Love Charms (115 page)

With a slow, almost hesitant, smile, I
said, “Maybe we should.” It felt good to acknowledge that I might let another
man after Mark into my life. Something in my chest lightened and I took a deep
breath marveling at the sudden freedom. That is, until I caught sight of Mark
loitering by the bar, an expression of pure jealousy on his face. It appeared
my dead boyfriend wasn't ready for me to move on.

“I'd like that.” Jacob matched my smile
with a tentative one of his own, unaware of Mark’s death glare. “So, you were
saying we needed to contact the police.”

I shifted in my seat, pulling my hand
away from Jacob's, and putting Mark out of my line of vision. I really didn't need
a guilt trip. “Do you know which detective is working on your brother's case?
That's who I need to talk to.”

“Sure. I think I have his card.” Jacob
set down his knife and fork to fish his wallet out of his pocket. After a quick
search, he pulled out a business card. “Here it is. Detective Wallace.”

I took the card and found my cell phone
buried, as usual, at the bottom of my purse. The detective picked up on the
first ring with a curt, “Detective Wallace.”

“This is Sofia Parker. I'm a PI retained
by Jacob Waltz.”

“Yes, I remember him,” the detective
said, his words measured as if he weighed them carefully before speaking.

“Do you have some time? I'd like to talk
to you about the case.” I took a sip of water while I waited for his response.

“All right. I'm not available tonight.
What about tomorrow morning, around nine?”

“Nine tomorrow?” I looked to Jacob who
nodded. “Sure. I'll come to the station.”

“See you then.” He hung up without saying
goodbye.

I dropped my phone in my purse and handed
the card back to Jacob. “We're all set.”

“Thanks for your help. I'll pick you up
tomorrow.”

“I have a better idea, why don't you stay
with me tonight?”

Jacob blinked and raised an eyebrow. I
flushed, realizing he thought my offer was a come-on. In light of our recent conversation,
I couldn't blame him.

I held up a hand before he could say
anything. “I mean, your apartment is trashed and my place is warded against
that kind of stuff. You'd be able to get a good night's sleep...” I trailed off
at the interest shining in his eyes. “On the couch.”

“On the couch," he repeated. “I had
hoped...” He stopped and took a sip of his drink.

“What?” I asked, purposely being dense.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Thanks for
the offer, I'll take it. Besides, now that we know what's going on, I'd feel
better if you weren't alone.”

“Good.” We exchanged too-big smiles, the
kind that mean you really like whoever you're looking at. Out of the corner of
my eye, I could see Mark glowering at us, but, once again, I moved until he was
out of my field of vision.

* * *

“How could you invite a virtual stranger
to stay with you?” Mark thundered, his hands balled into see-through fists.
Dark gray rolled through his aura like a thunderstorm.

We were in my bedroom where I was in the
process of exchanging my clothes for an oversized T-shirt. It had been a long
night and I was tired. After Pirate Pete’s, I took Jacob to buy some clothes
and then stopped at Malcolm’s to see if he was home. I had questions he needed
to answer, but no one came to the door no matter how hard Jacob and I knocked.
I’d read the door then, but it was shielded as tightly as Malcolm had been. The
day, overall, had been pretty crappy and it looked like my nightcap was going
to be a fight with my dead boyfriend.

Superfucktabulous.

“Hey, you wanted him as a client,” I
whispered back. Mark didn't have to worry about anyone overhearing him, but I
did. Jacob was out on the couch, ostensibly sleeping already, and I didn't want
to wake him with what would sound like a one-sided screaming match.

“Yes, client being the key word. I
certainly didn't intend for him to be your new boyfriend.”

I glared at Mark. “How can you say that
to me?”

Mark floated back at the anger in my
gaze. “What else am I supposed to think? I've only been dead for a year and
you're already snuggling up with some guy you've only met twice.”

“How about, I'm alone in all this? Or, I
have no family? Your family hates me and I can't count on you anymore?” I took
out my emotions on the pillow, fluffing it with more force than was really
necessary. “That maybe Jacob and I are in the same place right now? We have a
lot in common. How about, you think for one second what it has been like to be
me lately?”

He scowled. “Oh boo-hoo. Get over
yourself already.
You're
not the one who’s dead.”

I went still. “If you somehow think I've
got it better than you because I survived, you must not be paying attention. I
almost went to jail because of what happened. The media is stalking me. You
walk a mile in my shoes and then you tell me how bad you've got it.”

“At least you have a body.”

I huffed in exasperation and yanked back
the covers to my bed.“A body with no one to touch it. No one to hug me or wipe
the tears from my face.” I picked my dirty clothes up off the floor and threw
them in the hamper hard enough that the lid slammed shut without my help.

