Dead Suite (17 page)

Rosemary frowned and shook her head.

“Sadie, for all I know the demon
is
the serial killer.”

“Is that possible?” Sadie’s eyes were huge. “I mean, I’ve dealt with some evil spirits
before . . . you know that . . . but nothing that wasn’t contained. If this thing
is out there, luring young women to hotels, and then stabbing them to death . . .”
Sadie threw up her hands.

“You’re scaring her for nothing,” Maeva told Rosemary. “It’s highly doubtful some
demon is rampant out there stabbing prostitutes at hotels. But there is obviously
a connection between Halladay Street and this Marlene ghost. Since Marlene is warning
you about the guy murdering working girls and she’s appeared at Halladay Street and
also at the Pacifica, then somehow all of it is related.” She looked determined. “We’ve
gotta stop that demon first.”

Maeva walked toward her car, leaving Sadie and Rosemary at Sadie’s car.

“Gayla didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat to bring us back to Halladay Street,”
Sadie said. “We can’t waltz in there and perform another séance.”

“We went about it all wrong. We had a séance to make connection to spirits needing
our help. We thought it was going to be a typical dealing with the dearly-departed-haunted-house
kind of thing,” Rosemary said.

“Right,” Sadie agreed. “But it wasn’t.”

Not that there was anything typical about helping spirits move on and contacting the
great beyond.

“The more I think about Della Prior opening a portal in that house because she didn’t
know what the hell she was doing, the more I think that closet is definitely the focal
point,” Rosemary said. “It was opened to the other side. It needs to be sealed again.
I don’t want Maeva to come. Her powers are weak and her mind is in mommy mode. You
and I should go with Rick and Louise and maybe we can ask a priest or something.”

“Whoa, don’t go crazy about this,” Sadie said. “I have
no
desire to go back in that house.”

Rosemary looked Sadie in the eye with an angry stare. “We have no choice. Don’t you
get it? That thing isn’t going anywhere and it’s only going to get stronger if left
alone. It’s our job. It’s
your
duty.”

“Really?” Sadie couldn’t keep the whine out of her voice. “I do trauma clean. I just
fell into the whole idea of sending spirits over to the next dimension. I sure as
hell never signed on to deal with satanic demons.”

“It chose you.”

“You mean this calling of helping ghosts? I was chosen to do that?”

“Well, sure, but I’m talking specifically about the dark presence at Halladay Street.
It called you. By name. This is
your
war.”

Chapter 13

Rosemary told Sadie, “It’s your battle but the rest of us are here to support you
in whatever you need.”

“Um, thanks.” The entire topic made her sick. “Do you think if we seal that portal
thingamajig this will all be over?”

“Probably. We need to bring all forces of good together.”

“If you’re in need of a priest, I know an ex-priest who I saw sprinkling holy water
at the last murder scene. . . .” Sadie stopped herself. She didn’t want to be asking
Herbert Sylvane.

“He doesn’t have to be a current practicing representative of the church,” Rosemary
said. She rubbed rain from the top of her bald head. “The fact that he believes that
holy water has protective qualities means he’d be enough of a positive source to offer
benefit to the situation.”

Sadie felt herself giving in. She had a gnawing feeling that Rosemary was right and
the haunting of Halladay Street had to be stopped and, like it or not, she was connected.

“You’re welcome to stay at my place if you don’t want to deal with the paparazzi.”

Sadie almost accepted her offer but not because she was afraid of photographers. Their
discussion about being in a fight with a depraved entity made Sadie feel vulnerable
and alone. But she had a sneaking feeling that Rosemary’s house would be filled with
eye of newt and hair of bat so she politely declined.

Just as she was starting up her car, Sadie’s phone beeped and she checked her text
messages. Zack had texted,
Saw that video. You okay?

“Okay” was not exactly how she’d describe herself, but still she replied with
Yes. I’m fine. How are you?
Even though she felt like texting,
I’m scared. I’m a mess. I need you.

It meant something that he was checking on her. Maybe it meant he still cared enough
to not totally walk away from their relationship.

She waited a minute but received no further messages from Zack. She sent another:
Please come home.

His reply was succinct:
I can’t do that.

She pounded the dashboard of her car and screamed. Then she swallowed her anger and
distracted her thoughts by calling Petrovich. She left him a voice mail saying she’d
heard a rumor that Iris Prior from the house on Halladay Street had been a hooker
and that maybe the prostitute murders were somehow connected to that house.

She knew he’d hate her if this was just one more lead heading into an abyss, but she
didn’t feel right keeping that information to herself.

She started up her car and pointed it in the direction of home, and it wasn’t long
before she was driving slowly down her street. She hoped any photographers would be
expecting a company van and wouldn’t recognize her Corolla, but she sunk down low
in her seat and pulled her Mariners cap over her eyes as she drove past. There was
no longer a big news van on the street, but there was a car she didn’t recognize parked
in the driveway with a guy watching the house expectantly.

