Dead and Gone (Grave Talker Book 2) Page 4

  “Then that’s what you have to do. She gave me her number if I needed anything. I have a feeling she really left it for you.” J drew his phone from his back pocket and pulled up her contact, passing me the phone.

  I hit the “Call” button and waited about half a ring before she answered. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite grave talker. How are ya, Darby?”

  Sarina Kenzari was one of my favorite people to come out of the ABI. Tiny, straightforward, and a little bit of a nut, Sarina didn’t fit into the mold I’d conjured in my head about what an ABI agent should be.

  “Trust an oracle to know who is on the other end of the phone, right? You know why I’m calling, too?”

  Sarina snorted. “Of course. I’ve already made you an access badge and everything. I suggest you get here as soon as you can. You don’t have much time.”

  “Why does she need movement on these cases? Some of them are over twenty years old.” It was a question that had been bugging me since Mariana handed me the file. Something had put this bee in her bonnet, and I wanted to know what it was.

  Sarina sighed, and I could practically feel the exasperation in the gust from here. “I can’t say. But you should get Killian to drive you. You’ve had way too much vodka to get behind the wheel.”

  Groaning, I stomped my foot like a child. “But I’m not ready to talk to him yet. Don’t you want to come get me? We could gab about what you’ve been up to for the last nine months while I was rotting away in Hotel Hell.”

  She chuckled, but I could feel her answer before she gave it. “Can’t, babe. I have to babysit a pissed-off death mage, and pray he doesn’t do some dumb shit on my watch. Trust me, I’d much rather be dealing with you than him. But we do need to have a conversation—and soon. Just get here.”

  I had to wonder what had Bishop all riled up—other than my mother, that was.

  “Fine,” I grumbled petulantly. “See you soon.”

  I ended the call and slapped J’s phone in his hand before crawling to the island. Pulling myself up, I groaned again. “I left my personal effects in Bishop’s car.”

  Perfect. Just perfect. I’d have to buy a new phone and pray I’d remembered to back up the old one sometime before I’d been sent off to become an ABI lab rat.

  “Personal effects?” J asked. “They wouldn’t happen to be in a giant Zip-Lock with clothes in it, would they? Because I saw something like that on your back porch.”

  Frowning, I went to inspect the mystery bag, and it indeed was the plastic bag I’d left in Bishop’s truck. He’d remembered and circled back. I tried not to put so much stock in a simple kind gesture, but it was difficult. Everything about Bishop screamed “stay away,” while also daring someone as inquisitive as I was to come closer.

  It wasn’t that he was shifty because he wasn’t. It was that he was a mystery to be solved, and secret to uncover, an entire ball of yarn to untangle, and I wanted that so bad I could taste it. But I didn’t know if I could trust Bishop’s allegiances, and moreover? I didn’t know who he’d choose if it came down to it.

  I opened the bag on the way back to my kitchen and fished out my phone. Naturally, it was off, but I managed to turn it on. Plugging it in for good measure, I debated on whether or not I wanted to call my father. A part of me practically died wanting to talk to him, and the other wanted to sock him in the face. And then there was this whole other part that wanted to know why.

  Why had he kept her lie a secret? Why had he pretended like I was a normal girl? Why hadn’t he told me that he knew what I was?

  I wasn’t going to get my answers by just staring at my phone, that was for damn sure. Reluctantly, I picked the phone up off the counter and went to my “Last Dialed,” ignoring the literal thousands of email notifications and incoming missed texts.

  When I hit the “Call” button, I nearly hung the phone right back up. What the hell was I going to say?

  “Darby?” my father answered on the first ring, like he’d been waiting for me to call.

  “Yeah, Dad.” My voice was little more than a croak. The last time I’d seen him, he’d just taken his first breath since… I couldn’t even think about it.

  “Oh, my sweet baby girl. Can I come over? Can I… My god, Darby, I missed you so much.”

  And then I was crying on the phone, blubbering to my daddy like a five-year-old with a boo-boo. “I missed you, too.”

