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Lily Clark. According to her driver’s license she was thirty-one years old and had traveled here from a small town in Georgia for a week’s vacation. She’d checked in with a male friend on Saturday, but according to the man at the front desk, that man hadn’t been seen since Sunday afternoon. Clark had been seen in tears more than once since that time. Hope, of course, had immediately pegged the boyfriend as a suspect. Gideon already knew better.
Two murder victims in three days was unusual for Wilmington. The fact that this one was a tourist was going to cause a ruckus.
“She said my life wasn’t worth a nickel,” the ghost said softly. “And she was right. I didn’t live the way I should’ve. I existed, scared of something or other more often than not. I never even thought to be afraid of something like this.”
“She was trying to torment you, Lily,” Gideon said gently. “Don’t let her continue hurting you now. Let everything she said to you go.”
Lily Clark’s ghost shook her head in denial, unable to let anything go. “No, she was right. She said I was ugly even before she cut my face, and she said that death was best for me because no man would ever be able to love me.” The spirit of the dead woman sat on the side of the bed, her hands clasped primly in her lap, her lower lip quivering. Her form was more substantial than Sherry Bishop’s had ever been. She was likely to stick around for a while. “She was right,” the wraith whispered.
Hope was interviewing the hotel manager, and uniformed officers were keeping everyone else out. For the moment, at least, Gideon and the ghost were alone. “No, Lily, she wasn’t right. Now, I want you to forget everything she said and concentrate on what you can tell me that will help me find her. Tell me about the woman who did this to you so I can get her off the streets. Tall and blond, you said. What can you tell me about the knife she used?”
“It was old, I think. The blade was sharp, and the handle was silver. Did you see?” She pointed. “She cut off my little finger!”
And this time she hadn’t waited until after death.
“Was there an engraving on the handle?”
“Yeah,” Clark said, a vague touch of enthusiasm in her voice. “I couldn’t tell what it said, though. It wasn’t English. When she was sitting on my chest and pointing the tip of the knife at my nose, I saw some old squiggly letters.” Her red hair swayed slightly. “They didn’t make any sense.”
“And you never saw her before today?” Gideon said, repeating something Lily had told him when he’d first arrived on the scene.
“I was such an idiot,” she wailed. “First I come here with Jerry, only to find out that he’s married, and then I let that awful woman into my hotel room. Of course, I didn’t know she was awful when I asked her in. She seemed so sweet when we met on the riverfront. We ran into each other, literally, and I spilled my lemonade all over her. I thought she’d be mad, but she just laughed. We got to talking. You know how it is. She was having boyfriend troubles, too, and we were going to go out tonight and have a few drinks and…” The ghost went still and looked at Gideon with a puzzled expression on her face. “Wait a minute. Is your name Raintree? Gideon Raintree?”
Gideon nodded, wondering with a sinking stomach how the woman knew his name.
“I almost forgot. I have a message for you.”
A shiver danced down his spine. “A message?”
She nodded her head. “The woman who killed me, she said you’re to meet her at midnight on the riverfront, just down from the coffee shop where the other woman she killed used to work. She said you’d know where that was. Go alone. If you don’t, she’ll kill someone else. I don’t think she cares who, just someone like me. Someone who won’t be missed.”
His sinking stomach didn’t improve. Somehow the killer knew what he could do. Did she have psychic abilities herself, or had she hired a weak seer who’d just gotten lucky? The how didn’t much matter, not now. The serial killer he was looking for had tortured and murdered this poor woman just so she would be strong enough to stick around and give him a message.
Lily Clark might never move on as she should. “Everyone is missed,” he said. Lily was shaking her head, but he continued. “Everyone leaves a hole in the universe when they’re taken too soon.”
Her form fluttered, as if she had just become a little less substantial. “I won’t,” she whispered. “My first husband sure won’t miss me, and my parents are just going to be angry because I never gave them grandchildren. I work with computers all day, and you know they won’t miss me.”
“I’ll miss you,” Gideon said, glancing down at the body and then up at the spirit on the bed. It was easier than looking at what was left of her physical form.
“Why?”
“Because if I had caught the woman who did this to you yesterday, you’d still be alive.”
Lily reached out a hand as if she wanted to comfort him. Her fingers were cold, but he felt her touch very clearly. “I don’t blame you.”
“I blame myself.”
“Do you always do that?”
Gideon’s head snapped around. Hope stood in the doorway. How long had she been there, watching and listening? “Do what?”
“Blame yourself,” she said, an unexpected trace of sympathy in her voice.
“The killer wasn’t the boyfriend,” he said. “It’s the same woman who murdered Sherry Bishop.”
Hope shook her head. “I know we have the…the severed finger, but other than that, this is a completely different MO. Bishop was killed with a quick swipe. Clark was…” Her gaze flitted to the body but didn’t remain there long. “She was tortured, Gideon. This was personal.”
“No, this was sick.” He stood. “And very much like the unsolved murder in Hale County. It’s the same woman, Hope. I know it. I want an analysis on the weapon ASAP. I’d bet my job that the same knife that killed Sherry Bishop and Marcia Cordell was also used to kill Lily Clark.” When he took a step toward Hope, she flinched slightly, but she didn’t step back. Somehow he had to get rid of his new partner before he went to the boardwalk to meet with the killer. He couldn’t tell her how he