Sadie opted for the indirect route. First she drove to McDonald’s and grabbed a couple
cheeseburgers. She ate one as she drove back to her neighborhood and found a place
to park on the next street. She slid the second burger in her pocket, hiked her purse
onto her shoulder, and locked up her car. Sadie shared a back fence with an elderly
woman who was hard of hearing and most likely fast asleep. Unfortunately her pit bull,
Rosie, was always on guard in the backyard.

Rosie wasn’t vicious, but she could sound an alarm of barks that could alert everyone
for five miles. Luckily she could be bribed. Sadie opened her neighbor’s gate and
Rosie galloped over, making one loud
woof
before Sadie whipped the burger out of her pocket and held it up as an offering.

Rosie sat and her tail beat the ground mercilessly.

“Good girl,” Sadie whispered as she tore off a small chunk of the burger and offered
it to the dog.

With a big, slobbery slurp Rosie inhaled the chunk of burger. As she crossed the small
yard, Sadie continuously offered the happy pup inch-sized pieces of the delicious
prize. By the time she reached the back fence, there was only a little bite left.
With a grunt of effort, Sadie got a foothold in the chain-link fence and hoisted herself
over while simultaneously tossing the last of the cheeseburger to Rosie.

Sadie landed in her own backyard with a soft thud. Breathing a sigh of relief, she
dug in her pocket for her keys as crossed her yard. She stepped over the large branch
that had broken her door jamb and then walked up the deck to the back door.

“You’re like a ninja gymnast,” a male voice whispered.

Sadie would’ve screamed except a hand came over her mouth from behind.

“Shh. It’s just me,” Owen Sorkin whispered in her ear. “I’ve been waiting for you
to come home but didn’t want to face the news any more than you do.”

He uncovered her mouth and Sadie punched him hard in the shoulder.

“You scared me!” she snarled.

“Sorry.” He smirked as he rubbed his shoulder.

“You don’t look sorry.”

“I’m
almost
sorry,” he admitted.

“I don’t know why you’re here but quite frankly, I’ve had my quota of property investors
for the evening.”

“You saw Gayla? Yeah, she can be a bit of a . . .” He trailed off while he searched
for the right word.

“Snotty bitch,” Sadie offered. “As well as a shrew.”

“I was going to go with perfectionist.”

Sadie raised her eyebrows. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.” She went
to her back door and stabbed the key in the lock.

“What’s your plan now? If you go inside and turn on all the lights, they’ll know somebody’s
home.”

“True, but I don’t have to open the door to them.”

Sadie swung the door open, then looked at him.

“You never said why you’re here.”

“Can I come in?”

Sadie wavered only slightly. She may have been swayed by the fact that he was looking
ten grades of hot in those expensive blue jeans and T-shirt. She waved him inside.

“You’ve had a break-in?” he asked, running his thumb over her repair job on the doorjamb.

“Wind storm the other night,” Sadie explained.

She flicked on the kitchen light. Within seconds there was a knock at the front door.
Sadie ignored it. Hairy’s toenails
clickety-clacked
on the tile floor as he hopped into the kitchen to greet her. Sadie scooped up her
rabbit and nuzzled close for some fur-baby loving.

Grabbing a chair at the kitchen table, she waved for Owen to do the same. The doorbell
rang and a more persistent knock followed.

“So you’re just going to ignore it? They could ring your bell all night,” Owen said,
slipping into a wooden chair across from Sadie.

“I don’t think I’m a big enough fish.” Sadie stroked Hairy from between his ears and
down the length of his back. “He’ll get tired and go home. If he doesn’t, I’ll—” She
stopped short, about to say she’d call Zack, but she couldn’t call him for help.

“You’ll what?” Owen prompted.

“Call the cops.” Sadie put Hairy back down on the floor. “Sorry, but I’ve had a hard
few days and was thinking of soaking in a bubble bath with a glass of wine and then
crawling into bed.”

His eyes darkened. “I could totally help you with that.”

“What do you want, Owen?”

The doorbell rang again and Sadie screamed “Go away!” at the top of her lungs.

“I’ll take care of this.” He got up and went to the front door and Sadie could hear
male voices. Soon he was back in her kitchen. “He’ll leave.”

“How’d you do that?”

Owen stuffed his wallet into his back pocket. “Journalists don’t make nearly enough
money.”

“You paid him off?” Sadie didn’t know whether to be annoyed or flattered. She decided
on grateful. “Thank you. Now, answer my question. Why are you here?”

He looked momentarily uncertain and rubbed the back of his neck while he looked down
at the table. “Gayla sent me a link to that video. Guess I just wanted to hear it
from you.”

“Hear what? That your house is haunted, or that it was all an elaborate publicity
stunt?”

“The truth.”

“You can’t handle the truth.”

At that moment Sadie felt totally entitled to channel her inner Jack Nicholson. She
got up and went to her fridge and found it lacking in beer. She opened a cupboard
and pulled out a bottle of red wine, then unscrewed the top and poured herself a very
full glass. She took a large gulp before asking Owen if he’d like some, but he politely
declined.

