Delia's Shadow (32 page)

She narrowed her eyes and her drumming fingers fell still. “All right. We’ll see how long it takes for you to learn to build walls. Shutting Aileen and the others out is something you need to learn in any case. I’ve said as much before and I’m relieved I don’t have to force the issue.”

Aileen came into view behind Sadie’s chair, standing alone for once. My ghost’s normal serene expression had vanished, replaced by naked rage that truly frightened me. Her anger filled the room, rising waves that flipped envelopes, reply cards, and vellum inserts off the table and swirling to the floor. The spirit river flowing across the wall swirled, glints and glimmers brightening.

Anger was a pressure in my chest and behind my eyes, thudding with each beat of my heart. That Isadora was the target didn’t spare me. I couldn’t breathe.

“I warned you once, spirit. You’d do best to heed that warning.” Dora stood and stalked closer to the ghost, all her weariness falling away. The angry wind scattering wedding invitations parted around Dora and left her untouched. “You have no place among the living, no place in this house. I won’t let you force your will on Delia. Leave before I send you away.”

The pressure pinning me to the chair vanished abruptly along with Aileen’s ghost. I shook and gasped for air, immensely glad not to be the center of their battle of wills any longer. My tea was cold, but I drained all that was left in my cup.

Isadora began gathering the wedding stationery blown to the floor. I sorted what she laid on the table, determined to set everything to rights before Sadie could see the mess. This was my fault. I’d let the ghost have the advantage for too long.

The only permanent damage was the bent corner of a reply card. I straightened the last stack of envelopes and sat across from Dora. “Tell me how to start. I’ve been too stubborn to admit it before now, but I’m completely at the mercy of Aileen’s ghost. Sending her and the others away still feels wrong. I’d like to avoid that if possible. Teach me how to keep the upper hand.”

Dora dug a cigarette and matches out of her bag, and struck the match on the underside of the dining-room table. “I’ll make a deal with you. Don’t tell Annie I strike matches on her table and I won’t go on about having told you this ghost posed a danger. We’ll call it even and go from there.” She sucked smoke deep into her lungs and blew thin, blue clouds toward the ceiling. “We’ll start with something easy and refine the method if needed. Think of a room that is yours alone, one you don’t allow anyone to enter without permission. Now think about shutting the door. Keep opening and shutting the door until I tell you to stop.”

By the time Dora was satisfied, my hands shook and we’d drained the large, silver teapot, but I could shut the ghosts out with only a bit of effort. The peace of feeling alone in my own body was worth the strain of learning.

She snubbed another cigarette out in a saucer. “Very good, Dee. I’ll worry less now. And I promise, this will grow easier with practice.”

“I keep hoping that once Gabe catches Ethan Brennan I can forget about ghosts haunting me. Going back to brief glimpses of spirits or seeing the odd ghost on the street would be just fine.” I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen muscles knotted tight. “Or are you saying I should prepare for a career in séances and fortune-telling?”

“Don’t give up hope, you might get lucky. But I’d be lying if I said that was a sure thing. Once the door opens wide to the spirit realm, it seldom closes again.” Dora came around the table and tugged me to my feet. “Come on, Dee. Annie keeps a bottle of brandy in the kitchen for me. You can drink tea while I get a head start on being able to sleep tonight.”

“Do I have that to look forward to as well?”

“God forbid. You can place the blame for my debauchery on my bohemian lifestyle.” The bright, charming smile was a lie, I saw the pain in Dora’s eyes. She stopped pretending when I continued to regard her solemnly, waiting for the truth. “If you must know, I didn’t drink at all until after John was killed. Finding the courage to send his ghost away was difficult and I spent a lot of time looking for the strength in the bottom of whiskey bottles. I’m not as strong as I pretend, Dee. Not near as strong.”

I wanted to cry for her, but Dora wouldn’t want that kind of sympathy. We were much alike that way. “I’m sorry. He must have meant a great deal to you.”

“For a time, he meant everything.” She smiled again, eyes bright with tears. “Let’s get that tea now. Gabe will never forgive me if learning to deal with ghosts leaves you too ill to enjoy his company.”

