PsyCop 4: Secrets (14 page)

A sound like a cat being strangled came from Irene’s room.

People didn’t sound like that unless there was something seriously wrong. My mind hashed together Lisa’s
si-nos
—Irene may or may not have been raped, but she wasn’t senile and she wasn’t crazy. Her attacker was human.

A ghost.

The homeless guy.

“Move,” I barked. The patrolmen jumped. I almost went for my gun but then changed my mind. A gun wouldn’t do me any good against a ghost. And if there wasn’t a ghost there, well, I didn’t want to end the investigation by giving Irene a heart attack.

Both of the cops flattened against the wall and I pushed between them into Irene’s room.

I expected a tangle of blankets, the blur and crackle of a half-seen ghost, or maybe the flap of a filthy, tattered trenchcoat.

But instead there was just an old lady lying in bed. Her torso was round like a beach ball and her arms were a couple of sticks. Her gray hair was in curlers, and her skin hung in folds.

She pointed her finger at me. “You!” she said.

I flinched. What a voice.

“You’re the one. He told me about you. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I stared.

“You get the hell out of here and leave us alone.”

I opened my mouth. “Listen, I think you’ve got….”

“You heard me. Get out of here! Go!”

“Ma’am,” I said. Cripes, I sounded exactly like the cops in the hall. “I need you to calm down….”

“Calm down? I’ll give you ‘calm down’. You people won’t leave us the hell alone! Get out of here! Get out!”

There was commotion in the hall, but I couldn’t make out anything specific with Irene going at me full-throttle. “You said ‘leave us alone’,” I said, doing my best to get a word in edgewise. “Who’s us? Who’s he?”

“I’ll call the newspaper—that’s what I’ll do. You can’t come in here without my permission.

I don’t give you permission to be here! Get out! Get the hell out!” A hand dropped onto my shoulder and I flinched. “Come on, Vic,” said Jacob. “Irene doesn’t like strangers in her room.”

“No kidding.”

“Irene,” said Jacob in his smoothest voice, “this is Detective Bayne. He’s here to try and figure out what happened to you Monday night.”

“I told you what happened. But this guy’s trouble—he’ll only make things worse. I don’t want him here. He’ll ruin everything.”

“Back away,” Jacob murmured, giving my shoulder a tug.

“Fine. You don’t have to tell me twice.” I turned around to get out of Irene’s room. Jacob stood square in the doorway—probably to cop a cheap feel as I squeezed by him—and then I saw it. Her. The person in the gigantic hat.

I jumped and ended up backing into Jacob. He actually shifted to give me a little room. It was either that or start slow-dancing with me in front of the other cops.

“Get out! Get out of my room! Leave me alone! All I want is peace and quiet!”

“Saints above,” said the woman in the hat. She stood half-in, half-out of Irene’s bedside table, peering down at the bed with her hands on her hips. “You really know I’m here?” Jacob pulled my shoulder and attempted to steer me toward the door, but I shrugged him off.

“Shepherd!” called Irene. “Shepherd! Come quick!”

“Well, I’ll be a son-of-a-gun,” said the hat-ghost. She was a middle-aged black woman in her Sunday finest, a lavender dress with too many buttons to count, and a pair of gloves and purse to match the hat. I’d guess her outfit to be late 50’s, early 60’s. Pre flower-power, anyway. “She really can see spirits.”

A fresh bout of chaos erupted in the hallway. I heard a lot of yelling in Spanish and the clatter of a gurney going by. And I hated that I could identify the sound a gurney made without actually seeing it. I took a deep breath and stuffed my Camp Hell memories out of the way for the moment.

“It’s right there. It’s gonna get me,” wailed Irene. “Go away! Shepherd won’t come with all you people here.”

“Mm, mm, mm,” said the ghost, shaking her head. “She sure acts like she’s crazy.”

“Have we met?” I asked her.

The ghost looked up sharply. Her interest in Irene evaporated. “You see spirits, Detective?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Is that me she’s all worked up about, saying I’m going to get her?” I nodded again.

“Irene,” she said, “you’ve always been a damn fool.” Irene, meanwhile, was still screaming at the top of her lungs for me to leave, and for

“Shepherd” to help her. Jacob must’ve spotted me chatting with the bedside table, though, because he’d stopped trying to drag me into the hallway and started running interference for me instead.

