The Spirit Tree (16 page)

“Are you all right?” Bryson put his hand on the small of my back.

“I think it has to do with reflective surfaces.” I rose to my tiptoes and touched the pots and pans hanging from a rack above the stove. The moment I touched them, I saw the murder scene from a higher angle. Still blurry, but it was there. I ran to the kitchen door and placed both hands on the small window. I closed my eyes and watched the young mother die. Everything in me screamed to remove my hands from the window, but I held on until the murderer left the kitchen. Something wasn’t right. The little girl was still there, beside her mother.

“Oh my God!” I staggered back and pressed my back against the refrigerator.

Samuels and Aaron came into the kitchen. While Aaron looked hopeful, Samuels was still hostile. At least I had their attention.

“He wore black-leather gloves. He killed her there.” I pointed to the floor. “He hit the boy, because he was screaming. Took a garbage bag out of the cabinet, there.” I pointed to the open cabinet under the sink. “He took his gloves off and washed his hands.”

I paused to collect my thoughts.

“Is that all you got?” Samuels sounded irritated.

“No. He took his shoes off, stuck them in the bag, and went down the hall.” I followed the path the murderer had taken. “What did he do in here?”

I pressed my hand to the hallway mirror. It gave me a good profile shot, and I knew I could pick the killer out of a crowd. I found nothing in the guest bedroom or hall bath. In the pink bedroom I caught more images. “He took clothes from this dresser.”

The nursery didn’t have any reflective surfaces, other than the window. I pressed my hand to the window and caught glimpses of the murderer taking clothes from the drawers. “Here, too. He took clothes and a blanket.”

I walked into the hall and hesitated. Where did he go next? I turned right and went into the master bedroom. I touched the mirror above the dresser. “Did you guys take a computer from the desk?”

Samuels shook his head. “There was no computer.”

I frowned and closed my eyes. “He did something on the computer. I can’t see if he took it, but someone did.”

The men followed me to the master bath and crowded the doorway. “He, uh, I think he stole a pair of shoes. I can’t see what he’s carrying from this angle. Was anything missing?”

I turned to see three stunned faces. Aaron’s jaw hung open, Samuels stared dumbfounded, and even Bryson was wide-eyed.

“I bet it was shoes,” I said.

I knew I shouldn’t enjoy their discomfort, but for the first time since Charlie had died, I felt useful. Maybe being different wasn’t so bad—maybe. I pushed past them and walked downstairs. “He wrapped the boy in a blanket and left through this door carrying a trash bag and the boy. The little girl followed him out. She knew him.”

I put my hands on my hips and smiled. Sure, I gloated, but I’d earned it. My cockiness didn’t last long. I caught movement from the corner of my eye and turned. I stood face-to-face with Mrs. Rivera’s spirit. Stunned, I didn’t notice the anger in the spirit’s expression until she landed a punch in the center of my face.

Before that moment, I didn't believe a ghost could break someone’s nose. The sickening crunch and fountain of blood changed my mind. “I’m so sorry. Please, I’m trying to help.”

I leaned forward to keep the blood from running down the back of my throat. “Tell us his name so we can find your kids.”

Samuels drew his gun and moved from one window to the next in search of something tangible that could have caused the injury. Bryson on one side, Aaron on the other, the two men shielded me from the invisible attacker. I craned my neck to see the spirit, but she was gone.

Aaron eased me to the floor while Bryson searched the drawers for a dishrag. It was probably against the rules, stealing dishrags from a victim’s house. Then again, a so-called psychic getting punched in the nose by the victim’s ghost wasn’t likely to be listed in the police policies-and-procedures manual.

“I blew it. I could’ve gotten a name.” My voice sounded ridiculous. My nose throbbed, but my injured pride hurt much more.

“You made contact. She may reach out to you again.” Bryson held the towels in place until I winced and held them myself.

“Are you all right?” Aaron shook his head. “That was crazy.”

“No shit. Even the ghosts don’t like your girlfriend.” Samuels burst out laughing. I bristled until Aaron and Bryson laughed. Being the butt of a joke wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, not when it took the haunted look from Aaron’s eyes.

I woke in my own bed. For a few precious moments, I forgot the wreck my life had become since Charlie died. His absence had left a hole inside me that I couldn’t face. I nuzzled into my pillow and winced. My face hurt like hell.

