Audrey Claire - Libby Grace 02 - How to Blackmail a Ghost (13 page)

To my surprise, Clark allowed both Ian and me to be interviewed together. I looked at Ian to see if this was his doing, but he appeared serene as usual. He stepped aside and held the door expectantly for me to precede him. Having no choice, I strode into the office and took a seat. Ian sat down beside me. Now to figure out what the other two had told Clark while keeping my own secret and making sure Ian and Clark did not get into a disagreement.

Chapter Thirteen

Clark didn’t question us right away. Rather he excused himself to go out to talk to the other officer. While I waited, I squirmed, wondering what I would say to him. I had already proven myself to be the blunt type. I didn’t know if it was a part of my personality or I was a product of my friends. I eyed Ian sitting at my side. He must have sensed me watching and turned to look at me. I felt like my heart should race, and I glanced away.

“Your concentration?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

I needed to think about my plan to get either Sharon or Bart to admit which of them killed Sadie. They must be guilty. Otherwise why would Bart push me to take the blame for the murder? If the police arrested me, there would be no reason to look at anyone else. The case would close, and they could go back to expecting their little one. They did not understand I had a young child at home too, and Jake needed me.

Clark returned, and I pulled myself from my thoughts. Before either Clark or I could say a word though, Ian spoke up. “Your choice in an officer is questionable.”

My jaw dropped, and Clark leaned over his desk toward Ian. The move from the big man must have intimidated many, and he probably expected a visible response from Ian. I saw his annoyance and confusion when Ian leaned back in his chair, rested his elbows on the arms, and laced his fingers together. He might as well have been in his private room sipping wine and reading a book. Clark ground his teeth and flared his nostrils.

“I can arrest you here and now for assaulting an officer,” he boomed. “I expect your cooperation not criticism of my hiring practices.”

The two spots of color on Clark’s cheeks and his words brought to mind how he’d had to recently fire Ken, whom he had also hired. Poor Clark. We would solve this case no matter what, and not with me taking the fall.

“Bart wrote the notes,” Ian said.

I shrieked and stared at the vampire who I had taken for a friend.

“Notes?” Clark said. “What notes?” He looked at me, and dawning realization came into his expression. “Libby?”

I twisted my fingers together, searching for a response to give him.

“How many?” Clark demanded as he sank into his chair.

“Three, I think.”

“You think.”

“Yes, three.” I glanced at Ian, but he hadn’t turned from staring at Clark.

Ian continued. “What will you do to find out your officer’s motive for murder?”

Clark’s chair hit the floor. The office door was flung wide, and the other officer stood in the entry, concern on his face. “Out.” Clark waved him off, and soon the three of us sat alone again.

“Ian, we talked about—”

He cut me off. “You understand the implications of Bart Pierce trying to get Liberty to confess to a murder she did not commit, do you not?”

Clark seemed about to have a seizure. A vein bulged in his head, and moisture broke out on his upper lip. He raked fingers through his hair so violently I thought he might pull it out by the roots. I wanted to get Ian to stop pressing him so much, but I was angry with the vampire too. Ian had betrayed my trust, and when Clark got a handle on his temper at being manipulated by Ian, he would realize Bart held something over my head.

“I am asking the questions here,” Clark said in a deadly whisper. He stabbed a finger in Ian’s direction. “You can wait outside while I talk to Libby.”

“I do not think I will,” was the reply.

“I think you should leave too, Ian,” I said. He still didn’t look at me.

Clark started around the desk, but when Ian spoke again, I heard and felt the power.

“I said, I will stay.”

Clark stepped back and sat down. He shuffled papers and dragged a notebook toward him to poise a pen over an empty page. “You might as well stay, Ian. Now, Libby, do you have those letters with you?”

Oh, Clark, you have no idea what just happened to you, and I won’t forgive Ian.

“I’m sorry. I left them at home, but I know what they say,” I told him. Misery thickened my tone. I recited the demand Bart made but left out the part about him threatening to reveal my secret.

Clark took down notes of what I shared and about where I had found the other two notes. I offered information about who had been inside the hardware store at the time I found the second letter. All the while, Clark kept his head bent, and he scratched away. I started to lean in to see what he wrote when he looked up and set the pen atop the page.