  “I’m coming over, okay. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah,” I squeaked, unable to say anything else. I’d dreamt about Tabitha murdering him every night. About the flash of her knife.

  In my nightmares, he never came back. Bishop and I had been too late, or Tabitha couldn’t be killed, or the monster hiding under her flesh had ripped me to shreds. The endings were always different, but the outcome was the same. I’d failed my dad. I’d failed everyone.

  “I love you, Darby. I’ll see you in a minute.”

  “Love you, too,” I croaked, my voice like broken glass. It was hard not to feel the relief of him being whole again, but I knew I wouldn’t believe it was real until I saw him with my own two eyes.

  Why hadn’t I stopped at my dad’s house first? Why did I wait? I was so stupid, letting my anger keep me away when his life was so short. Compared to the life I was estimated to have, his time on this earth was a mere blink. I could lose him at any second, really. He could trip Final Destination style and fall down the stairs or get in an accident.

  Or my life, my being just in his general vicinity, could bring death to his doorstep.

  Again.

  The loss that I’d so narrowly avoided hit me like a brick. I could work cases because I was removed from death in a way no one else was. I saw it all the time; I heard it every day. I was in it up to my neck, and when you were in it, you didn’t see it anymore. Death hung around me like a cloud. I ate, slept, and breathed it.

  But I’d never lost anyone I really cared about except for my mother.

  She couldn’t take his life away. She couldn’t rip him from me like Tabitha had.

  Gulping down my tears, I made my way to the bathroom. I knew J and Hildy probably didn’t understand, but that didn’t really matter right now.

  Well, maybe Hildy would, but I doubted it.

  I needed to get my shit together, hug my dad, and get this investigation under my belt.

  Then, I was going to bury Mariana Adler if it was the last thing I did.

  6

  It took far too long for me to get my shit tight enough to come out of the bathroom. I was not a pretty crier, and the evidence of my mini mental breakdown was stamped on my face for the world to see.

  Puffy eyes? Check.

  Blotchy skin? Check.

  Nose red enough to give Rudolph a run for his money? Check.

  I was gorgeous, I tell you. Gorgeous!

  But me in all my puffy, red glory did not matter one little bit to my dad. As soon as I extricated myself from the safety of my bathroom, Dad left J at the door and wrapped me up in a bear hug so tight I could barely breathe.

  I didn’t give that first shit.

  He smelled like he always had: aftershave, leather, and a faint hint of pipe tobacco. It was all I could do not to dissolve into a mess of tears as I hugged him back as tight as I could.

  “I missed you, kid. I missed you a whole bunch,” he murmured into my hair before setting me back on my feet.

  I brushed wayward tears off my face. “Jesus, who the fuck is cutting onions in here?”

  My father let out a bark of laughter as he threw an arm around my shoulders. “I’m glad to see you here safe, Darby.”

  “Ditto, you big dope. Have you been doing okay?”

  I didn’t know the side effects of being brought back from the dead, but I had to assume they weren’t a picnic. I worried about him every single day while I was gone. And yes, I simultaneously wanted to punch him in the face, but that was neither here nor there.

  “As well as could be expected. Your mother told me where you
were, and I worried about you every day, sweetheart. I never wanted this life for you, never wanted you in danger like this. I hope you understand that was the only reason I kept everything a secret.”

  I tried not to rage at the simplicity of that statement. He hadn’t wanted me to be in danger, but hadn’t said that first word when I’d applied for the police academy after college. When I’d broken up bar fights and frat parties and domestic violence cases. All the while trying to deny an intrinsic part of myself so hard, I’d almost gone insane.

  I stepped out from under his arm and backed up a few paces. I couldn’t be hugged while I dropped this truth bomb. “I know you’d like to think you were doing the right thing, Dad. But you had to have seen me floundering. You had to have known what was happening. If you knew about my mother, you had to have realized I was like her. You knew what she was, knew she wasn’t dead, and I was hurting. You left me adrift to figure out my life and my abilities all on my own. You let me believe she was dead.”

