After Moonrise: Possessed\Haunted (23 page)

“If I were you, I’d make the most of it. Too many people in
your situation lose sight of what matters and sink back into old patterns and
habits or even fail to act upon the new opportunity they’ve been given. They
spiral into depression. They become angry—and their anger can ruin innocent
lives.”

“No,” she said yet again, even though Peterson spoke with such
certainty, as if Harper really was part of that world, as if everything she
mentioned was fact and there was no reason to debate.

A soft sigh filled the room. “If you want to know more about
what happened to you, read the papers and clippings I brought. And honestly? I
suggest that you do. You’re each here for a purpose, and I don’t care what the
OKC branch thinks. You’re better off knowing. Think about it. You might be able
to move on.”

Move on. And lose Levi.

Lose Lana.

Lose
herself
.

It was too much to take in. Harper ripped from Levi’s hold—Levi
was the strong band, she realized distantly—and flew out of the room. She
couldn’t remember pausing to open the door, only knew that she was inside her
apartment one moment and in the hall the next.

“Harper,” she heard Levi shout. His first word in so long, she
wanted to stop, to throw herself at him, but she couldn’t.

I’m sorry,
she thought. He’d been
told the same thing, yet she wasn’t comforting him. He deserved comfort, but she
couldn’t deal with this. Couldn’t accept the fact that she had been tortured and
murdered, that her life was over, that she would never again hug Lana, that she
had lost everything. So she ran, just ran, with no destination in mind—yet
somehow she appeared at the art gallery…without ever leaving the apartment
building.

Sickness churned in her stomach. Another blackout, surely, she
told herself.

It was daylight, too bright, and people walked along the
sidewalks. Everyone ignored her. Cars sped on the road, fumes in the air, and
she wanted to run from here, too, but didn’t allow herself. Through the window
she saw the owner showing someone a painting in back.

She would talk to him, she decided. He, who couldn’t see the
dead, would talk back to her. They would have a conversation, and that would be
that. Yes. Simple. Easy. She would prove Peterson wrong—or right.

No, not right.

Lifting her chin, Harper entered the shop.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Levi searched for several hours, but found no sign of
Harper. She needed time to come to grips with what she’d learned, he got that—he
was struggling with what
he’d
learned—but she was
vulnerable right now, not paying attention to her surroundings. Someone
could—

She’s a spirit. Who can hurt
her?

Yeah. There was that.

She was a spirit. Like him.

Him. Dead. Killed. Murdered by the same man who’d murdered
Harper. How?
How?

Peterson and her bodyguard were gone by the time he returned to
Harper’s apartment. Harper wasn’t there, either. He fell heavily on her couch,
put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Dead. Killed. The words
kept popping up, echoing through his brain. Dead. Killed.

He thought back. At first, he saw only a veil of black. He
pushed through that veil with every bit of his strength, determination riding
him hard. A wave of trepidation slammed through him, but he refused to back off.
He had to know the truth.

Images began to flash through his mind, foggy at first but
quickly solidifying.

A drive to Topper’s house…
Gonna escort
that psychopath to a cell where he’ll rot until death comes
knocking
....

Levi and Vince had squealed to a stop, other detectives and
patrolmen exiting their own cars. Red and blue lights flashed all around. They’d
followed DNA evidence, had a warrant for Topper’s arrest. Adrenaline and
excitement were high, practically saturating the air. They were about to close
the most gruesome case they’d ever worked and save countless lives.

Vince was the one to kick in the front door, and Levi was the
first one inside the house. They searched the place from top to bottom and
finally found a hidden door to the basement.

Opening it brought a wealth of smells he instantly recognized.
Blood, chemicals, death. They heard screams, a buzz saw, sobs, laughter.

In an instant, Levi’s mind went blank, the veil falling back
over his memories. Gritting his teeth, he once again pushed through it. The
trepidation increased, but he continued to surge forward. He saw himself, gun
drawn. He pounded down rickety stairs to discover Topper had been busy cutting
up a body—a body he now recognized as Harper’s. No wonder he’d felt guilt and
shame when he’d seen her at King’s Landing.

He’d been too late. Hadn’t saved her.

Pale hair spread out over the table, though it appeared red,
soaked as it was with her blood. Though she was dead, her blue eyes were open,
haunted, pained, sad, furious and fixed on something far away. Her lips were
parted, having already expelled her last breath.

Then and now, sickness churned inside his stomach. The things
she had suffered…the agony she had endured…

Another female—the screamer, the sobber—occupied a small dog
cage, the sides covered with a black tarp to prevent her from looking at
anything but Harper. Topper was laughing, holding up the limbs he’d removed to
show his newest victim what would happen to her if she displeased him.