CHAPTER 17

Gabe

The small box from the Glenrock sheriff arrived half empty. Gabe fought to quell his disappointment and unpacked what little it contained: a few framed pictures of an older man, a boy who looked six or seven, and a faded portrait of a solemn young woman in a wedding dress. Books, ledgers, and letters written to names he didn’t recognize filled the bottom of the pasteboard container. The house had been emptied of the majority of its contents when Thom Brennan died, furniture sold and personal effects shipped to his sister in Missouri. What little in the way of personal effects the sheriff found was stuffed in a battered strongbox in one of the bunkhouses.

His father was on the way to the city from Santa Rosa. Gabe wouldn’t know for certain that the pictures and papers had any connection to the case until his father arrived. The thought that the contents of the box might be worthless in terms of identifying Ethan Brennan tied his stomach in knots. He was almost out of time.

Tomorrow was the Fourth of July. Every patrolman in his squad and every officer he could pull from stations around the city would be on the Pan Pacific grounds. He’d planned on having at least a third of the men dressed as tourists to blend into the crowd and the rest visibly patrolling in their uniforms, a show of force even Ethan couldn’t ignore.

But the fair would be teeming with people, both residents of San Francisco and tourists from all over the world, all of them focused on enjoying the holiday. Such large crowds would attract every cabbie and hack driver in the city, each eager for his share of the Pan Pacific windfall. Catching Ethan under those conditions, even with a detailed and accurate description, was long odds. Without one the chances of finding him in time fell to near zero.

Two more people would die tomorrow. Two more pins would sprout on Gabe’s map, documenting his failure.

His office door stood open. Gabe heard his father’s voice rumbling down the hallway, giving him time to pull himself together and stop brooding. He wasn’t beaten yet.

The biggest surprise of Gabe’s day was that his father and Sam Parker walked in together, deep in conversation and any lingering trace of rancor between them gone. Captain Parker and Matt Ryan had been rivals if not outright enemies all of Gabe’s life. If he hadn’t known better, he’d swear the two men were old friends now.

Jack trailed behind the two older men, toting an old evidence box and obviously amused. He caught Gabe’s eye and shrugged, as if to say he was just as much in the dark about the change.

“Gabe, how are you?” His dad wrapped Gabe in an enthusiastic bear hug that was impossible to avoid and stopped just short of cracking a rib. His dad’s grin was infectious. “And how’s Delia, son? Still planning on staying around I hope.”

That his father brought Delia up first thing lifted one nagging concern off Gabe’s shoulders. Victoria’s loss and the loss of their grandchild had hit both his parents hard, and they’d mourned deeply. Liking Delia was one thing, but he’d worried how well they’d accept someone taking Victoria’s place. “I’m doing well, Dad, real well. Delia’s fine, keeping busy helping Sadie with the wedding. I don’t think she’s tired of me yet, but you can ask her yourself. We’re having supper at the Larkin house later.”

“Don’t think that I won’t.” His father walked the small office, touching file cabinets, folders stacked neatly on the corner of the desk and stopped in front of the pin-studded map. “I had a map just like this on my office wall. Remember, Sam? I must have stared at that thing for hours. The whole time, the answer I was looking for was at a desk in the next room.”

Parker moved to stand next to Gabe’s father and put a hand on Matt Ryan’s shoulder. “Thom lied to all of us. No one can blame you for trusting your partner. The past is the past. The important thing now is catching Ethan.”

Jack’s incredulous expression was a perfect match for Gabe’s own reaction, however swiftly hidden and buried deep. He’d give a month’s pay to know how the two men had made peace, but unless his father volunteered the information, he’d let it lie. Having Parker on the same side, helping instead of hindering, could only be a positive thing.

He’d take all the help offered. Stopping Ethan from killing again was the most important thing.

“Jack tells me the box from Glenrock arrived this morning.” The reluctant way Gabe’s father forced his gaze away from the map was familiar. He slipped out of his coat and hung it next to Gabe’s. “Anything I can help with, son?”

“I hope so.” Gabe spread the merger pile of photographs along the edge of his desk, starting with the wedding portrait and ending with the photos of the little boy. “These are the only photos Sheriff Leeds found at the ranch. Do you know any of these people, Dad? He also sent a few books, ledgers, and a stack of letters. I don’t recognize any of the names on the letters. I’m hoping you will.”

