, Libby?” Clark asked.

Ian took my hand, and I tried not to wink out in shock. “Liberty and I will meet you at the station. My…uh…car is parked nearby.”

Do you have to antagonize him more?

I wasn’t aware Ian owned a car even though I had once used the excuse of borrowing it myself. Clark looked at Ian’s hand holding mine and then at my face. Then he made a rude noise, spun on his heel, and charged to his car.

“Don’t make me come looking for you two. Five minutes!” He drove away.

I waited by Ian’s side while Bart led Sharon down the street without a backward glance at either of us. I assumed he would drive the two of them the short distance to the station. I started walking down the street, and Ian moved with me.

“You don’t have a car, do you?” I asked.

He shrugged, which wasn’t an answer.

“I have a car, which I keep in my garage. I do not need it often.”

“I would love to drive again. Ah well, I think we better get moving.”

He agreed, and I winked out. A few seconds after I blinked in not far from the station, Ian
whooshed
up beside me. We waited in the shadows while the humans arrived one after the other. Clark, Bart, and Sharon strode into the building, and a beat after, Ian and I joined them.

I realized several truths—as a cop, Bart was probably capable of violence. He was overly protective of Sharon, and not in a good way. He might have killed Sadie, and worst of all—he was definitely the one who knew my secret. That meant Bart might also be my blackmailer, assuming not more than one person had uncovered my state of being.

Clark first asked Sharon into his office and had the rest of us wait in the lobby. Bart stomped toward his boss. “I want to go in with her.”

If a look could wither a person, Bart would have died right then. Clark pointed to a foldable chair against the wall, not even toward the area where his officers normally worked. “Sit there and wait.”

Clark’s fury must have at last penetrated Bart’s thick skull. He spun toward the chair, clumped toward it, and took a seat. However, the second Clark’s office door closed, Bart jumped up to pace. I glanced over at the second officer on duty, then in the direction of the dispatcher. Neither were close enough to overhear my words if I lowered my voice.

I approached Bart and blocked his path. He scowled at me but made no move against me. Straightening my back and shoulders, I asked, “Did you send me threatening letters?”

Bart blustered, and the other officer eyed him. Ian stepped closer to me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bart growled.

I was not deterred, nor did I believe him. “Did you kill Sadie to keep her quiet about the baby?”

This time he burst out laughing. “You’re more ignorant than I thought.”

Ian spoke up behind me. “Perhaps Sharon did, and you are covering for her.”

Bart blanched. His coloring was as good as an admission as was his fumbling over his words when I asked him about the letters. I believed without a doubt Bart was involved, but I had no proof and no motive other than the baby. The pregnancy still felt flimsy by itself. I was tempted to get Ian to force a confession from Bart, but it seemed too much like what Bart had been trying to do to me with the blackmail. I had experience with running roughshod over another person and producing results I could not take back. I didn’t want to handle things that way again. Ian had never said whether his ability hurt others. I refused to take a chance, but what else could I do? I would have to find a way, just like normal investigators did.

“You’re Sharon’s baby’s father, aren’t you?” I asked Bart.

To my surprise, he answered right away. “Yes, but we didn’t tell anyone. How did you know?”

The pointed question fell between us. I stood there saying nothing with thoughts jumbling my mind. Bart took a half step toward me. Ian spoke without moving from behind me.

“Do you want to threaten her again?” Ian’s words were soft-spoken, deadly. A chill of apprehension raced over my being. I felt frozen to the spot, and from the look of him, so did Bart. The officer might not know Ian’s secret, but he had to sense Ian didn’t care about the law or the fact that Bart carried a weapon, or even that he might be trained to defend himself in other ways. Bart intimidated me, but Ian’s silent presence could paralyze.

Bart looked from me to Ian. “You’re not afraid of being arrested.”

“No.”

“It took a lot of strength to lift me off my feet with one hand like that.”

“You state the obvious,” Ian countered, and Bart shoved trembling fingers into his hair.

When he couldn’t get to Ian, Bart focused on me again. “What are you?”

I smiled. “A divorced mother who needs to get home to her son, so let’s make this quick, shall we?”

Bart sneered. “That’s up to the chief.”

As if on cue, Clark’s door opened, and Sharon reappeared. She seemed paler than she had been when she walked in. Bart rushed over to her and touched her arm. Sharon drew away, a crease forming between her brows. Bart whispered something to Sharon, but Clark cleared his throat.

“Are you going to keep me waiting, Bart?”

“No, chief, sorry.” Bart shuffled into the office, and the door clicked shut behind them.

I blocked Sharon’s path before she could escape out the door. “Do you think Bart killed Sadie to protect you?” She swayed on her feet, and when Ian placed a hand at her elbow, she accepted his support for a moment and then straightened.

“Bart and I…”

“Yes?” I prompted.

She tightened her lips and then shuffled around me, ignoring my call as she headed out the door.

Sighing, I turned to Ian and whispered, “Do you think Bart will tell Clark about my secret?”

Ian considered it. “Would Bart know you gave the first letter to the chief?”

I brightened. “He might. After all, as far as Clark knew, there was no reason to hide the investigation. He may have even asked one of the others to process it. Then again, if he asked Bart, that might be why Clark didn’t find any prints.”

“Whether he found prints and covered it up or not makes no difference. If Bart informs the chief about your secret, he will also reveal himself as primary suspect in the blackmail.”

I
thumped
a fist into my palm. “You’re right. Clark is clever enough to make the connection, and Bart knows that.”

Ian frowned, and I chuckled. He didn’t like it that I gave Clark a compliment on his intelligence. Ian probably hadn’t meant his words to come out that way. After all, Ian insisted on sticking to calling Clark “the chief” even as I called him Clark. Then again, so did Monica and most everyone else in town. I realized I had made the switch at some point and kicked myself for it.