That woman… That poor woman…

Men rushed in from behind Levi, pushing him forward. Thoughts
scrambled through his head, but he couldn’t decipher them just then. All he knew
was that he took one accidental step toward the guy and couldn’t stop himself
from purposely taking another and another. He’d spurred into motion, sheathed
his gun instead of emptying his clip, wanting up close and personal vengeance.
He threw himself into Topper. The limb tumbled to the floor. Levi
punched…punched…

Topper had excellent reflexes and immediately made use of the
blade in his hand. A blade he’d used on Harper. As enraged as Levi was, he
failed to safeguard himself. Felt a sharp sting in his side, followed swiftly by
a sharp sting in his thigh. Just boom, boom, and his blood went cold, seeping
out of him at an alarming rate. Topper had punctured a kidney and severed a
major artery.

He remembered his coworkers rushing over to pull him and Topper
apart. He remembered the fade of their voices. The concern. He remembered
looking into his partner’s eyes, holding his hand, the world going black.

But he did not recall waking up in the hospital. Did not recall
recovering from his wounds. He just remembered…what? The conversation he’d had
with his captain had never really happened. He’d never been put on a leave of
absence. He’d never left the station, too upset to go home, never driven
downtown, spotted a suspicious-looking guy—

Wait. He
had
wandered downtown,
had
spotted a suspicious-looking guy. A spirit,
he knew now. He’d entered King’s Landing and blacked out, coming to in his new
apartment. He hadn’t made any calls about his old home. He’d simply convinced
himself he’d sold it and moved on.

Now Levi laughed bitterly. No wonder Vince always refused to
talk to him. Vince couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him. No wonder Bright had
been so surprised to find him back at the precinct. No wonder Bright had been so
evasive about Harper’s case. He’d known she was dead but hadn’t wanted to share
the news with Levi, who was also dead but unaware.

A clatter of voices penetrated his thoughts. The clack of
keyboards, the pound of shoes.

Levi’s head whipped up. No longer was he sitting on Harper’s
couch in Harper’s living room. He was at the precinct. All around him were men
and women going about their day, escorting suspects to processing, to
interrogation or to a cell. Detectives sat at desks, reading files, researching
a lead. The scent of coffee filled the air.

He straightened with a jolt. How had he whisked from one place
to the other, in only a second of time? A spiritual ability?

Probably.

Not taking time to reason out why he’d come, he stalked to
Bright’s office. The door was closed, but why should that stop him now?
Hesitant, he stepped
through
the wood. A sensation
of cold washed through him, but that was it. No resistance. One second he was in
the hall, the next he was in the office.

Proof, such stunning proof, of his new status.

And there was Bright, typing away.

“I’m dead,” Levi announced rawly.

Bright’s head jerked up, his hand reaching for the gun stashed
in the top desk drawer. The moment he realized it was Levi, he relaxed. A sad
gleam entered his eyes. “Yes.”

“You knew.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

One dark brow arched. “Have you ever had to tell a spirit
something he didn’t want to hear? The results aren’t pretty. You would have
flipped out, and very bad things would have happened.”

Peterson had mentioned chaos. Levi was upset right now, and had
been for a while, yet so far hadn’t caused any trouble. Maybe it was just a
matter of controlling his actions, of pushing through his feelings.

“Sit down.” Bright waved to the only chair. “I’m guessing
you’re here for answers, yes? What do you want to know?”

He obeyed, saying, “What happened to Vince after…” He cleared
his throat. “After I left?”

The sadness intensified. “He still blames himself for not
protecting you. Thinks he should have shot Topper before you reached the guy. No
one can pull him out of his depression, which is why Captain has him in
mandatory counseling.”

Poor Vince. “Is there anything I can do to help him?”

“I’ll tell him I talked to you. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Yes,” he croaked out. “Tell him I’m sorry, that he did nothing
wrong, and I miss him. Tell him I met a woman. Someone special.”

“Your Harper.”

“Yeah.”

“About time.” Bright reached out to trace his fingertip over
the picture of his wife resting on the side of his desk. “We held a funeral for
you. A real hero’s send-off. Everyone showed up. You would have been proud.”

Yes, but had he deserved that kind of send-off? “Did you tell
me the truth about Topper?”

A wary sigh. “Yes. He lives. He’s in lockup right now and
awaiting trial for what he did to all those women, what he did to you.”

Good. “I’m paying him a visit.” Yes, he’d promised Harper and
he would take her to see Topper. But Levi wanted to be the first, to smooth the
way. “Can he see into the other world?”

“His file says no, but sometimes people lie about that, not
wanting to be labeled a weirdo.”

Levi ran his tongue over his teeth. He’d learn the truth soon
enough. “You mentioned bad things happen when spirits are mad. How?”

