How had Abe known a deputy would be coming right away to check on Martin?
Easy answer—he had to have someone else at the sheriff’s office. Maybe that was who had called him to the scene.
The trip to the mortuary seemed to take forever. The day was warm and breezy. It was typical this time of year to have ice one day, and warm weather the next. There was a blue sky behind the tall buildings in Nashville. Traffic was light. I made good time.
I knew it was me, and my worried thoughts. I meant to get answers from Abe about Martin’s death, even if it meant he was going to show me that angry side of him again.
I was afraid of Abe, like Brandon, and everyone else I knew who worked for him—except Debbie.
He was more than two hundred years old, with magic that brought dead people back to life. He had plenty of tricks up his sleeve, as I’d tried to warn Debbie. I was sure I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to openly engage him.
It looked as though I had no choice as Abe met me outside the mortuary. I stepped out of the van.
“What were you doing back there?” he asked in a stern voice that was iron sheathed by velvet.
My heart was pounding but I didn’t back down from him. “What I should have done at the first crime scene. This is how police find the bad guys, Abe. Clues lead us to them.”
“Throw all of it away, Skye. I told you that this isn’t a normal murder. You can’t use police tactics to find out who killed your friend, and Mr. Welk.”
I stared at him. “You
know
, don’t you? You know who did it.”
He looked away, obviously troubled. “I’m not certain. The only thing I know for sure is that you can’t play detective with this. Keep your head down. Do as I say. If there is a cause for action, I’ll let you know.”
I think he could tell by the dark scowl on my face that I wasn’t happy with that response.
He took my hand in his. “Please. Let me handle it. I value you too much to lose you, Skye. Magic—strong, dark magic—is involved in these deaths. Fingerprints won’t help you.”
Hadn’t Lucas said much the same thing? Maybe he was more useful than I gave him credit for.
I backed away from Abe. “All right. I’ll be careful, and I won’t treat this like a police homicide, but you’re wrong not to.”
“Thank you.” He smiled, relieved, and gave my hand one last squeeze. “Who have you been kissing lately, hmm? There is a small enchantment on you. Be careful of magic that hides itself in romance.”
Chapter Fifteen
I watched Abe walk away with his bodyguards beside him before I went inside the mortuary. I wasn’t sure what he meant about magic hiding itself in romance, but it was interesting that he could
see
Lucas’s kiss.
Okay. So Lucas really had some mojo going on besides that crazy illusion ability. I wasn’t sure if I was happy about it or not. It could make him more dangerous than I realized too.
Brandon was standing inside the mortuary door smoking when I found him.
“Another dead one.” He exhaled smoke upwards. “Kind of makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“It makes me wonder a
lot
.”
His almost invisible brows went up. “Did you think Abe never goes anywhere without bodyguards because everyone loves him?”
“You mean you think this is to get back at him?”
“What else?” He glanced around nervously before dying out his cigarette on the concrete floor. “Abe has plenty of enemies. It’s just a question of which one of them is killing off his people.”
“Has it happened before?”
“Not that I know of. Abe keeps close contact with those who serve him. Just the fact that he doesn’t know what’s happening to them says a lot.”
We took Martin into the mortuary, putting him on the slab. Brandon removed the body bag, and dropped it on the floor.
“Looks the same.” He examined Martin with a repulsed expression. “Not a great way to die.”
“Why is Abe so against me trying to find out who’s killing these people?”
“I don’t know.” Brandon stood back from the body. “If it was me, I’d let you have at it. I think he needs all the help he can get.”
“Why wouldn’t he want to tell us about it? Maybe it could save the rest of us from ending up the same way.”
“Seriously, Skye.” He glared at me. “I don’t know. I’m scared too. Any of us could be the next target.”
“Do you have the gold ring?”
He checked his pockets, and pulled out the ring in a plastic bag. “It looks just like the other one. Somebody must be buying in bulk.”
“If this is against Abe, why hasn’t he or she come after him instead of attacking his people?”
“
Uh
. . . Abe has magic and
bodyguards
. Most people wouldn’t want to mess with that.”
