Delilah Devlin - Lost Souls

Cait sighed. Chatty Cathy wasn’t going away.

“You see me.”

“Do you always repeat yourself?”

“No need to be rude,” the woman said, frowning. “I just can’t get over it. It’s been… I don’t know how long. Anyway, no one has ever seen me before.”

“Don’t you see other ghosts?”

She shook her head. “They don’t count. They have so many problems. If I stop to say hello, I get the whole story about how they passed, who they’re haunting. It gets tedious.”

“I can’t imagine,” Cait drawled.

“I saw you with a man the last time. You left together. Is he your husband?”

“My ex.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “And you still sleep with him? Isn’t that awkward?”

“Not a bit. We both like sex.”

The woman’s cheeks blushed. “I would never sleep with a man if I wasn’t married to him. Not even if I had been married to him.”

Cait felt a lecture on sinning coming and pushed off the step. “Look, it’s been nice chatting.”

The woman reached out to grab her forearm, but her hand passed right through. “But you can’t go. You see me.”

“So you’ve said three times now.”

The woman’s head dropped but then lifted again. A small, sad smile curved her pretty mouth. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

Guilt settled like a heavy stone in Cait’s stomach. The ghost was obviously lonely and confused. “Look, this is where I live. You’re welcome to bother me again the next time you see me.”

Gratitude shone in Evelyn’s soft gray-blue eyes. “I’d like that.”

Cait tilted her head to look into Evelyn’s face. “So, how did you pass?”

A slight frown wrinkled the woman’s smooth forehead. “I don’t like to think about it. If I don’t for a long, long while, I forget the details. And the memory’s not quite as painful.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to bring you down.”

“You didn’t. You can see me,” she said, one side of her mouth quirking up. “Well, I have to go.” She lifted her arm to check the slender silver watch on her wrist. “I have to catch the trolley.”

As the woman set off at a brisk pace, Cait shook her head. Another mystery left on her doorstep. Literally. But she didn’t have time now to pursue it. And she didn’t know what she’d do with the knowledge if she ever figured it out. Seeing the dead seemed to bring a wagonload of unseen responsibilities. Ones she simply couldn’t ignore or she’d be forever wakening, itching with a feeling of something left undone. Which reminded her, she couldn’t forget about retrieving Gladys Digby.

She went back inside, made a quick pot of coffee, and headed to the shower. Wouldn’t Jason be shocked to see her dressed and ready to go? Glancing toward the bed, she found Sam watching her.

“Where were you?” he asked, then gave an enormous yawn.

“I stepped outside for some fresh air. Didn’t want to wake you.”

Eyebrow quirked, he patted the mattress.

But she shook her head. “We both know where that will lead.”

He rolled to his back and put his hands behind his head. The movement edged away the sheet, revealing more of his stunningly ripped torso and the top of his dark, happy trail.

When her glance slid back to his face, she spotted a self-satisfied smile rimming his mouth.

“We could conserve,” he murmured.

She arched a brow, and her pulse beat faster. “As in share the shower?”

“I’ll wash your back.”

“I’ve got some other places that might need a little soap.” Desire swirled in her belly.

He whipped back the sheet to reveal his erection. Long, heavy, and pulsing against his well-toned belly.

“Well, color me green,” she murmured. With Sam a step behind her all the way, Cait figured Jason would just have to wait. Wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it.

“What are you so happy about?”

As Leland’s loud bark drew every gaze in the murder room, Sam flinched. He leaned back in his swivel chair and cleared his face. The last thing he’d admit was that he’d been smiling at the image of Cait in a ponytail hopping through a greenhouse after a butterfly. “Just waiting for uniforms to bring in Reyes for questioning. Should be here any minute.”

“Stopped to tell you dogs and sonar are at the hotel now.” Leland rubbed the back of his neck. “Really think we’ll find more bodies?”

“We found a license from a woman who’s been missing for decades. We’ll find something.”

Leland dropped his hand. “Damn strange. I’ve gone years without having anything this fucking weird happen, and now twice in one year. Your ex-wife attracts some crazy shit.”

Sam gave Leland a quelling stare, but Leland didn’t appear to notice.

His chin tipped to the doorway. “Think your witness just arrived. Better get through the interview, and then back over to the hotel. No tellin’ what they’re gonna find, and I want a lid kept on it. Tighten it down.” His fist clenched at his side. “Can’t have word leakin’ out and every nut-job news rag descending. Might not be as easy to explain away as the last one.”

Sam eased out of his chair. “Want to sit in on this one?”

“Nah, but I’ll watch from behind the glass. Have to make sure no one comes in anyway. Too many details get around, your rep’ll be toast.”

Like Cait’s had been when rumors spread she had taken her full-moon cases a little too much to heart and started believing some of what she investigated.

Sam didn’t really give a flip about what the others thought but understood the need to keep a professional gloss on everything he did. Respect allowed him freedom from prying eyes, gave him the ability to come and go without a lot of questions. Discretion was key to getting the job done.

Sliding into a chair across from Oscar Reyes in the interrogation room, Sam summed up the man in a single glance—a thug with a temper. He flipped open a thick file, crammed with details about the man’s previous arrests. “I see you’ve had scrapes with the law before.”

Oscar’s gaze was dark, flat, soulless. “In my youth. I’m a respectable businessman now. I pay my taxes.” He glanced at the door. “Is this gonna take long? I have things to do.”

“Sir, your wife’s dead.”

“Ain’t that a damn shame,” Oscar said, his narrow pig-eyes widening. “I cried myself to sleep last night, but hey, life goes on.”

“Not for Sylvia.” Sam shook his head in disgust.

“She was a whore. I tried to rescue her from that life, gave her a good home.” His hand flattened on the table. “But I guess some habits are hard to break.”

“So, you believe your wife was seeing another man?”

“Yeah, got the proof on her computer. Had a couple of PIs follow her around. They can vouch for the fact the puta was steppin’ out.”

Sam aimed a deadly glare at the man.

Oscar’s lips pursed, and he leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him. “I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but I gotta cope somehow. Better anger than grief, eh?”

Sam kept his expression neutral, although the effort caused him heartburn. “Have you ever been to the Deluxe Hotel?”

Oscar pushed out his lips. “Not that I can recall.”

Pulling a printout from the folder in front of him, Sam snorted. “Then can you explain how your credit card got charged for beers there on multiple occasions?”

“Don’t know.” Oscar’s gaze hardened. “Syl musta took my card.”

“Sylvia didn’t appear to drink beer. Her card shows charges at various restaurants and bars for mixed drinks. Why would she order only beer at the Deluxe?”