Ghost Layer (The Ghost Seer Series Book 2) (27 page)

Before she could say anything else, Dennis Laurentine stalked to the door and opened it. “Please join me, Patrice.” Then he stared stonily at Rossi. “I want to speak with you, too.”

Rossi strode to stand right behind him. Flushing, Ms. Schangler rose from her chair and went after him, closing the door behind her.

“Can I get the box with the other bones for you, Clare? Might be best just to bundle them all in that blanket and take them to the graveyard,” offered Desiree. She patted Clare’s shoulder. “Well done.”

“Thanks. And it would be great if you retrieved the box.” She sighed. “It’s black papier mâché with dancing colored skeletons, rectangular with a domed top, and is sitting on the shelf in the closet above the clothes.”

“Right,” Desiree said.

Clare fumbled in her jacket pocket. “Let me give you my key—”

“Don’t need it,” Desiree said breezily as she exited the room.

Clare sighed. “I’m probably the only one who doesn’t know how to pick a lock.”

“I can teach you,” Zach said. He placed a broken bone, which looked like the top of the big leg bone, the femur, on the blanket then straightened from his crouch and drew her into his arms. As usual, she welcomed his warmth.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said.

“Thank you.” She tilted her head and kissed his jaw. Just that simple kiss had his arms going tight around her, his mouth seeking hers, his tongue probing against her lips, exploring inside, and heat rising through her so she thought she was melting.

“Back, guys!” said Desiree.

Reluctantly, Clare stepped away as Zach did. She stooped and smoothed out the blanket, and all three of them transferred the bones to the blanket, and the other bones Clare had collected in the box to the blanket, too.

“There, all together.” Desiree dusted off her hands, looked at the clock. “We’re on schedule and Dennis has a car waiting to take us to Fairplay Cemetery.”

“That’s good,” Zach said, carefully rolling the blanket up. Clare didn’t flinch at the clatter of rolling bones anymore.

“By the way, Zach, what did you palm?” Desiree asked.

He lifted his brows and slid a glance to Clare.

Clare said, “You called Mr. Laurentine ‘sir.’ Of course I knew something was up and watched closely. What
did
you take from J. Dawson’s bones?”

“You should be able to guess.” Zach smiled slowly.

Clare blinked and grinned back at him. “The nugget!”

“That’s right.” He held it out. She just shook her head. “I don’t want it.”

“Cool,” Desiree said. “A real gold nugget from a real mine.”

“It’s Clare’s.” Zach frowned.

Reaching out, she curved his fingers over the piece. “You keep it.”

“I meant for you to have it.”

“And a good decision both of you made,” Desiree said. “Keep the nugget, Zach, as a token of Clare’s affection and let’s get out of here. I’m sure Patrice Schangler will have both your bags packed and in your truck by the time you get back.”

“What!” Clare was appalled.

Zach laughed. “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?”

“What . . . what about my car? I haven’t even reported it . . .”

“Later, Clare,” Desiree said, taking her by the elbow and moving her toward the door.

“Just a minute.” Clare still didn’t like the box, but her niece did, so she picked it up to take with her. “What about my purse, and my phone, and my tablet—”

“I brought them down, too.” Desiree pointed to Clare’s purse on a table, jammed with the phone and the tablet in their wrong pockets. Clare organized it, then put her purse in the box. When she looked up at Zach, his lips were curved and his eyes tender.

“What?”

He came over and brushed a kiss on her lips. “You’re amazing,” he said louder.

“Thank you, I like you, too.”

•   •   •

The funeral was short and sweet, just the way Zach liked. He’d offered to help Dr. Burns with the bones, but the man refused and efficiently arranged J. Dawson’s skeleton, then stood back as the coffin was lowered into the ground. A minister stood and recited the Twenty-Third Psalm.

Laurentine, Rossi, Dr. Burns, and Desiree were there, and Zach kept an arm around Clare. As the pastor finished the last prayer, the others faded back, but Clare stayed beside the graveside. The wind had picked up and rain began to spatter.

“He’s gone, Clare. You sent him on yourself,” Zach murmured.

A quiet bark came from beside him. He looked down and saw Enzo, who had a sad face on.
She is praying. Prayers are ALWAYS helpful.

“Oh.” Zach felt like a jerk.

Clare pulled her hand from her jacket pocket and threw a handful of silver coins on the coffin, then turned. Zach stared.