Carolyn’s voice rose over the din from somewhere behind Jacob. “What’s going on?”

“The black woman down the hall just died,” I said.

“It’s her,” Irene gasped. “Roberta! I can feel her.”

I crept closer to the ghost in the lavender hat despite the fit that Irene was pitching. “Um, Roberta? Why are you here?”

“I wanted to come by and see for myself if all the fuss she put up was just for attention, or if she really could see spirits.”

“Okay. Well, show’s over. I think Irene’s going to be joining you shortly if you don’t move along.” I know, it sounds harsh. But I wasn’t being a dick about it. And I really was scared that Irene might have an aneurysm and blame me for causing it. “Unless you know something about this guy who’s been bothering her.”

Roberta pressed her lips together and shook her head. Her hat swooped back and forth.

Irene started screaming again. “Get out! Get out!”

“Seriously,” I told Roberta. “We should all go. You and I can talk in the hall.” Roberta thrust her chin out. “I’ve seen what I came to see,” she said. She gave Irene a contemptuous toss of her hat, turned toward the wall, and strode away—straight through a faded print of a sappy, big-eyed kitten.

Jacob stood aside to let a nurse push by. She took Irene’s pulse and asked her all those questions that paramedics usually ply you with to make sure you’re not brain-damaged.

What’s your name, what day is it—stuff you can typically answer unless you’re really sick or really high.

“We need to clear the room,” she said to Jacob, but I was already heading back toward the door. Nothing more to see here, as we say at the Fifth.

Lisa stood out in the hall with the patrolmen, another nurse, and a handful of patients in wheelchairs. She grabbed me by the sleeve as I tried to disengage from the crowd, and I walked her out toward the abandoned nurses’ station. “What happened?” she whispered.

“Irene didn’t get attacked again. So what was it?”

She must’ve had the
si-no
in overdrive to try and figure out what was happening. But without asking the right questions, without a definite yes or no answer, she was as much in the dark as the guy with the pointy wrist bones.

“The black lady we met last night? The one in the wheelchair? She just died.” Lisa glanced down the hall where Roberta and her friend had been parked outside their rooms. It was quiet now. The gurney had come and gone.

We stood together in silence. Undoubtedly, Lisa was still running a litany of
si-nos
past her sixth sense. I was trying to tread water. A laugh sideswiped me, bubbling up out of nowhere. I almost managed to turn it into a cough, but didn’t quite succeed.

“What?” said Lisa.

“Oh, nothing.” It’d been less than twenty-four hours ago that I was thinking how little old ladies were so cute.

Carolyn rounded the corner. Her high heels clacked on the linoleum in a way that out-clacked everyone else in the building. She made a beeline for Lisa and me. “Come talk to me.” She looped one arm through Lisa’s and one arm through mine. She pulled us both into the ladies’ room next to the drinking fountain, and I was too baffled to put up a protest.

Carolyn let go of both of us, turned toward the door, and clicked the lock.

“Uh-oh,” said Lisa.

Carolyn planted her hands on her hips and faced us. “Look, guys, here’s the deal. I can’t sugarcoat it, so don’t expect me to try.”

I braced myself so hard inside that I was squinting at her. I’d never realized anyone so blonde and thin could be so imposing. She wanted to solve the case, and she’d figure out a way to get more
si-nos
from Lisa, Psych-rights or not.

“Victor, you’ve got to get out of here.”

“What?” I said. Real smooth.

“Whenever you’re in the room, Jacob turns into a walking hard-on. I haven’t got the time for it. I want my partner back, and I need him to be doing something other than staring at you with goo-goo eyes.”

Lisa covered her mouth with her hand, as if it wasn’t obvious she was hiding a giant grin.

Nice way to reward me for watching her back.

“We’re trying to help,” I said.

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?”

“Fine, I’ll leave. But Lisa’s coming with me.”

Carolyn rolled her eyes. “Right. You’ve got to protect her from us. Come on, you know me.

If Lisa’s limit is three
si-nos
, I’m not going to try to milk a few more out of her. I respect her limits. Lisa’s more than just a precog talent—she’s another set of eyes that we trust.” I considered saying that we were working on a project. That we had an appointment. That I wasn’t feeling well and I needed her to drive. But what use was it? I was talking to Carolyn, so I might as well tell the truth. “This Psych stuff’s new to her,” I said, “at least thinking of it as anything more serious than a card trick. I still want her to stick with me.” How inconvenient to have to figure out what I really thought, and then say it in a way that wouldn’t burn any bridges. I wondered how Jacob managed it day in, day out.

