Ghostly Liaison (26 page)

“Please. You don’t know what it’s like.”

Guilt dropped her chin to her chest. From the little time she’d spent with Charlie, Bridget had learned how frustrating being a ghost was. At least neighbors with televisions kept Charlie occupied. What did the river and wildlife offer Mary Alice?

“I’d stay, but I have a two-hour walk ahead of me and I don’t want to get caught in the dark. I’ll come back.” Bridget turned and climbed the slope. Mary Alice materialized in her path and they bumped.

“I can touch you?” She grabbed Bridget’s wrist and then stomped on the ground in amazement. “Stay. You have to stay.”

There was a madness to Mary Alice’s eyes, giving Bridget chills in the stifling heat. Panicking, she pulled free and ran up the hill.
Please let there be people at the top.
She reached it and caught her breath. Traffic. What a wonderful sight. Once the cars had passed, she dashed across the street.

Mary Alice appeared out of nowhere and Bridget stopped. “You can see me now?” She searched the area. “You walked through me a second ago, but now you can see me? Why?”

“I can’t see you when others are around. But I have to go now. I’ll explain it all when I come back.” Like never.

Mary Alice grabbed Bridget’s wrist with an inhuman force. “I don’t believe you. You have to stay. I need you.”

“I promise, I’ll come back. Just let me go.” Pain flared and if Bridget waited much longer for that magic car to arrive, she might end up with a broken bone. She bent Mary Alice’s fingers back, hoping to get free. No such luck.

The ghost stared in surprise. “Wow, that doesn’t hurt. Am I hurting you?”

Bridget’s wrist screamed in pain and she lost the feeling in her left hand, but admitting it might only make things worse. Might make Mary Alice worse. “This is useless. As soon as someone comes by, I’ll get free. So just release me.”

“Not if I get you out of sight, you won’t.” Mary Alice squeezed harder and pulled, as if she meant to drag Bridget back to the river.

Kidnapped by a ghost? Really? The pain nearly sent her to the pavement. She bit back a yelp and punched Ms. Walker in the face. The act apparently shocked the ghost more than hurt her and she released Bridget, but now Bridget’s left wrist not only throbbed, her right knuckles stung. Still, she ran.

She must have reached Mary Alice’s barrier, because the woman never reappeared. Bridget had wanted to help the woman, but now, not so much. She rubbed her tender wrist. If ghosts could become violent, maybe she shouldn’t be alone. Better yet, maybe she should hole up and never venture out. It’s what she deserved, anyway. Unfortunately, holing up didn’t pay the bills.

On Thursday morning, Bridget’s sleep came to an abrupt halt. Something heavy landed across her back followed by sharp, shooting pain in her head. She scrambled out from under Charlie.

“Sorry.”

“Dammit, Charlie! That’s the third time this week. What’s your excuse this time?”

“Man, what a grouch. I left you alone so you could sleep and this is the thanks I get?”

Bridget rubbed her throbbing temples. Sleep? Tossing and turning all night, as she had the past three nights, did not amount to any kind of rest. Thoughts of Rob certainly didn’t help in the dozing department. If anything, it only made it worse. “Maybe I wouldn’t be a grouch if you didn’t wander out of your zone and pop on top of me in the middle of the night.”

“Excuse me, but it’s morning, not night. And I said I was sorry. Did you ever think about moving the bed? Then maybe this wouldn’t happen.”

“I did move the bed.” Bridget could understand it happening the first time, but after the second, she had moved the bed against the other wall.

Charlie looked around and then burst out laughing. “Yeah, you moved it all right. I just landed across you instead. This room isn’t that big and, unless you move the bed across the hall, I’m going to disturb you.”

“Or maybe you stop with your midnight exploring.”

“But that doggie was sooo cute. How was I supposed to know I went too far unless I attempted it? Huh?”

Ever since Bridget had told Charlie her theory about Nick moving on, Charlie had ventured further from the house, and more often. The fear of missing her light—the light that had found Nick—was no longer an issue.

Bridget jerked the covers aside and stomped to the bathroom. Charlie materialized.

“Can’t I even pee without your hovering?”

Charlie floated out of the room and Bridget shut the door, as if that would stop Charlie from talking.