“That's not true, you have me.” He
reached for me, running phantom fingers over my arms until the hair on the back
of my neck stood on end.

I waved him off. “Mark, you can't touch
me. You can only make me cold. Face it, we aren't in a relationship anymore.”

He shook his head. “No, I love you. I'll
always love you.”

“I love you too, but we have no future
together. I'm here and you can't manifest for more than a few minutes at a
time.” I wrapped my arms around myself, seeking warmth and comfort. Talking
with Mark always left me cold.

Mark looked upset. “I'll do better. Give
me some time.”

That made me snort. “And then what? We'll
get married? They won't marry a ghost they can't see and what will I do with a
phantom husband?”

Mark drifted forward and hovered at my
shoulder as I stalked to bed. “Sofia, stop...”

“What?” I whirled to face him. “Don't you
dare tell me it'll get better. The only thing that would make it better is if
you were still here and that's not possible. They can't bring people back from
the dead and, in case you forgot, you're dead, Mark. Dead and turning to dust.”
I thrust a hand through him to illustrate my point knowing he wouldn't like it.
Human flesh was just too warm for ghosts.

Mark floated away from me, shocked at the
bald truth of my words. He opened his mouth to speak and then abruptly closed
it, choosing instead to fade away. I watched him go in silence, hugging my arms
around my body.

A knock sounded and Jacob cracked my bedroom
door open, poking his head into the room. “Everything okay in there?” He
stepped inside, tugging self-consciously on the hem of his blue plaid pajama
top.

Several possible answers occurred to me.
I could tell him I was fine and send him back to the couch. I could admit I was
having a hard time and send him back to the couch or, I could ask him to stay.
For some reason, the obvious answer was no longer the right one. I remembered
the way Jacob had touched my hand at dinner and how it had made me feel alive
for the first time in a long time.

Jacob came to where I stood and reached
out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “What's wrong, Sofia?”

“What isn't?”

He laughed. “I know the feeling. I've
been lying out there, wide awake, thinking about everything that's wrong.”

Making a decision, I took his hand and
pulled him toward the bed. “Stay with me. There's no reason for you to sleep on
the couch.” I didn't want to be alone, and, from the silent plea in Jacob's
eyes, I knew he didn't either.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I just...” I trailed off as he put
a finger to my mouth.

“Need some human contact,” he finished
for me dragging his finger down my lip.

I nodded and Jacob folded me in his arms,
lowering his head. I thought for a second he would kiss me on the lips, but,
instead, he pressed his mouth gently on my forehead, and, in one smooth
movement, picked me up to carry me to bed.

With my head on his shoulder and the hard
length of his body against the softness of mine, I slept a deep, dreamless
sleep. The first good sleep I'd had since Mark died.

Chapter
Seven

Detective Wallace bore a distinct
resemblance to a walrus with his large, rotund body and thick facial hair. All
he needed were tusks and maybe a tan, the guy looked like he hadn’t seen the
sun in a long time.

He greeted us with a scowl and rolled his
eyes when he realized he needed an extra chair. With the air of a
long-suffering martyr, he located a battered metal stool next to a neighboring
desk for Jacob to sit on. I sat in an old wooden chair with uneven legs, its
maple finish dark with dirt. I tried not to let my skin make contact with it.
Although, my pale lilac suit had no choice. I made a mental note to get it dry
cleaned before I wore it again. Like most urban centers, money was tight in
Boston and it showed in the age of the office furniture. Everything was
battered and dingy.  I hoped they at least had top-of-the-line bulletproof
vests.

The detective eased into the chair behind
his scarred desk, and folded his arms across his stomach looking me over with a
wary eye. “So, you're a PI?”

I nodded wrinkling my nose at the faint
smell of something bad. I couldn't quite place the scent, but it reminded me of
rotten eggs. “I have a lead for you.” I looked around, trying to pinpoint the
smell and my nose led me to the Detective. Maybe it was something he had for
breakfast.

Unaware of the ‘eau du egg’ he emanated,
the detective said, “Let me see your PI license first.”

I fished it out of my purse and dropped
it on his desk. He picked it up and scanned it. “You're psychic?”

“Yes.”

“Have you found the brother then?”

“Not yet, but he was dead well before the
robbery.”

“Dead.” He snorted. “How so? I've got him
on tape robbing a bank the morning after his family's death.”

Jacob shifted in his seat and made to respond,
but I laid a hand on his shoulder to quiet him. The police didn't like
emotional outbursts, a lesson I had learned from bitter experience. I didn't
want Jacob to say something he would regret. He clamped his mouth shut at my
touch and let me speak. “I know. I can explain.”

“Can you explain or make an affidavit
that'll stand in court? Which is it?” Detective Wallace raised his wirebrush
eyebrows at me.