Bright leaned back in his chair, folded his arms over his
middle. “So you want to hurt Topper, do you? Plan to haunt him a wee bit?”

He wasn’t sure what he planned to do. To cover his bases, he
said, “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

“That’s military, about sexual orientation.”

“Semantics.”

Fingers lifted and fell, drumming against Bright’s hands,
creating a symphony of sound. “I’m sure you already know this, but I’ll tell
you, anyway. There are good spirits and bad spirits out there.”

Well, yeah, he got that. Now. But there was knowing and then
there was
knowing
. “And how can I tell the
difference?”

“Their fruit.”

Uh, what? “Come again.”

“You’ll always know by the fruit they produce. An orange tree
won’t grow lemons.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, haters say and do hateful things. Lovers say and do
lovely things.”

Okay. That made sense. The girl with the X-ray vision was a
hater, no question.

“I don’t recommend you visit the prison,” Bright said. “Other
spirits will be there, and you don’t want to bring yourself to their attention,
believe me. They could follow you, and if they follow you, they could run into
your girl. But I could have Topper brought here for another round of
questioning....”

Levi sat up straighter. “You’re a good man, Bright.”

“I know. Now if we could convince my wife. She’s asked for a
divorce and—and that’s not your problem, is it.” Another sigh left him. “So
how’s your Harper holding up? Does she know about the spirit thing yet?”

“Yeah. We found out together. She took off, and I haven’t seen
her since.” Where was she? What was she doing?

“She’ll be back, don’t worry. I’ve seen enough spirits to know
that when they find out, they think they want to be alone, but really, they need
someone there with them, supporting them, letting them know they’re still
loved.”

Loved? He didn’t… He couldn’t… He barely knew her, he thought.
Oh, he liked her more than he’d ever liked another. Craved her, even. Wanted her
with him, wanted to protect her from every bad thing. Wanted to hold her, and
assure her that he would help her through this every step of the way. And he
wanted
her
to hold
him,
to know she would be with him every step of the way.

She fit him in so many ways, and in bed, he couldn’t get enough
of her. Her taste was a drug, her body the missing puzzle piece to his own. But
love?

He’d been in love a few times in his life. Once with Kelly
Roose, the prettiest girl in his third-grade class. Once with Shannon Halbert,
his high school sweetheart and the girl who’d taken his virginity. All three
minutes of it. And once with Donna Chang, the woman he’d wanted to marry, the
woman he’d dated for two years—the woman who cheated on him because he wasn’t
“meeting her emotional needs.”

He didn’t think every girl he met would cheat on him. He knew
better. He didn’t even think Harper would cheat on him. She had the same
possessive streak he did, if not to a stronger degree. But to fall in love now,
while things were so uncertain, while he could move on—or whatever spirits
did—at any minute…not just no but
I’d rather die again
no.

“Another question,” he said. “Where do spirits go when they
move on?”

Bright worked his jaw. “Some go up, some go down.”

See? What if he and Harper moved on at different times? “Why do
they go? Because they accomplished whatever had kept them around in the first
place?”

“Yes. The good ones fulfill their purpose and go up, and the
bad ones destroy something, or try to destroy something, and get sucked down.
Some know what they need to do right off. Others have to figure it out. Others
purposely don’t find out because they either can’t handle the truth or don’t
want to leave.”

“So they can stay?”

“For the length of a human lifetime, yes. Despite what books
and movies claim, I’ve never met anyone who stayed longer than that.” A layer of
strain entered his voice. “My wife left me because I still see Sally Wells.
Sally was my high school girlfriend who died of cancer soon after we graduated.
She comes to see me at least once a week, and won’t leave my side on our
anniversary.” The strain increased. “She throws a tantrum if I forget to buy her
a present.”

Levi wasn’t sure how he felt about haunting his friends for the
rest of their natural lives—like he was clearly doing to Bright, he realized.
“I’m sorry. If I meet anyone halfway decent, maybe I can set your Sally up on a
blind date.”

A booming laugh filled the room. “Levi the matchmaker.
Classic!”

“Any word on Harper’s friend, Lana?”

“Yeah.” Bright leaned forward to tap away at the keyboard. “Her
credit cards were stolen and used this morning. Some homeless guy bought
cigarettes first, then half an hour later bought some beer. He was taken into
custody, but he swears he found the cards on the street and that he hasn’t seen
Lana. We showed him a photo and nada. Still, I’ve got someone watching her home.
We’ll catch her.”

The phone on the desk rang. He held up his finger for a moment
of silence, and lifted the receiver. He listened, frowned. “I’ll be right
there.” Reaching for his gun, he stood. Checked the clip.

Levi stood, as well. “I’ll let you get to work.” He would not
allow himself to return to the station. This was it. This was goodbye.