“But he or she wants to annoy him, maybe threaten him.”
“I guess.” He shrugged, and lit another cigarette. “You should drop it, like he said. He knows what he’s doing. It doesn’t involve you. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
“It
does
involve me. Martin was my friend. He told me there have been other deaths of the same type around Nashville. He was on to something. The killer probably chose to kill him for that reason.”
Brandon and I were silent for a moment as we stared at Martin’s grotesque face.
“This is bad,” he whispered. “Abe’s not kidding around. I’ve never seen him this way. You’d better leave it alone.”
“You’re talking to the wrong zombie. I’m not good at forgetting what happened or ignoring a friend’s death. I don’t think Abe has this situation under control at all. I think he’s scared, and he doesn’t know what to do, but he won’t admit it.”
“You might be right. But he’ll know what to do with
you
if you keep pestering him about it. I don’t want to see that happen. Let it be, Skye.”
I couldn’t let it go. Whoever killed Martin could be out there looking for me too. If I ignored the problem, or waited for Abe to protect me, I could be next.
But I wouldn’t talk to Abe again about it. “All right. I won’t bother him with it again.”
“Good.” Brandon grinned. “Thanks.”
That didn’t mean I wouldn’t keep snooping around. I’d made a promise to Martin, and I meant to keep it—just like with Jacob. Someone had to remember, and find out what happened.
My phone rang. It was Abe. “I almost forgot, Skye. I have a pickup for you. Check your texts. I’d like Debbie to go with you. This one should be normal.”
As far as ‘normal’ was concerned, that seemed to be a relative term for this business. I said goodbye to Brandon, and went out to the van.
I called Debbie twice on the way over to her house. Once I was in the driveway, I figured I might as well knock at the door and tell her about the assignment.
Her house was so cute—everything a mountain cabin should be. It had to be great for her kids growing up here. I wished the inn wasn’t so huge, and run down. There wasn’t much I could do about it. Having a mother, and a grandmother, had to be better than a cute house for Kate. Maybe someday, she could have a place like this.
I knocked on the door, at the bottom of the beautiful wreath—probably something Debbie had made—but there was no answer. I knocked again, and was about to go on the assignment without her, when she finally came out.
Her pretty face was flushed, and her clothes were messed up. I could guess that she and Terry had been fooling around. Her eyes were soft and half closed. She looked happy, as she ran her hand through her dark hair.
I hoped Brandon was wrong about Abe wanting to break up her marriage.
“You should have called,” she said to me.
“I tried. You didn’t answer. I guess you were
busy
, with the kids at school and all.” I smirked, couldn’t help myself.
She blushed a little more. “I’ll get my coat. Stay here. Terry is . . . in his pajamas.”
By
pajamas
, I guessed
naked
. I stayed where I was.
Twenty minutes passed—no Debbie. I was getting impatient with standing there waiting. I glanced in the living room with the fireplace, but didn’t see her. “Debbie?”
I cautiously checked the kitchen. Terry was bending over the table, staring at a piece of raw meat he held in his hand. He was stooped, his bare legs curiously bent as though he couldn’t straighten them. They were also densely hairy, more like an animal than a man.
Terry wasn’t paralyzed, as he had allowed Debbie to think. He seemed to have a problem standing upright, but that wasn’t the same thing.
As I watched, he started tearing at the meat, growling occasionally. Blood dribbled down his arms and chest as he gnawed away at it. There was a fierce look to his face, as though he was rending a living thing. I’d seen the same look on dogs’ faces that had been taught to fight in the ring.
I walked softly away, and back into the foyer.
What the hell?
Debbie finally showed up with her perky smile in place. “Sorry. I realized I wasn’t dressed to go out.”
“That’s fine,” I told her. “Let’s go before Abe wonders where we are.”
“What have you been up to this morning?” She slipped her feet into white leather boots.
I watched her put on her matching white and black jacket. “I went out on an early call. Martin is dead. I’ll explain on the way.”
Debbie cried for a long time in the van, telling me about how sorry she was about Martin, asking me if I should take the day to mourn him.
