Lifting the Veil (8 page)

heading next, and he should. He’d been watching them for a damn month. He was doing the world a

favor. The citizens of Easton should give him a damn award for the service he performed. These women were all liars. Well, not anymore, not in this fucking town.

He watched the SUV pull up, and a blonde jump out from the passenger side. She stopped the two

women in his sights. Words were exchanged. He flipped his knife closed, squeezing the metal into his palm. The bitch was going to ruin everything that he’d set in place. He wiped the sweat beaded on his brow. His plan to take the girl was screwed the longer they chatted. He leaned against the building, the bricks pressing into his back. He folded his arms over his chest and waited. He knew they were fishing, that they wouldn’t find anything. He’d left no trace, no idea of who he was or why he was killing these freaks of nature.

The blonde from the SUV walked into the store. It was only a matter of time before she emerged.

What he hadn’t been expecting was that she was carrying a fucking bag when she left. His heart raced with the implication. Was she one too?

“Fuck,” he uttered as he turned to walk farther up the alley and out to where his car was parked.

He hit the roof of his car. His hand throbbed in response. He slid behind the wheel. No matter. Time would tell if she needed to die. It didn’t matter who she was. “Damn.”

He checked to see if the gloves and mask were in his glove box. He’d need them tonight. The urge

to just run all of them over with his car rode him hard. He gripped the wheel and took a deep breath as he eased out of the parking lot, reminding himself there was a time and place for all of this. In the afternoon, on Main Street, wasn’t it. They were smart, but he was smarter. He always was.

****

Jack pulled into the parking lot of the little apartments. Curiosity overrode his desire to not get involved. After working all day with her, he’d come to like her, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He wiped his palms on his jeans and took a deep breath. The possibility of getting fired was getting closer to becoming his reality, and the fact that he was going to have a drink with her was evidence that he’d about given in. What the hell had he been thinking? He’d been thinking of her in that red dress, her wits and enthusiasm for wanting to solve the case. He was intrigued, and being intrigued was going to get him screwed one way or the other.

He stepped out of the SUV and walked up to the door. A little old lady with white hair was sitting outside her door on her little makeshift porch. She watched his every move like a hawk. “Good evening.”

“Hmm,” she responded.

He rang the doorbell and waited for his future to unfold. When she answered, he couldn’t help but

laugh. Gone was the red dress from earlier, replaced with a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

“What’s so funny?”

Shaking his head, he replied, “Not a thing. Are you ready?”

She grabbed her purse from the little table and followed him out, pulling the door closed behind

her. “Shouldn’t you lock that?”

Sophie smiled and waved to the old lady next door. “Not with her around. She’s like a vicious

watchdog.”

Jack glanced back over his shoulder. “She doesn’t look vicious. Are you sure?”

“Well, she is when she isn’t napping. When she takes her nap, the apocalypse could happen and

she wouldn’t hear a thing,” Sophie said, sliding into her seat.

****

Sophie pulled her door closed and took a deep, calming breath while waiting on Jack. She’d seen

him in jeans before. What she wouldn’t give to have him stripped bare. Even if the man wasn’t

interested in her, it was okay if she was in lust. After tonight’s talk, it wouldn’t matter one way or the other. He’d never look at her in the same light again.

A quick ten-minute drive and they pulled into a little bar she’d never been to before. A gentleman, the age her father had been when he died, was standing behind the bar, a dingy white rag tossed over his shoulder. The television was propped up in the corner with the news on. The dimly lit establishment hinted at secrets held between its walls. The two men sitting at the bar glanced their way when the wind from the parking lot blew in through the open door where they stood. She recognized one of the guys immediately and started to wave when Jack took her hand and pulled her farther into the dark

little bar. “Isn’t that—”

“Yes.” He picked a small round table farthest away from the bar and pulled out her chair. He stood behind her, his hands on her arms and leaned down. “White wine or something with an umbrella?”

She shook her head. “Beer, please.”

He nodded and was gone only moments before he returned with two longnecks in one hand and a

frosted mug in the other. “I wasn’t sure if you needed a glass.”