I walked into the hall and paused. Bryson slept on the foldout couch, snoring. Thankfully, I didn’t have to deal with him before I had coffee. I splashed water on my face and patted my nose. My reflection made me gasp—with a broken nose and two black eyes, I resembled one of the walking dead.

“You should shift and heal your face.” Bryson’s voice startled me. For such a big guy, his stealth unnerved me.

“I don’t want to shift.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t.”

“Shift for a few minutes, then change back.” He shrugged.

He used my toothpaste but had brought his own toothbrush. The intimacy of sharing personal things made me cranky. “I don’t want to burn my apartment down.”

He spit, rinsed, and spit again. “So don’t light up.”

“Right. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Tessa, stop being pigheaded and shift.”

“I’m afraid to, okay? I’m not in control of myself when I shift.”

“The more you practice, the more control you’ll have.”

I made a face and walked out. He stayed in the bathroom, doing God knows what. I wanted to smack him upside his head.

I went back to my room and locked the door, checking it twice before I stripped out of my pajamas. I tried to find the tiny ball of fire in my gut, but the more I tried to shift, the more it frustrated me. It was like trying to pick a piece of fruit from a tree just out of reach. No matter how far I stretched, I couldn’t get a grip on it.

“This is ridiculous,” I said out loud. “He’s supposed to be teaching me how to do this crap.” I threw on my bathrobe and marched into the living room. “I can’t do it.”

Bryson emptied the contents of my coffeepot into his mug. “Do what?”

“Did you just take all the coffee?”

“Yeah, it’s only two cups. I’ll make more.”

“Forget it.” I turned and stormed back into my room, slamming the door hard enough that something fell off a shelf in the living room. It occurred to me that my passive-aggressiveness was out of control, but who wouldn’t be, given my situation? My life was upside down. I had powers I didn’t understand, and I was in so much danger that I had a bodyguard.

I gave in to my frustration and crawled back into bed, pulling the comforter over my head and curling into a ball. Hailey and Scott expected me for our usual after-church brunch date. I thought,
I should start reviewing case files for my new job. I
need
to follow up with Aaron about the investigation. I
can’t
stand the thought of that innocent father spending another night in jail. I should pick up Mae’s medications and check in with the ladies.
My to-do list had no end, but none of that mattered. I closed my eyes and let the weight of Charlie’s death crush me.

My cell phone vibrated on the nightstand. The voice inside my head told me to check to see who was calling. I ignored it. A few minutes later it buzzed again. I reached for it and frowned at Aaron’s number on the screen. “Nope, not ready for that.”

I sent Hailey a quick text, excusing myself from brunch, and turned the phone off. “I can’t do this without you,” I whispered into my pillow. No one answered. Had I expected Charlie to answer? Why couldn’t I see him, if I could see other spirits? “I’m so angry with you. How could you lie to me and leave us in so much danger?”

I wanted to scream and break something, to throw a fit like a toddler. More than anything, I wanted to cry—only the tears wouldn’t come, even though my throat felt like it had swollen shut, and my eyes burned. I closed my eyes and hugged my knees. Even with all my newfound powers, I was defenseless.

I woke to knocking on my bedroom door. “Please, leave me alone.”

“Someone is here to see you,” Bryson said.

“Tell whoever it is that I’m not well.” I pulled the covers tighter around me.

It sounded like a minor scuffle on the other side of the door. The doorknob jiggled and metal scraped metal. Was that pretentious son of a bitch picking my lock? My anger flared, only to be lost to despair. I couldn’t bring myself to care.

The door opened. “Tessa? Honey, are you all right?” Hailey lifted the comforter from my head.

“How did you get in?”

“Resourcefulness.” She held up a screwdriver. “Don’t change the subject. What’s going on?”

“I’m fine. I’m exhausted. Need to sleep.” I hugged my pillow tighter.

“Holy smokes, what happened to your face?” Hailey crawled in beside me and pulled the covers over our heads.

“I got punched by a ticked-off ghost.”

She pulled the pillow away from my face and smiled. “What’s going on?”

