Delia's Shadow (35 page)

With the first burst of fireworks, Gabe’s spirits plummeted. He and Jack pushed on, both grimly determined not to give up until they knew they’d lost. His mind wouldn’t accept that Ethan had slipped away again, but he winced with each awestruck noise from the crowd and explosion overhead. If they’d failed, he’d find out soon enough and be able to berate himself at leisure.

The fireworks were being detonated from an area inside the polo fields, cordoned off for the safety of tourists and San Franciscans attending the fair. Gabe’s ears rang with the concussion of gunpowder explosions and the delighted squeals of the huge crowd. They’d passed the pens of dairy cows, horses, and Texas longhorns. The blank fence of the polo field lay ahead and the path was empty of people. Gabe saw little sense in going farther than the padlocked gate.

He was about to say so when Jack grabbed his arm. “Did you hear that?”

Another rocket burst almost overhead. “My ears are ringing. What am I supposed to hear?”

“A scream.” Jack pointed down a side path between the barns they’d passed. “I’d swear it came from that direction. Come on.”

They moved back the way they’d come, listening hard and straining to hear anything out of place between the rolling boom of the fireworks. A few young couples, courting and craving privacy, stood in the darkness watching the overhead display. The couples paid no attention to the two detectives, absorbed in each other and the spectacle. Gabe was beginning to doubt Jack had really heard anything.

The sobbing woman tucked under the sheltering arm of her beau and rushing away from the hog barn convinced Gabe otherwise. He exchanged looks with Jack and broke into a run, muttering under his breath,
no, no, please, God, no
.

Blood smeared on rail fences, the bleachers around a tiny show ring, the back wall of the barn—that was all Gabe saw at first. The raw, meaty smell combined with the stench of pigs and manure gagged him. A pen of squealing hogs squabbled at the back of the open room, the din they made deafening.

On a platform behind and slightly to the left of the pen sat a stock scale. Captain Sam Parker’s blood-streaked hand dangled over the side, fingers splayed and just out of reach of the milling hogs below. Matt Ryan sprawled facedown on the ramp used to herd animals onto the scale. His open eyes stared dull and lifeless.

Running the length of the barn happened to someone Gabe didn’t know; a grief-stricken and guilty man who forgot everything he knew about being a cop, everything his father ever taught him about evidence and investigations. He didn’t know the person kneeling in blood, clutching a body already growing cool, rocking and sobbing, making desperate bargains with God.

No … no, please, God, no! Please … don’t take him, too.
The litany echoed in Gabe’s head, drowning out bursting fireworks, the hogs fighting and the hammering of his heart. His fervent prayer became a small boy’s sobbing plea for protection from monsters under the bed.

But these monsters were real and God wouldn’t answer.

Delia

I came awake suddenly, heart pounding and not knowing why. Annie called out and rapped sharply on the door. “Delia! Wake up and unlock the door. Do you hear me? Unlock this door.”

“Oh, God … Esther.” I tossed off the blankets and bolted across the room. Fumbling at the lock with shaking, sleep-dulled hands took an eternity, but the latch finally clicked open. Annie didn’t wait. She was inside before I stepped back.

“Get your dressing gown and house slippers on. Hurry up now.” Annie switched on the lamp. I blinked away the dazzle and did as she asked, shivering with more than cold. She tore open the wardrobe, sifting through my things until she came up with one of my heavy shawls. “Wrap this around you, too. It’s cold down in the kitchen. I lit the stove, but that takes awhile to heat.”

“What’s wrong?” She was crying, quietly and without calling attention to herself. I hugged the dressing gown over my chest, trembling harder. She wouldn’t rush me to the kitchen if Esther had died. “Annie, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Annie bundled me in the big shawl, wrapping it around me twice and tucking the ends into the belt of my dressing gown. She sniffled and brushed the hair off my face. “Gabe’s in the kitchen, sweetheart. He’s not hurt, but you need to prepare yourself before you see him. He’s got his daddy’s blood all over him and his clothes are a frightful mess. Gabe needs you something fierce right now, Dee. He asked Jack special to bring him to be with you. Losing his daddy’s got him all tore up inside.”

“Matt’s dead?” A witless thing to say, but all thought had deserted me. Numbness crept through me, the same feeling of watching someone from afar that I’d felt when my parent’s died. “How?”

