The Vengeful Dead (18 page)

Morgan’s weight crushed down. “Sweet Mother Mary,” Morgan’s voice hissed into Jackie’s ear. “You’re broken.”

Laughter bounced around in Jackie’s head, chased by scorching, bursting flames. She could taste the blood in her mouth. Broken? What the hell was that supposed to mean? How long had it been? Twenty seconds? Thirty maybe? Where were they?

Morgan’s eyes were wide and bloodshot and Jackie could feel his fist balled up around her hair. His voice wasn’t sinister or even angry or filled with pain. Of all things, he sounded surprised.

“You’re broken,” Morgan said again.

The fist picked up her head and snapped it back against the floor, bringing a final fiery explosion of pain to Jackie’s skull, followed by the extinguishing, howling wind of Deadworld. In that last moment of awareness, Jackie felt that doorway swing wide, pulling at her like the vacuum of space, cold and empty, and then the darkness consumed her.

Chapter 21

Nick pulled up to 4633 Oaktree to see McManus at a dead run, sprinting up the street. Shelby straddled her BMW just in front, watching the same scene. When he looked outward with his otherworldly senses, it was then he realized where he was headed. They had got the wrong house. Jackie’s Durango was parked sideways across the street at the end of the block, the driver’s side door flung open to the sleet. She was nowhere in sight.

Two muffled pops, like firecrackers set off indoors, made Nick flinch. Panic bloomed in his chest, a dark, storm of wings beating into the sky.

Shelby must have had the same reaction, as they both gunned their vehicles up the road, cutting up over the lawn of the corner house and bouncing off the curb. McManus had crossed the street and was bounding across the lawns toward the fourth house from the corner. Shelby raced up the sidewalk. A screen door, torn from its hinges, lay in the grass. Nick skidded his way back onto Oaktree and then slid to a stop in front of the house, door flying open before he had stopped completely. Shelby had laid the BMW down in the grass, jumping from it in one smooth motion to reach the door at the same time McManus did.

There were two bodies lying on the floor in the doorway, and Nick could see blood splattered against the opposite wall.
Please, not Jackie. Please, God, no.
The phrase repeated over and over until he reached the door and realized that her life force was still here. Shelby and McManus had just stepped inside.

“Jack?” McManus yelled. “Where you at . . . Jack! Fuck! Man down! Man down.”

Nick grabbed his phone, but Shelby could be heard already shouting at the 911 operator. On the floor in the entry, two bodies lay unmoving in spreading pools of blood, one of whom looked to be Detective Morgan. Around to the left in what was apparently the dining room, McManus and Shelby were knelt over another prone figure. Nick recognized the hiking boot right away and leaped over Shelby’s back and landed on the hardwood beyond Jackie’s bloodied head.

The entire left side of her head was soaked in blood. Other than that, her body looked surprisingly peaceful, half curled onto her side, head resting on her arm. Shelby’s deft fingers were digging into Jackie’s hair.

Nick tried to stare around the fingers. “How bad does it look?”

McManus had a hold of her wrist. “Praise be Christ, she’s got a steady pulse.”

“Looks like the bullet grooved her skull,” Shelby said. “Bleeding like a stuck pig. See if you can find a hand towel or something in the kitchen.”

“Right.” Nick sprang to his feet and went into the next room, where another body lay slumped against the back door. His hands were clasped over his groin and a black circle anointed the center of his forehead, centering the splash of blood across the door and wall. He gave a quick, furtive glance around the kitchen and spied a dishtowel hanging by a hook next to the sink. Nick folded it, soaked it in cold water, and rang it out, dripping water across the floor as he hurried back in and handed it to Shelby. He could feel the surge of energy from the other side coming through her and into Jackie. The wound at least would be sealed off in a matter of moments.

“I’ll get those bodies out of the way so we can get her out of here.”

McManus raised his hand to stop Nick. “Slow down, Mr. Anderson. We’ve already compromised the scene stomping in here to get Jackie. Stay right here until the paramedics arrive. I’m going to go secure the area.”

Even as he spoke, Nick heard sirens off in the distance. He heaved a sigh of relief. “All right. Yes. I hear them now.” Kneeling down by the dead, black man, Nick looked him over. The wide, glassy eyes were sunken in, surround by dark, purple smudges. He looked a lot like a heroin junkie who’d overdosed. If his spirit still hung around, he had wandered off from this place, perhaps in search of his home. They would have to check later, on the off chance he had not moved on. It would be very interesting to find out his side of this story.

A moan escaped from Jackie’s lips then, and Nick’s stomach nearly sprang into his throat. An instant later he knelt by her head. “Jackie? You with us?”