She smiled. “The bottle’s fine, thanks.”

She took the beer while he sat down. She laid her elbows on the sticky table before quickly

removing them from the wood and resting them in her lap. The place needed a good cleaning. Maybe if things didn’t work out for her at the precinct she could talk the owner into hiring her at the bar.

Jack sat down in the chair next to hers, giving him a clear view of the bar and the door.

“Isn’t that—”

Jack nodded. “Kingston. Yes, he comes in here often.”

“Oh.” Sophie tilted her head. “Does he have a drinking problem?”

Jack leaned his elbows on the table and took a swig of his beer. “I think he comes in here to forget.

He hasn’t been the same since the accident.”

Sophie turned away from staring at Kingston’s back and let her gaze fall on Jack. “What accident?”

Jack leaned back into his chair, his gaze directed on the officer at the bar. “His wife was killed in a car accident. By the time they reached the hospital, she and the unborn baby were dead. It just about killed him.” He nodded toward the bar. “This is how he copes when he’s not at work.”

Sophie paused with her beer to her mouth. Her heart fell into her stomach. “That poor guy. I

couldn’t imagine having to deal with a loss like that.”

Jack swung his chair around toward her, ignoring everything and everyone in the bar. “Okay, so

start talking.”

Sophie licked her lips and took a sip of her beer. “I guess I should start at the beginning.”

“That sounds as good a place as any.”

She twisted the napkin that he’d brought with her beer, tearing it into little shreds as she gathered her nerve. “You have to promise not to interrupt me until I’m done.”

His brow raised a fraction. “I’ll try my best.”

“I’ve seen your best. Try harder.” Sophie took a swig of her beer for liquid courage.

She opened her mouth and blurted the whole series of events out. From her trip to Salem, the

psychic’s predictions, the warnings, the little bottles of liquid the charm lady gave her, the vision, the male’s voice that only she can hear. When she finally came up for a breath, his face remained

unreadable, his beer drained, and he was silent.

“Say something.”

He got up and walked over to the bar, leaving her to question his reaction. Did he think she needed a white jacket and a padded room? He returned minutes later carrying two shot glasses. He set one

down in front of her and retook his seat. He downed the clear liquid and pushed the little glass aside.

“So let me get this straight.”

She held up her finger, stilling his statement. She put the shot glass to her lips and threw her head back downing the liquor inside. The vodka burned like fire as it slid down her throat. Her eyes watered as she tried to stifle her cough. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Are you telling me that you think you can talk to the dead?”

She shrugged. “I told you everything that’s happened. I’m not claiming anything besides the truth

as I know it.”

“That’s vague.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Sorry, stud, that’s all I’ve got. That’s how I knew she also went by Valerie and, since I’m being honest here, I haven’t told my brother yet. I’m waiting until I can wrap it up in a nice little package. I don’t know what’s going on with me and, until I have answers, I’d like to keep it that way.”

She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table, ignoring the stickiness. “I didn’t ask for this.

I don’t even want this, but it looks like I’m stuck with it.”

He leaned forward and took her hand in his. The contact confused her, or was that the vodka

talking? His calloused palms were warm to the touch as he slid his thumbs over the top of her hand in a gentle motion. “Soph, maybe we should get you checked out. You hit your head–“

She snatched her hand from his, ignoring the momentary lapse of judgment she’d just had seconds

ago. “I’m not…” she said louder than necessary. The rest of the bar turned around to look at her.

“…crazy,” she said in a lower voice. “Look, I didn’t expect you to believe me, and I honestly don’t care if you do, but I felt obligated to tell you. There are going to be times during our investigation that I’m going to know stuff or ask stuff that isn’t in the file.”

“Oh no, we aren’t investigating.” He shook his head several times in quick succession.

Sophie narrowed her eyes to slits. “Don’t even think about backing out of our deal. You promised.”

“That was before I knew.”

She rose from her chair. “Screw you, Love. I’m doing this with or without you.”

Jack stood, grabbed her hand, and headed out the door.

