Lisa Jackson - Wicked Game

“Just like mine,” Hudson said.

Becca felt a chill slide down her spine. “Did Jessie call you Christopher instead of The Third?”

“Beats me.” He shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

“I got one. You got one. And you said Jarrett got one?” Hudson turned the card over and examined Christopher’s name more closely.

“Yep. And Glenn. And Mitch.”

“You sound certain,” Hudson said.

“Well, that’s what McNally told me.”

“McNally? You talked to him?”

“Just got off the phone with him.” He pointed to both of them. “Expect calls. He’ll probably want to talk to everyone. He said Mitch got a note, and Scott told him Glenn got one.”

Hudson took a moment to absorb that news. “How about Scott?”

“I didn’t ask. I just assumed.”

“Zeke hasn’t gotten one yet,” Hudson said.

“Maybe today.” The Third sounded almost bored, but then they realized it was more grief than apathy when he said softly, “Damn, I just can’t believe Stafford’s gone.” He drew a long breath and eased himself farther into his desk chair, which made protesting noises. “God, what a weird world.”

“Got any idea who would send these notes?” Hudson asked him.

“God knows. Not Jessie, though.” When neither Hudson nor Becca responded, he skewered them with a look. “You can’t think she’s still alive.”

“No.” Hudson was positive.

“She was a tease, though,” The Third said. “She loved this kind of stuff.”

“Maybe someone knows that.”

The Third gave him a hard look. “And is pulling this shit for their own reasons.”

“Maybe.”

“Why?” Becca asked. “Who?”

“To make us think she’s alive?” The Third proposed. “To send the hounds in another direction?”

Hudson nodded thoughtfully.

“Yeah, well. Jessie’s a ghost and now Glenn’s a corpse.” He grabbed the arms of his chair and levered himself to his feet. “What’s with you two? Are you together now?” He waved a hand to encompass Becca and Hudson. “Your own little team?”

“Something like that,” Hudson said.

“Great. Amateur investigators. Just let this damn thing blow over so we can all get back to real life instead of looking for dead girls who don’t exist.” He opened and slammed shut one drawer, then another, yanking out his keys and a wallet. “What time is it, eleven? I’ve got a lunch meeting at twelve, and I want to get there early so I can have a few drinks first. Sorry to rush you out, but there’s nothing much more to talk about. Anything else, take it up with McNally.”

With that he shoved his chair back, then strode out of the room, leaving Hudson and Becca to look at each other and follow suit.

On Saturday Becca drove herself to the site of Glenn’s memorial service, a small nondenominational white clapboard church with a steeple cutting upward to a sky thick with gunmetal gray clouds. As she pulled into the gravel parking lot, she saw Hudson standing outside with Renee, Zeke, and Evangeline, the wind blowing the women’s skirts around their knees and playing havoc with their hair. Evangeline wore a wide-brimmed black hat that she anchored firmly to her head with one hand. Renee seemed oblivious to the weather, her face turned away from the church, her short dark hair whipping around her cheekbones, her eyes fastened on some remote point that Becca was pretty sure she wasn’t even seeing.

Zeke’s hands were in his pockets, his head bent, his expression stony though Becca got the impression he was desperately holding his emotions inside. “Why didn’t I get a note?” she heard him ask Hudson as she approached.

“You haven’t got one yet,” Hudson pointed out.

“Oh, who cares?” Evangeline’s nose and eyes were red and she was sniffling. “Be glad Jessie didn’t send one to you.”

“Jessie didn’t send the notes,” Renee said woodenly, as if she’d repeated the same words a thousand times. Her cheeks were as hollow as someone dedicated to a starvation diet. “She’s dead. Remember?”

Hudson frowned at his sister. “You okay?”

“I’m more than okay,” she snapped right back. “I keep telling you.”

“Think we should go in?” Evangeline asked, looking around. People were climbing the steps and entering the front doors.

“You just seem like you’ve got something you’re dealing with,” Hudson said to Renee. “Is it the Jessie story?”

“Among other things. I am going through a divorce, you know.” She frowned, her features pinching into a knot. “You don’t see Tim anywhere, do you?”

“I thought that’s the way you wanted it.”

“Who knows what I want.”

“Come on,” Evangeline said, grabbing Zeke’s hand and dragging him toward the church steps.

Renee pressed her lips together, looked at her brother as if she had something to say, then threw a glance at Becca and clammed up. After a taut moment, she said, “Sometimes a story’s just a story, and sometimes it’s a hell of a lot more. Jessie was running from something, and I don’t know what. I’ve got some answers, but I’ve got a lot more questions, too.” She glanced over her shoulder as if expecting to be overheard.

Becca observed, “You still feel like you’re being followed.”

She shrugged.

Hudson said, “Who’s following you?”

“No one. Someone. The bogeyman. A damned ghost. I don’t know.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Maybe you should come and stay with me,” he said as they walked up the steps to the front doors.

“I don’t think so. I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?”

“Been doing it for years,” she said as they walked through the open doors and into the vestibule. Absently Becca picked up a small program with Glenn’s picture on the front page, then slid into one of the rear pews. Organ music swelled and Gia began crying softly somewhere in the front row. Becca turned her eyes to the ceiling of the church with its curved wooden beams and wished she felt comforted. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, but when she opened them again she found herself looking at Detective Sam McNally, who had unobtrusively entered and taken a seat in the pew across the aisle, opposite theirs.

She felt Hudson stiffen, though he stared straight ahead. It seemed weird to have the cop at the service, a man who had been dogging Glenn as well as his friends since high school.

As a preacher began to talk about Glenn’s life, Becca spotted the other members of their group. So far Mitch, seated three rows in front of McNally, was still unaware the detective had joined them. She could see the way he was jiggling his leg, as if he were made of nerves. The tension in his shoulders was obvious as well. Jarrett, two rows almost directly in front of Becca and Hudson, turned his head at that moment, gazing coldly toward McNally, his heavy eyebrows and grim mouth menacing. Somewhere toward the front The Third was seated next to Tamara.

After the reverend had said a little about Glenn, Scott Pascal rose from a front pew and moved stiffly toward the podium. He made a short speech about his friend, describing how they’d decided to become partners in the restaurant. It was clear Scott felt the emotion of the moment, for he stumbled over his words and had to hesitate several times before continuing.

Then Mitch jerked to his feet and took a turn at the podium. He glanced over their numbers, his round cheeks red and glistening with sweat under the lights. He looked hot and uncomfortable in his dark suit, and Becca wondered briefly if he was going to have a heart attack or something. He didn’t look well.

“Glenn and I were friends a long time. He was a good guy.” Mitch looked to Gia, whose gaze was riveted on him. She held herself stiffly, as if her connection to Mitch were held by a tight, invisible rope. “We shared stuff. Good and bad. Now that he’s gone I don’t know who I’ll talk to.” As if of their own volition, his eyes searched through the crowd, fastening on McNally. He blinked several times, then said on a rasp, “We’re gonna miss you, buddy.” His hands were clenched as he walked back to his seat.