“I think I hit stage four of the grieving process. Skipped over the first two, dabbled in the anger stage, and landed squarely in depression.” I wiped my nose, and my eyes watered from the quick jolt of pain.

“Oh, honey.” Hailey scooted closer and carefully drew me into an embrace. “I got your message and tried to call you back. I got worried. You never turn your phone off.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“Nothing much to say. Life sucks.”

“I know, but it will get easier. Give yourself a break. You’ve been through a lot in the last few days.”

“I feel alone. I keep screwing up, and I need Charlie. He would know what to do.” My voice cracked, and my chest hurt so much that I had a difficult time catching my breath.

“It may seem that way, but you have Mae and Dottie and me. Plus, that hunky guy out there is worried about you.” Hailey went from counselor to nosy-friend mode in the blink of an eye.

I frowned. “He is an ass.”

Hailey grinned. “A step up—from a douche to an ass. Why do you think you’re screwing up?”

I debated how much of the disaster I could safely share with Hailey. “I almost slept with the detective.”

“Not the guy in your living room?”

I shook my head. “No, not him. Bryson turned me down. The thing is, I didn’t care about the sex. I just wanted to forget everything else. It was awful.”

“The almost sex was awful, or you felt awful?”

“Both, I guess.”

“You used the detective to help you deal with your loss. There are better ways to cope, but I don’t think that’s screwing up. You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“You don’t understand. He’s a good guy, too good, but he’s a cop and was asking questions I didn’t want to answer, so we ended up half-naked in bed. Then it seemed like Dottie and Mae knew, but they didn’t. I was paranoid, I guess, because we almost did it in Charlie’s office. Then Bryson was so angry. He gets on my nerves, but he doesn’t deserve the way I’ve been treating him. He’s trying to help, and I hate it. I think I might care about him, maybe?”

I needed to blow my nose but knew how much it would hurt. “Aaron’s partner is a jerk, and he hates me. He’s undermining my relationship with Aaron, which is a good thing. It would never work with us, but I care about him, too. Now I don’t know what the hell to do, because Bryson and Aaron are at each other’s throats, and it’s my fault, because Samuels saw me and Bryson holding hands at the diner.”

Hailey did her best to keep her expression neutral and pretend to understand. I knew I’d overwhelmed her with too much information, too quickly.

“Was it a date?” Hailey asked.

“No, it wasn’t a date.” I sighed. “My ‘intuition’ is off the charts lately. Bryson took me to lunch to introduce me to another ‘seer.’ That mom who was killed? I saw her and the kids in a vision. I’m helping the police find the killer. Helping Aaron, he’s—”

“Whoa, hon.” Hailey held her hand up and tried to sort through the layers of verbal vomit. “Okay. Let me see if I got it all. You have feelings for two guys, and they’re aware of each other. You believe you had a vision of the murdered woman and are working with the police. Like a psychic?”

“Yes.”

Hailey laughed. “You’ve always wanted to be a criminal psychologist.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

“You know how I feel about the metaphysical mumbo jumbo, but it could lead to something else. Which is a good thing, right?”

“I guess.”

“As for these guys, you need to take time to grieve before you make any promises to anyone. If they care for you, they’ll understand that you need friends right now, not fuck buddies.”

“Hailey!” I giggled, despite my foul mood. Hailey laughed along with me, and the world didn’t seem like such a scary place.

“Ready to get up?” Hailey grabbed the corner of the comforter.

I nodded, and Hailey threw the covers back.

“Thank you.” I sat up and took in my surroundings. It was after six. I’d slept most of the day.

“I’ll mail you my bill.” Hailey stood and waited for me to follow her into the living room. Bryson and Hailey’s husband, Scott, sat on the couch, watching a high-speed-chase movie.

Hailey grinned at them. “Ready, Scott?”

“Yeah.” He winced when he noticed my face, then stood and gave me a tight hug. “Call if you need anything.”

“Thanks for letting me borrow your wife.”

“No problem. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to talk her off the ledge before the baby’s born.” Scott hugged me again and turned to Bryson. “Nice meeting you, man.”

Hailey took Scott’s hand. I wanted to crawl back in bed. I felt out of place in my own living room. Scott and Bryson acted like they were old friends. Hailey and her hubby were always sweet together. The small gesture of holding hands reminded me how much I wanted a real relationship.