Ghost Layer (The Ghost Seer Series Book 2) (14 page)

“Tony’s aura is so complex and intense, layered with deep colors,” Desiree said.

CLARE JERKED, STILLED.
She should have guessed. Everyone she knew who was associated with Tony Rickman had shown herself or himself to be a little odd. “Aura?” Clare asked.

Another nudge from the woman.

“You don’t believe in someone who can see auras, Ms. Ghost Seer?” Desiree asked, then continued. “Tony’s like the sun, pulling interesting people into his gravitational field. But then, he has help with that from his godmother, Barbara. She introduces people to Tony. She has a pretty aura, too. All blues and pastels with a hint of sparkle.”

“Barbara?” Clare asked.

“Barbara Flinton.” Desiree’s lips curved. “She has a smattering of several psychic gifts. Nosy old lady,” she added with great affection.

Enzo shifted on Clare’s feet then leapt right onto Desiree’s lap, nearly taller than she. She showed no indication she noticed him.

He thumped over to Clare, swiped his cold tongue along Clare’s cheek, and hopped back down to her feet. This time he sat, looking up at her, and his tongue came out to flick his nose.
This female smells good. But she doesn’t have
our
magic.
Our
gift. Her gift is for the living only.

A pang went through Clare, and envy nipped at her with little sharp bites. This woman, so full of life, had a gift that embraced life. Clare was stuck with ghosts. What did that say about her?

Enzo barked.
It says you can see more! That you are a Rom, a Cermak. Like Sandra and all the others!

This time Clare felt the weight of the quiet between her and Desiree, and that it had lasted a little too long. Clare said, “Barbara Flinton being Tony Rickman’s godmother explains a couple of things.” Like how Tony knew all about Clare. She and Barbara Flinton had met and been to tea before she and Rickman had met.

“I’m sure it does.” Now Desiree had angled to scrutinize Clare again, perhaps looking at her aura.

“Clare, may I call you Clare? Please call me Desiree. And if I could make a personal comment, Clare?” Desiree said.

Clare was surprised she even asked. Shrugging, Clare said, “Sure, call me Clare. As for personal comments, why stop now?”

Desiree chuckled. “Your aura is a little thin around the edges.”

“Is it? What does that mean?’

With a sober expression, Desiree said, “It means you’re coming into your gift. You still have layers and layers to go. But it’s very beautiful.” This time her smile was sincere in the face of Clare’s gaze. “And someday, all those gypsy colors—the scarlet, the gold, the purple, the gleaming copper—will be radiant around you, nearly blinding to the inner eye. I’ll need sunglasses.”

“Uh-huh,” Clare said skeptically.

A movement caught Clare’s eye and she turned to see Zach striding up the path, using his cane and with a fierce expression on his face.

When he saw her, he seemed to ease . . . though his gaze had gone to Desiree first—because she was a newcomer, or a threat, or because she was stunning?

“
Hrmph.
” Desiree scowled, a little line twisting between her eyebrows. “I suppose that’s your Zach Slade? Jackson Zachary Slade?”

“Yes.” Clare knew that even that one word lilted with affection, perhaps more, for the man.

Desiree looked irritated. “Rossi would have told him you were safe with me.” She squinted as if checking out Zach’s aura. Then her tone changed. “Hmmm. I understand what you see in him. Nice colors. Darker than my Tony’s. More pain, both old and recent.” She stared at Clare, then Zach again. Desiree’s lips quirked and a brow rose. “I can also see that you complement each other.” There she really caught Clare’s attention, enough that she wanted to probe deeper into the topic.

Desiree frowned as she continued to appraise Zach. “He has some sort of gift, too. Not surprising, but . . . hmmm. What is it?” She shook her head. “I can’t tell, because he’s suppressing it.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Clare muttered.

Desiree switched topics. “Nice body.”

Clare tensed. “Yes.”

“Go to him,” Desiree said with a small urgency. “He’d like that.”

Sitting straighter, Clare asked, “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Desiree hit her with a shoulder nudge.

Clare stood and ran the few yards toward Zach, who’d reached the flat area. He stopped and braced himself, but she didn’t fling her weight at him, just moved in easily, hugging him, brushing a kiss on his lips.