“Old Romani custom,” she said huskily, “to help buy J. Dawson’s way into heaven, though I know he went to a happier place.”

“You do?”

She hunched a little. “Yes, if what he saw when he transitioned was true.”

It was true for him, Clare. It was pretty, Zach. And pretty ladies were waiting for him, too!

“Nice to know, I guess,” Zach said.

A short honk came from a low-slung, glossy red sports car. The window rolled down and Rossi waved to Zach. He tugged on Clare, but she resisted, gave his hand a squeeze. “Go ahead. I want to walk around the cemetery.”

He raised his brows.

Clare needs to see a couple of graves
, Enzo said.

“Why?” Zach asked.

Because she may need to come back someday to deal with the ghosts and she should learn about them
, Enzo replied. He yipped.
Nothing bad, Zach! And they are close. You can keep your eyes on us.

“All right.”

Clare followed the ghost dog and Zach went over to Rossi.

“I’M DONE,” THE
bodyguard said cheerfully.

“You got fired? Sorry. I distracted you too much, having you help me protect Clare, didn’t I?”

Rossi just shrugged. “I’m heading back to Denver. My girl will be glad to see me.”

“You have a girl?” Zach had never seen the man call or text her. Had never heard him speak of one.

“I always have a girl. But you, Zach, surprise me.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I’ve known a guy or two like you. Cops. Loners.” Rossi slid sunglasses on, said, “See you later, Slade,” rolled up the window, and zoomed away, heading back to the big city of Denver.

The man’s comment arrowed straight through Zach. He
had
been a loner, pretty much as long as he could remember. He’d had a couple of live-in lovers, but he’d always wanted to move on in a few months. Their choice as much as his.

Clare was different. A long-term woman, and serious. Not just her, but their relationship, too. Serious and intense enough to scare him. It chilled him as if he could feel one of her ghosts. All right, he could admit that. He could feel the cold of Enzo when the ghost dog was around. He could see Enzo. And there was the crow thing. Lately every time he’d counted crows, whatever their number indicated according to the rhyme had come true. He’d reluctantly decided that wasn’t just his imagination.

But he’d even rather think about his relationship with Clare than the crow business. Yeah, his loner status seemed “former” now. He’d missed Clare outrageously when he’d been in Montana, thinking of her in quiet moments during the days and suffering during the nights.

She touched his arm and he didn’t jolt; some part of him had known she’d come up on him from behind. The hint of that perfume maybe.

Enzo wasn’t with her. Zach blinked and found the dog sitting on top of the Mercedes-Benz that had brought them. Why the phantom dog would do that, Zach didn’t know, but the Lab sat with his tongue hanging out.

The deputy sheriff, Julie Wilson, walked to them, looking tired but determined. “We’ve already collected a lot of evidence against Baxter Hawburton. The search of his home picked up a couple of gold nuggets along with his accounting books.” Clare quivered beside Zach like a tracking dog on the scent. “His ranch manager and a couple of his hands noticed him coming and going Thursday night. Zach, your information about the gold sales is coming in.” She sighed. “And I called Brody, his son. After I laid it all out for Brody, he admitted that he knew where the mine was, said he’d moved to California to get away from his dad, and never took a dime from him.” She shook her head. “Baxter’s a broken man, doesn’t look like the case will go to trial. Which is good, because the deputy district attorney is not happy at contemplating talking about psychic abilities in a public trial. He’ll get in touch with you, Ms. Cermak.”

“Sure. I’m not especially thrilled at the thought of testifying at a trial myself,” Clare said. Not as a psychic investigator, someone who talked to the dead. She’d be mobbed by people wanting to reach their loved ones and that was just heartbreaking.

Julie looked relieved. “Baxter
will
be put away. He won’t bother you again.”

Zach put his arm around her. “Better him broken than Clare. He deserves it.”

“Yes, well . . .” Julie took a card from her pocket and handed it to Clare. “Feel free to contact me if you have any questions about the case.”

“Thank you, Deputy, I will.” Clare tucked the card in her purse. She watched as the woman walked away, got in her car, and left . . . following the limousine that carried Laurentine and Desiree.

•   •   •

As Desiree had predicted, their bags were stowed in Zach’s truck and it was gassed up and ready to roll them right home to Denver.