“Fair enough,” said Carolyn. She slipped between us and headed for the door. She paused with her hand on the lock. “Lisa, is the attacker male?”

“Yes.”

“Was he in the room with her?”

Lisa looked puzzled.

“Was he in the building?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, great,” I said. “Irene’s stalker has a magical dick that can reach through walls.” Carolyn scowled and twisted the lock.

“Hold on,” I said. “Now I’ve got one for you. How much do you know about my ‘privacy’?” I made finger-quotes in the air around the last word.

“What do you mean?”

“You knew I wasn’t on the Internet or in the Tribune. Isn’t that a little weird, given the number of high-profile cases I’ve been involved with?” Carolyn frowned in thought. “And that’s news to you? Huh. I’ve never questioned it. I just figured that once your Psych level tests at a high enough point—higher than mine, anyway—you’re entitled to certain protections.”

Entitled? I wouldn’t have seen that one coming in a million years. “So you think it’s a good thing?”

“You don’t?” She shook her head. “You think you could live with all the rock-star attention you’d get if people actually knew about you? Well, maybe you could. But I don’t think there’d be any middle ground. Either you’ve got your privacy, or every last intimate detail about you is blown open wide in a big, sordid, primetime special. Your drug habit, your homosexuality. They’d eat you alive. Are you really ready for that?” I really didn’t want the gay to be common knowledge at work, but I wasn’t gonna lose any sleep over it. It’s not as if I was on a “let’s have coffee” basis with anyone there. Other than the fine civil servants at the Fifth, I found it doubtful that anyone else would give a damn who I slept with. The drugs, however, were a little more tricky. I didn’t think my Seconal supplier would appreciate seeing his face on the five o’clock news.

“The two of you need to go,” said Carolyn. “I get that Jacob’s not ashamed of his sexual preference, but right now it’s only out between me, him, and our sergeant. Pretty soon the other cops here are going to notice that he’s not just looking at you because you’re seeing ghosts. I don’t think they’re going to be nearly as understanding as our sarge.”

“So I could ruin Jacob’s career by being here.”

“You said it. I didn’t.”

Carolyn turned and left.

“But that’s what she meant,” I said as the door shut.

“Yeah,” said Lisa.

Lisa and I stood there and stared at the heavily waxed linoleum floor.

“I think it’s kind of romantic,” she said eventually. “The way he looks at you.”

“She’s right, though. Our sex life isn’t anyone else’s business.” And now we lived together officially. Who was in the know about that? Jacob’s sergeant. At the Fifth Precinct, all I’d told them was that I’d moved. But as far as I knew, they were in the dark about me owning the place with Jacob. “I need to kill a housewarming party,” I told Lisa as we left the bathroom and headed for the elevators.

“Tell them you have roaches, bad.”

Huh. If I was such a good liar, why hadn’t I thought of that?

Rosewood’s automatic door whooshed shut behind me. It was snowing outside, hard little pellets that were indistinguishable from road salt as they bounced off car hoods and curbs. “You did all you could do, and we used up the
si-nos
,” said Lisa. “Maybe you should go home and finish unpacking today.”

“I think I’d rather….” nothing witty sprang to mind, which was just as well, because I was distracted by a flash of something in my peripheral vision. It wasn’t that the movement looked paranormal in any way—flicker, blur, transparency, jitter, all the skin-crawling crap that movies copy so well—but just that it seemed too dark.

I turned my head and spotted a figure standing at the edge of the parking lot. He was thirty yards away, but I recognized his dreads immediately. Snow coated everything around him, but his trenchcoat stayed black. “It’s the elevator guy,” I said.

Lisa went still.

He saw me. I knew he did. He looked at me, that same sallow-eyed look he’d given me in the elevator.

“Yeah, that’s right,” I said, louder now. “I can see you.” Hard to tell at that distance if his expression changed.

“Leave Irene alone. Hear me?”

He kept on looking at me. Too still to be physical.

I took a step towards him and he broke into a run.

My police academy training took over. Someone runs? They’re probably worth chasing. I hopped over a wheelchair ramp and took off after him, thankful for the traction of the salt.