The White Gold Score (A Daniel Faust Novella) (13 page)

I didn’t get it. Ghosts were a mixed bag of weirdness, but the case was closed. I’d taken out Monty’s killer; I’d given him his watch back. What the hell else could he want? Real restless spirits were rare for a reason: unless they’d been cursed or bound somehow, it took an unbelievable amount of sheer willpower—like clinging to a skyscraper ledge by your fingernails—to stay in the land of the living. Something was so important to Monty that even after being avenged, he just couldn’t let go.

I thought back to the night I’d spent in the penthouse suite. How I’d lived his final moments, feeling the bullet that killed him. The flood of panic and fear—

Then I saw it. The missing piece.

“You still there?” Greenbriar said.

“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “I know what I have to do. I’m going back to Los Angeles. Tonight. I’m gonna need a favor.”

“Will it solve my damn problem? Fine, what do you need?”

“Find me a backhoe operator who works nights and can keep his mouth shut,” I told him. “I have to dig up Monty’s grave.”

*     *     *

I drove along the winding forest road, watching the sun glitter as it rose over the trees. My back sore, my shoes dirty with caked earth from exhuming Monty’s casket. And in my mind, for the hundredth time, I lived through the memory of Monty’s death.

At the end of the private drive, I pulled up outside Tanesha’s retreat. The front door opened a crack. I couldn’t quite read the look on her face. Somewhere between fear and relief.

“Dino’s dead,” she told me.

“That’s right.”

“Did you do it?”

I shook my head. “No. Can I come in?”

She unhooked the chain and opened the door.

“Thought I saw you at Monty’s funeral,” she said.

I didn’t answer. We walked into her living room. To the hearth, where her pictures stood. Her and Monty, in the recording studio, the white gold Rolex on his wrist.

“We had reason to believe Dino might have…robbed Monty’s body, after he killed him,” I said. “I had a friend in the coroner’s office check through Dino’s belongings.”

I pulled the Rolex from my pocket, holding it up between us. The inscription,
Forever Gold
, gleaming in the light.

“I think that Monty would have wanted you to have this.”

Monty had died in an agony of fear. Not for himself, though. I remembered his last words, pouring from my lips: “
Don’t hurt her. Promise me you won’t hurt her
.” He’d died the same way he’d lived: obsessed and in love. He’d carried that torch all the way to the grave.

And the torch still burned.

Tanesha stared at the watch. She took a deep breath.

Then she reached out, letting out the breath in a tired sigh, and curled her fingers around the watchband.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s good…it’s good to have something to remember him by. We had some good times, me and him. I’ll always be grateful for that. I couldn’t be…what he wanted me to be. But I’ll always be grateful.”

I turned to go.

As she walked me to the door, I glanced into a hallway mirror. I saw my reflection—tired, worn down—and hers.

And one other person standing in the mirror. Down the hall, in the shadow of a darkened room, the dim, shrouded shape of Monty Spears. Staring back at her.

And there he would stay, I knew, as long as his spirit could hold on. A silent sentinel, standing an invisible watch over her. Struggling, with the last fleeting remnants of his soul, to prove his love to a woman who would never love him back. Singing his one-note love song until he finally let go and tumbled into the void.

There’s no con more convincing than the one you play on yourself.

I set my GPS for the airport and drove. I’d had enough of ghosts and delusions and Los Angeles hustlers. Enough of gold records and gold watches. It was all a mirage anyway, yellow rocks glittering in the California sun.

The job was done. That was real. The cash, that was real too. And that was all that mattered.

Time to go home.

So, a little history: when I was picked up by 47North to write the
Harmony Black
series, my publishing schedule suddenly posed a problem. Between the first two Harmony books being released back-to-back, and the final
Revanche Cycle
novel in the pipeline too, I wouldn’t be able to release the next Faust novel until the end of 2016. A whole year between Faust books? I hated the idea of keeping readers waiting that long. So, I canceled an overdue vacation and carved out extra time wherever I could with the intent of weaving a little stand-alone side story, an as-yet-untold tale from Daniel’s past to tide everybody over until the next full length adventure.

Working at novella length was an interesting experience, taught me a few things, and provided some more ideas for other side-stories set in Daniel’s universe; if folks enjoyed this one, I’ll likely do more of these. Not now, though. Now, I’m taking the weekend off. I might even sleep in. Maybe.

Thanks as always to Kira Rubenthaler, my editor; James T. Egan, my cover designer; Adam Verner, narrator of the fantastic audio book adaptations; and Maggie Faid on administrative support. And of course, thank you for reading!

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