“So the house is haunted by some ghost who wanted to pull you in a closet?” He drilled
his fingers through his sun-bleached hair. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“There are more things in heaven and earth—”

“Don’t quote Shakespeare to me. Just answer the question.”

“I’m just a trauma-clean worker who sometimes and occasionally has a run-in with the
supernatural.” She looked him in the eye. “Rosemary has an idea of what’s happening
and will do her best, but truthfully, there’s no guarantee here. I wish I could tell
you how to make it stop so you can sell your investment and make the truckload of
cash you and Gayla seem so desperate for.”

He held up his hand. “Gayla might be desperate, but I can afford to take a loss.”
He sighed. “I feel bad for her. I think she’s in over her head here. So what would
you do, if it was your house? Would you just leave it alone? Let sleeping dogs lie
and sell it quickly? Or try and de-ghostify it?”

“I’d try and stop it,” Sadie said honestly. She thought about what Rosemary had said—that
it was all about her and she needed to be the one to stop it—and she shuddered. “Honestly,
that place scares the pants off me.”

“Guess that’s all I needed to know.” He got to his feet.

Sadie stood up, thinking she’d follow him and lock up after he left. His mouth opened
and closed wordlessly before he reached over and pulled Sadie against him.

Sadie knew the minute his lips were on hers that she should tell him to hit the road.
She was still dressed in business attire from leaving the Pacifica. She was exhausted,
both physically and emotionally. But Owen’s hands were expertly unzipping the back
of her skirt and unbuttoning her blouse while his hot lips never left hers. Sadie
didn’t know if she wanted Owen, or if she just wanted to feel needed and attractive
to someone. In that moment it didn’t matter. She tangled her fingers in his hair and
pulled him closer. As her skirt fell to the floor around her ankles and her panties
followed, she panicked and thought again of asking him to leave. Then suddenly he
lifted her bare ass onto the kitchen counter. His mouth devoured her throat as his
fingers deftly finished unbuttoning her blouse and unhooked the front snap of her
bra. As she lay fully naked in her kitchen, the only thought that formed in her mind
was too X-rated to say out loud.

It was hours later and just after five in the morning when Owen slipped out of her
bed. At first Sadie kept her eyes closed and her breath even. She didn’t want an awkward
good-bye, but when he came around her side of the bed and kissed her forehead she
couldn’t help but smile.

“You don’t have to go.”

“Yes, unfortunately I do.” He tugged jeans up over his hips. “I’ve got a meeting with
my lawyer this morning about a property I’m selling in another state.”

“So you own places all over? Just like Gayla?”

“A few,” he said, slipping a T-shirt over his head. “I’ve taken advantage of the downturn
in the market to try to get places cheaply and rent them out until they go up in value.
This one’s in New Mexico.”

Sadie sat up quickly. She was no longer sleepy. “You own property in New Mexico?”

“A few places. This one should be gone after today.” He bent over and tapped the end
of her nose playfully. “I’ve had this particular house a few years. Tenants are moving
out, so it’s the perfect time to let it go.”

“Whereabouts in New Mexico is it?”

“Rio Rancho. Have you been there?”

Sadie shook her head. She wanted to ask if that was near Albuquerque. A knot of tension
formed in her stomach.

“Go back to sleep,” he told her. “I can let myself out.”

Then he bent over and kissed her thoroughly, and Sadie had to stop herself from dragging
him back into her bed, but once he was gone, she started to think and those thoughts
weren’t pleasant.

She took a couple of deep breaths and told herself to calm down. But something in
her gut told her the house on Halladay Street was connected to the prostitute killings,
and Marlene’s showing up on that video had cinched it in her mind. The web search
had led her to that blog that talked about hookers killed in Albuquerque missing fingers.
Somehow it was connected and, so far, the thing that seemed to connect at least a
small part of it was Owen Sorkin. He owned Halladay Street as well as a place in New
Mexico.

She ran to her den and Googled Rio Rancho.

“Shit!”

It wasn’t just close to Albuquerque, it was practically
in
Albuquerque. She rubbed the crease forming between her eyebrows. She was getting ahead
of herself. Just because Owen Sorkin did business in Albuquerque to buy a house a
few years ago didn’t mean he killed prostitutes there or in Seattle. Owen bought Halladay
Street to renovate it for profit. Iris Prior was poisoned by her lunatic mother there,
but that had no connection to Owen.

While at her computer, Sadie checked her e-mail to see if there was any response from
Hugh Pacheo yet, but her inbox held nothing but a colorful array of spam. She dialed
the client’s number again too but, again, it came back with a recording saying the
number was disconnected. The garage suicide cleanup was turning into just another
odd thing in her bizarre week. Her fingers played with the necklace around her throat.
She’d never been one to wear a lot of jewelry, but she had to admit she’d grown attached
to this particular piece. If she never heard from Hugh Pacheo again, she hoped she
wouldn’t have to sell or pawn it to pay her bills.