Ghoul Interrupted (4 page)

The wake-up call came way too early for me. I crept my way out of the deep sleep I was in and reached out to knock the handle off the phone. “Shuddup!” I moaned, rolling over and pushing my face back into the pillow.

My body was still exhausted. My mind was still fried. And my mood was still grumpy. Fat load of good those nine hours had been.

I felt Heath roll over and lay his chest on my back, squishing me a little in the process, but I wasn’t about to complain. I liked his weight on my back. “Morning,” he said.

“Mmmf,” I replied.

“I better hit the shower.”

“Mmmf,” I agreed.

Heath sighed. I could just feel the
thump
,
thump
,
thump
of his heart drumming a beat against my back. “Feel like joining me?” he asked.

“Mmmf,” I said wearily.

Heath chuckled. “I didn’t think so. I’ll be out in a few. You get a little extra sleep.”

With that, he kissed my shoulder and I felt his weight lift off, leaving me cold without him. I sighed and tried to get a little more sleep, but Heath’s phone rang and it startled me. In the bathroom I could also hear the water being turned on, and I decided not to call out to Heath. He deserved to take his shower in peace. I waited through all four rings for the call to go to voice mail, then sighed again and tried to will myself back to sleep.

Heath’s phone gave off a loud chime and I opened one eye moodily. Voice mail.

Closing that eye, I thought sleepy, happy thoughts and just as I was starting to sink back into slumber again, there were three firm knocks on the door. My eyes flew open. “You gotta be kidding me,” I grumbled. Sitting up on the bed, I called, “Who is it?”

“The clerk from the front desk, Ms. Holliday,” said a male voice. “Your telephone is sending out a busy signal. Are you all right?”

I stared at the door incredulously. Was he serious? “I’m fine,” I said tersely.

I could hear the guy clear his throat. “Yes, well, there’s someone in the lobby wishing to speak with a Heath Whitefeather, and she believes he’s staying with you in your room.”

I scratched my head. Who? What? Huh? With a groan I got out of bed and said, “Hold on,” then grabbed my sweatshirt and jeans. Tugging them on quickly, I trudged to the door to peek through the peephole. Some guy with salt-and-pepper hair was standing there all fidgety. I cracked the door open a smidge. “Say what, now?”

“Sorry to disturb you,” he began, “But there’s a woman in the lobby who says she’s Mr. Whitefeather’s cousin, and that she needs to speak to him right away. There’s been a death in the family, ma’am.”

I blinked and tried to focus on him. “Yeah,” I said. “Their uncle was killed a few days ago.”

It was the clerk’s turn to look confused. “Oh,” he said. “No, she said that her aunt died last night.”

That got my attention. I opened the door wide and grilled the clerk. “What’s this woman’s name again?”

He looked down at a note he’d written to himself. “Arianna Whitefeather, ma’am.”

That fit. “She said that Heath’s aunt was dead?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure she said
aunt
and not
uncle
?”

“Yes.”

Behind me I heard the shower shut off and Heath began whistling. I swore softly. This was bad. Really, really bad.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the clerk said, pulling my attention back, “but what should I tell the woman in the lobby?”

“Send her up to the room, please,” I said, already turning to shut the door.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll send her—” That’s as far as he got before the door shut in his face. I’d have to apologize later.

I walked quickly to the bathroom and knocked softly. “Heath?”

He opened the door to reveal his naked glorious self, his shoulder-length wet hair slicked back away from his face, his toned shoulders and chest still dripping with water. “Change your mind?” he asked me, wrapping his arms around my waist playfully. “Because I can get back in, you know.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I just stood there trying to tell him the terrible news, not knowing how to phrase it to soften the blow. “Oh, Heath,” I said at last.

By now he knew something was up. “What’s happened?” he asked, but I could only shake my head, at a loss for what to say. But Heath wasn’t letting up. Cupping my face with his hands, he said, “M. J., whatever it is, just tell me.”

I swallowed. “Your cousin’s here.”

“Which one?”

“Ari.”