“I don’t have that luxury right now. We can’t miss this pickup in case the killer is after this man too.”
“What about us?” she asked with large, frightened eyes. “Will the killer think to look for us?”
“I don’t know.”
We were quiet after that as the tires hummed on the mountain roads. The whole time, I was thinking about Terry. Was this why he didn’t smell like a zombie? What was he? Did Debbie know?
I put my foot into it. “You said Terry seems . . .
different
to you since the shooting. In what way?”
“He does.” She sighed. “The doctor says it will take time for his mind to deal with what happened. It’s not just his legs. We’re lucky he can walk at all since he had a bullet still stuck in his spine.”
I nodded, trying to find a way to ask the big question. “Has he changed
physically
? I mean, is he stuck in the chair all the time?”
“Oh no. He can get out for therapy, and for short times at the house. Just not for long. His legs are very weak.”
“But he has feeling in them? That’s great.” I turned a sharp curve in the road. “What about his appetite? Is he eating okay?”
“He’s eating fine, Skye. Is something wrong?”
“No. I was just wondering. I’ve known men who were shot on the job. They . . . changed a lot during their recovery.”
Did Terry’s change have anything to do with Abe helping Debbie keep him alive?
“He’s going to be fine,” she said with great confidence. “We’re going to have a wonderful life together for the next twenty years. The kids will grow up. Everything will be perfect.”
I wasn’t sure of that at all, but I kept it to myself. People have odd habits. Jacob said his father ate raw ground beef with peppers and onions. Maybe I was making too big a deal out of it.
I pulled the van into a concrete drive in front of a beautiful, two-story lake house. There was a new Mercedes parked there. This was obviously a zombie who’d used his time wisely. I hoped he was willing to give it up now that it was over.
“Don’t worry about us,” Debbie said as we approached the house. “Terry and I are okay.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Not everyone is so lucky.”
She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry you lost your husband, Skye. I wish you’d been lucky too.”
There was nothing I could say to that.
I rang the doorbell, and a well-dressed woman in an expensive pink suit appeared. She was wearing exquisite diamond earrings, but her face was blotchy and red like she’d been crying.
This was my morning for crying women.
“We’re here for Doug Wopack. Abe sent us.”
“Of course.” She sniffed, and stepped back from the door. “We knew you were coming.”
This was more like it.
We walked into the tastefully decorated home, and found Doug sitting on a sofa in front of a roaring fireplace.
He was a tall, well-built man, with salt and pepper hair. His gray suit was expensive, tailored to fit him.
A young woman and man were on either side of him—probably his kids. They looked a lot like the woman at the door. They were both holding his hands, and looked as though they had been crying too.
“Mr. Wopack. It’s time to go.” I glanced around the room, admiring the luxurious furnishings. The whole back of the house that overlooked the lake was made of glass.
“Yes.” He smiled, and kissed the two young people before he straightened his gray red tie. “It’s been a wonderful twenty years. I hope the rest of your life is exactly what you want it to be. I love you both.”
Mrs. Wopack, (I assumed it was his wife) broke down sobbing.
“Don’t do this, Olivia.” He held her hands after he stood up. “We knew this day was coming. Everything is in order. You know where all the paperwork is. Take care of the children. I love you.”
Would this be the way it would happen with Kate when it was time for me to go?
Only if I prepared her by telling her about my deal with Abe. It would be better for her to know—when she was older. Mr. Wopack had the right idea.
He hugged Olivia, and they kissed briefly before his two children ran to embrace their mother. Mr. Wopack was crying when he turned to me and Debbie. “What happens now?”
“We take you to Abe. That’s all I know.” I shrugged, and started for the door with an apologetic glance at Mrs. Wopack.
“No!” The young man, who had seemed so accepting of the situation, brought out a big Glock, and pointed it at me. “You can’t take him. I won’t let you.”
“Son.” Mr. Wopack tried to calm the situation. “You knew this was going to happen. We all did. Put the gun away.”
“You can’t leave, Dad. Everything will fall apart. They can’t make you do this.”