“What the hell happened on Monday anyway? I think I deserve to know.”

“I told you about Nick.”

“Not Nick. Robbie. I want my brother back.”

“What are you talking about? He’s been here. I can tell.” The fireplace doors had been repaired and the rest of the paneling removed. Even the hole in her bedroom had been patched. Seeing the evidence of his work—work he’d accomplished without her help or company—stung, even though that’s what she’d wanted. Or so she’d thought.

“I don’t mean physically. I mean mentally. He yelled at me. He never yells.”

“Did it ever occur to you maybe you caused him to yell?” Bridget flushed the toilet and washed her hands.

“I’ve teased him plenty, even when we were kids. He never yelled. He swore he never would. He didn’t want to be like Dad.”

“Your dad yelled?”

“All the time. And Mom yelled back. We loved them, and knew they loved us, but it drove us nuts. How do you tell your parents not to yell? Rob found some kind of inner peace through scouts and football.”

And it had only taken Bridget a week to make him go crazy. What might he be like if she let it go any further? She opened the bathroom door and headed for the kitchen. Coffee sounded good.

While Bridget went to work on making a pot, Charlie floated in and out of the room, wearing a frown. Bridget sat at the table. “So Rob found inner peace through football. Where did you find it? Through Nick?”

Charlie stopped her pacing. “No. Drugs. Nick came later.”

“I’m sorry. I can see why suicide by overdosing would be a sore spot.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. What am I saying? It is your fault! Bring Robbie back. I miss him.”

Bridget missed him, too. “It’s over. Just give him time.”

“How can you say it’s over? He loves you!”

“What? He can’t love me. He doesn’t even know me.”

“Bridget. He loves you. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

“That’s not love.” Was it?

“I’ve seen the way you look at him, too. So why are you doing this?”

Hell’s bells. How
had
she looked at him? Had he noticed? “It’s complicated, okay? Just drop it.”

“You’re nuts, you know that? You have a great guy in love with you and you throw it away? Do you know what I would give to have Nick with me right now?”

“Give up your quest to see Carl put away?” Bridget hit a nerve, but was satisfied in diverting the conversation away from Rob.

Charlie’s eyes widened and her nose flared. “Ooo, that’s not fair! I can’t let Carl get away with murder. Plus, there’s no guarantee I’ll see Nick on the other side.”

“There’s no guarantee Carl will be put away, either. What are you going to do if I don’t find the proof?”

Charlie turned away. “I don’t know. I can’t think like that, okay?” She spun around and poked Bridget in the chest. “And that’s another reason you have to see Rob. Find out what’s happening.”

The last message Rob had left informed Bridget he’d hired a private investigator and would call back when he got some news. That was two days ago.

Bridget rubbed her chest. Charlie’s poking had hurt, like Mary Alice’s grip, but admitting it would be a huge error. Not that she didn’t trust Charlie, but why give the ghost any ideas? “When are you going to learn to be patient?”

“When are you gonna admit you love my brother?”

Bridget stormed to the bedroom. She was so not having this conversation. And if Charlie followed her, she might have to bop her one. Her knuckles were just about healed.

* * * *

Rob slammed the file drawer closed. He resisted the urge to ram his fist into something—like Carl’s face—because he wouldn’t stop with one punch. Knowing that man had killed his baby sister ate him raw. He needed the proof now, before he did something that landed him in prison.

What was taking so fucking long? The investigator had assured Rob he’d hear something by the end of the week. It was now Friday afternoon and not a word. That whole idea about dragging out the investigation was bunk. Putting Carl away sooner would be better. Better, so he could pursue Bridget. How could he start a relationship with his sister’s murderer walking around free?

“It’s starting to sound like your father returned.” Carl poked his head into the doorway. “He used to do that all the time. I think he went through several filing cabinets.”

“What do you want, Carl?” Rob practically growled at the guy. Keeping his cool around the murdering son of a bitch was harder than he’d anticipated. Maybe he should have taken the week off. But dammit, this was his business. Not Carl’s.

“Hey, no need to bite my head off. Having a problem with a project? Maybe I can help.”

“There’s nothing wrong with any of the projects. Maybe I’m just in a bad mood.”

