Ghostly Liaison (22 page)

“You’re in no shape to go anywhere.”

“What’s the matter?”

Kate’s voice also sounded distant. Why did everyone sound as if they were speaking underwater? And why was it so bright?

“I think the heat’s gotten to her,” Rob said. “Do you have something cooler she can wear?”

“I don’t need to change. We have to go. I have to talk to Nick.”

“Nick? Who’s Nick?” Kate asked.

“Bridget, honey.” Rob turned her head toward him. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Take her upstairs to the guest room, first door on the right. I’ll be right there.”

Bridget grabbed his arms. “Rob, please. We have to go. I have to talk to him.”

“After we’ve cooled you down.”

“No!” She ran for the front door, but he caught her around the waist. She pushed against his chest to no avail. He scooped her up and carried her up the stairs.

Feeling defeated, she gave up. She still had time. Carl wouldn’t come after her here. Not with Rob around. Right?

He carried her into a cheery room. Flowery wallpaper matched a flowery comforter in colors of pink and purple. Too bad it did nothing for the fear that addled her brain and raced down her spine. He sat her on the end of the bed and knelt before her.

Worry lines marred his face and she ran her fingers over them, hoping to smooth the wrinkles away. “Oh God. I’m so sorry.”

He took her hand in his. “No, I’m sorry. I should have known the news would be shocking to you. You’re still overheated, though. You need to get out of these hot clothes.”

“I need to talk to Nick. If he was there, he knows who attacked me.”

“Not now. No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe here. Okay? Let’s get you cooled down and hydrated. I won’t have you collapsing from heatstroke.”

She didn’t have heatstroke. She had Carl-stroke. But how could she tell him that? If he found out, he’d go after Carl for sure. What was she going to do? A chill permeated her bones and she trembled.

Kate walked into the room and handed her a water bottle. “Here, drink this. Slowly.” Bridget took the bottle and sipped. “All I could find that might fit you are these scrubs.”

Bridget and Kate may be the same height, but Kate weighed more—a size or two larger at best. Bridget took the offered clothes and shook out the shirt. “This is short-sleeved.”

“What does that matter?” Rob asked. “You shouldn’t have been wearing these hot clothes today.”

“I can get you a sweater, but you’ll have to stay inside, then.”

If Rob wouldn’t take her to Nick anytime soon, what did it matter? “Bring it.”

“She should be wearing less clothing, not more.”

“She’ll be fine as long as she stays indoors. Why don’t you wait downstairs? I’ll help her change.”

Rob brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

She nodded. He left and Kate shut the door.

“You have got to be the most pigheaded, pea-brain I’ve ever met.”

Bridget drank some water. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

“You think this is funny, but it’s not. It’s close to ninety out there and you’re dressed for fall weather. You of all people should know better.”

She couldn’t very well tell her cousin why she’d nearly fainted. Better to let her think the worst.

“I hardly think a long-sleeve T-shirt is fall-worthy.”

Kate sat on the bed. “Do you honestly believe he’ll care about your scars?”

“It’s not just him.” She placed the bottle on the dresser and peeled off her shirt. Her skin pebbled from the cool air, but breathed all the same.

“No one blames you.”

“Yeah, right. Tell that to Devin.”

“Devin is a grieving widower. He’s looking for someone to blame. That doesn’t mean you’re at fault.”

“Why did I come back and not her?”

“I can’t answer that, sweetie. But you have to stop dwelling on it and get on with your life. And you can start by ignoring your own scars.”

She couldn’t ignore what she saw every day. It wasn’t possible.

* * * *

Rob found Barnaby curled in the corner. He slid to the floor and ran his fingers through the dog’s fur.

He suspected Bridget didn’t have heatstroke. Why didn’t he think before telling her about the phone call? If the bum hadn’t attacked her, then her attacker was still out there, so of course she would be scared. Who wouldn’t?

But who would do that? And why? Had someone followed her out to the Rialto site or had they been there already? If Bridget had a stalker, why hadn’t he seen one follow her? Should he start looking? Rob’s brain hurt just wondering about all the possibilities.

“You look deep in thought,” Carl said.

Barnaby growled.

Rob grabbed the dog’s snout. “Stop it.” He looked at the person who’d always been there for him. “Sorry about him.”