Heath leaned out of the bathroom and looked into the room. “Where?”

“In the lobby, but she’s on her way up.”

Heath blinked and his expression became playful again. “Aw, M. J., don’t sweat it. She knows we’re sleeping together.”

I put my hands on his chest and looked him right in the eye. “It’s your aunt,” I said. “Ari’s here to tell you about your aunt.”

“Which aunt?”

It was my turn to blink. I had no idea. “I don’t know, but, Heath, something bad has happened again and you need to brace yourself.”

Just then there was an urgent knock on the door. Heath’s head snapped in that direction and he hesitated ever so slightly before he let go of me and moved to answer it. Before he got there, he at least had the presence of mind to grab his jeans and put them on quickly.

I stood where I was in the doorway of the bathroom, wondering if I should stay or go. One look at Ari’s face as she came into the room told me I should probably stay.

The poor woman was a wreck. She was sobbing, nearly in hysterics and gasping for breath. “I was on my way over to pick you up,” she said, her voice thick and liquid, “when Brody called me and . . . Oh, Heath!”

“Who is it?” he asked, and I had to marvel at how calm and composed he seemed. “Ari, just tell me what’s happened and who it is.”

His cousin took a few more gulping breaths. “They came to tell Brody first,” she began. “Bev didn’t come home last night, and this morning Molly called me crazy with worry, so I got the word out and they found Bev’s SUV about a mile away from the Pueblo on one of the back roads near the burial grounds. She was probably going to look at the grave site for Milton. . . .” Ari’s voice trailed off here as she let out great gulping sobs before she could regain control again. “They said her SUV ran off the road and hit a tree. She didn’t make it.”

Heath staggered back and if I hadn’t been behind him to catch him by the waist and prop him up, I think he might have fallen to the floor. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and I squeezed him tight. It was a long time before anyone was able to speak.

“Who are ‘they’?” Heath finally asked Ari.

“What?”

“You said ‘they’ said her car ran off the road and hit a tree. Who found her?”

“Pena and Cruz.”

I didn’t know who Pena and Cruz were, but Heath seemed to. He nodded, then let go of me and moved to wrap Ari in his arms, hugging her tightly while she cried and cried. Looking over his shoulder at me, his eyes revealed just how devastated he was. I knew that Ari had been like Heath’s sister, and Milton had been something of a surrogate father to him. I thought that maybe Milton’s ex-wife might still be considered his aunt, even though Milton and Bev had been technically divorced.

After a bit he stepped back from his cousin and said, “Let me throw on some clothes and we’ll go.” He then grabbed some folded jeans and a sweater from his suitcase and ducked back into the bathroom. I fished around in my own luggage for my last pair of clean jeans and a turtleneck sweater, and changed in front of Ari without worrying about modesty.

For her part, Ari just sat in a chair and stared numbly down at the floor. I really wished I could say something to take away even a bit of the pain, but nothing came to mind, so I just let her be.

Heath came out just as I was shrugging into my jacket and wordlessly we headed out of the room.

Once we were in the parking lot, I sent a text to Gilley that Heath and I had to take care of something and we’d be back soon. He’d need to sit tight until then.

When we got to Ari’s car, Heath held his hand out for her keys. I was relieved; she was in no condition to drive. I hopped into the back of her small sedan and we were soon off again.

In the daylight, I had the opportunity to take in the passing landscape. I’d never been to the Southwest, and was surprised at the incredible beauty of Santa Fe. Vast expanses of relatively flat land fanned out from the highway, corralled by a huge purple mountain range in the distance. Grass was sparse, and most of the homes we passed looked like those adobe mud structures the Southwest is famous for.

It was all a far cry from the cottage feel of New England or the plantation classical-Greek-inspired architecture of my hometown of Valdosta, Georgia.

The three of us drove in silence, and the drive was fairly long. We made our way west along a well-paved highway, then north for a bit to a smaller two-lane road, and the scenery just got more breathtaking with every passing mile.