For an instant his arms tightened nearly painfully and she thought another piece of uptight Clare crumbled.

She didn’t know exactly who she was becoming, this ghost seer, Clare; Zach’s lover, Clare. Fear of change still zoomed a whirlpool inside her. But she might be able to like the person she was becoming. She did enjoy the feel of his strong, hard, rangy body against hers, and how her own, softer parts cradled against his.

She hooked her arms around him and swept her tongue across his lips . . . but his taste and that of coffee and maybe a hint of chocolate tempted her and she tested his mouth with her tongue. He opened his lips, and she delved in for more than a taste.

“Yo!” called Desiree, far too soon, and Clare leaned back to look into Zach’s darkened blue-green eyes.

“Glad to see me?” he asked with a pleased smile at her.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He stepped back from her and began walking toward Desiree. Clare wanted to take his arm, but couldn’t. Disabling his gun hand wouldn’t endear her to him.

Desiree watched them approach with a smile. When they were a couple of yards away, she said, “You know how to use that cane as a weapon.”

They stopped and Zach scanned Desiree with his cop stare. “Yeah. I know how to use the cane as a weapon.” He twirled it, a side of his mouth lifted and he winked at Clare.

To Desiree, he said, “You’re Rickman’s wife? Pleased to meet you.”

“Tony’s my husband,” Desiree said, coming to them and offering her hand. “Call me Desiree.”

Zach shook it briefly. “You and Tony are quite a pair, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we are.” She rolled a shoulder and continued. “How’d your discussion with the sheriff go?” Desiree asked, just as Clare said, “What did you find out at the Park County Archives about J. Dawson’s death?”

“We’ll talk later.” He glanced at the view, said, “Pretty,” then jutted his chin back toward the path.

“You want to leave already?” Clare asked. She swept a hand to the bench. “It’s lovely up here.”

Zach grunted. “We’re on the job.” He glanced at Desiree then back to Clare. “At least you and I are.”

Clare shook her head. “No, I consider this personal time.” She suppressed a sigh. “And you have new information.”

“Not exactly new, but important.”

“All right.”

Zach gestured for Desiree to go first.

She lifted her chin. “I’m taking care of Clare.”

“Clare can take care of herself,” Clare said. Neither of the two deigned to reply since they were caught in a stare-off and didn’t want to give an inch, so Clare started down the trail herself.

“Dammit, Clare!” Zach called. “Stay close.”

Desiree’s rippling laugh followed Clare as she strode down the path.

There was a shot, and the next thing Clare knew, she was on the ground with a body atop her and the pain in her ribs stopped her breath and had black spots dancing before her eyes. Her cheek had hit a rock, but she didn’t think it was broken.

The body—Desiree, who wasn’t as tall as Clare but whose muscles were sure enough harder—removed herself and dusted herself off.

“Wha—” Clare blinked as the sun hit her eyes, dazzling her.

Zach dropped his cane, reached down, and hauled her up, one handed with his left hand. His right fingers curled around the grip of his weapon. Nausea swam in her stomach, crawled up her throat, and she dropped her head and concentrated on breathing through it.

“Wow,” Desiree said. “You really hit your cheek. Gonna have a bruise.”

“Rifle shot, Desiree,” Zach said. From the corner of her eyes Clare could see him scanning the area.

“I don’t think it was aimed at her, Zach. I didn’t
see
anything,” Desiree said. “Maybe the shot wasn’t even here on Dennis’s ranch. Sound carries.”

“I don’t like it,” Zach snapped, but he holstered his weapon under his jacket. He bent down and picked up his cane, went around to the valley side of the path, and crowded Clare nearly into the hillside. He took her arm. The better to throw her down again, she figured. “Though there’s bound to be some sort of hunting going on now.”

“Stop it, Zach,” Clare managed.

“What?” he asked, not looking at her, his gaze continuing to rove from the hillside to the path to the valley. Desiree walked behind them.

“Stop marching me down the darn path. I need to go slower—my ribs and cheek hurt.”

“I don’t want you out in the open,” he muttered.