  My father opened his mouth, but I held up a hand to stop him. “I know she’s a bitch on wheels with spinning fucking rims. I get it. But I thought I was going crazy. And you left me to that. We are not square, Dad. I’m mad as hell at you for knowing and not saying anything. But I love you, and I’m glad you’re alive, and I’m glad you raised me and not her.”

  My father looked like I’d punched him in the gut, but I refused to feel bad about what I’d just said.

  I would throw him a bone, though. “I don’t have many people in my life that I can just be me around. If you don’t mind me occasionally looking like I’m talking to people who don’t seem to be there, that would go a long way.”

  Dad blinked at me hard for a moment as his face went white. A realization seemed to cross his face, with shame following swiftly after. Tears swam in his eyes for a moment before he closed them and took a deep breath.

  “What you ask of me is the bare minimum of what I should be doing. I’m so sorry I failed you, kid.”

  It was a struggle not to tell him it was okay. That he was a good dad. He was—especially compared to Mariana. Hell, compared to my mother, he would win father of the universe. But this was a lesson that needed to be learned.

  “I accept your apology.”

  He’d been the one to teach me that. That when someone hurt you, you couldn’t just say “it’s okay” because it wasn’t. “It’s okay” told people that they could do it again. That you weren’t mad. That there was no real consequence for hurting you.

  At my response, Dad smiled, his memory of the lesson just as fresh as mine.

  “So, J says you need a ride?”

  The drive to the Knoxville ABI office wasn’t as long as I would have liked. Being in my father’s presence was a balm to my soul, even if J and Hildy were riding in the back seat.

  “So where does everyone else think I’ve been for the last nine months?” I asked. Mariana hadn’t been clear, and I didn’t expect her to cover for me while I was in arcane prison. Although J had told me about the bullshit “FBI gig,” I wondered if there was another story floating around.

  Dad shot me a sidelong glance before turning his eyes back to the road. “Working for the FBI on a big case. Apparently, your expertise has been invaluable to them, and you’ve been requested to extend your tenure indefinitely. Your mother smoothed it over for you. Uncle Dave has no idea where you really were.”

  I snorted. Extend my tenure indefinitely. Yeah, right. Not if I could help it.

  “And the mayor? What does everyone think happened there? Tabitha? Suzette? What’s the scoop?” J and I hadn’t gone too in depth in our booze-fueled dive into the ABI files.

  “Murder-suicide. As far as anyone knows, Suzette and Duncan were having undisclosed marital problems, and they had it out. It was splashed all over everywhere for weeks. Tabitha went on ‘sabbatical,’ and Blair Simpkins murder is still unsolved. Funnily enough, the homicide rate in Haunted Peak has gone down considerably since Tabitha went on her little walkabout.”

  It hurt how close to the truth some of that was. Suzette Duvall had killed her husband, and in a way, trying to raise the Angel of Death was a great way to kill yourself. If not clean, it sure was unique. It was Tabitha’s sabbatical that irked me. No one would know what she had done, because the lone murder I could likely prove was my father’s. Him not being dead anymore kind of put a kink in my case.

  I still didn’t feel sorry for killing Tabitha, but my lack of remorse didn’t really sit well with me. I was a bona fide murderer, even if the woman I’d killed hadn’t been human. Could I be a good cop when I didn’t care that I’d taken her life?

  A flash of her knife streaked across my brain. Nope. Still not sorry.

  “What do you expect to find in the archives?” J asked, breaking me out of my Tabitha-fueled mini-shame spiral.

  I thought about it for a moment. “Real names and birthdates. Pictures. If I’m going to summon them, I need something to go on. From there, I hope to get at least one of them to talk to me.”

  Even if it was a total long shot. Specters deteriorated quite quickly when they didn’t have something or someone to stick around for. If they did have that tie that would keep them on this plane, they might not come when I summoned them.

  Or they might not even be lucid.

  Honestly, this whole thing was a crapshoot, and I was probably going to fail.

