The Seance (13 page)

For now, though, he was done for the day, and he was glad of it. He felt tired of everything and suddenly anxious to get out, head to a pub, watch a football game.

Closing his desk drawer, he hesitated. He knew, of course, why this day had been so bitter.

Angie.

Angie, who still went by McDuff, since she thought it looked better on paper—and in lights—than Vladilovskya.

He felt his hands knot into fists and made a point of straightening his fingers. Angie. Tall, slim, silicone-breasted Angie.

He'd paid for that silicone.

Just as he'd paid for the tummy tuck—not really necessary, he'd been told by her surgeon—and the liposuction. He'd been madly in love. He'd met her when she'd auditioned for a show he was putting together, and she'd fallen in love with him, too. Until she'd gotten the role. And a few other roles. And the boobs, the lipo and the tummy tuck.

Then she'd started to gain a reputation, even gotten a small role in a movie.

And he'd been out on his heels like an old, used-up has-been.

Her name had come up in a meeting today. He'd done all he could to keep his mouth closed. He hadn't dissed her, even agreed that she might be right for a role in a Christmas special one of the networks had asked him to pull together at the biggest theme park in the area. A role that could lead to more and better—and bigger—things in the future.

About to rise, he paused when he heard a tentative knock on his door. “Yes?” he snapped.

To his amazement, she walked in. Angie McDuff. His ex. Tall, slim and now all but perfect. Her eyes were huge and light green, and her hair was tinted to the color of burnished copper, though she'd been a brunette when he'd met her.

“Mike,” she said softly.

“Hello, Angie. I was just on my way out.”

“Sure. I just came by to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“I hear that my name came up today and you…agreed that I have the right look, and that I have talent.”

“And?” he said flatly.

“Well…” She stumbled over her words. “Thank you.”

He folded his hands on his desk. “This is business, Angie. Just business. I make big bucks for putting the pieces together. If you weren't right for the role, I would have said so. You don't owe me any thanks.”

She smiled awkwardly. “You sound like a Mafioso. ‘It's just business,'” she said in a mock-gruff tone.

He shrugged. It was hard to look at her, but he forced himself to meet her eyes. Something shot through him. A spasm of unease.

Yeah, right.

He couldn't see her without remembering what it was like to sleep with her.

But that wasn't it….

“You're welcome. Is that what you want to hear? Fine, you're welcome, and I wish you the best of luck, but there's only so much I can do. Hell, my own brother is on pins and needles waiting to hear if he got the role he wants. I only have so much control.”

“More than you think. Thank you again, Mike.”

He nodded. “Sure. Like I said, good luck to you.”

She smiled. “One day, maybe you'll forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” he said, as if puzzled. “Most of the time, I don't even remember you,” he lied.

He could see her stiffen. “Sure. Thanks. Bye.”

She turned around and left, and he sat, listening to the sound of the closing door. Then he rose—and followed her.

 

The power of suggestion was a very strange thing indeed, Christina thought after Dan left for his late shift at the park.

She had never been one to go to a cemetery regularly. She didn't believe that visiting a grave meant visiting the soul of a loved one. Remembering was the greatest honor she could offer the departed; speaking about them, even laughing about their foibles, kept them alive. She visited the cemetery when it felt right, not on a schedule.

But Jed's visit had gotten under her skin.

She and Killer were going to do just fine, she decided. The little Jack Russell was a bit on the hyper side, but that was good. It meant he would notice—and bark at—the slightest disturbance. It was also good that he was already two years old. The woman at the adoption center had assured her that he no longer ate shoes and anything else he could find. But the best thing about Killer was that he was so affectionate, so eager to please. He didn't object when she clipped his leash onto his collar when she headed out with him. She had seen dogs in the cemetery before, so she figured as long as no one had a fit, it would be okay to take him with her.

“Hey!” someone yelled as she stepped out her door. Tony and Ilona were in front of Tony's sprawling ranch-style house, throwing a Frisbee back and forth. Ilona paused after her greeting and waved at her, sending the Frisbee sailing toward her front yard. Surprised, she lost her grip on the leash, and Killer took off running.

To her astonishment, the terrier went flying down the porch steps and across the lawn, then made an impossible leap into the air—and caught the Frisbee.

“Wow!” Ilona shouted, hurrying over.

“Did you see that?” Tony exclaimed, hot on her heels. He grinned at Christina when they came to a stop in front of her and put his arm around his fiancée's shoulders. “Good God, where did he come from? The dog circus? That was amazing. Is he yours?”

“He's mine, and I'm as amazed as you are,” Christina assured him.

“You adopted him?” Ilona asked, looking down at Killer, who was wagging his tail, Frisbee in his mouth.

“Yes, I just got him today,” Christina said. “His name is Killer.”

Tony looked at her. “Killer?” he said politely, but his lips were twitching.

“Hey, he was already named when I got him,” she said.

“Well, he is killer good with a Frisbee,” Tony said. “You could enter him in a contest. I bet he'd win, and some of those contests pay good money.”

“He's a pet. He doesn't have to make money,” Christina said.

“He obviously loves to play, though. You should let him play with us sometime. Of course, you're welcome to play, too,” Ilona told her, grinning.

“I'm not as good as he is,” Christina admitted.

