Living with the Dead Part 42

Lily went on. "He's been so angry. Like it's my fault. Like I wanted the other men to... to..."

More pats as Adele peered over Lily's shoulder. The barn was a hundred feet away, and in it, plenty of implements to help rid her of this annoyance for good.

"Wherever you're going, Adele, I'm going with you. I'm going to help you escape." Lily sniffled and straightened. "We'll run to the barn. You can hide in there while I divert attention."

Adele tried not to smile. "Sure. The barn. Good idea."

With Lily watching her back, Adele ran to the next house. Lily caught up, then watched again as Adele made it to the barn. Adele walked into the dim interior, the bone-chilling dampness seeping through her clothes, the stink of beast and s.h.i.+t filling her lungs. By the G.o.ds, she'd be glad to get away from An ear-shattering crack crack made Adele stagger forward, the barn exploding in a blinding light. She dropped to her knees, arms flying up to protect her head. Another crack. Another explosion that left her ears ringing, her stomach pitching. made Adele stagger forward, the barn exploding in a blinding light. She dropped to her knees, arms flying up to protect her head. Another crack. Another explosion that left her ears ringing, her stomach pitching.

A bomb. Someone had rigged the barn with a A blow between Adele's shoulder blades knocked her face-first into the hay, the chaff filling her mouth and nose. She tried to cough, but her head pounded like it would split if she so much as whimpered.

Another blow, this one glancing off her shoulder. There was no bomb. Someone was beating her. She tried to push up. Her stomach lurched and she gagged, vomit dribbling out.

A kick in the ribs flipped her over and she saw her a.s.sailant, a featureless figure looming over her, shovel raised. That shovel swung down like a scythe. Lily's face appeared above it, contorted into a gargoyle mask of rage and hate.

Adele twisted out of the shovel's path. It struck her hip, fresh pain jolting through her, the shovel glinting as Lily swung it up again.

"That's enough, Lily," said a voice behind them. "For now."

Neala walked over and stood beside Lily. She looked down at Adele. Her eyes glowed, glittering orbs in a grinning death's head, pale skin tight over her sharp cheekbones and chin.

Adele flipped onto her stomach and grabbed fistfuls of hay, pulling herself along the floor, trying to escape.

"Did Lily tell you she got the results from Dr. Briar?" Neala said. "He was running tests, trying to understand why they couldn't conceive. Seems she was taking birth control pills. And it seems someone's been a very sweet sister lately, bringing Lily's coffee every morning."

Lily walked over and kicked Adele's ribs again, making her squeal like a spring piglet at the slaughter. "You think that hurts? It's nothing compared to what Hugh's going to do to you when he finds out."

"Hugh," Adele rasped. "It was his idea. The pills. He wanted to marry me, and if you couldn't have kids, you'd have to go to the kitchens, and he'd be free."

"Is that that what happened?" Lily said sarcastically. "How can I ever repay you for telling me the truth? I know, I can let you go, right?" what happened?" Lily said sarcastically. "How can I ever repay you for telling me the truth? I know, I can let you go, right?"

"If you don't, he'll kill me. It's not my fault "

"Nothing ever is, Adele," Neala said. "Lily, grab her other arm. We don't want the others to miss out on Adele's wonderful stories."

ROBYN.

Robyn watched Detective Findlay walk along the gravel shoulder behind the compound where Hope, Karl and Rhys had gone. He was returning to the car after talking to the rest of the team. He had his gaze down, watching the ground intently, as if it teemed with scorpions, but when a can lay in his path, he stepped on it, giving a start when it crunched underfoot.

Frown lines creased his broad face. When the wind ruffled his hair, he shoved the strands back from his face, frown deepening, gaze returning to its intent study of his path.

Preoccupied, but not with ghosts. Robyn had already learned to recognize that look, that dreaminess, so jarring on his craggy face, like a cowboy wistfully gazing at the mountains, dreaming of a ranch of his own.

This current preoccupation seemed equally out of place, too intense, too angry. Deep in thought, and whatever those thoughts were, he didn't like them.

He climbed into the driver's seat and stared at a dead bug on the winds.h.i.+eld, as if trying to commune with its spirit. She didn't expect him to speak. The tension between them had been stretching ever tighter since the medical offices.

