AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Sounds great. But can I ask a favor?”
“Anything,” he said, and I truly believed he meant it. I wasn’t sure what to do with that.
“Can we not do it until after noon?” I chuckled. “I’m not the best morning person, and I’m absolutely drained right now.”
“I promise not to call you until at least twelve-fifteen.” He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and I shivered. The reaction had absolutely nothing to do with the cold this time. “Goodnight, Hanlen. May your dreams guide you to the answers you seek.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, and I set up my ride back to The Ravisan, wondering exactly what kind of dreams I would have. I had a feeling they’d feature a certain man with rich, walnut skin and extraordinary eyes the color of the beach vacation I never let myself take.
Chapter 7
Dev
I watched from around the corner as Hanlen got into a silver Camry and rode away in the direction of her hotel. Once she was gone, I sent a quick text to the number she’d called me on earlier, asking her to let me know that she’d made it to The Ravisan safely, and then went to find the people who had gotten my attention when Hanlen and I exited the police station.
When I crossed the street and entered the little open area that people used to walk their dogs, I saw them up ahead, on a bench under a live oak. When I approached, the male stood and helped the female up.
“Hey, Dev.” Findley McNair was dressed for a summer day in New Orleans, but despite the uptick in wind whipping my curls about my head, his hair remained in perfect, artful spikes as his dark eyes took me in.
“Hey, Fin,” I replied. “How are you guys doing?” I took in the beautiful woman at his side and felt a pang in my chest. Her long, silky twists fell perfectly around her bare shoulders, her arm tightening around Fin’s waist as she leaned into his side.
“We’re fine, brother,” she said. The look in her flashing green eyes and the sound of her voice nearly made my heart break. I had lost Wren almost two years ago now. She had been found in a little grove of trees in one of the smaller cemeteries, her throat slit, her body posed, and a copper token left on her forehead—just like Dustin Reynolds. The night Findley found her, he joined her in the great beyond, the victim of a senseless accident, the result of him being distracted by his grief. The only saving grace was that they still had each other, and they seemed to rather like their otherworldly existence, playing Nancy Drew and Joe Hardy.
That didn’t mean I didn’t miss my sister and her great guy with a fierceness that sometimes took my breath away. Just because I could still see and talk to them didn’t mean I didn’t ache to grab them both in a huge hug.
I sometimes wondered if I was the reason they were still on this plane. In my grief, I had done a séance to try and speak to Wren after her murder, and it was brilliantly successful, even though she never actually saw her attacker. Unfortunately, as I found out later, it had resulted in Wren disappearing for a bit from Findley’s side. They eventually found each other again, and neither had seen the light nor felt the pull to leave just yet. As long as they had each other, and I knew they were safe and happy, I would be selfish and soak up as much time as I could with them, however I could. And I couldn’t lie, theyreallyhelped with the show. Still, I had a feeling that whenever we solved Wren’s murder and caught the person responsible—and I was convinced that we would eventually—they may both disappear from my life forever. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. But I would face that possibility when and if the day ever came.
“So, it looks like we have another R?DRΩM case on our hands, huh?” Findley said.
I shook my head. It was so stupid. Not only did this sadistic, psychopathic bastard leave his little copper tokens on his victims’ foreheads, but he’d also signed his single taunting piece of correspondence to the police and the press: R?DRΩM after Wren’s murder. Redrum, like inThe Shining, but with some twists. Murder backwards, the scruple and the omega adding a bit of narcissistic flair. We had a feeling it might be an anagram or a cipher or something, but we couldn’t figure it out—and neither could the cops. The only things we knew were the factual pieces: the murder reference, the fact that a scruple was both a measure of weight and a sense of right and wrong, and that the omega denoted a last, final, ultimate end.
Not ominous at all.
I sighed. “Looks like,” I replied, watching my sister’s face for any signs of distress.
“Desmond told us what happened,” she said. “We didn’t get there until later.”
“Desmond, the soldier?” I asked. The ghost was a relic from the War of 1812, and one of my best runners. He was an invaluable go-between in the spirit world on investigations, ferrying messages for me so we could get to the bottom of things quicker.
“Yes,” Fin acknowledged. “Everything was the same. The modus operandi, the signature. But again, why? The Akashic Records tell us that this guy was just some ex-con skipping out on parole and engaging in petty theft along the way. And he was locked up for nearly twenty years prior to a couple of months ago. Why would this serial killer target him out of all the people in New Orleans and the surrounding parishes? But then again, why would he target anyone he killed?” He pulled Wren to him, kissing the top of her head.
“Why, indeed? I’ll see if I can make contact with this Dustin Reynolds later to perhaps get some of the answers we’re missing. Fill in some of those pieces. Have you guys discovered anything else of use?”
Wren shrugged. “Sadly, not really. But I do have a question.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Who was the woman you were talking to earlier?” She smiled, a twinkle in her otherworldly, faded-dollar-bill eyes. “She’s pretty.”
My sibling may be on the other side of the veil and only five minutes younger than me, but she could stilllittle sisterwith the best of them, sticking her nose into my business every chance she got. It made something twinge in my chest—thoughts of all the things we had and would miss out on in life. But I forced a smile and answered anyway. “The owner of the plantation we’re doing our next show on. Hanlen Arbor. And, ironically, the private investigator assigned to hunt down our newest deceased and bring him back to his parole officer in Texas, despite how that worked out. But, yeah, she’s not bad on the eyes.” I grinned.
“But . . .” Fin said.
I shook my head. “But nothing. She’s beautiful. Inside and out, from what I can tell. Though there’s pain there, too. A story I haven’t heard yet, but hope to. Something broke her, that much is clear, and she’s still trying to pick up those pieces.”
“You liiiike her,” my sister singsonged.
“If I could give you a noogie right now, I so would. And maybe throw you in a closet.” I laughed, and she did, too.
“Just razzing you, big brother,” she said and snuggled closer to Fin. “We’ll keep looking and report back anything we find. You do the same. You know how to reach us. Do you need help with this next case?”
