Cat Adams - To Dance with the Devil

“Nope. Like I said, she stormed out of the restaurant.” Well, stormed as much as a woman in a wheelchair could. “If Barbara hadn’t been able to cancel the order I would’ve had to pay for it.” I paused, thinking about what Alex had … and hadn’t said. The phrasing she’d used was curious. “You said she ‘called herself’ Abigail Andrews. That wasn’t her real name?”

Alex’s expression grew pained. “I was hoping you hadn’t caught that.”

“Sorry.” I wasn’t really, and she knew it. After giving me a long, level look, she apparently decided to tell me what I wanted to know.

“No. It wasn’t her real name. She’d been using it for close to twenty-three years. But it was a fake.”

Close to twenty-three years. That rang a bell. A loud one.

She gave me a hard look. “You’ve remembered something else. What is it?”

“The man … Jacobs, she said he’d been in prison a little over twenty-two years. I think she was lying about the name. But I got her pretty rattled with my questions. Maybe she didn’t think to lie about the time line.”

“We’ll look into it.”

“Do you want me to…,” I started to offer, but Alex was shaking her head before I could finish the sentence.

“No. Really, no.” The expression on her face was stern and more than a little pained. “It’s nothing personal, Celia, but every time you get involved in something, everything goes to hell in a handbasket. I know it’s not your fault, but please, just let us handle it.”

Ow. That hurt. Nothing personal, my lily-white ass.

My displeasure must have been written on my face, because Alex winced. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. But that curse mark of yours…”

Ah, yes, the curse mark. Damn Stefania. She’d been a queen of the sirens. Her psychic had seen something in my future she didn’t like, so Stefania put a death curse on my baby sister, Ivy, and me when we were children, hoping we wouldn’t live to cause her trouble. Ivy hadn’t. I, on the other hand, managed to live to adulthood and helped send her on her way to hell. About once a week I wish I could do it again, just for grins. “Fine, let me know if you need anything else from me.”

“I will.” She started to rise, then seemed to reconsider. “Do you want to explain why you’re avoiding the phone?” She settled back in her seat as if she was willing to wait until doomsday for an answer.

I hadn’t been, really. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I said, “It’s not connected to the case.”

“Don’t care,” she said, shaking her head. “You look like hell, Celia. I know we haven’t been close, but I do care about you. If you’re in the middle of another shit storm, I’d like to know. Maybe I can help. Even if I can’t, I’d like to think you know you can talk to me about whatever it is.”

I was touched and shocked in equal measure. Without Vicki as a buffer between us, Alex and I barely saw each other unless we were involved in a case together. Now she was extending an olive branch, or lifeline, without hesitation or reservation.

I’d wanted Gran to be the first to know. But Alex had lived through both Vicki’s death and the passing of her spirit months later, when she’d completed the thing she’d stayed on this plane for. She was in a unique position to understand what I was going through.

“Ivy’s gone.”

Alex blinked at me for a second. Then her brain processed what I’d said. “Oh. Oh, Celia … Oh, God. I’m so sorry. What … how?” The hard professional veneer cracked a little, giving me a glimpse of the much more honest, and vulnerable, woman beneath.

“I had a breakthrough in therapy. I finally accepted that what happened wasn’t my fault. Apparently that’s what she was waiting for.”

“You’re sure?”

I nodded, suddenly unable to speak because of the lump in my throat. My vision blurred with tears. I closed my eyes, trying hard to breathe evenly, to not sob, and felt Alex’s arms around me.

“I know you miss her, and how much it hurts. But it’s better for her.”

I nodded, unable to say a word, and took comfort from one of the toughest women I’ve ever known.

Gran calledlater that morning, before she went to church. When I told her about Ivy, she was thrilled. She’s a true believer. It really bothered her that her sweet granddaughter hadn’t been able to go to heaven when she’d died. Gran believed to the depths of her soul that Ivy was finally exactly where she should be. She had me repeat the details over and over again, reveling in the description, taking comfort in the fact that it supported her own beliefs.

I was glad she took it so well. Knowing that Gran really believed Ivy was in a better, happier place made the situation easier for me. I felt … not great, but much better. Right up until Gran asked the question I’d most been dreading.

“Have you told your mother?”

Oh, crap. “No.”

For a long moment Gran didn’t say anything. I knew she was still on the line only because I could hear her breathing. Then, “She deserves to know.” There was no judgment or accusation in her tone, which surprised me.

Normally Gran vigorously leaps to Mom’s defense if there’s even a hint of a problem—a mama bear protecting her cub. Not this time. I wasn’t sorry. But it wasn’t normal, and I wondered what was wrong. “Gran, are you okay?”

There was a long pause, and I wished I could see her, especially because her voice didn’t sound quite right when she spoke again. There was something false about her tone, though I knew she was speaking out of genuine concern.

“I’m fine, dear. How are you doing? You and your sister have always been close, even after she died.”

“It’s hard,” I admitted, wondering why Gran hadn’t pursued the topic of my mom. “I miss Ivy, but I know it’s for the best.” I sighed. I knew what I had to say next, even though I didn’t want to. “I know I’ve got to tell Mom. I just thought it might be best to tell her tomorrow, during the session.” I mentally crossed my fingers, hoping that my Gran would volunteer to talk to my mother.

She didn’t.

“That makes sense,” she said, still in that slightly fake voice. “It would be better in person, but a video conference is better than just a call, and her therapist will be right there if there’s a problem.”

Oh, there’d be a problem. I’d bet the bank on that. Gran was right about having the therapist handy, too. At least with Mom being in prison I wouldn’t have to worry about her using this as an excuse to go on another bender. But hearing Gran say it, and hearing the way she said it, caused another little shiver of premonition. “Gran, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, dear,” she said again. “I’ve just had a bit of a shock.”

Well, I suppose my news was shocking. After all, Ivy had been a ghost for a very long time. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Don’t you worry about me. You just take care of yourself.”

Now she sounded more like her usual self. My gran always worried about everyone else and didn’t take enough care of herself. “If you say so.” My voice was clearly doubting.

“I do,” she answered firmly.

We ended the conversation by telling each other “I love you.” I hung up the phone feeling the odd mixture of relief and apprehension that was so familiar when I dealt with my family.

I shook my head. Gran said she was fine. And while she might lie to me about it over the phone, once I saw her in front of the camera, I’d be able to tell what was really going on. In the meantime, I needed to hustle and get ready for my brunch date with my boyfriend.