“Affidavit.”

“Good. Let me get the paperwork.” He
stood and handed my license to me, his hand brushing my fingertips. That
fleeting touch set off a cacophony of metaphysical alarms, and, instead of
blocking it with my shields, I opened them and learned the Detective had no
interest in law and order. Reading thoughts wasn’t my strong suit, usually I just
caught snatches of things, like a cell phone with a bad connection. For some
reason, though,  the Detective’s mind was like an open book...in the horror
genre.

With shaking hands, I put my license back
into my purse and waited, holding my breath, until the Detective was out of
sight to speak. “We have to go.”

“What?” Jacob watched me get up.

“Just trust me. We'd better be gone
before Detective Wallace comes back.” I tugged on his arm. “I'll explain in the
car.”

Jacob allowed me to pull him to his feet
and propel him toward the door. “I don't understand.”

“If you want to live to hear an
explanation, I suggest we get the hell out of here.”

I broke into a trot, praying we reached
the doors before Detective Wallace came back and realized I was on to him. Once
we cleared the exit and made it outside, I began to run, pulling Jacob after
me. He had stopped talking and matched my pace with no apparent strain. By
comparison, I was already panting and sweating. If my life ever calmed down, I
was going to have to do some serious cardio work. People who couldn't run for
their lives ended up dead.

Determined to be the exception to the
rule, I lengthened my stride, until my narrow skirt began to creep up my
thighs, and gulped air in shallow breaths. We were almost to Jacob's car when
the Detective came barreling out of the precinct, his gun drawn and shouting,
“Stop!” He fired a warning shot into the air.

The cops guarding the police station
entrance snapped to attention and began to run after the Detective. Not to stop
him, but to help him. Shit.

“Jesus, what is going on?” Jacob asked as
he fumbled with his key chain to locate the button that would unlock the doors.

“Hurry up, before he aims at us.”

Jacob found the button and the car
chirped as the locks disengaged. I threw myself into the passenger seat while
Jacob did the same on the driver side. He put the key in the ignition and the
car roared to life. Slamming on the accelerator, Jacob yanked the wheel hard to
the left and we shot into traffic. Horns blared and tires squealed as oncoming
traffic fought to make room for our abrupt appearance into the usual downtown
Boston gridlock. Behind us, the Detective fired off another round that hit the
back of the car with a thunk.

“Damn, he hit a tire.” Jacob began to
pull over, but I put a hand on the wheel and forced him back into traffic.

“Don't stop unless you want the next
bullet to hit you between the eyes.”

Jacob resisted me and we clipped a car
parked on the street, knocking off their side mirror. “He's a cop, one of the
good guys,” he shouted trying to peel my fingers off the steering wheel.

“No, he's not. He's dead, a zombie, and
he's working for the same guys that killed your brother.” Touching the zombie
cop had give me a glimpse of the same man in black from Jason’s house and the
impression that he was the man in charge. What I hadn’t seen was an explanation
as to how the detective was able to function like a regular human. Jason had
been tethered with a metaphysical muzzle, more puppet than anything else. The
detective was something different. A zombie with some kind of brain function,
yet dead all the same. I had no idea what black magic made Detective Wallace
possible, but I wasn’t about to stick around and ask.

Jacob hit the brakes and looked at me in
shock. “You've got to be kidding.”

I put a hand on the dash to steady myself
as the car lurched to a standstill. We'd been going pretty fast and between the
flat tire and Jacob engaging the brakes with such force, the car was a spinout
just waiting to happen. “No, I'm not. And if you want to see the people who
murdered your brother brought to justice, you'd better get us the hell out of
here.”

Jacob released the brakes and manipulated
the steering wheel until the car righted itself, shoving me against the door
with a thud as the pull of gravity shifted. Once he had the car under control,
he glanced at me, his mouth a grim line as he absorbed what I had told him. I
couldn't blame him for his resistance. All our lives we're told the police are
the good guys and it's hard to go against that early conditioning.

Fortunately, I had no such conflict. I
knew cops were human. Some good. Some bad. I had met the full spectrum while
dealing with the manslaughter charges. I especially knew, once they started
shooting at you unprovoked, it was a bad thing. Surrendering wouldn't clear up
any 'confusion', it would guarantee our deaths.  Detective Wallace hadn’t
touched me for long, but I got enough to know they were expecting us and the
plan was to make us disappear.

In the side view mirror, I saw Detective
Wallace coming up on us at a pretty fast clip for a dead man his size, trying
to run and aim his gun at the same time. From the way he panted and heaved
himself forward step by step, I wasn't the only one who needed to get in shape.
His large girth worked for us because it distracted him, preventing him from
zeroing in on the back of our heads with his gun. Even so, a few more seconds
he would be on top of us and he wouldn't have to run anymore, just aim and pull
the trigger. I put my hand on the door latch, prepared to make a run for it if
Jacob insisted on being a sitting duck.