Shelby continued to dab at the blood on her face and head. It had stopped at least. It was all she would do for now, given the paramedics were coming. “She’s still out, babe. Relax. We’re under control here. You should go see if McManus needs help with anything.”

Nick stared down at Jackie, blood still streaked into the lines and crevices of her face. She looked nearly childlike with all of the stress removed, but the fact was, she’d been a centimeter from her life being drained away. She had promised to not go after him by herself. “What I need is to find out what the hell happened.”

“Nick, chill. Now is not the time. Your girl is going to be OK. That’s all that matters.”

“My girl?” He tried to give Shelby the stare-down, but she only gave him a wide-eyed little smirk. He blew out his breath and stood. “She promised not to face this thing alone and she did anyway. That’s going to be a problem.”

“Likely good reasons,” she said.

“Which is why I’m going to go find out what happened. Did you check her for any other injuries?”

“Yes, I did. A nasty contusion on her back. Looks like it might have been that screen door in the yard. Otherwise, she’s all right. So go. Make merry with the FBI.”

He rolled his eyes at her and stepped carefully back over to the front door, making sure not to move or touch anything he didn’t have to. The wail of sirens indicated they were close, and stepping out onto the front steps, Nick could see McManus waving them over while he talked on his phone. People were starting to gather on the sidewalks on either side of the street. Even wind-whipped sleet would not keep the gawkers away, not when the bullets and blood were flying. Getting the story from McManus would have to wait.

By the time Jackie was loaded onto a stretcher and into the ambulance, FBI were beginning to arrive. Pernetti was in the first car. He winced at the bandage around Jackie’s head.

“Christ, Jack. You’re going to get killed one of these times.” He nodded at Nick. “Anything I should, um . . . know about, Mr. Anderson?”

“No, we’re clear in that regard. I’m going to follow Agent Rutledge in and make sure she’s OK. I’ll let McManus know once doctors give the thumbs up.”

“Thanks. Where is that little Irish newb at?”

Nick pointed. “On the steps.”

“Great.” He turned toward the door. “McManus!”

Nick made for his Porsche and followed the ambulance to the hospital, hoping they had seen the last of that ghost. Perhaps now she would see to her babe. And it hit Nick just then, like a slap to the head. The babe was the key to tracking this ghost. Why hadn’t they considered it before? Laurel could find it. It might take a few hours, but she would, and then it was wait until the woman showed herself or try to talk her down from this rage-filled vengeance she was inflicting upon them all.

He dialed up Shelby, who said she would pass the request along. It made sense, she said, and stupid of them all not to think of it. They arrived in less than ten minutes, and the paramedics wheeled Jackie in. Nick was forced to wait in the lobby, which he would for now. He called Belgerman to let him know what was going on, and got an earful for not making sure someone was with Jackie at all times. His heart sank for her. She would be on leave once again while they investigated the shooting, and this would not be so easy to dismiss.

“How are you going to handle the supernatural element of this when the Internal folks come asking questions?”

“I don’t have a fucking clue,” John barked back. Nick hoped he mellowed before seeing Jackie. “I can’t exactly tell them she shot a cop because she thought he was possessed by a ghost, now, can I?”

“No, I can’t imagine that will go over well at all,” Nick replied, mustering his calmest voice. “Let’s hope there is sufficient other evidence.”

“We’ll make some goddamn evidence if need be,” he said. “Is this ghost, or whatever the hell it is, gone now?”

“I don’t know,” Nick said. “I hope so, but we don’t know if she was done. I’m hoping to find out.”

“How you planning on doing that?”

“Honestly, John? It’s better you don’t know.”

He chuckled in Nick’s ear. “Figured as much. Jackie’s going to be all right, though? You’re positive?”

“She’ll have a hell of a scar on her head, but otherwise I think she’ll be fine. Physically at least.”

There was a moment of silence between them, both understanding what those last three words implied. “You’ll keep an eye on her, Nick?”

“Much as that’s possible.”

“Yeah.” Again there was a few seconds of silence. “Let me know when she’s available over there.”

Nick hung up and waited. It took ninety minutes for them to patch up her scalp and get her into a private room. He looked through some magazines, got a cup of bad coffee from the in-hospital McDonalds, and tried to avoid noticing all of the little things that kept reminding him of one centimeter. The distance between life and death could be very small. Then again, it might as well have been a mile. Jackie was alive and that was all that mattered.

That life still ebbed and flowed in his veins. In quiet moments, if Nick turned his senses inward and he focused upon that energy that fueled his continuing existence in this world, he could catch fleeting moments of Jackie, taste her soul as it were. She reminded him of good coffee: strong, dark, and complicated, with hints of many wonderful flavors hidden within if you paid close enough attention to notice. He wanted to continue savoring that drink.

