Dark Passing (The Ella Reynolds Series) (30 page)

“Well, she doesn’t live here.”

“But she should, don’t you think?” She glanced at the clothes behind her. “Mary needs a family.”

“Mary? She’s here too?” he asked.

“Of course she’s here,” Martha said in a pleased, relaxed tone. “She’s been in my room, but I thought she might want to come down and see you both. Would you like to see her?”

“I’d love to,” Fagan said.

“Ella?” Martha asked, lifting my head with the end of her knife. “Are you still pouting about our tiff?”

I shook my head. “No, no… Please, can we see Mary?”

“Of course, dear. Now sit up straight. You want to make a good impression.” She put her hands under my arms and heaved me up, making me squeak with pain. When she pulled away, her right hand was red. “Oh my, one second.” She disappeared into the clothes again.

“Are you hurt?” Fagan asked.

I nodded and looked down at the steadily growing pool of blood beside my chair. Fagan’s eyes followed mine and he gasped a little. Martha returned with what looked like an old leathery mannequin. Fagan looked on, speechless, as she turned it around to face us. It was Mary in the most perverse way—and she was wearing the same dress I’d borrowed from Martha.

“Holy shit,” Fagan mumbled.

“She thought Ella looked so lovely in this dress that she begged to wear it.”

“She looks very pretty,” I struggled out.

“Are Lakota and Nikki here too?” Fagan asked.

Martha’s face clouded. “Of course not. Lakota was going to spoil the surprise for Ella. You are surprised, aren’t you, dear?”

I nodded.

“And Nikki… Well, I wouldn’t have that filth in my house. Did you know she was with Cindy when she died? Then she tried to ruin Mary too, spreading lies about affairs. Getting rid of her was a public service.”

One of the stairs creaked. Martha started to turn back.

Fagan coughed, then spoke quickly, adamantly. “Mary isn’t looking like herself Martha.”

Martha whirled around and looked at Mary, then at Fagan. “What do you mean?”

“Look at her. She doesn’t look anything like Mary. She looks like a monster.”

Cold fury filled Martha’s eyes. She charged at Fagan, and the distinct sound of a gun being cocked filled the room. Martha stalled and turned as Gabriel came through the curtain of clothing.

“Martha, put the knife down,” he said calmly.

Her cheek twitched and she squeezed the knife handle.

“Drop the knife,” he repeated, taking a step closer.

I struggled to keep my eyes open as adrenaline fled my body. A shot rang out; then my vision failed.

“She’s hurt,” Fagan’s voice was far away. “Get her first.”

The restraints loosened. Hands caressed my face. “Ella? Ella? Talk to me.”

I wanted to brush him away, but my arms were too heavy to move. The hands moved from my face down my side. “Her lips are blue. What happened?” Gabriel asked.

“I don’t know. She was like this when I got here,” Fagan said.

Gabriel’s hand pressed hard into my side. I groaned.

“Ella?”

“Stop touching me.”

He chuckled a little, sounding relieved. “I can’t. Open your eyes.”

A gurgling cough erupted in my chest. The pain was excruciating. “Is Martha dead?”

“Shhh, don’t talk. The ambulance is on its way.”

Gabriel helped me back into my house, despite my protests that I was capable of doing it myself. He’d stuck with me like glue—wouldn’t even leave the hospital at night. I was sore, and the walk from the car to my living room left me out of breath. The doctor said it might take a while, but I would heal. I sat gingerly, careful not to strain my side, and leaned my head back, inhaling the smell of home. Gabriel sat in front of me and rubbed his hand gently over my knee.

“Do you need anything?”

He was going to drive me crazy with all this hovering. “No, I’m fine.”

“Okay. I have something I need to do. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

“I’ll be here.”

He kissed my forehead. “You better be.”

I watched him leave, then closed my eyes, letting the peace and quiet roll over me. Gabriel and I had several arguments—or, rather, I endured his lectures because I couldn’t talk very long without getting winded. He tried to extract promises that I’d never take cases like this again, that I was done putting myself in harm’s way. But truth be told, even having been stabbed and very nearly killed, I would do it all over again. I’d survived and brought justice to three girls taken from the world at far too young an age.

Writing would always be my first passion, but doing this gave my life purpose. I had no intention of giving it up. When Gabriel finally came to that realization on his own, he decided I had to finish my driving lessons and enroll in self-defense classes—a small sacrifice.

Several people from Jackson visited me in the hospital, but I managed to get out of town before too much of a fuss was made. The confusion from that night and about what really happened lingered. I told Gabriel and Fagan the whole story, the best I could remember, and Fagan explained what I’d overheard between him and William. Fagan hadn’t been asked to cover up anything. William was telling him to solve the three cases or he’d call in the FBI to take care of it. William, after all, had an election coming up, and there was nothing like three unsolved murders to mar one’s image.

“Glad you’re home.” Grant’s voice came from behind me. “How’d the case go?”

“Solved,” I said, not bothering to turn around. The damn ghost could come to me.

“You’re hurt.” He walked into the room and stood in front of me, looking so real.