Jaw set, Clare insisted on going up to their room and checking it out anyway, and when they did, it was pristine and looked as if no one had been there for a week. Clare examined everywhere, even the small safe, which Zach didn’t think she had used. With a last nod and a quiet “Thank you,” she walked past a disapproving Patrice Schangler, who’d accompanied them up and watched the whole deal. Clare patted her purse, but her fingers didn’t dip into it to offer the housekeeper any gratuity. Which was good, because Zach thought there might have been bloodshed if she had.

He hadn’t known the front doors could slam, but Schangler did a good job of it after they’d taken a step past the threshold.

“The only thing worse I could have done to her is sleep with Laurentine,” Clare said. “I hope Rickman is prompt and determined in receiving payment for my work . . . and Laurentine probably stopped the clock the minute those bones landed on his feet,” she grumbled.

“Probably.”

“Other than my helping J. Dawson, the rest of this project did not proceed satisfactorily.”

Zach laughed and opened the passenger side door for her. “I guess not. But you survived, I survived, J. Dawson moved on, and we got justice done. That’s a win in my book. I’m not sad to be seeing the last of Laurentine.”

As Zach drove, Clare stared out the window at the beauty of South Park but didn’t say anything until they were descending Kenosha Pass. Then she sighed and leaned back, her mouth flexing down. “You really think this is done for us?”

“I . . .” Crows cawed. Two glided across the road. The back of his neck heated with a surge of tingling. He pushed on the brakes. “Damn crows!”

Clare craned, looking. “Crows?”

Zach’s turn to swallow. Yeah, he was shaken. “Never mind.”

But there was a bubble of lightness in his chest. “About your concerns regarding Baxter Hawburton? I don’t think you should worry about it. I think you’re—we’re—going to be fine.”

Two crows for luck.

Clare was looking at him, too intently. His gut squeezed.

“Is that your premonition kicking in, Zach?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You haven’t and we haven’t. But we should
soon
. I can help.”

The lift in his spirits flattened. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She appeared serene, sat as if none of her bruises pained her.

“What we should do is hit your house and make love all night long.”

Her lips curved and she flirted a glance at him from under her lashes. He loved that look from her. “Absolutely.”

•   •   •

Clare had never been so glad to see a place in her life as she’d been to see the wide entry hallway of her own new-to-her historic home. Her eyes blurred with tears, which was a shame since she missed some of the details of seeing Zach naked.

They barely made it to the couch.

•   •   •

The next morning Enzo did not appear. Since she’d accepted her psychic gift, Enzo was less likely to stay with her every minute. He trusted her to do what she had to, and though his doggy presence chilled her body, the thought of the trust warmed her heart.

Zach drove them downtown to a parking lot near Rickman’s office and Clare reminded him to turn in the receipt for payment to Rickman as an expense. Zach shrugged. Rickman had asked to meet with him at 10 a.m. before Clare came in at ten thirty.

She’d agreed to spend time in the building coffee shop before her appointment.

Zach gave her a really good kiss that weakened her knees so she sank down at an empty table before she got her latte, and at that moment, Desiree Rickman strolled in.

She smiled at Clare. “Hey, Clare. You’re here for the debriefing?”

“Yes,” Clare said.

“Me, too. Want coffee?”

Clare stood. “I’ll get it.” She’d missed having her mocha latte grande.

“Okay,” Desire said. “I’ll have a tall, black coffee, house blend.” She ambled to the counter after Clare.

“I’m going up,” Desiree said a few minutes later.

Clare glanced at her watch. “It’s only ten minutes after ten.”

Desiree shrugged, tossed her cup across the aisle into the trash. Naturally, the paper container arced exactly into the can.

“Clare, don’t let the guys call all the shots.” With a wink, she left. Clare took a last sip of her drink, threw away the rest with a little regret, and followed.

•   •   •

When Zach walked in at 10 a.m., Rickman and Rossi stood by the windows looking out at the mountains.

“Slade,” they said in near unison.

“Rickman,” Zach nodded. “Rossi.”

“Good job,” Rickman said to Zach. He didn’t move behind his desk. The underlying tension that Rossi had carried on the job had dissipated.

“Thank you,” Zach said.

“I’ve assigned another one of my operatives as bodyguard to Dennis Laurentine,” Rickman said.

“Good to change things up,” Zach agreed.

Rossi smiled at him. “I got tired of the sucker.”

“The very best reason to change things up,” Zach said.