Nick finished his coffee and glanced at his watch. Jackie had been in her room for ten minutes. He did not want her waking up by herself. He made his way down the labyrinth of tile hallways, sidestepping the occasional ghost he found wandering the halls. Hospitals were horrible places if you could see the dead. They were everywhere, lingering in rooms and halls and parking garages. One could counsel the dead for endless days and never see the end of them, and by now Nick had spent enough time in hospitals over the years to avoid them unless absolutely necessary.

At the third floor nurses’ station, Nick walked up to the counter and leaned on it, smiling down at the nurse seated at the computer. “Pardon me, ma’am. I’m looking for Jackie Rutledge’s room. I believe she was just brought up a short time ago.”

Her hard, worker’s gaze melted away when she caught his eye. “Are you a family member, sir?”

“Someday, perhaps,” he said, throwing in a bit of drawl. “We haven’t got that far yet.”

She gave him a knowing smile. “Ah, I see. Well, I wish you the best, sir. Let me see.” She shuffled through a few charts. “Here we go. She’s in three twenty-four. Down the hall there and on your left.”

“Much appreciated, ma’am. Thank you.”

Her cheeks began to redden. “Any time, sir. Let us know if she needs anything.”

He found Jackie mumbling softly in her sleep, white gauze creating a cap on her head. An IV ran down to her arm, dripping clear fluid into her veins. Nick pulled one of the chairs over from the opposite wall and seated himself beside her. Jackie’s head turned back and forth, the murmuring growing more intense. He couldn’t make out what she was saying but the tone did not sound pleasant.

Gently, Nick reached up and placed his hand over hers. “
Shhhh
,” he whispered. “It’s all fine, Jackie. You’re safe here.
Shhhh
.”

Her hand involuntarily grasped his and her body settled itself. She remained quiet for some time after that, but Nick kept his hand on hers, until at some point he began to drift himself.

She woke him abruptly by squeezing his hand. “Broken,” she said in a raspy voice. “I’m not broken. I’m not. I’m not broken.”

“Jackie,” Nick said, leaning in close. “Jackie, it’s Nick. You’re safe in the hospital.”

“What?” Her eyes blinked rapidly. “Hospital? Nick?” Her eyes finally focused on him. “Nick. What happened?”

Her voice held the drunken, groggy remnants of anesthetic and painkillers. “Morgan shot you,” Nick replied. “Grazed your skull.”

Jackie closed her eyes. “God, my head hurts. I shot him, Nick. Did he make it?”

“No. Morgan is dead.”

The eyes squeezed even tighter. “Fuck. I’m so screwed. I had no choice.”

“I know. They’ll see that.”

“Shit.” A moan escaped her lips, but then she opened her eyes to look at him. “The ghost. What about Rosa?”

“She was gone by the time I got there.”

“Is she really gone?”

“Wish I knew. If that was the last guy, then maybe,” he said.

“Oh.” Her eyes closed and Jackie was silent for a while. Nick said nothing, but kept a hold of her hand. “What time is it?”

“It’s been about two and a half hours since the incident.”

“Any news?”

“Nobody’s called me,” he said. “I talked to Shelby about thirty minutes after getting here and she just told me the place was crawling with FBI and CPD. She wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Am I? OK, I mean.”

“Looked a lot worse than it was. You know how scalp wounds bleed, but you’ll have a nice scar to show for it.”

“As if my hair didn’t already look like shit. Lovely.”

“Least of your worries now, Jackie. You’ll have people in here asking questions soon.”

“Yeah, I know.” She turned away, looking out the window at the rain running down the window. “I killed a fricking cop.” She let out a long, slow sigh. “I knew Morgan. We weren’t friends, but I knew him. He was a good guy. He has a daughter.”

“I’m sorry, Jackie. This kind of thing is never easy.”

“They’ll all say I should’ve waited, but how could I?” Her rough voice was cracking. “He just blew away the guy in the doorway without hesitation. Was anyone else in the house? Did my foolishness save someone at least?”

“There was another body in the kitchen,” he said, wishing like hell he had something good to say to her. There was no decent way to spin this story.

Jackie nodded and was silent. Then her head turned back to him. “Wait. How? Wasn’t Morgan dead in the doorway?”

“Yeah. I don’t know.” Nick envisioned the scene again, Morgan and the first victim in the entry and Jackie lying on the floor in the dining room. She was the only one with a clear view of the second victim. “He must have staggered around the corner and shot the guy and fallen back into the entry.”