Finally, Heath turned down a road with a signpost at the entrance that read ZANTO PUEBLO. I had a moment to reflect that years ago the sign probably would have read ZANTO RESERVATION, and I was glad we’d come a little further in our sensitivity toward American Indians.

The road we turned onto was lined with windblown scrub and it inclined up slightly at first before reaching a much higher grade. We drove up into the heart of a small mountain, and I peeked over the side to see the edge falling away. After about ten more minutes we leveled out again, and Heath turned at a crossroads lined on all four sides with more of those adobe-styled homes and drove straight for an official-looking building with a sign indicating the Pueblo sheriff’s office. He parked and turned to look back at me. “Will you stay here while Ari and I go in and figure out what’s going on?”

I was surprised that I wasn’t included, but I certainly wasn’t going to protest. “Sure,” I said.

“Thanks,” Heath told me. “And please, don’t get out of the car until I get back. I’ll leave the heat on for you in case you get cold.”

“Um . . . okay.” I could feel my cheeks flush, because it felt like I was being treated like a little kid. I tried to push it off as Heath’s anxiety after hearing about his aunt’s death, but it still stung a little.

I watched while he and Ari headed inside and maybe I muttered something immature about being left behind, but whatever.

To distract myself, I reached for my cell and thought I’d call Gil to let him know what was going on, but his phone went straight to voice mail and the message said that his mailbox was full. “Crap,” I said, tucking my cell away.

I eyed the area around the building. There didn’t seem to be anyone about. Smoke from a nearby home curled out of a chimney, and behind one of the other homes a dog barked, but the small-looking village was eerily void of human activity.

I’m not sure if it was how still the place was or something else that gave me the creeps, but after a few minutes of sitting in the car alone with nothing to do, I noticed a definite shift in the atmosphere and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise and goose pimples form along my arms.

There was also the feeling of being watched—something I’m used to after several years in the ghostbusting business, but whoever was laying eyes on me now wasn’t friendly. The palpable anger and menace floated around me like a foul breeze.

Working hard not to react, I kept my sixth sense alert, and focused on taking even breaths while remaining calm. I knew that I would only be feeling this way if whatever was lurking nearby was from the spirit realm, and negative forces can feed on your fear. It can give them a boost in energy and power, so whenever you encounter something creepy or scary, it is
very
important not to give in to your own fears. Just breathe through it the best you can.

I was so focused on my breathing that I didn’t immediately hear the approach of a car until it pulled up next to me. With a jolt I looked up and realized it was a sheriff’s vehicle with two passengers. The uniformed man in the driver’s seat was closer to me and he got stiffly out of the car, his face a mixture of anger and something else I couldn’t quite understand. What was even more odd was that his partner got out wearing the identical expression. Anger and something else. If I didn’t know better, I’d have guessed it was fear.

The driver looked at the car I was in and I could tell he recognized it. Then he spotted me and his posture stiffened. I smiled and waved, but his brow lowered even more. He turned and said something I didn’t catch to his partner, and they moved on inside.

“Friendly,” I muttered when they went through the doors.

I sat back against the upholstery and twiddled my thumbs for several more minutes, wondering what was happening inside, when a tow truck rumbled up on the other side of me. Hitched to the back was a minivan with a smashed-in front end that gave me the shivers when I took in the damage.

The tow truck driver didn’t seem to notice that I was inside Arianna’s car, so I watched him surreptitiously. He got out and went into the station too, but when he got to the door, he did pause and look over his shoulder. What was strange was that he didn’t look at me—he seemed to look at the vehicle he was towing, and I swore he gave an involuntary shudder before he turned again and headed inside.

I swiveled my head to peer again at the minivan hitched to the back of his truck. It was an older model that had definitely seen better days. The front of it was completely crumpled in—it was obvious it’d hit something big—probably a tree.

Immediately I knew that this must’ve been the vehicle Heath’s aunt was driving when she went off the road. I had this compelling urge to get out of the car and take a look at the driver’s side, but Heath had given me those explicit instructions about staying put, and I’d promised, so I didn’t give in to the impulse.