There was another thunk as the Detective
fired at us once more. I screamed and ducked, my hands covering my head. The
bullet smashed into the trunk of the car and the spring mechanism triggered,
popping the trunk open. Jacob started at the noise and pressed the accelerator
to the floor.

The entire car shuddered and I could hear
the flat tire slapping the pavement, but the vehicle still moved forward and
gained speed quickly. Thank God.

Jacob, with both hands tight the steering
wheel, wove the car in and out of traffic, putting distance between us and the
police. “Now what?”

I checked the side view mirror again and
saw the Detective hunched over gasping for breath. Good to know being a zombie
hadn't imparted any superhuman powers. But we weren't in the clear yet. The
uniforms were younger and clearly in better shape and they were still coming.
“I don't know, losing the cops would be a good first step.”

“And then what? Go back to your place?”
Jacob took a hard right turn at the next light cutting us off from the cops'
line of sight.

I worried my bottom lip at the question.
If the zombie reported back to the necromancer, who knew what tools he had
available to hunt us down? Worse, the zombie detective knew we were on to him,
which now made us a target. I shivered at the idea of being on a necromancer's
shit list. My apartment wasn’t safe. Would never be safe until this was all
over.

 “No, we'll go to Vera's. I need to talk
to her anyway.” Of all my friends, she was the most likely to know what to do.
She probably already knew we were coming.

“Who's Vera?” Jacob asked.

“She's a witch,” I said. “We're going to
need reinforcements.”

He frowned. “How are we going to get
there? I don't have a spare and driving on the rim will only get us so far.”

I spotted a parking garage and pointed it
out to Jacob. “How about we park inside? That'll get the car off the street.”

“And then what?” He gave me a skeptical
look.

“The subway. Look, there's a station
right across from the garage.”

“I suppose that's the best we can do.” He
changed lanes and turned into the garage. We had just taken our ticket and
driven past the gate, when several police cars zoomed past, lights blinking,
alarms blaring. Jacob and I both sighed in relief.

“Good call on the parking garage,” he
said, smiling at me.

“Thanks.” I slumped back in my seat, the
adrenaline that had carried me from the police station fizzled out, leaving me
slightly nauseated. I had never been shot at and it wasn't an experience I
would ever want to repeat. Of course, the way my life was going so far, I
seemed to be specializing in these never-again experiences. Sooner or later my
luck would have to take a turn for the better, I just hoped it was sooner as I
had no desire to find out what could be worse than being chased and shot at by
zombie cops.

Jacob pulled into a parking space and
turned off the car. “Ready?”

“Not yet.” I peered out the window.

He peered with me. “What are you looking
for?”

“Surveillance cameras.” I didn't want to
get caught on camera if I could help it. I might be pretty green for a P.I.,
but I had paid attention at the seminars I'd attended and surveillance evasion
had been one of the topics covered. Of course, the training had been meant for
evading philandering spouses so they didn't realize they were being tailed, not
zombie cops, but whatever worked.

A quick scan of the area revealed nothing
beyond the average parking garage. It was a small operation with only four
parking levels and the management had made a similarly small investment in
security. There were only two cameras visible and they were focused on the
road, not the parking spots. I turned to Jacob who watched me expectantly. “Do
you see them at the far end there?” At his nod, I continued, “I think we can
avoid them if we say to the side.”

“They'll know it's us from the trunk.”

“It doesn’t matter if they find the car,
because we're going to change our appearance.” To emphasize my point, I took
off the clip holding my hair back and shook my hair free. “Do you have any
other clothes in the car? A coat? Sunglasses?”

“My gym bag is in the back seat.” He
reached back and lifted a red duffel bag into the front seat.

I took the bag and opened it, pleased to
find not one, but three sets of clothes. “You've got a lot in here.” I eyed
Jacob trying to gauge whether or not his clothes would fit. I was shorter by a
few inches, but rounder. Jacob was all lean muscle while I was wide-hipped with
fleshy curves. I had never been one of those women who could wear men's jeans.

“I usually pack for the week.” He caught
the T-shirt and jogging pants I threw at him. “I don't see how this is going to
help.”

“They'll be looking for us and our
description will be in the APB.” I leaned forward and shrugged out of my lilac
suit jacket and began to unbutton my blouse. “Plus, they've got us on camera at
the precinct. They know what we're wearing and what we look like.”

Ignoring the way Jacob watched me, I
peeled my polyester blouse off my sweat-soaked skin, and shoved my head through
one of his workout shirts, a gray short-sleeved tee with a Boston Red Sox logo
across the chest.