Delilah Devlin: Lost Souls

Sam frowned. “Her internal organs appeared to be gouged out. Her body was a dried husk. The ME will have more for us about cause of death.”

“No one ever reported smelling anything odd?”

“You’ll have to ask the manager. He said he’d be standing by for us to interview him.”

She nodded, then stuck her head into the hollowed-out wall again. Something glinted from between the slats farther down. Might have been nothing, but she stepped into the space and stretched out her arm.

A wisp of a breeze blew over her, a second before a whiff of something that smelled like rotten eggs nearly made her gag. She reached blindly for the thing stuck between the tight seam, felt a crisp edge, and squeezed her thumb and forefinger around it. Her grip tightened, ready to jerk it out quickly and get away from the bad feeling causing a ripple of fear to shiver down her spine.

A rustling, crackling sound came from deeper in the walls. Then she heard the thing that had been missing since she’d reentered the hotel.

Voices. Whispers of the dead. Some rasping and dry, some agitated and high-pitched. Still, she took heart, because she didn’t hear a single screech from a malevolent wraith. She gave the thin object a tug.

A blinding flash exploded. She felt a jolt like a Taser’s blast and knew what was happening but was unable to move. The shock blasted through her body, making her muscles grow rigid and her mind clear of everything except the pain.

Although he didn’t have an ounce of psychic ability, Sam knew something was wrong the moment he smelled sulfur and a second before lightning exploded from the opening and Cait began to convulse.

Not understanding anything but the need to pull her free, Sam leapt forward, grabbed a wad of her shirt, and jerked her out of the hole. They both fell backward, bouncing against the mattress, then dropping to the floor. Above them, a thin bolt of white-hot electricity shot toward the ceiling, the tail flickering out to touch the overhead lamp, then bending to snap and pop against the wooden dresser.

Not daring to take his gaze from her, Sam low-crawled to Cait, whose face was screwed up in an agonized grimace, and wrapped a hand around her upper arm. He dragged her toward the door, reached for the handle, flung it open, then pulled her through. When they were both clear, he glanced inside the room to see another strange arc flicker from the opening in the wall, popping, cracking, and darting as it seemed to search the room. He slammed the door shut.

In the hallway, he scooted to the far wall and pulled her against his chest. “Cait.”

Her arms crossed her chest. One closed fist slowly uncurled. Inside was a tattered driver’s license.

Her eyes eased open, and she stared at what she held. “We’ll need cadaver dogs, sonar, something…” she rasped, then slumped in his arms.

Every few seconds, it seemed, Cait opened her eyes to take stock of where she was. Held against Sam’s chest in the dingy hallway. In his arms still, as he carried her into the elevator. On a low-slung couch with lumpy springs in the foyer, staring up at the grimy ceiling.

When she roused, feeling more herself, she found an EMT shoving fluids in her veins.

“Don’t try to get up,” he said, offering her a small smile. “You’ve suffered a shock.”

She almost blurted duh, but withheld the urge. He was cute and seemed genuinely concerned as he taped the needle to her arm.

Jason peered over the attendant’s shoulder. “Like the new ’do.”

Alarmed, she reached up with her free hand to touch her hair, only to discover it was standing on end and felt kinky as hell. “What happened?” she asked, surprised when her voice sounded like a dry, crackling whisper.

Jason waggled his eyebrows. “Bad wiring?”

She grunted, squinting upward because the effort to keep her eyes open made her head hurt. “The license?”

“Sam’s running it through the system now. Had to pry him from you with a crowbar, but he’s over there,” he said, lifting his chin to point to someplace over the back of the sofa where she reclined.

Cait pushed up even as the EMT tried to push her back down. One glance at Sam’s tight, gray features and she slumped back, satisfied they’d both made it out of the room relatively unharmed.

“He’s getting word to Leland we may have more vics,” Jason continued, his voice dropping. “He’s mustering dogs and sonar equipment to search the place. The manager’s not happy about the thought of us tearing up more walls.”

Right that moment, Cait was grateful her team was taking over. Every muscle in her body ached. She worked her jaw side to side and winced. Good Lord, whatever was in the walls packed a wallop.

A hand touched her cheek, and she blinked open her eyes, not realizing she’d drifted off again.

Sam was leaning a hip on the back of the couch, his gaze studying her face. “We got a hit on that license. A stewardess who disappeared in the late eighties.”

Cait swallowed to wet her dry mouth. “So, this may have been going on a while. More reason to get those dogs in here.”

“You’ve got great instincts, Cait.” He gave her a lopsided smile, but then his face grew tight again. Emotion burned in his bitter gaze. “Jason says you had similar trouble here last night. Might have helped to know beforehand.”

Back to square one. Cait closed her eyes. Better to play sick girl than face another round of condemnation.

“Things have been moving pretty fast,” Jason said softly, a hint of warning in his voice.

“Two words,” Sam snapped. “‘Lightning bolts.’ Doesn’t take more than a second to get across the point there might be danger entering that room.”

“Sorry,” she croaked.

“What’s that?” Sam asked, cupping his ear as an eyebrow arched. “Not sure I heard you right. The Cait I know doesn’t like apologizing.”

Anger burned away the teary feelings, and she glared upward into his face.

His lips twitched.

Irritation ran along her spine. So he was playing her.

“You look better. Got a little color back in those pasty cheeks, O’Connell.”

An older man with thin, graying hair and thick black-rimmed glasses approached, wringing his hands. “Detectives, how long are you going to be here? The guests are getting nervous.”

“They should be, Mr. Lewis,” Sam bit out. “Might want to refund their money and send them elsewhere.”

“Sam.” Cait reached out her hand. She tugged his arm to bring him closer to hear her whisper. “We need folks to stay right where they are. We need to canvass. One of them might know something.”

“Think I’m a rookie? I wasn’t gonna let anyone go until they’d been questioned.”

“But I think they need to stay at the hotel even after they’re questioned. Just not anywhere near 323.”

“Fine.” He gave a crisp nod and his gaze narrowed. “I’ll get uniforms going room to room. Anything other than the usual you want them to ask?”

“I need to know whether they’ve ever detected odd smells and where. Also, have any been living or working here long? That’s all I can think of.” She pushed up again. “I need to go…”

Sam and the EMT pushed her back down. “We’ll handle it,” Sam said, his voice firm. “You’re going to the hospital to be checked out.”

“No time,” she croaked with a shake of her head.

“Cait, now’s not the time to get stubborn.” His eyes flashed. “You need a mirror. You look like hell.”