“What aren’t you telling me, Libby?” Now he decided to calm down, but it didn’t bode well for me. Clark folded his hands together much like Ian had done. The affect gave off suppressed volatility in Clark’s case. “Why do you think Bart of all people is the one who sent the letters?”

“Be quiet.”

The command was spoken almost at a whisper, but Clark’s teeth clicked audibly together. I jumped to my feet and rounded on Ian. “Stop doing this to him!”

Ian looked at me at last. “You promised to help him solve his cases from now on, did you not?”

“Not like this.” I blinked in and out, but Clark didn’t appear to notice. He stared at his hands, jaw tight, eyes blank. “Please, let him go, Ian.”

Ian unfolded from his seat and strode around to Clark’s back. He rested a hand on Clark’s shoulder but looked at me. “If you won’t possess him—”

“I said I’ll never do that again. I won’t use him, and I don’t want you using him either.”

“The damage is done, Liberty.”

I remained stoic, and he sighed.

“This is the only way.”

I longed to cry, but I could do nothing but wail. Oh for a good ghostly wail at that moment. Instead, I depended on my words. I begged Ian to listen to reason because I had no other hold over him. Ian did what Ian desired to do and didn’t care what others thought about it.

I began to think I had been wrong about his warmer feelings. After all, he had admitted vampires lost their humanity, and only spending time with humans would delay it. Ian lived a solidary life. I was not naïve to think I could make a difference in him. Certainly not in the short time we had known each other. In fact, the span made me question my own feelings in the face of his actions tonight.

“Let him go,” I said once more and reached for Ian’s hand.

Ian hesitated, and hope rose in my chest. Then he leaned close to Clark’s ear. “You will investigate Sharon Roache and Bart Pierce. You will find out what they have been up to. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Clark mumbled.

“Ian…”

He straightened and met my gaze, his unreadable, mine I was sure full of hurt and anger. I studied the mark on Clark’s forehead, what I considered to be a hideous blight, a reminder of my thoughtlessness. The mark seemed to stand out more vividly against his pale skin, mocking me for the choices I had made. Not only had I possessed Clark too long and caused Death to slate him for collection, I had also associated with a cold-hearted vampire—a vampire who controlled Clark without remorse.

While I sank into my chair, listless and confused, Ian continued to talk to Clark. At first I didn’t listen, but then I focused on what he said. Ian surprised me in that he didn’t wipe Clark’s mind. Rather he told him to forget only that Ian had been the one to push him into investigating Sharon and Bart.

At that moment, I didn’t care what else Ian had to tell Clark. I wanted to get away. I winked out of the station and blinked into my home. Let the officers in the station wonder when I had left and how they hadn’t seen me. I didn’t care. In my front hallway, I started forward and then stopped to face the entrance.

“Ian McClain,” I said in a raspy tone and then drew myself up. I raised my chin, pushed my shoulders back. “Ian McClain, I revoke your invitation into my home. You are not welcome here.”

The minute the words left my mouth, I slapped a hand over my lips. A wail rose deep inside, but I shut my eyes and held it at bay. I felt myself sinking toward the floor, and for an instant, I expected to hear his voice call to me. Ian would no longer be a support now that I had rejected him. I hadn’t felt anything when I spoke the words, but I sensed their affect.

If I left and let myself be declared dead, the house would pass to Jake. He could as owner invite Ian in whenever he liked. Facing such a possibility was not in my mental capacity that night, so I pushed the thought to the far recesses of my mind.

I had taken a big step forbidding Ian from entering my home. Something told me wherever he was, he knew I had done it. The dangerous part of my decision came into play if Ian decided to use his own ability to banish me. Also, what about the barrier he had placed around his house when I first met him? Would he erect it again? I told myself this didn’t matter since I had no intention of going to see him or letting Jake go there. From now on, I had to stand on my own. I had to finish what I had started and then figure out how to tell Monica and Jake good-bye.