Rickman cleared his throat. “Yeah. Well.” Zach heard the man’s breath exit his nose. “The women will be showing up shortly.” He glanced at the clock. “I told them ten thirty.”

“I caught that,” Zach said. “Clare will be exactly on time.”

“Figured,” Rickman said. “Thanks for amusing Desiree at Laurentine’s ranch,” he added dryly.

“Your Desiree seems to be easily amused.” Zach looked out the window; lowering gray clouds showed behind the Front Range. A storm in the mountains might or might not hit the city. If he and Rickman had been alone, Zach would have asked the man if his wife drove him crazy. No, he wouldn’t have, but if they were ever alone and the guy loosened up, Zach might.

“Desiree drives us crazy,” Rossi said with twinkling eyes. “All of us. I think it’s her mission in life. But she seems to have bonded or something with Clare.” Rossi shrugged his big shoulders. “Or taken her under her wing or something. Women.”

The electronic door buzzed and unlatched and Desiree sauntered in. Rickman scowled. “It’s not ten thirty.”

“I’m here anyway.”

“You’re rarely on time unless it’s for a job, and you weren’t on the job at Laurentine’s, and you’ve already told me every minute detail of what you did there,” Rickman said. “I wanted to formally speak with Slade and Rossi.”

Zach thought the guy should have been faster with that.

“Clare is here, too, since she’s an early type,” Desiree said.

“Desiree,” called Clare.

Desiree hitched her hip on Rickman’s desk. Since she was short, it was more of a hop and a slide. “I’m one of his operatives.” She offered the men a stunning smile.

Clare marched in, closed her hand around Desiree’s wrist, pulled her off the desk. “You told me you weren’t, not on this case. You told me that you already told Mr. Rickman everything. You told me you were to show up at ten thirty a.m., like me. There’s such a thing as proper procedure. Meetings with paid operatives involved in the case, then consultants or everyone involved.
I
don’t know Mr. Rickman’s process, but you do, and you’re interfering with it.”

“Probably everything they’re talking about concerns us,” Desiree said.

“Are you sure of that?” Clare asked.

“Well . . .” Desiree protested.

“Come along.” Clare’s smile was apologetic. “We’ll be in at ten thirty.”

Desiree let Clare rush her from the room.

Zach noticed with humor that Rickman’s glance followed the women, his eyes a little glazed.

Rossi’s mouth had dropped open.

The thick steel door closed behind the women.

“Boss, we’ve been saved,” Rossi said. His stare switched to Zach and he angled his head. “You gotta keep that woman.”

Zach didn’t shift his stance, but he wanted to; his fingers tightened on his cane. “Clare works for Rickman.”

But that man shook his head. “No. She signed one consulting agreement because we chivvied her into it, and she was planning on doing the work anyway and she’s a practical woman.”

“Yeah,” Rossi said. “If we’re going to do a debriefing, let’s get on with it. Try to be charming, boss, keep her with us.” He turned to Zach. “You try to be charming, too.” Then Rossi shook his head. “No, you just continue with the dark and brooding and intense. Seems to work for you with her.”

Zach laughed.

Rickman went and sat behind his desk, Rossi moved away from the windows and leaned against the wall, and Zach leaned against one of the barrel client chairs.

Rickman shook his head. “I suppose there’s nothing we’ll be talking about that can’t include the ladies.” He touched the intercom. “Please let the ladies in, Samantha.”

Once again the door buzzed and Desiree glided in, swept the room with a look, and sat in the chair across the space to the right of Zach. Clare came in and Zach offered his hand. After glancing around the room and with a little disapproving twitch of her lips at the casual business atmosphere, she linked fingers with Zach and sat in the chair he was leaning on.

Rickman had stood and inclined his head. “Thank you for agreeing to this debriefing.”

Clare said, “You’re welcome.” She paused. “You’re paying me.”

No change of expression crossed his serious face. “We’re glad you took the consulting job, and are sorry that it placed you in danger.”

“Are you talking in the royal we for the company, Tony, or for me, too?” asked Desiree. She leaned forward a little to connect gazes with Clare. “We are sorry that you were targeted by that nincompoop, Hawburton.” She shook her head. “Really, the man was a cowardly asshole, Tony. First wanting to scare her away, or make her injuries look like an accident, then just being inept.” She sniffed. “He gives tough ranchers a bad name.”