“How do you know?”

“I can feel it.”

“That’s weird.”

He laughed. “The house is my domain, and so long as you own the house, you’re part of that. I can feel any disturbances here—but how is that any weirder than you talking to me?”

I thought about it. Maybe it wasn’t. The more ghosts I encountered, the easier the idea was to stomach. “How did you die?”

“Bayonet to the chest. Would you like to see?” His hands hovered over his shirt.

I shook my head. I’d seen enough wounds to last a lifetime. “If I sell the house, would you come with me? You know, like haunt me somewhere else?”

Grant shook his head. “And you should be thankful that I can’t. If we could just switch our hauntings, you’d never have any peace. You have no idea how boring it is to be a ghost. I hadn’t spoken to anyone for centuries before you came. Every ghost you encounter would traipse after you.”

“Mary’s ghost followed me around.”

He looked thoughtful. “Maybe she didn’t have a domain, just unfinished business.”

“How did you talk to me outside of the house before?”

“It wasn’t easy, and it took nearly all the energy I’d collected since I died.”

My phone rang, but I didn’t move to get it. Grant smiled, bit his lip in concentration, then lifted it from the end table and held it out to me. I took the phone from him, my finger sinking into the icy depth where his fingers were.

“I’m glad you didn’t die. If you need me, I’ll be around,” he said and faded into nothing, leaving me with a cold phone in my hand.

“Hello?”

“You still owe me two events. Don’t think I’m letting you off easy,” Fagan answered. “Stabbings are no excuse. I’ll pick you up at 8:00 p.m.”

I groaned. “Don’t make me laugh.”

His voice softened. “I take it you made it home okay?”

“I did.”

“The town’s pretty grateful for what you did. I think they want to do something special for you, if you’re up for it.”

“Honestly, I’m not. Maybe when this book comes out, we can plan something.”

“I figured, but I thought I’d ask.” I could tell he was smiling. “And if you ever change your mind about the dates, you know where to find me.”

“They weren’t dates,” I responded automatically, but the joke fell flat. Martha’s insistent voice that I’d be perfect with Fagan rang in my ears, stealing all the humor.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t be a stranger, Ella. I have the sneaking suspicion I might actually miss you.”

“You could come down here for dinner sometime. I hear you don’t date locals, and Montgomery has girls. I can take out an ad for you.”

“I don’t know about the ad, but I’d love to have dinner with you and Gabriel sometime.”

“Take care, Fagan.”

“Good-bye, Ella.”

I smiled as I pressed
end
. Despite my very best efforts, it seemed I made a friend. Near-death experiences obviously brought out the best in me. A few more and I could host a dinner party. My thought made me laugh just as Gabriel walked into the house.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked.

“Myself,” I called back.

“Close your eyes. I have a surprise.”

I groaned. “You know how I feel about surprises.”

“I do, but you’re getting one anyway.”

“Does it have to do with food? I’m starving.”

“You’ll see. Are your eyes closed?”

“Yes.” I squeezed them shut and waited, hoping the surprise wasn’t something awful, like a marriage proposal or something else I was categorically unready for. Gabriel walked past me, and I fidgeted in anticipation. I hated surprises and the stupid fluttering in my stomach that came with them.

“Okay, open.”

Gabriel stood in the middle of the room, a whining, tan and black fur ball tucked under his arm. I looked at him, then at the dog, then back at him. “I don’t have time for a dog.”

“You need the company. This little guy isn’t just for looks. He’ll be protection and a companion—two things you sorely need.”

“But—”

He waved a pudgy German Shepherd puppy paw at me. Its big sad eyes looked at me. “Love me, Ella.”

I laughed and reached out to pet the little guy’s head. The dog licked my hand, melting my resistance. Damn him. “You’re a tricky man, Detective Troy.” I scooped the pup into my arm, where he squirmed and nibbled and pawed at me. Having a dog again was, without a doubt, a horrible idea, and I was already madly in love with him.

“What are you going to name him, Sherlock?”

I smiled sweetly at Gabriel and his stupid nickname. “How about Watson?”

Gabriel barked with laughter, making the puppy jump. “Perfect.” He scratched Watson’s chin.

“And if I’m Sherlock and he’s Watson, I guess that makes you Lestrade.” It was my turn to laugh. “How long have you had him?”

“A little while. Eric was training him while we were working on the case. He claims he’s housebroken.”

I looked at his perky, fluffy little face. “He’s so cute and soft, and he has puppy breath. I don’t even care if he’s house broken.”

A satisfied smile spread over Gabriel’s face. “I knew you’d like him.”

I smiled. I didn’t deserve Gabriel. I really didn’t.

 I held Watson up so he faced me. “I like you, but I don’t have time for you.” He licked my cheek excitedly. “No, I don’t.”

“Don’t worry, Watson. She used to feel the same way about me.” I leaned back in the chair, snuggling with the puppy, and Gabriel squeezed in next to me, and we played with the puppy. All thoughts of the dead were firmly tucked behind me—the living, breathing present was enough for me.