* * * *

Two nights after the incident at the police station, I hadn’t heard from either Ian or Clark. I had also not heard from my blackmailer, Bart. I had shared with Monica all that I could share, but left out the part about Ian commanding Clark. I let my friend believe Clark had come up with the direction of his investigation on his own. She had in her usual way assumed Clark’s lack of questioning me about my secret stemmed from him being in love with me and believing I could do no wrong. I had allowed her to think that as well. Better for her than the truth. Besides, I didn’t want to talk about Ian even if I felt no obligation to hide his secret.

I didn’t have doubts about Clark carrying out Ian’s order. Everyone in town had heard of Bart’s suspension from work. After I heard it, I had thought about visiting the station to find out details, but I couldn’t make myself face Clark. The situation felt similar to my mental state after I had first learned about the mark. So, as I waited, I trusted Clark would learn the truth about whether Bart or Sharon killed Sadie. Then the case would close, and I…well, I would have no reason to stay.

I knew I used the case as an excuse. After all, it had nothing to do with me. I had found no connection with my body and Sadie’s death. I just wasn’t ready to fade away or drift about the world, forever disconnected. I didn’t know when the thread of life would sever completely from my body, but I suspected it wouldn’t be long. Then either Death would come for me, or whatever happened to spirits who failed to “enter the light.”

That night, I was feeling particularly morose as I kissed Jake good night, ignoring his protests. I smoothed his hair and stared at my sweet son. The joy of my life screwed up his face and looked back at me. “Are you okay, Mom?”

I heaved a sigh, an unnecessary act. “Of course, sweetie. Why?”

“Just…you seem weird.”

“Thanks.” I forced a chuckle. “I’m tired. I’ve had a long day, but it will be over if you go to sleep.”

He studied me a little longer, and I praised my little one in silence for his astuteness. Even as I smiled, he always saw through it. One day he would grow up to be a great man, a wonderful husband, and an excellent father. I hoped for that and much more. I hoped for intense happiness in his life and no pain. Of course such a phenomenon wasn’t possible, but it didn’t hurt to hope for it anyway.

Jake turned over and closed his eyes. As he yawned without covering his mouth, I heard the bell ring. I gave Jake one more featherlight kiss and swooped toward the door. Before I stepped into the hall, I heard Monica tell our visitor she would get me. Isabelle’s melodious tones surprised me, and I turned back to look at Jake. He seemed to be asleep so I winked out of his room and blinked into my own.

Monica met me in the doorway. “I guess you heard. Isabelle’s here. I was leaving, but I can stay in case she wants to start something.”

I laughed. “No, silly. I’m sure we’re not going to get into a fight like teenagers in high school.”

“You never know,” Monica insisted.

I shook my head, amused. “Good night, Monica, and thanks for everything.”

“That sounds final. I don’t like it.”

“It’s not. I promise.”
Yet.
I hugged her and saw her out.

After Monica left, I hesitated to talk to Isabelle. After all, the last conversation I’d had with her I had kind of insinuated she might have something to hide regarding the Sadie Barnett case. On top of that, I’d had a public disagreement, which involved her brother, Bart, and Ian. Gossip hadn’t died down yet since no one knew the particulars. In fact, Monica had told me more than one person questioned her at the restaurant as to whether I was dating all three men. My ordinary existence up to the last few weeks had never incited so much scandal. Monica had encouraged me to enjoy it while it lasted. I missed the peace and quiet.

I turned from the door and started toward the living room where Monica had left Isabelle waiting. As I moved into the entryway, I stopped cold, shocked to my core. Isabelle stood with her back to me, glancing about the room. “Libby, are you there?”

I blinked once, twice, and then looked down at myself. In anticipation of talking to her, I had solidified myself completely. Of course, with her back to me, she wouldn’t see me yet, but why would she ask if I was present in the room unless she…

I winked out near the door and blinked in, standing before her. “I’m here.”

Isabelle started, but not from shock, more from the suddenness of my appearance. The fact that I could perform such a feat didn’t seem to surprise her. What did it mean? Did she always know my secret? For an instant, I wondered if I’d gotten it wrong and Isabelle was my blackmailer. Then I dismissed the thought. Bart’s reaction to my questions about the letter were proof enough he knew about them.