She couldn't regret her reaction, nor shake the feeling that it had, under the circ.u.mstances, been the right one.

For Detective Findlay, though, this was a job, and she didn't expect him to put himself on the line for Hope and Karl, no more than she expected him to let her his suspect do the same. An irreconcilable clash of priorities that had settled into an irreconcilable war of intractability.

Even when Detective Findlay had finally managed to call for backup, it had only seemed to blacken his mood more. Apparently, he was stuck with a team from the sheriff's department, men he didn't know. He'd tried getting hold of a detective named Madoz, wanting him to be in on the takedown, and had been told he was on the way, but there was no sign of him yet.

She cleared her throat. "Detective Findlay "

"You don't need to call me that."

"What's your name?"

He blinked, apparently having forgotten that somewhere between the gun showdown and the car chase, they'd failed to perform proper introductions.

"John," he said. "But everyone calls me Finn."

"Which do you prefer?"

He paused, as if it had been so long since anyone asked, he wasn't sure. "Finn's fine."

"Okay, so is the team ready to "

A rap at the window. Finn lowered it. A beefy man leaned in too far, the invasion of s.p.a.ce making the detective's shoulders square.

"Alvarez," the man said. "Just got here. My boys tell me you don't like my plan, Detective."

"I don't see any reason to put Ms. Peltier in further "

"No danger, Detective. My boys are the best. I need her on-site to ID her friends, make sure we get them out."

"Out of what?"

"We don't know what we're facing in there. Our records show it's a multifamily residence. Some kind of commune, we think. We have to be prepared for the worst."

"Which is why Ms. Peltier shouldn't go in. I can ID her friends."

"We'd prefer her, for absolute confirmation."

"I want to speak to "

"It's okay," Robyn said. "I'll go."

Finn didn't like that, lips tightening. Alvarez thumped the window sill and backed out. "All set then?"

He walked away without waiting for a response.

As they took up position in the woods surrounding the property, Finn only got moodier, snapping at the officers in a way that suggested he never snapped at anyone and didn't like hearing himself do it. But that didn't stop him either.

He seemed to be in communication with his spirit guide, but Robyn got the impression that at the moment, the ghost wasn't doing much guiding.

"I need you two over there." Alvarez pointed into the patch of woods bordering the property, then smacked binoculars into the detective's hand. "That's a safe distance. Have her pinpoint her friends and radio me with a full description of their location and apparel. Solheim here will go with you."

Alvarez marched off with his men, leaving an officer about Finn's age with a heavy brow and a heavier frown. He waved them into the forest and followed at their heels, rifle in hand. Every few seconds, Finn would glance back, as if being marched to a firing squad.

Robyn picked her way through the bush. When her feet got tangled, the detective pulled her up short and yanked wild grapevines from her ankles.

"Is this really necessary?" Finn said. "We can barely walk here."

"Cover," was all Solheim said.

When they were finally in deep enough, Solheim grunted for them to stop. Robyn could make out houses in the distance, and what looked like people moving between them, but it was so far away she doubted she would recognize Hope and Karl even with binoculars.

She glanced at Finn, who was squinting through them. She expected him to echo her thoughts, but instead he said, "How do you adjust these?"

Solheim grunted again, a sigh whispering through it this time. He set his rifle down and took the binoculars. Finn stepped back, behind Solheim, giving him a better vantage point. Robyn squinted, straining to see Hope's denim jacket.

"See this dial?" Solheim lifted the binoculars to his eyes. "You need to "

A crack. Robyn spun to see Solheim falling, Finn behind him, gun raised.

As she stared in shock, Finn knelt beside the officer's body. "Out cold. Good. Now help me pull him "

"You you just knocked out a cop."

"He's not a cop, Robyn. None of them are."

"What?"

The detective rose, pus.h.i.+ng his gun back into his holster. "I have no idea what's going on here, but I don't know any of these men "

"Because they're from the sheriff's office!"

"Who we've been working with on this case, and I don't recognize a single name. Madoz is a no-show. I can't get through to my station. My cell phone is blocked. And look around. What are we doing out here?"

