Acheron Highway: A Jonathan Shade Novel (25 page)

“Toilet paper?
 
Maybe a napkin or a paper towel?”

He pointed.
 
“Kitchen.
 
Paper towels under the sink.”

I rose, closed and locked the door, then went and got him a paper towel.
 
I noticed that the sliding glass door was closed, but the latch was still bent.
 
I glanced out at the backyard.
 
I didn’t see any crime scene tape by the grave, so either the forensic team had finished up already or Zach found it and took it all down.
 
I pulled my gun before I stepped back into the hall, but when I stepped around the corner, I saw that he hadn’t moved, so I holstered my weapon and approached him.

He accepted the paper towel.

“That really hurt,” he said.

“It was supposed to.
 
Can we talk without our fists now?”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Jonathan Shade and—”

“The private investigator?”

I nodded.
 
“Yeah, I—”

“My bosses hate you.
 
You’re dating Miranda?”

“You took her heart.”

“What do you mean?
 
I dated her but that girl doesn’t have a heart.”

“She got it back.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.
 
He was a pretty good actor, but I wasn’t handing out Oscars just yet.

“Right.
 
Where have you been?”

“Tucson.
 
My mother is in the hospital.
 
Stage four adenocarcinoma.
 
It’s terminal.”

“Under normal circumstances, I’d feel bad for you.
 
Unfortunately for you, I know that your mother was in a cabinet in your basement, so if you’re trying to get sympathy, you’re shit out of luck.”

He stared at me for a long moment then sighed and nodded.
 
“It was terminal ten years ago,” he said.
 
“I didn’t know any healers back then, but after she died, I was able to keep her going the same as I’d been able to resurrect my father.
 
In a perfect world, our parents would never die and leave us.”

I nodded because he’d finally said something with which I agreed.
 
Even now, all these years later, I still missed my parents.
 
People who’ve never lost a parent have no clue about the empty void a parent’s death leaves in your life.

“OK, I know I’m sick,” he said after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.
 
“But I did let them go to a large degree.”

“Try again, dude.
 
I saw the big cabinets of formaldehyde in the basement.”

“I haven’t awakened them in five years.
 
Not that I haven’t been tempted...but I’ve resisted.”

“Resisting will be easy from now on thanks to your pals at DGI.”

He stared at me and realized there was something more going on than he thought.
 
“What do you mean?”

I gestured toward the basement door.
 
“Your folks and your wife have left the building.
 
Have a look.”

He dabbed at his bloody nose a few times but seemed satisfied that no more blood stained the white patches of the paper towel.
 
I was ready for him if he decided to try anything, but he simply rose and went to the basement door.
 
He took a deep breath, opened the door, and descended the stairs.
 
I followed him.

The cabinets were empty.
 
The big glass cages were still there, but the skeletons had been removed.
 
Nasty gunk still floated at the top of the formaldehyde.
 
I tried not to think about it.

“Gina?
 
Mom?
 
Dad?”
 
He turned toward me, tears welling in his eyes.
 
“Where are they?”

“My guess would be a funeral home.”

He bowed his head.
 
“That’s probably best.”

“So where were you?”

“Hmm?”

“This past week?”

“I don’t know.
 
The last several days seem like a blur.”

“Who was buried in your backyard?”

His confused look seemed genuine.
 
“What?”

“There was a body buried in your backyard.
 
Had your wallet in his back pocket.”

He reached for his back pocket and patted it.
 
“What the hell?
 
Where’s my wallet?”

“We put it back.”

“Back?”

“In the pocket.
 
We thought it was you.”

“What the hell is going on?”
 
He rubbed his temples.

“I have suspicions,” I said, “but no real answers.”

“I feel like I’ve had my head used as a basketball, my body for a doormat, and my life turned inside out and set on fire.”

He went back upstairs, walked over, and dropped the bloody paper towel in the trash.
 
Then he leaned against the kitchen counter.
 
He turned his head and gazed at the backyard.
 
“A body was buried out there?”

“Yes.”

He pushed away from the counter and went to unlock the sliding glass door.
 
He stared at the bent lock, shrugged as if that were the least of his worries, then slid the door open and stepped onto the back porch.
 
He wasn’t wearing a coat but didn’t seem to notice the cold wind.

I went to the door but remained inside.
 
The cold air rushing into the house was bad enough.
 
I didn’t want to go out into it.

Zach held his arms out, palms facing the fence, and twisted to let his hands sweep around in front of him to take in the entire backyard.
 
He lowered his hands and turned toward me.

“There are no bodies out here now.”

I pointed toward the back fence.
 
“It was buried over there.
 
You can see the disturbed snow and dirt.”

He nodded and walked out there.
 
He stared at the ground.
 
He hunched his shoulders as if a chill went through him.
 
How could it not?
 
The temperature had to be in the single digits.
 
He kicked at the dirt and snow then returned to the relative warmth of the house.
 
The heater kicked on as he closed the door.

“How did anyone even find a body out there?”

I didn’t want to mention Walter, so I just shrugged.
 