“We'll make allowances for old times' sake,” Tony assured her.

She laughed. “Okay, we'll see. Meanwhile…Killer, give that Frisbee back. We're off.”

To her amazement, the dog immediately obeyed.

He went over to Tony and whined until Tony hunkered down and took the Frisbee. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Have fun,” she said, leading the dog toward her car.

“You, too,” Ilona called.

“And, uh…be careful out there, huh?” Tony added.

“Will do,” she assured him, feeling heartily sick and tired of everyone's concern, no matter how well meaning it was.

She drove to the cemetery. Killer sat in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, totally well behaved, just as he had been when she had first taken him home. He remained seated, giving only one little woof when she paused by one of the vendors near the entrance to buy two large bouquets of flowers.

She parked outside the gate, because some of the lanes were so narrow and winding that it was possible to get blocked in.

She looked around. Everything was quiet. Great oaks dripped with Spanish moss. The land actually rolled gently in every direction. Carved angels and cherubs rose above many of the tombs. The cemetery was really quite beautiful, she realized. Peaceful.

Sadly, she knew the way to her family plot far too well. Granda had built the mausoleum surrounded by a cast-iron fence when they had first come to America, and it was an impressive sight, with a large stone angel rising above the ornate building marked McDuff/Hardy.

At the moment the mausoleum held four sarcophagi. Anyone else who wanted to be buried inside would have to start piggy-backing on the others. She could go in, she knew, but instead she set one bouquet outside, where her parents were buried. She was at peace regarding her grandparents' deaths, but she didn't think she would ever feel the same about her parents. They had been robbed of so many years of life and had deserved so much more.

Killer, who seemed to recognize the solemnity of their mission, sat quietly at her side while she mouthed a little prayer. She looked at the dates carved into the stone marking her parents' grave and touched them, whispering a little “I love you” to each.

She didn't believe they heard her any more clearly here than they would anywhere else. This was just…a courtesy. More for herself than for them.

She held the second bouquet in her arms, but she wasn't sure where she was going with it.

She turned around and froze, feeling as if a cool breeze were washing over her.

Of course she was sure. She knew exactly where she was going.

It wasn't far.

Suddenly, just as clearly as if it had been the day before, she remembered back to her grandfather's funeral. She remembered how many people had been there, compared to the single couple who had stood by the other grave, the woman weeping pitifully.

She remembered how, when they had gone, she had walked over to the grave and cast a single flower onto the casket.

She hardly noticed Killer trailing along as she wended her way between graves, past markers and cherubs, crosses and angels, to that other grave.

Beauregard Kidd.

Beloved son and brother.

And the date…

He had died the same day as her grandfather, and he had been buried on the same day her grandfather had been buried.

And no one had come to his funeral because he had been suspected of being a serial killer.

The breeze picked up.

At her feet, the dog whined.

She set down the last bouquet of flowers. “I hope that justice is served, Beau Kidd, and I pray for your family. For your sister.” She had been raised in the Catholic Church, so she crossed herself and added, “And I pray for you, Beau, and your immortal soul.”

Suddenly the breeze turned cold, and Killer whined again.

And darkness arrived in a rush.

She ducked low and scooped up Killer, then hurried out to her car. All the way home, she mocked herself for being a fool. But once inside with her little dog, she felt better. With all the lights on, the house felt brighter. Even normal.

She admitted that she actually felt at ease. All because of a little Jack Russell with an enormous personality.

She spent some time experimenting with a few ideas on the piano, Killer at her feet. Then, right when she was in the middle of something she thought had potential, he leapt to his feet and began to bark. She jumped, but a minute later, when she heard the doorbell, she smiled.

“Killer, you're the best,” she said to the dog as she went to answer the door. “Hello?” she said when she got there, peering through the peephole.

“Christie?”

It was Dan, and she opened the door. He looked tired and depressed.

“I'm so sorry about your friend,” she told him with a big hug.

He shook his head. “It's not that I knew her that well, it's just…things like that, they just don't happen to people you know, you know what I mean?”

“I do. Come on in.”

“Why don't you come out? We'll get something to eat.”

“I really don't want to leave Killer alone just yet.”

“Killer. Right. Your monster guard dog.” He almost smiled as he looked down at the terrier by her feet.

“He's a great guard dog. He barks when anyone comes near me.”

“How about fast food, then?” Dan asked. “We can park and eat in the car.”

“Sure.”

They took his car, and by the time they'd gone to a hamburger drive-up window, then parked, Dan was smitten by the dog.

Killer was obviously interested in hamburger, but he waited very politely to be offered a bite.

“I thought you were getting a big dog,” Dan said.

“I thought I was getting a big dog, too.”

“He's great.”

“Hey, did you hear anything about the new role yet?” she asked him.

“Zeus? Nope. I think the park's getting nervous. Who knows? Tourism may plummet. There may never be a part, because there may never be a play.”

“Have you pushed Mike to help?” she asked him.

“Mike can't do anything now. He's finished with his part of it. He did recommend me, of course. And I did a damned good audition. So…” He winced suddenly.

“What?”

“I think Patti Jo was up for a part, too.”

She let out a long breath and stopped herself from telling him that she was sorry. He knew it already. And it wasn't as if anything she said could make it better.