She sucked in a breath between her teeth. “Ease up. I’m feeling queasy.” She yanked on her arm and he let her go.

“All right, but call Enzo.”

“What?”

“
Enzo!
” Zach yelled.

“Who’s Enzo?” Desiree asked. She didn’t sound out of breath at all, darn it.

Enzo popped up right in front of them, so close that their next steps took them right through him. Clare shivered.

HI, ZACH! I HEARD YOU CALL! Hi, Clare!
Enzo ran along the side of the path near the drop-off, mostly on thin air.

Zach’s fingers curved over her shoulder again, squeezed slightly. “I need to see Enzo.”

“Uh-huh, he’s here.” Still feeling sick and not caring how she appeared, she turned her head—and her neck twinged!—toward Desiree. “Enzo is a ghost dog.”

“Cool,” Desiree said, and Clare caught the woman’s brief nod before she concentrated on the path.

“I need you to scout, Enzo. Check all along the trail below us for any human with a gun. Look through the estate, too.”

I WILL, ZACH!
Enzo shouted, curved around, and ran back down the path.

“I can hear him just fine if I’m connected to you,” Zach said. Clare thought he’d be able to hear and see Enzo if he just wanted to.

“He came and went?” Desiree asked. “I didn’t hear or see him at all. What kind of a dog?”

“Labrador,” Clare and Zach said in unison.

“All right,” Desiree said. “He’s scouting?”

“Yes, he can do that. Can’t affect humans much otherwise,” Zach said. “Dr. Burns will need to look at Clare when we get back.”

Clare let out a little moan.

Zach glanced at her. “That cheek needs icing.”

“Sorry,” Desiree said, not sounding like it, and Clare got the impression she was scoping the area just like Zach.

“I will remind both of you that my ‘accident’ took place in the house,” Clare said.

“Yeah, but we can limit access to you in the house, and not much chance that a rifle will be aimed at you in a fake hunting accident inside.”

“Oh.” She kept her mouth shut and her feet going.

When they reached the house, the door opened and Ms. Schangler and Mr. Laurentine stared at them.

“Fall off the path, Ms. Cermak?” Mr. Laurentine raised his brows.

Without thought, words came out of her mouth. “I’ll be glad to give you J. Dawson Hidgepath’s bones for you to handle and I can leave—”

“Clare.” Zach’s tone was a warning. “We need to talk. Later.”

“Yes, we do,” she replied.

Zach glanced at Mr. Laurentine. “Clare should see Dr. Burns now about her ribs and face.”

“He’s at lunch,” Mr. Laurentine said.

“Ms. Schangler, can you have him come to his office? Desiree, can you accompany Clare there?” Zach asked.

“Zach—” Clare started.

“What’s being hunted now?” Zach asked Mr. Laurentine.

His forehead lined. “Early September? Big game? Only bear.”

“Bear,” Clare repeated faintly.

Desiree gripped her elbow and moved them to the right to the corridor that held the doctor’s suite.

“You have rifles?” Zach asked.

“Of course.”

“I want to check them. All of them.”

Mr. Laurentine sighed. “All right. Did someone shoot at Clare?”

“There was a rifle shot,” Zach said.

Shrugging, Mr. Laurentine said, “Rifle shots and other gunshots aren’t uncommon around here, Slade.” He turned and tromped away, his cowboy boots clacking on the floor, Zach followed . . . and her lover didn’t even give her another glance, which just added insult to injury.

Desiree walked her to the doctor’s office but didn’t come in. Clare got the idea that the woman was either standing outside the door or arranging for someone else to do so.

A few minutes later, her ribs had been examined and she’d been given an ice pack for her cheek. She’d figured out that Dr. Burns worked for Mr. Laurentine instead of a clinic because the physician had no bedside manner whatsoever.

Walking a little stiffly, she opened the doctor’s door.

Enzo was guarding it.

Hi, Clare! Desiree and Zach told me to sit here and warn them of any negative humans. But I didn’t FEEL anyone, so let’s go back to our room, ’cuz Zach says you need to rest.

“Negative humans?” she asked. She glanced around but no one lingered in the corridor that led to the great room. No one was there to see her talking to the ghost dog, or was any threat.