“Let go of me,” she demanded through gritted teeth, trying to pull her hand from his grip.

Outside, he guided her over to the SUV and pinned her to the door, a hand on each side of her

body. “I am not going to see you get hurt. Are we clear?”

She placed her palms on his chest and pushed him away. “I’m not going to get hurt.”

He stepped closer again and, this time, he placed his warm palm against her cheek. “Don’t do this.

I’ll follow up on the case in my off time. I’ll make sure we find her killer. You don’t need to be a part of this. This isn’t a game, Sophie. We’re talking real killers here. You’re just a clerk. You don’t even know how to defend yourself. This isn’t a game.” His face was clouded with concern.

The first honest emotion she’d seen from him since meeting the guy the day before. Sophie

dropped her gaze to the ground. Jack didn’t understand, and she wasn’t even sure he believed her.

She’d tried to explain; she’d tried the honest approach; yet he still didn’t understand. In order to reclaim her life, she needed to solve this case and bring the killer to justice. Only then, maybe, she could get the voices to go away. “I know it’s not a game. It’s my life. I’m already in this, Jack. You don’t have to be.”

She nudged him out of the way and slid into the passenger seat.

He slid behind the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. “You aren’t giving me much choice. You’re the chief’s baby sister and you’re my damn partner.”

She shrugged. “If I’m your damn partner, then start acting like it. I’m not asking for permission, Jack. I’ll do it after work, myself. You don’t even need to be involved.” She slid a sideways glance his way. “That way I won’t get you in trouble.”

“Yeah, because working by yourself sounds like such a smart idea.” Jack shook his head.

Jack put the SUV in gear and pulled out of the bar parking lot. They arrived back at her apartment, and she hopped out, not giving him a chance to argue with her anymore tonight. She wasn’t changing her plans. There was no talking her out of it. She waved at Gladys, her neighbor, and walked into her apartment, locking the door behind her. She leaned back against the wood. Jack Love was right about one thing. This wasn’t a game and the killer was real. She knew the basics of protecting herself, but this called for something a little more drastic if she was going to be snooping around. She walked into her kitchen and rooted around in her junk drawer for the can of mace that her brother insisted she carry.

She dusted it off and shoved it into her purse before heading to her room.

Her vision was spinning from the vodka as she stripped out of her clothes and into her favorite tank top and yoga pants before crawling into bed. Drinking in general wasn’t her norm, but drinking on a work night wasn’t something she ever did. She’d pay the price in the morning when the alarm clock was blaring and she’d rather just sleep. It was inevitable. She pulled the covers over her body and prayed for a peaceful sleep, hoping the voices would keep quiet to provide her some self-preservation.

Chapter 7

Sophie thought she was dreaming when the banging started on her door. The doorbell went off in

quick succession, letting her know she was not. The sun was blaring through her window. She glanced at the alarm clock and realized she’d overslept.

“Shit.” She hurried from the bed. Someone was playing havoc with her doorbell, pushing it over and over again. Her head hurt and the cotton taste in her mouth wasn’t helping.

She stumbled through the hallway, groggy and not fully awake.

“Please stop,” she managed through gritted teeth when she pulled the door open.

“Sophie, go get dressed,” Jack demanded, his tone nothing like she’d heard before.

“I haven’t had coffee yet. My brother won’t care if I’m a little late. I’ll just work late to make up the time.”

“Soph…you don’t understand. This isn’t a social call. We have a problem. Go take a shower and

clear the fog while I make your coffee. You can drink it on the way.”

Her heart sank. Fear of the uncertainty gripped hold. “Jack, what’s wrong?”

He walked into her house and closed and locked the door behind him. “Go take your shower, Soph.

I need you alert and awake when I tell you.”

Sophie reluctantly walked into her room and hurried through her shower and getting dressed. Her

nerves were strung tight, her head still throbbing. She emerged fifteen minutes later to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. She walked into the kitchen to find Jack enjoying a cup. He handed her a glass of water and some aspirin before handing her a piece of toast and travel mug of coffee to take with her.