“This is Abby, Thom’s wife.” His father brushed a finger over the fading image of her face. “Abby died in childbirth when Ethan was six. Their baby girl died with her and grief just about killed Thom, too. The little boy is Ethan. He might be five or six in that photograph. That picture used to hang in Thom’s sitting room next to the picture of Abby. I haven’t seen these in more than twenty-five years.”

Jack held up the last photo, the older man. “Is this Thom Brennan, Captain Ryan?”

“No, that’s not Thom. If I remember right, that was one of Abby’s brothers.” He gestured toward the photo of Ethan. “After Abby died, Thom agreed to let her brother take Ethan home with him for the summer. Thom was a mess, drinking more than he should and came close to losing his badge. Ethan ended up staying with his uncle more than two years. He was nine, nine and a half, when Thom brought him home again. The boy wasn’t the same.”

Gabe shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and leaned against the edge of his desk. The instincts his father scoffed about poked him. “What do you mean, Dad? How did Ethan change?”

His father hesitated, wiping a hand over his mouth. Guilt and regret settled on Matt Ryan’s face, more than thirty years of hindsight coming to fruition with Gabe’s questions.

“You don’t have to say it, Matt.” Parker cleared his throat. “I met him when I was still walking patrol and he was always in trouble. Real trouble, not the kind of pranks most little boys get into. One of the older ladies on the block complained he’d almost killed her cat, but Thom didn’t take it seriously. The older Ethan got the more he liked bullying and hurting smaller children. I never knew the boy before he went to live with his uncle, but I’ll take Matt’s word that he wasn’t always that way.”

Jack hissed a breath out through his teeth and caught Gabe’s eye. He knew his partner well enough to know that both of them were thinking the same thing. Ethan’s time with his uncle did more than change him into a bully. Something that happened during those years turned him into a murdering butcher. “Captain Ryan, did the uncle live near San Francisco?”

“I know you’re hoping Ethan might be holed up in his uncle’s house, Jack. But you won’t be that lucky.” His father studied the uncle’s picture, lip curled. “He lived outside of Portland when he took Ethan with him, but a year later he pulled up stakes and moved up into the mountains of Idaho. Took Thom months to find Abby’s brother and another year to pry his son loose from the bastard.”

“Dad … what about Thom’s old house?” Gabe stood and began rooting through the papers in the bottom of the box from Sheriff Leeds, a memory and instinct both nagging him. He found the deed folded and stuck inside one of the ledgers. “There’s a deed here in Thom Brennan’s name for a house in San Francisco. Do you know if he sold the house, Dad? Or if it survived the fire?”

“Thom didn’t sell out before he left, there wasn’t enough time. I never heard much from him, so I don’t know if he sold his property later.” His father went back to the map, tapping an area near Lincoln Park and 30th Avenue. “He liked living close to the water. I don’t think the fire got this far. That doesn’t mean the quake didn’t knock the building down. Thom had been in Wyoming for years and I never thought to see if his house was still standing.”

The neighborhood was near Golden Gate Park, near the Presidio and the Pan Pacific. Every bit of experience gained during his ten years as a cop told Gabe that Ethan was hunting out of that house. He was certain of that.

Jack and Parker knew, too. He saw it on their faces.

“Round up a dozen of our men, Jack. Make sure all of them have sidearms.” Gabe unlocked his desk and pulled his pistol out of the bottom drawer. “We leave in ten minutes.”

“On my way.” Jack paused in the doorway. He looked to Gabe and at a nod, finished mending fences. “Captain Parker? Should I sign out a pistol for you?”

“I’ll come with you. The desk sergeant will move faster for me.” He clapped Gabe’s dad on the shoulder. “We’ll catch him, Matt. He’s not going to slip away this time.”

Gabe locked file cabinets and drawers, securing the office and the evidence sent by Sheriff Leeds. He draped his coat over an arm and stuffed the old fedora on his head. “Grab your coat, Dad. You’re coming, too.”

His father licked his lips and eyed the pin-strewn map. “I’m a civilian, son. When I retired from the force I lost the right to go with you. You’d be breaking regulations taking me along.”

“I have the authority to appoint deputies. Consider yourself deputized.” Gabe tossed his father his coat. If anyone deserved to be there when they uncovered Ethan’s lair, his father did. “I need someone to point me at Thom Brennan’s house. I’m putting you in charge of making sure we don’t break down the wrong door.”