SPIRIT OF CONSEQUENCE (A Spirit Walking Mystery Book 1) (17 page)

“No, that’s fine. I think I’ll rest for awhile before I go out.”

“You’re tired?”

“A little bit.”

He closed the door and stepped closer to me. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, Dodge. Go and catch your killer. I’m going to rest for a while, then go out and eat. I’ll meet you back here, okay?”

“Are you sure?” he repeated.

“Yes.” I turned him around and pushed him toward the door. “Now, go.”

Dodge left the room and I glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror. I had dark puffy circles under each eye. I looked exhausted. How was that possible? I had never been tired before. I certainly wasn’t hungry, but I did look pale. Being dead was changing and I wasn’t so sure it was changing for the better.

Chapter 17

When I lay down on the bed, I actually fell asleep. Then I was driving, faster and faster, laughing and singing at the top of my lungs with the radio. Country music blared, my foot was pushed to the floor, and my eyes were closed. I had the Jaguar top open and rain was cooling my cheeks. My head swerved with each turn. Left, right, left, left, right, straight. I knew this road like I knew my own house. I could walk that with my eyes closed too.

Then a bang, the car jerked, the engine groaned, and I went flying. I sat up in the hotel bed. My body dripped wet with sweat, my heart pounded, and I couldn’t catch my breath. What was that? A nightmare from the evening that I was killed? A shiver ran up my spine and I felt nauseated all over my body.

I got up and took a long hot shower, letting the water soothe my body and my emotions. When I came out, the room was empty. Dodge was still working and I needed to feel alive. I changed into a black evening gown, left Dodge a note, and went out. I needed to dance, eat, and enjoy life.

In front of the hotel, I took a cab down the Strip and back to the Luxor. I needed the distraction of bells, whistles, flashing lights, and Egyptian sphinxes. I had a huge slab of prime rib at the Luxor Steakhouse, went dancing at the nightclub, and played poker with a man who won over a hundred thousand dollars. The steak didn’t really nourish my body. It was all about the sensation, not the sustenance. Normally, eating, dancing, and winning would have jazzed me up, but I came back even more tired than I was when I left the hotel.

It was after one in the morning when I got back to Dodge’s room. He wasn’t there. Was this what it was like to be involved with a cop? They were never home. I lay back down on the bed and fell asleep. The dream came back again. I couldn’t stop it. Faster and faster, the car jerking, and the sense of flying. This time I was screaming!

I felt something holding me and I struck out with my hands and feet. I heard Dodge swearing. When I opened my eyes, Dodge sat next to me holding his nose.

“What happened to you?”

“You hit me.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, I think you were having a nightmare. I thought you said you didn’t sleep.”

“I usually don’t, but this is the second time today I’ve fallen asleep.”

“Maybe you’re becoming more real. Is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” I lied. I didn’t want to say it, but you can’t become un-dead. I found it more believable that I was finally moving on. “Did the note help at all?”

“Not really.”

“What did it say?”

He handed me a piece of paper. “I thought with your Catholic upbringing, you might be able to figure it out.”

In the name of the Father I write to you,

The saints spoke in the name of the Lord, for an example of suffering. My suffering escalates with each sinner I see. She used to be religious, but now she’s a sinner. My job is to convert the sinner from the error of her ways. She was the chosen one. I saved her soul and hid her sins. She is one of mine. I will ask Saint Vitus to pray for her soul and her mates.

“I’m pretty sure it’s from James. He’s actually my favorite disciple. Although the book of James wasn’t written by him, it was written by Jesus’ half brother, James.” I reached over into the nightstand and took out the Bible. A quick flip and I had the passage. “It’s very similar to some of the verses from the fifth chapter of James. He’s changed them a bit, but the meaning’s still relatively the same.”

Dodge nodded. “Okay, why is James your favorite?”

“He was rich, sought power, and the other disciples were jealous of him.”

Dodge rolled his eyes. “The letter was in the name of the Father, just like the ‘F’ on the back of the medallion left around her neck.”

“The reference to her mates, what’s that about?”

“We’re not sure. He doesn’t kill the women’s boyfriend or husband, so it’s not a reference to their mates. Unless the killer’s from Australia, he isn’t referring to their friends. We assume it’s the other two girls he’s going to kill if we don’t stop him.”

“Could it be something more than just three girls here in Vegas?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you ever find any connection between the other women he killed?”

“In Charlton, all of the nurses were in their last semester of school. But each went to a different one of the three universities in town.”

“And the prostitutes?”

“Two escorts, one street girl. We couldn’t find a connection between them.”

“Didn’t that madam lady say the girls were required to take classes for six months while they were just being companions?”

Dodge tilted his head. “I think so. It isn’t in any of my notes, but I do remember her saying that.”

“That’s a school connection, like the nurses. Maybe mates means classmates?”

“The other escort service must do the same thing. Have the new hires work as companions before they move on to being escorts,” Dodge paused, thinking.

“What about the street prostitute? Did she ever take classes anywhere?”

“I don’t know.” He glanced at his watch. “I can get someone at the station in San Francisco to go and ask her pimp.”

“The nurses were all in their last semester of school. They must have had a similar class. Maybe they all went to a lecture together. I remember when I was in college, most of my classes gave extra credit if you went and listened to some idiot give a lecture.”

“You needed to get the extra credit points?”

“Well, I didn’t pay much attention during the classes but I was always up to going into town, getting high, and then listening to some moron drone on about something.”

He frowned and shook his head.