“Jack didn’t say and Gabe—” She wiped her face on a sleeve. “You need to be strong for him, sweetheart. You need to be real strong. Can you do that for him?”

I nodded, unable to speak and barely able to breathe. Gabe had come to me, trusted me to help when the pain was too much to bear alone. I needed to live up to that trust.

Ghosts began to glimmer in the corners of my room, all the spirits still in the house crowding in to fill the space behind my chair and spilling over onto the fringed carpet next to my bed. Ethan’s victims, the lost and the unburied, gathered to plead with me again to find them and lay them to rest. Aileen stood at the fore in the waiting stance I knew so well, hands folded at her waist and green eyes demanding my attention.

In all the long months of being haunted, I’d never been angry at my ghost. Frightened and confused, yes, but the rage welling up was new. Now was not the time to demand that I do impossible things, or accomplish tasks I didn’t even have the first idea of how to start. Dora and I would find a way to lay the dead to rest, but not tonight.

Not now. All Isadora’s warnings about the selfishness of ghosts came back. I shut awareness of Aileen out, using all the tricks Dora labored so hard to teach me.

My concern was for the living. I needed to go to Gabe.

I can’t remember running down the staircase. Annie maintains that I dashed from the room, taking the steps two at a time and that only the grace of angels kept me from falling. I lost a slipper sprinting across the dining room and hit the swinging door without breaking stride.

Annie did well to warn me.

Gabe sat on a wooden kitchen chair, hands palm up in his lap and shoulders slumped. The chair was shoved back from the table, a lonely island in a sea of polished linoleum. His shirt and tie were blotched rusty brown, his trousers stiff with dried blood from the knees down. Splatters covered his face, plastered his hair flat and coated his fingers. He opened and closed his fists and stared at the blood caked in the creases of his palm, his expression one of confused horror. The blood flaked and cracked each time he flexed his fingers, fell into his lap, and floated to the floor.

Jack stood at the sink in his shirtsleeves, water running. He scrubbed at the rusty stains on the front of Gabe’s overcoat with one of Annie’s flour-sack towels, staining the fabric crimson and attempting to rinse it clean again under running water. His eyes were red and swollen, skin blotchy from crying. He saw me and relief drove a small portion of the grief from his face. “Thank God, Dee, thank God … I have to go back. He shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’ll stay with him. He won’t be alone.” I took the towel and Gabe’s coat, wanting to retch. The old penny smell turning my stomach was Matt’s blood, the last, sad residue of a vital man’s life. Putting the coat on the porch got it out of my hands, but didn’t banish the scent; Gabe’s clothes were drenched in the same blood. I couldn’t think about that now. I couldn’t cry yet. “Annie and I will take care of him. Don’t worry.”

“I sent Marshall and Noah Baxter to Gabe’s boardinghouse for clean clothes. If— if he can’t manage, Marshall will help him change.” Jack caught sight of his hands, the pink stains soaking his cuffs and sleeves. He turned back to the sink and the bar of lye soap Annie kept in a cracked saucer. “He hasn’t said a word since he asked for you. He just stares.”

Annie pushed through the kitchen door, her arms full of blankets and my lost house slipper dangling from one hand. She dropped the slipper in front of me, taking charge and jolting me into action. “Put that back on and help me get some blankets around Gabriel. Best to keep him warm until we can get him into fresh clothes. I don’t want either of you coming down sick.” Annie brushed the hair off Gabe’s face and attempted to smooth down his curls. She’d washed her face, but tears still glimmered in her eyes. “Sadie’s waiting in the sitting room, Jack. She needs to see you before you go back out. Go on now and do what needs doing. We’ll take good care of Gabe.”

Jack hesitated, a desolate, lost look in his eyes. He retrieved his jacket from a hook hung with Annie’s aprons and slipped it on, each move heavy with reluctance. “Make sure he understands. I have to go back. I don’t have a choice.”

“I know that. Gabe knows, too.” She shook out one of the blankets and passed an end to me. We got the soft green wool around Gabe’s shoulders and tucked behind his back. He only moved when we pushed or pulled, settled back once we let go. “You did your best by him, now let me and Dee take over. Gabe knows you’ve got a job to do. He’d be most disappointed if you leave it undone on account of him.”

Jack lingered in the doorway another few seconds and left. Annie brushed away tears, shut her eyes, and muttered a prayer for his safety. She’d never let him see how much she worried. That wasn’t her way.