“He’s probably hot and tired. Don’t worry about it.” Carl sat on the floor away from the dog. “I’ve heard whispers you had to carry Bridget upstairs. Is she ill?”

“I think she had too much sun today, but I may have overreacted. She probably thinks I’m some sort of macho hero. I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot. You care for her.”

“Is it that obvious? She’s all I ever think about. She’s the one, Carl. I never believed that crap before, but it’s true. She’s the one for me.”

“Rob, you hardly know each other.”

“I feel like I’ve known her forever. I wish I knew how she felt.” At least she wasn’t pushing him away anymore. That had to count for something.

“I’d give her time if I were you. Don’t rush into anything.”

Rob wanted a life with her and now wouldn’t be soon enough. How could he not rush?

Carl patted him on the leg. “I think I’ll head on out of here. If you need anything, give me a call.”

Barnaby softly growled and Rob nudged the animal.

“Thanks, Carl. I will.”

Carl left and Rob turned his attention to his furry friend. “Did the sun get to you, too? You’re awfully grouchy. Why don’t we go upstairs and wait for Bridget?” He stood as Kate descended the stairs. “Is she okay?”

She pulled him back into the corner. “I don’t think she has heatstroke or heat exhaustion. She’s just sweaty. What happened outside?”

He lowered his head. “I told her the guy we thought attacked her had an alibi.”

Kate smacked him on the arm. “You’re an idiot.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well, she’ll be okay once she gets something to eat. Why don’t you take some food up to her? I don’t think she’s in any mood to come back down here.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, Kate. Maybe you went into the wrong medical profession.”

“Are you kidding me? Animals are so much easier. They don’t talk back.”

Rob went outside and filled two plates to the brim. Hamburgers—one with cheese, one without—potato salad, coleslaw, chips, and some kind of fruit-salad thing. He didn’t know what Bridget liked or didn’t like so he’d let her pick and choose.

Gathering the food took longer than he expected since practically everyone asked how she was feeling. Seeing as he didn’t know himself, he found it hard to answer.

He put some napkins and eating utensils in his front pocket and stuck a bottle of water in each side pocket of his shorts. One of the cousins opened the door for him. Barnaby followed him up the stairs and bounded toward the bedroom door, squeezing through the small opening.

Bridget paced in front of the bed, wearing the scrubs and a hooded sweatshirt jacket zipped up to her neck. The dog rushed her. She stopped and crouched, accepting Barnaby’s licks before she hugged him close and buried her face in his fur.

He placed the food and water on the dresser. “Are you okay?”

She stood and nodded. “Will you take me to the site?”

“You need to eat.”

“No. I need to talk to Nick.”

“Bridget. You said it yourself, he might not even be there.”

“I know.” She held her arms across her stomach and whispered, “What if he comes after me?”

He wrapped her in a hug, trying to offer comfort. “You don’t know anyone is coming after you. For all you know you stumbled upon a drug dealer who got scared. Don’t make things worse than they need to be.”

She pulled free and swiped at her face. “I still need to talk to Nick.”

“Not right now you don’t. Right now you need to calm down and eat.”

After pacing for several seconds, she leveled those brilliant blue eyes at him. “I’ll eat if you promise you’ll take me to the site as soon as we’re finished.”

“Deal.”

“Okay then.” She smiled and relaxed, almost as if he’d lifted a weight off her shoulders. He’d gladly bear any burden she carried, if she’d only let him. She sat on the floor. “What’d you bring?”

“Hamburgers and stuff. We eating on the floor?”

She nodded. “It’ll be like a picnic.”

“And instead of the bees and ants, we’ll have Barnaby to fend off.” He handed her the waters before picking up the two plates.

“Ah, he won’t bother us. Will you, boy?”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. He’s been known to steal my sandwiches in the past.” After giving her the plates, he settled on the floor.

“And I’m sure he waited until you weren’t watching. So whose fault is that?”

“Man, I’m not going to win this one, am I?”

“Nope.” She raised the plates away from Barnaby’s curious nose. “Which one is mine?”

