Iris Johansen - Blood Game

She shook her head. “I think you’re stuck with it. But I’ll try to find out.”

“For God’s sake, don’t you know?”

“Dammit, I told you. I’m new at this. I didn’t even know I had any so-called psychic talents until a few months ago. I’m certainly no authority, for heaven’s sake. But I’ll call my friend Renata Wilger in Munich, and see if she knows someone who can help you.”

“Another psychic voodoo priestess?”

She shook her head. “Not really. Renata is a distant cousin, and she’s sort of an agent for a family business. But she has contacts.”

“What family? It sounds like the Mafia.”

“No. It’s the Devanez family.” She hesitated. She’d have to tell him. She owed him the whole truth. “It’s a very old family and some of the members have certain… talents.”

“A whole family of freaks? What the hell am I getting into?”

“Look, I know this is difficult for you. Well, it’s not easy for me.” She didn’t blame him for being impatient. Her explanation would probably not make it any more acceptable. “I found out I was a member of the Devanez family at the same time I learned I was one of these ‘freaks’ you’re talking about. The Devanezes were originally landholders in southern Spain. In 1485, they fled Spain to escape the Inquisition. The local peasants had gone to their priests and accused the family of every form of witchcraft from predicting the future to shape changing. Some of it was sheer superstition, but there was no doubt the family had certain talents. The family scattered to practically every corner of the civilized world and went into hiding. But Jose, the head of the family, believed in strength in Unity, and didn’t want the family to lose contact with each other. He created a ledger that listed names, addresses, even talents, of family members, and sent it out of the country with his brother, Miguel. Since then there’s always been a keeper of the ledger who visits around the world and keeps track of the family.” She paused. “And problems that we might be having because of any gift we might have.”

“And Renata Wilger can contact this damn keeper of the ledger and find me help?”

“Renata is the keeper of the ledger.” She added quietly, “And she’s my friend. She’ll do whatever she can.”

“I hate having to rely on you, or her, or anyone else.” His tone was edged with frustration. “I don’t want this. I’m clutching at straws. I don’t want anything to do with your mumbo jumbo.”

“Then walk away from me. Go to a psychiatrist. I’m sure that he’d tell you that after a few hundred sessions you wouldn’t see any more spirits. Or maybe you’ll just learn to ignore them.”

He was silent. “Do you think I’m imagining them?”

“No, I think you’re too hardheaded to imagine anything.” She made a face. “I think I zapped you.”

He shook his head in disgust. “It just shows how far gone I am that that statement fills me with relief.”

She got to her feet. “I’ll call Renata. I need someone a hell of a lot more knowledgeable than I am to tell you what to do. I don’t even know where to start.”

“I’ll tell you where to start,” Joe said. “I want you to come with me to Allatoona.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“I want you to tell me if you hear Nancy Jo Norris and what she tells you about what happened to her. As long as I’m able to extract information from a victim, I might as well make use of her.”

“Very professional. Is that all?”

“No.” He hesitated, then said bluntly, “This weirdness scares the hell out of me. I don’t know how to handle it. I want company.”

JOE FLASHED HIS BADGE ATthe police officer on guard duty at the Allatoona crime scene. “We’re just going to have a look around. We won’t be long.” He nodded for Megan to go ahead. “I see the TV trucks are still here.”

The officer nodded. “They’re hoping to shoot some more footage of Senator Norris. It was like a circus here a few hours ago. They were on him like bees after honey.”

Not a good simile. There had been nothing honey-sweet about Ed Norris. His bitterness had been machete-sharp. Who could blame him?

He caught up with Megan. He pointed to the chalked outline. “That’s where we found her.”

“I don’t think that’s where he killed her,” Megan said. “It feels… wrong.”

“Why? Do you hear anything?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. It just isn’t right. Where did you see her?”

“In those trees. It was dusk.”

Now it was dark, and the shadows of the trees made the darkness seem heavy, forbidding.

“Sad. She’s so sad,” Megan murmured. “She’s beginning to understand.”

Joe turned to look at her. “Echoes?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. Something different.” She moved toward the trees. “I think that’s where she died. Not there by the lake. Is that possible?”

“Yes, we’ll know when we get the forensic report.” He followed her into the darkness.

He could feel the tension beginning to grip him. Stupid. He was looking straight ahead, afraid to gaze to the right or left. Afraid of what he’d see.

“It’s suspected of being a ritual killing,” he said. “The bastard could have killed her here, stripped her, and carried her out to the bank for his ceremony.”

“I think that’s what probably happened.” Megan’s gaze was traveling around the woods. “There’s… fear here.”

“Then why can’t you hear her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want to hear her. Or it could be I’m still numb from listening to the children on that island in the swamp. Perhaps they’re getting in the way.”

“That’s a lot of ‘maybes.’ ”

“It’s the best I can do.” She glanced at him. “You asked me to come here, but I’m not helping much, am I?”

“No. I wanted you to hear her. I wanted you to give me some wise revelation that would prove I’m not completely bananas.” He shrugged. “But you did the next best thing. She hasn’t made an appearance. You may have scared her off. That’s pretty valuable too.”

“Then may we leave now? This sadness is overpowering.”

“I guess we might as well.” He gave another glance around, then started to turn to go. “To tell you the truth, I have to admit I’m relieved that-”

“ Don’t you dare leave me.”

“Oh, shit.”

Blond hair, red collegiate sweatshirt, blue eyes blazing at him. Nancy Jo Norris stood at the edge of the trees, blocking their path.

“What is it?” Megan was gazing at Joe’s face.

“The resident spirit of the wood.” He had to be flip because he was feeling that same sense of panic he’d felt before. “You don’t see her?”

“No.” Her gaze was following Joe’s to the place where Nancy Jo stood. “Nothing.”

“Stop ignoring me,” Nancy Jo said. “Of course she can’t see me. No one can see me. Not even Daddy. I tried and tried to talk to him, and he didn’t hear me, didn’t see me. I reached out and touched him, tried to hug him, and he didn’t even feel it.” She was blinking back tears. “He was hurting and I wanted to help him but he couldn’t feel me.”

“I can’t solve your problem, Nancy Jo,” Joe said. “I don’t know anything about this.” He turned to Megan. “Do something.”

She shook her head. “She’s your ghost. I can’t even hear her echoes. You’ll have to deal with her.”

Nancy Jo was glaring at Megan. “Is she some kind of ghost hunter? Is that why you brought her?” she asked bitterly. “I used to watch TV shows about ghost hunters. My roommate, Chelsea, and I used to make fun of them.”