I’d grown to admire the gift Annie had for knowing when the wounds were deep enough and she needed to mother Sadie or me, and when to make us stand on our own. At sixteen the insistence I handle problems on my own seemed unfair, the way all things adults insisted on was unfair. As I grew older, I saw the wisdom in forcing us not to depend on her or Esther to fix everything for us. She taught us to be strong and responsible, and how to cope with the harshness of life. For the first time, I saw what teaching those lessons cost her.

But caring for someone always came at a cost. If I’d any doubts about loving Gabe, the helpless panic that filled my chest swept them away. I didn’t know what to do. Gabe continued to stare blankly at his hands and I wasn’t sure he knew where he was. He was lost in a private horror I couldn’t imagine. I was at a loss over how to help him find his way back.

Annie filled a basin from the tap and added hot water from the kettle on the stove. She set the basin and a clean cloth on the table, and dragged over another chair. “Sit with him, Delia. See what you can do about washing the blood off his face. He’s bound to feel better.”

“His hands first.” I sat in front of him and wet the cloth, wringing it out over the basin. Taking his hand didn’t garner a response beyond his eyes following the movement. I became sure I was right. “He needs the blood off his hands.”

“You do what you feel is right, sweetheart.” She made another attempt to neaten his gore-matted hair, a futile effort, and kissed Gabe on the forehead. “I’m going to see how Sadie’s doing and check on Miss Esther. Maybe he’ll talk if I leave you on your own.”

I gently scrubbed his left hand, removing layers of blood and grime in the way I’d remove tarnish from silver. Talking was harder, but I needed to speak and make him hear. I feared Gabe sinking deeper and deeper away if not called back soon. Speaking grew easier the longer I forced words, retelling the story of the darkest days after I lost my parents, the sharpness of grief and how it dulled with time. His eyes closed, giving me hope he listened at least. “We made a promise to each other, Gabe Ryan. You made a good start on holding up your end by having Jack bring you here. But I need you to talk to me. Don’t shut me out, Gabe. I’m here, please talk to me.”

He didn’t answer. I chattered away, outdoing Sadie at her best, turning the topic away from loss and sorrow, and told Gabe about my day. Keeping the bright, cheery note in my voice was difficult, but I did my best.

The water cooled before I finished washing both his hands. I stood, meaning to get clean, warm water. Gabe clutched my hand, hanging on tight and eyes wide with panic. Tears spilled over and slid down his face, cutting tracks in the mask of dried blood. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t, I promise.” I pulled the chair around next to his and put my arms around him, ignoring blood and the stale stench of death that clung to his clothes. “You’re not alone, Gabe. I’m not going anywhere.”

He trembled, breath catching in his throat, and began to cry. Holding him seemed like such a small thing to do, but that small kindness wedged open the crack in the wall he’d built between himself and pain. He buried his face in my shoulder, each sob wrenched from deep inside. I held tight, crooning comforting nonsense in his ear as Annie always had for me, and let him cry out his grief.

Not all, not near all, but a start.

I lost track of time, but eventually his breath grew less ragged and the sobs quieted. Gabe sagged against me, limp and utterly exhausted. He’d reached the end of his strength. Even if he couldn’t sleep, I hoped he could rest.

Annie opened the door quietly, but came inside nonetheless. She’d given us privacy and let me help Gabe as I saw fit. Now it was her turn. “Gabriel, we’re going to get you upstairs to the washroom so you can clean up. Marshall and Noah brought fresh clothes, and they’re going to help if you can’t manage. The bed in the guestroom’s all made up for when you’re finished.”

“I’m sorry, Annie, this … mess is all my fault. I made so much work for you.” His voice rasped and cracked, but he’d heard and answered, a huge relief. He shuddered and clung to me, and I thought he’d cry again. “I should go home. Take care of things.”

“Nonsense. You’re not going anywhere, I won’t let you.” I pulled away and brushed the hair out of his eyes, smiling around the pain. “There’s nothing you need to do that can’t wait until morning. Get cleaned up and I’ll come sit with you.”

Annie put a hand under his arm and helped him stand. They shuffled toward the door, Gabe leaning on her arm and the blanket around his shoulders hanging to his knees. “You need to stop fussing and listen to Delia. Taking care of you isn’t a scrap of trouble, Gabriel. You’re part of this family far as I’m concerned. Leave these clothes on the bathroom floor and I’ll see what I can do about making them presentable again.”