“You aren’t the only necromancer in town.”

“Yeah, but why would anyone be looking in my backyard?
 
Why would anyone come to my house?”

“You took Miranda Hammond’s heart.
 
That’s why I came out here.”

“I’m sorry, I did what?”

“Took her heart.”

“You said that earlier—check on the heart or something—but that doesn’t make a lick of sense.
 
What the hell are you talking about?”

“She hired me to get her heart back...so I did.”

“She hired you?”
 
He blinked a few times.
 
“She...When was this?”

“Last Tuesday.”

His breathing increased and his eyes darted around; then his gaze finally settled on me.
 
“What are you playing at, Mr. Shade?”

“She said you took her heart.
 
We found her heart in your basement.
 
We put it back.”

“Other necromancers,” he said.

“Say what?”

He shook his head.
 
“Get out of my house, Mr. Shade.
 
We’re through talking.”

That’s when it hit me.

“Wait a second.
 
You thought you killed her.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think maybe we should call the police now,” I said.
 
“Maybe it’s time for you to be arrested for murder.”

“You said she hired you so she’s alive.
 
That proves I didn’t kill her.”

“Fine.
 
Attempted murder, then.
 
That’s still a crime.
 
Ready for some jail time?”

The five-second rule kicked in as I noticed him trying to summon up some magic.
 
I punched him in the nose again, and he staggered back and grabbed his face.
 
Blood seeped between his fingers.

“Damn it!” he said.

“Not sure what you thought you’d do to me,” I said.
 
“Yank my heart out like you did with Miranda?”

“I think you broke my nose,” he said.

“Good.”

“I need another paper towel.”
 
He moved into the kitchen.

I flexed my hand a few times.
 
That last punch really hurt.
 
I pulled out my phone to call O’Malley.

Zach moved as if to go for the cabinet for the towels, but instead he grabbed the spray hose from the kitchen sink, cranked on the water, and sprayed me in the face.
 
The distraction was just enough for him to race past me to get out the back door.
 
I wiped water from my face and saw him vault over the back fence.

“Is that how you want to play it?” I said.
 
I followed him outside and hopped over the fence myself.
 
The wind on my wet skin felt like someone threw battery acid on my cheeks.
 
I caught a glimpse of Zach darting around the side of the house behind his.
 
Unfortunately by the time I got around the side and through the gate, he was gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I wasted a few minutes searching the street, but the cold was too much.
 
My jacket and shirt iced up and my face burned.
 
I gave up and went back to Zach’s place.

This threw a new wrinkle into things.
 
Zach was alive.
 
So whose body had we found?
 
What had Zach been doing for the past week?
 
Was this a by-product of all the dead people rising or was the whole lovesick Persephone thing a separate issue?

I considered everything.
 
As near as I could tell, the dead folks were already slowly rising before Zach tried to kill Miranda.
 
Scratch that.
 
Before he did kill Miranda.
 
But if he wasn’t the one keeping her mobile, who was?
 
It was certainly possible that Persephone’s magic had raised Miranda.

A connection occurred to me.
 
While it wasn’t the first time it had crossed my mind, it was the first time I chose to really look at it.
 
My ex-girlfriend Naomi was in the Underworld.
 
Persephone would know that Naomi and I were an item and could no doubt learn that Naomi knew Miranda, which made me think of the way a powerful sorcerer could possess someone.
 
It made sense to me that Persephone could have learned to do that.
 
After all, she’d been living in the Underworld for thousands of years.

If she wanted to be close to me to get to Sharon, it made sense that she could easily possess Miranda, which would explain why Miranda was up and about without her heart.
 
It might also explain the dead folks attacking especially while Miranda was around or knew where I was going to be.
 
Perhaps Persephone thought that the dead people would be a big enough problem for me to call Sharon.

But if that were the case, why wouldn’t she have killed Zach?
 
Or had he already left when she arrived to take over Miranda’s body?
 
Maybe I’d never even met Miranda.
 
Maybe Persephone was using her body as a meat suit to get close to me and the real Miranda was simply dead with her soul going wherever souls go.
 
I knew the Underworld was only one of many places souls could end up, but I wasn’t an expert in that arena.

I sat in Zach’s house, warming up and hoping he’d come back but doubting it.
 
I wanted to run my theory past someone, so I called Kelly.

She listened to me run through it all.
 
When I finished, she said, “It would explain quite a bit.”

“It makes more sense as I think about it.”

“So when the summoner works her magic on Wednesday, if you have her call Persephone, we should expect to see Miranda show up.
 
Right?”

“Yes, but Persephone will be there anyway, so that’s not why I want the summoner.”

“Hang on, Jonathan.
 
Esther keeps talking.”
 
I listened to Kelly explain it to Esther.
 
She was quiet for a moment then said, “I’ll tell him.”

“Tell me what?”

“Esther says she’s not talking to you, but that you’re probably right about Miranda; Esther never trusted her.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“More than that, she thinks it would explain why she found Miranda’s corpse in your apartment and had us call the paramedics.
 