I shrugged.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number. I listened as he spoke to someone in San Francisco, telling them to check on the two escorts and the street prostitute.

“See if they all might have attended some kind of class, either separately or at the same time,” he instructed.

“Okay, call me as soon as you get the information.”

Then he dialed New York and Charlton and asked someone to do the same thing.

When he hung up from Charlton, he nodded. “I talked to a Detective Jaseen. His wife is in her last year of nursing school at one of the universities. It seems that the three schools rotate the classes so they don’t have everyone doing one particular department at a time. He says they all take a professional ethics class during their last semester. He’s pretty sure it’s the same for the other two universities.”

“What about guest lecturers?”

“He said his wife has gone to quite a few during her four years in school. It’s usually for extra credit, but occasionally it’s mandatory that everyone go.”

“That’s got to be it,” I suggested. “Maybe it’s the same person lecturing about ethics.”

“I don’t think the same person would lecture about the ethics of nursing, prostitution, acting, and dancing.”

“Maybe it’s broader than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Religious ethics?”

“Could be.” Dodge yawned and covered his mouth.

“You need to rest, Dodge. You’ve been going for hours without sleep.”

He yawned again. “Try days without any real sleep.”

“You’ve got to wait for those people to call you back anyway, so why don’t you lie down and get some rest?”

“Will you lie down with me?” He smiled.

“You need your rest,” I insisted.

He held up his hand. “I promise. I’ll go to sleep.”

“Okay.” I changed into a pair of dark blue pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt.

“Not very sexy.” Dodge frowned.

“You don’t need sexy, you need sleep.” I pushed him toward the bed.

“What about you?” he asked, the concern from earlier showing on his face again.

I shrugged. “I guess I need sleep, too.”

“Great.” He smiled. “Let’s both get some.”

We climbed into bed. Dodge wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. Then he kissed me on the neck.

“Hey!” I turned my head. “You need sleep, remember?”

“I know, I just wanted to make sure you were really here before I drift off to sleep.”

I stroked the side of his face. “I’m here, love.” Then I leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss started slow and tender, but when I could sense a change in it, I pulled away. “Now go to sleep.”

“You’re no fun, Samantha.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t think you would have liked me very much in my wild and fun days, Inspector Dodge Benson.”

His eyes closed. “It would have been fun arresting you.”

“Go to sleep, Dodge.”

And he did.

As soon as his breathing became steady and I was sure he was in a deep sleep, I got up. I didn’t want to sleep anymore. First, I didn’t want to have the nightmare and second, it made me feel like I was slipping away. I wanted to help Dodge find his killer before I went to wherever you’re supposed to go when you die. Maybe this was why I hadn’t left. I had never really helped anyone do anything important before. Stopping this killer and helping Dodge get over the death of his wife might be the key to crossing over. It would be hard to leave him, but as nice as it was, it wasn’t a relationship that could last. Even if I never left, eventually Dodge would get older, he would die and I would be left alone again.

I sat down at the desk, opened Dodge’s laptop and turned it on. Maybe I could do some research into lecturers of religious ethics and see what I could find. His machine was password protected, but it took me less than a minute to figure out his password. When I typed in “Cynthia” the computer hummed to life. Why do people choose such obvious passwords? I was only slightly jealous that it was his dead wife’s name and not mine that was the password.

A quick tour of the Internet and I found several lecturers who specialized in religious ethics. Then I went to the university websites from Charlton and pulled up the class schedule for the last semester of nursing school. Students at all three had to take a professional ethics course. I went into the courses and pulled up their syllabuses. Two out of the three mentioned a guest lecturer, but I bet the other one at least told their students about it.

I tried the city of Charlton’s website and looked for a schedule of lectures but couldn’t find any that dealt with ethics. Next I went back to the university websites and tried to find the lecturers. No luck, again.

Then I got an idea. I opened up Dodge’s email chat account and sent a note to an old friend. I sat back and thought about all the money I had filtered down to Sponge’s account while I was in school. If you asked him, he would tell you that he was the best hacker in the world. He probably was right. Anything you needed, he could get. He would even change a grade for the right price.

The response came back two minutes later.

“Hey, Lady Luck. I haven’t heard from you in eons. Where you been?”

“Around the world and back, Sponge.”

“Still in school?”

“Oh, no. Long gone from that.”

“Cool.”

“I need a favor for a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Well, someone I owe something to.”

“That’s my girl. What you need?”

“Got anything from Charlton U?”

“I’ve got fingers at every school in the world, you know that. What does your friend need?”

“Notes from a guest lecturer.”

“Easy, give me something harder.”

“That’ll do.”

“Okay, who’s the speaker?”

“Don’t know.”

“Ah, this might be a challenge.”

“You like a challenge.”

“I live for them.”

“I don’t know the speaker’s name, but I know the topic.”

“That’s all I need. Pass it on, Lady Luck.”

“Religious Ethics.”

“BORING!”

“Yeah, but he needs the notes.”

“A guy?”

“Yes.”

“Can he afford you?”

“No.”

“LOL. LOL. LOL.”

“Yeah, go ahead and laugh. How soon will you have the info?”

“Give me some time. I’ll get back to you. Where do you want me to send the info?”

Now that was a good question. I didn’t know Dodge’s email address and illegal information from a hacker probably shouldn’t be sent to a cop.

“Who’s Dodge?” Sponge sent back.

Damn he’s good. Another few minutes and Sponge will know exactly who and what Dodge is. I knew what to say, “Borrowed a box.”

“From a cop?”

“I like to live dangerously.”