  Great attitude, Darby. Way to rise to the occasion.

  I mentally gave my bitchy self the finger.

  “Do you think that’ll work? Don’t you usually work with fresher spirits?” J asked, echoing my doom and gloom.

  I sighed, rubbing my temple. Exhaustion was creeping in, and I knew what it was. I hadn’t been around ghosts in almost a year. Even as juiced up as I still was, Hildy’s proximity was getting to me. Well, that and the glass of straight vodka probably hadn’t helped, either.

  “Fresher spirits?” Dad echoed, and my brain worked overtime to try and figure out how to explain just how I had the highest close rate in the county.

  “I see and talk to ghosts, Dad. And I’m very good at questioning witnesses.”

  Dad let out a bark of laughter. “No wonder. I thought that might be it, but you hide it so well, I didn’t know if you blocked them out or what. What better witness than the person who was killed. Jesus Christ on a saltine cracker.”

  I shrugged in my seat, my cheeks going hot. “One would think the victim would be a solid witness, right? Not so much. But they do give me good intel, and I have a pretty great partner.”

  Dad chuckled, J laughed, and I rubbed my temple again.

  It was going to be a long day.

  Arriving at the address Sarina supplied via text, I realized a few things. One, my outfit of jeans and a Green Day T-shirt were going to go over like a lead balloon. A few agents came in and out of the front doors like they owned the place. Their suits and shiny shoes and crisp demeanor surrounding them like a cloud of indifference. Two, J wouldn’t be able to go with me. That text came not a second before Dad pulled up to the front of the building. Sarina’s “sorry” was not the balm she likely had meant it to be. And three? I was not at all happy about being here. There was something foreboding about this building, and it had nothing to do with ghosts.

  First of all, there weren’t any. Not a single spirit, specter, or apparition clung to the place. It was as if the wardings also had a “Stay Back Fifty Feet” sign on them. So not only was J not going to come, Hildy likely wouldn’t make it through the front door, either.

  That meant that in the event they didn’t let me out, I didn’t have an extra power source to change their minds.

  Fuck.

  I swallowed hard and shot Hildy a knowing glance. His face was grayer than usual, the haggard lines of strain etched into his nearly see-through skin.

  “Go get your cane, Hildenbrand. You can’t help me if you drain yourself dry.”

  Hildy’s smile was grateful. “All right, lass. All right.”<
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  He winked out of sight, and I was left staring at the other two men in the car who didn’t seem to realize they’d been traveling with a ghost this entire time.

  “What? Hildy follows me damn near everywhere.”

  Dad’s face slowly but surely regained color, and J kept staring at the seat next to him as if it might rise up to bite him on the nose. I had to wonder what Hildy had done to him during his stay at J’s house.

  “I have to go in alone, guys. I’ll call you when I can come home.”

  It was an empty promise. I had no idea if I was ever making it out again.

  7

  By the time I had peeled myself from my father’s car, Sarina was on the front steps of the giant gray building. Agent Sarina Kenzari was a tiny ball of energy, her short black bob swaying as she bounded down the steps to collect me.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” she squealed, and without warning, she threw her arms around me, wrapping me up in a hug so tight, I feared for the state of my lungs. I was not a hugger. I appreciated them, but my awkwardness was on a level heretofore measured by modern science.

  “Good to see you, too,” I muttered warily, wondering if I would make it out of the hug intact.

  “Okay, fine, spoilsport. No hugs. I wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities.”

  I’d forgotten how odd it was to have Sarina in my space. The oracle had solid telepathic abilities which made it easier to ghost translate, but super weird when it came to keeping my mind private.

  “I’m not going to get stuck in there, am I?” I asked before she could read the worries stamped all over my thoughts. “You don’t have shackles on standby, right?”

  Sarina shot me an odd expression. On anyone else, it would read as confusion, but I doubted Sarina had been confused a day in her life.

  “You honestly believe that with all the power you have underneath your skin that anyone at any time could trap you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper as if she were worried she’d be overheard.