“I’ve known you a long time. Something’s bothering you. You have a tiff with Bridget?” Carl entered the office and Barnaby growled.

“I don’t want to talk about her.” And give the bastard more reason to hurt her. Bridget might not be taking his calls, but he hadn’t given up on her. Instead, he’d given her the time to hopefully see the error of her ways. And if the investigator got off his ass and did his job, then Rob could finally get Carl put behind bars where he belonged. And wouldn’t that be a wonderful present for his soul mate and future wife.

Carl raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, that bad, huh? Well, you really don’t know her, now do you?”

“We’re not talking about her.”

Barnaby growled again and then barked.

“I think you might need to leave the dog at home, Rob. He’s starting to get on my nerves.”

Rob patted the faithful animal, who knew the truth. “Why do you suppose he doesn’t like you, huh? Have you done something to him?” Like maybe, murdered his master?

“I’ve never touched that animal. Maybe he just senses I’m a cat person. You ever think about leaving him at home?”

“I’m not leaving him alone all day. He doesn’t bother anyone but you. Maybe you just need to stay away. I do find it interesting how he’s never shown a dislike for you until after Charlie died.”

“I don’t think he liked me before. She was able to control him. If you can’t do the same—”

“Listen, this is my business. If I want to bring Barnaby to work, I will.”

“Rob, what’s the matter with you? I’ve never seen you so agitated. Why don’t you go back to Charlie’s house and work out your frustration.”

“Maybe I should. My paneling order came in and I need to pick it up.” And then he could see Bridget. Man, he’d missed her.

“While you’re there, push them about the Bonner project. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“Sure.” He snatched his truck keys from the desk. “Oh, by the way. What do you know about Sylvester Paint?”

Carl stood still and acted calm, but his face paled and he averted his gaze toward the dog as if Barnaby would attack. “Why do you want to know?”

“We always get our paint from McGruder’s. Why the sudden change?”

Carl crossed his arms. “To tell you the truth, Mac was getting on my nerves and we got a better deal at Sylvester’s. Since when did you care where we got our supplies?”

“Since now. I want to be more involved. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“You’re the boss. I just assumed you’d rather work in the trenches than deal with paperwork. Do whatever you want.” Carl turned and left.

Yeah, he’d do what he wanted. Except what he wanted—watching Carl being hauled off to jail—couldn’t be done without proof. Since that wasn’t happening soon enough, there was something he could do. Rob sat back behind his desk and called Linda, requesting her to get his lawyer on the phone. Maybe he would never get Carl behind bars, but he’d be damned if Carl got his business.

* * * *

Bridget’s coworkers avoided her completely. Even Kate kept her distance. Four days with a nonstop headache would put anyone in a foul mood. Living with Charlie only made it worse.

It had nothing to do with the fact Rob hadn’t called since she put him to voice mail on Monday evening. Not at all.

She should be happy. She got her wish. Instead, her heart sat like a lead weight embedded in her chest.

Bridget trudged into the storage room and pulled out a bag of dog food. How had she gone from a successful nurse to being a maid at a veterinary clinic? Feed the animals. Bathe the animals. Clean the cages. Without a tech license, she couldn’t help Kate with the patients. Maybe she should go back to being a nurse. She’d make more money at least, and then she could afford her own place.

Of course, that meant going back to the hospital. Not happening.

Then again, she could move back with her parents. She wouldn’t have access to Charlie or Rob there. So why hadn’t she? Because then she wouldn’t have access to Charlie or Rob. Crazy as it seemed, Charlie had become a friend. And even if she couldn’t date Rob, it didn’t mean she never wanted to see him again.

Yeah, she was into that whole self-torture thing.

She hoisted the bag of dog food as pain flared in her head. The bag landed with a
thud
.

“There you are. Man, I didn’t think I’d ever find you.”

Bridget rubbed her temples. “Dammit, Charlie. Can’t I even get a break at work?”

“I’m sorry about your headache, but you have to call Rob. Now.”

“Is this some sort of plan for you to get us together? Because it’s not working.”

“No. This is about Barnaby. I think he’s sick and I can’t get Rob’s attention.” Charlie wrung her hands and floated back and forth across the room.

“Sick how?”

“He’s throwing up. Stop talking and call.”