If Persephone stepped out, the heart might have stopped and the body would simply lay there.
 
Right?”

“And when she climbed back into it, the jolt could have started the heart again.
 
Yes, it’s possible.”

“You want to go after her now?”

“And do what?”

“Kill her, of course.”

“For illegal possession of a corpse?”

“For being a murderous bitch who won’t leave Sharon alone.”

“She hasn’t killed anyone, Kelly.”

“She sent those dead guys after you, and didn’t one of them kill someone?”

“The guy was still himself and had been murdered, so he sought vengeance.
 
I suspect that would override any spirits from the Underworld who were trying to control him.
 
I don’t think we can blame Miranda for that.
 
Or Persephone.
 
Or whoever.”

“Close enough for me.”

“You just want to kill someone.”

“Is that so bad?”

I laughed.
 
“If the person in question doesn’t deserve it?
 
Yeah, that would be bad.”

“You need to make some enemies I’d be justified in killing.
 
It’s been months since I got to kill anything.”

“You got to smash up skeletons.”

“They were already dead.
 
It’s not the same thing.”

I heard something outside.
 
“Oops.
 
Gotta
go.
 
I’ll call you soon.”
 
I ended the call and crept up behind the front door, pulling my Beretta as I approached.
 
I heard a key slide into the lock, and a moment later, the door opened and I slipped behind it out of sight.

I waited for Zach to close the door.
 
I aimed my gun.

The door closed and I jammed the gun to his head, only it wasn’t Zach.

“Holy shit!” Walter said.
 
“Don’t shoot!”

I lowered the gun.
 
“What are you doing?”

“You didn’t come back, so I got worried.”

“You had a key?”

He held up a lock-picking set.
 
“Skills from my misspent youth.”

I was impressed.
 
He opened that lock as fast as I could have done it with the actual key.
 
“You’ll have to teach me that.”

“You can’t pick a lock?”

“Not that fast.”

He grinned then looked around.
 
“So what’s the story?
 
Is Zach here now?”

“He got away.”

“But it was really Zach?”

“Yes,” I said.
 
We went into the living room and sat down.
 
I filled him in.

“I knew there was something wrong with her!”

“You just thought she was dead.”

“She
is
dead.”

“That wasn’t news even then.”

“Yeah, but I picked up on it.
 
You think maybe I could get a license to be a private investigator?
 
This shit seems pretty simple to me, and you meet lots of interesting people.”

“A little too interesting sometimes.”

“Yeah, but unlike you, I’d take divorce cases.
 
Catch the wife having an affair.”

“Or the husband.”

“Maybe he’d be with a good-looking woman, though.”

“And maybe not.”

“All I know is this past week I’ve felt more alive than I have since before I retired.
 
So you think Zach is going to come back?”

“Eventually.”

“I can call you when or if he does.”

I checked the time on my phone.
 
It was almost three.
 
My stomach growled at me.
 
I’d been planning to have lunch with Kelly, but the whole Zach thing came up, and now I was starving.
 
I agreed to let Walter keep watch, but I insisted that he do so from his house.
 
Then I went out in search of a late lunch.

As soon as I started the car, I clicked the radio on to a classic rock station.
 
They were playing Led Zeppelin, of course.
 
I think classic rock stations have a rule that they have to get the Led out every third song.
 
I like Zeppelin as much as the next guy, but I wanted to call the station and tell them there were other bands too.

My phone rang, so I clicked off “Kashmir” and answered without looking at the caller ID.

“This KLED, all Zeppelin all the time.”

“Jonathan?
 
Are you OK?”

Miranda.
 
Or Persephone.
 
Shit.
 
I should have called her.

“Hey, Miranda, I was just about to call you.”

“Was it really him?”

“Yeah.”

“Should I be worried?”

If Miranda wasn’t Persephone, she should probably be worried.
 
Zach killed her and if he had the opportunity, he’d do it again.
 
On the 10 percent chance she was who she said she was and because even if she wasn’t, it would be a good cover, I said, “Yes, you’re right to worry.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?
 
Weren’t you just with him?”

“Yes, but I’m not with him right now.
 
I had words with him but that’s all.”

“Couldn’t you arrest him?
 
You know, like a citizen’s arrest?”

“Only if I’d witnessed him committing a crime.”

“He tried to kill me!”

“But I wasn’t there.”

“I know.
 
I’m sorry.
 
I’m just really scared.
 
Can you maybe come over?”

There wasn’t any way to say no.
 
If she were really Miranda, it would be good to be there to protect her in case Zach tried to finish the job.
 
Of course, if it were Persephone, I could be walking into the lion’s den.

“I’m on my way,” I said.
 
“Keep the doors locked and don’t answer for anyone but me.
 
I’ll call you when I get there so you know it’s me.
 
OK?”

“Thank you.
 
I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

My stomach growled again.
 
I saw an Arby’s up ahead on the right, so I pulled in and hit the drive-through.
 
If you’re going to spend time with a potential immortal, it’s best not to do so on an empty stomach.