"You wanted me to be safe. This is "

"They're sidelining us. Getting me out of the way. You gave them full descriptions of Adams and Marsten, down to what they're wearing. Why do you need to do that again?"

"You called for backup. On your police radio. I saw saw you. You can't tell me " you. You can't tell me "

"Something happened."

She took a slow step back. "Oh, I know what happened. You called for backup, expecting to get men you know, men you could control. Hope was right. You do work for that company."

"What? No. I "

Robyn turned and ran. She felt his fingers brush her back, then an "oomph" as he stumbled in the undergrowth.

"Robyn!"

She reached into her jacket pocket for the gun, but it snagged and refused to come out.

"Robyn, just stop and listen "

She ran faster, ducking to avoid a low branch, then, at the last second, grabbing it, pulling it as she ran, letting go, hearing it whip back, Detective Findlay cursing as he tripped again, trying to avoid it.

"Rob Bobby!"

Grapevines seemed to snake from the ground, wrapping around her feet and she stumbled, twisting, hands flying up to ward him off.

"What did you say?" Her jaw wouldn't unhinge enough to let the words out properly, her fury so hot she could feel it, see it, white sparks exploding before her eyes.

"Bobby," he said. "Damon called you calls you "

"Don't you dare!"

He reached for her elbow, then drew back, glancing to the left with a gruff, "I know. I'm sorry," before turning back to Robyn. His lips twisted in what she supposed was a wry smile, but it looked like a grimace, and seeing it, she knew what he was going to say, what he was going to tell her, the lowest, cheapest ploy he could think of.

"Don't you dare."

"Rob "

"If you tell me that Damon's here, helping you, I will I will "She could think of no threat great enough.

Detective Findlay stepped back, voice softening. "He says he calls you Bobby because he misread the place setting tags at Ava's wedding. It was a fancy script and he thought it said Bobby, and even after he knew your name was Robyn, he figured everyone must call you Bobby, so he kept using it, and it was months before anyone straightened him out."

The rage reignited, tears evaporating. "Everyone knows that story. They told it at our wedding, for G.o.d's sake. You and your people dug up everything they could, getting this lie ready to spring " knows that story. They told it at our wedding, for G.o.d's sake. You and your people dug up everything they could, getting this lie ready to spring "

"Fair," he said quickly, desperation flas.h.i.+ng in his eyes. "He Damon said you like fairs. Yesterday when we went there, he was telling me how much you liked..." He trailed off, glancing to the side as if listening, then nodding emphatically. "Okay, okay. He says you two went to the fair last year with a couple of his college buddies. Damon threw up on the Tilt-a-Whirl and promised to do the housework for a month if you said you you were the one who got sick." were the one who got sick."

The ground tilted as if, for a moment, she was back on that ride. They'd never told anyone that story, which was the point of course, saving Damon from endless razzing by his friends, who'd been on the other side of the ride and missed seeing which one of them threw up. Robyn teased him about it mercilessly, trying to blackmail extra ch.o.r.es for months.

If she'd she'd never told anyone, and she knew never told anyone, and she knew Damon Damon would never have told anyone... would never have told anyone...

Her gaze lifted to the spot beside Detective Finn's shoulder.

"Damon?" Again, that slow tilt of the world s.h.i.+fting, and it was like when she was eighteen, getting her wisdom teeth out, the anesthetic taking hold, a languorous wave of delicious warmth was.h.i.+ng over her, her whole body relaxing and surrendering to it. She felt that again, swaying, muscles letting go as if she'd been holding them tight for six months and all she could do was stare at that spot, that empty spot, and say again, "Damon."

She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut, praying that when she opened them, she'd see him, see some part of him, if only a s.h.i.+mmer of light, something she could reach for.

She opened her eyes to dark forest. "What's he saying? Can he hear me?"

"He can, and he's saying that while he'd love to chat, you've got a psycho SWAT team on your tail, and you need to move your, uh, rear."

She hiccuped a laugh, hands flying up to stifle it. "Damon."

"You're going to talk to him, Robyn. I promise." Finn stepped toward her, taking her by the elbows. "When this is over, I'll tell you everything he wants you to hear. But right now..."