* * * *

Bridget sat on the passenger side of the truck, petting Barnaby. The scenery most likely flew by, but she kept her head down and stared at the dog, with an occasional glance at Rob’s legs. And man, did he have nice legs. She’d always considered herself a butt person, but he could easily convert her. Of course, his butt was pretty extraordinary, too.

Oh man, she had it bad.

He was the perfect boyfriend. Attentive. Caring. And able to get them out of Kate’s and on their way to Nick without an issue.

Not to mention a good kisser. No, make that an excellent kisser. Only problem: she was wanting more than kisses.

Her cell rang from the inside of her backpack. She pulled the noisy thing out and quickly killed the call. Four times in four days. Devin just wouldn’t give up.

“Wrong number?”

“Not really, but I’m not in the mood to chat. How much farther?”

“Not long.”

Man, he didn’t even berate her for not checking for herself. Something her mother had done over and over. Instead, he treated her inability as if it were a normal trait. Even she had trouble wrapping her head around that.

“What are you going to do if Nick isn’t there?”

Now there was the million-dollar question. She’d been basing everything on Charlie’s assumption—an assumption she couldn’t get into with him. “No idea. I’m not sure what makes a ghost. I only know Charlie has unresolved issues. Maybe Nick does, too.”

“Listen, I love my sister, but she’s been known to stretch the truth a time or two to suit her needs. For the life of me I don’t know who would want to murder her. Or why. It doesn’t make sense. Is it possible, just possible, she’s embarrassed and she really did commit suicide?”

Bridget stroked the dog’s head. She might have believed that scenario yesterday, before meeting Carl, but Rob didn’t need to know. “I don’t know. I guess. But why lie to me?”

“Because you can see her. Hear her. You’re someone she can talk to. Maybe she thinks you won’t stick around if you knew the truth. If you can’t find any proof otherwise, it’s something to think about.”

She could definitely see Charlie doing something like that. If only it were possible.

“I know you’re worried about your attacker, but could it be you were in the wrong place at the wrong time? It’s something to consider, anyway.”

She’d love nothing better than to consider that, but Carl knew she was at the site and Rob hadn’t told him. Of course, maybe Carl had found out the way her father had. Crap. She’d feel better once she discovered the truth. Maybe.

Rob slowed and turned right. A peek out the side window confirmed her suspicions—they had arrived.

“Uh-oh,” he said. “Someone’s here.”

He drove slowly enough for her to look. Someone had parked a navy blue pickup truck by the back door, but hadn’t stayed inside. “Is that Carl’s truck?”

“No.” He pulled up to the building and stopped. “It’s one of my crew.”

* * * *

Nick stood in front of Rob’s truck. More company, or a promise of things to come? Existing away from constant human interaction had some perks. Like forgetting that people went on with their lives. But once this building became occupied, he’d have to face the truth—people lived while he just existed.

Rob opened the door. “Let me go find out what’s going on. I’ll leave the air on if you’ll stay with Barnaby.”

Bridget nodded and held onto Barnaby until the driver’s door closed. Rob brought the dog without Charlie the last time. So where was Charlie and why wasn’t she with her own dog?

He remembered the day he brought her the puppy. His gift to her for one year of sobriety. He’d never seen her happier and she’d thanked him in the best way possible.

Nick floated into the backseat of the truck. “Hey, Barnaby. How’s it going, boy?”

Barnaby whined and wagged his tail. It was kind of cool how the dog could see him, and a good thing, too. Rob might not have found Bridget if Nick hadn’t gotten the dog’s attention.

Bridget looked out the back. “What do you see?”

For someone who said she could see ghosts, she wasn’t seeing him, but Barnaby could. Nick moved and the dog’s gaze followed. Could he hear him, too?

Back when blood pumped through his arteries, Nick had played the howling game with Barnaby. Drove Charlie nuts, so of course he did it all the time. Nothing better than to get her riled up and then excite her with his kisses. Damn he missed her.

“Okay boy, here’s to old times.” He tilted his head back and howled like a wolf. Barnaby howled along with him.

Wow. That was way cool. Wonder if other animals could hear him. He’d have to give it a try.

Bridget patted the dog on the head. “What are you—” She furrowed her brow, looked outside at the men talking, then returned her gaze to the backseat. “Nick, if you’re here, make Barnaby howl again.”