A Kiss Beneath the Veil (4 page)

Isaac

The “yours always” made some part of her give the slightest
kick of protest, but it was a weak kick. Like the death throes of an old habit
giving a token protest. Mostly Daphne felt excitement.

Isaac had confronted her without mentioning her idiocy in
dumping him, whisked her off to his castle where she was thoroughly ravished,
then released her on his word that in exchange for seeing him again he would
help her find a serial killer.

She dropped back onto the bed in a swoon of delight - the man
really was perfection incarnate - before popping back up and bounding to the
shower. Today was definitely a sugar glow kind of day.

She left for work two hours later with her hair and skin
positively glowing. She’d exfoliated, pedicured, and moisturized every inch of
herself in the hope that Isaac would be touching those extra soft inches again
that night.

After fortifying herself with a triple shot coconut latte,
extra whip, Daphne unlocked her shop door to find the little dead girl from the
day before floating in the center of the room.

Daphne sucked foam up her nose in a gasp of surprise and
started choking. She ignored the ghost’s mournful black eyes as she attempted
to keep her coffee drool off of the pale pink sweater she’d worn for Isaac.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?! What are you
doing here?” Daphne demanded between coughs.

Waiting...

It wasn’t really a whisper. More like the lyrics from a song
playing in your head. Daphne could hear the little girl’s voice, but she
couldn’t really
hear
it.

Daphne wanted to reassure her that Isaac would find the killer,
but that might have sounded a bit more invested in his character than Daphne
wanted to be. So she pursed her lips and settled for rearranging her stapler
and pen holder instead.

Her first customer of the day arrived not long after. Daphne
tried to welcome the elderly woman as politely as possible, motioning her to
the desk by the window and ignoring the little girl that drifted after them.

Her entire day was booked solid, mostly insurance cases, plus
one mourning loved one wishing for a final goodbye. Their husband was
unreachable though, already passing beyond her reach. And all the while the
little girl watched her. Waiting.

She ushered the last customer out the door an hour before
closing and turned her attention back to the little voyeur.

“Alright, if you have something else to tell me, then just
say it,” Daphne demanded. Ghosts weren’t like regular people. They existed in a
sort of dream state, reliving their past and barely able to comprehend the
present. The grey area that harbored them was called “the space between”. It
wasn’t really here and it wasn’t really there. Some shades weren’t aware of
Daphne at all as she caught hold of their memories and relived them, often
solving their problem without their assistance at all. Then they’d just
evaporate, slipping easily to the other side.

This little ghost obviously had something important to share.
Some irresistible compunction that was binding it to Daphne. Probably the
burning desire to avenge its own death.

...needs me to be a killer, then, hey, I’ll be a killer.

Daphne couldn’t quite understand what the girl had just said.
It was almost as though her voice was being overlaid by another, deeper tone. A
man’s voice.

“Emma-” she began, trying to clarify, but the ghost suddenly
vanished.

The bell on her shop door tinkled and Daphne turned to see
Mark pushing the glass closed behind him.

She’d met Mark not long after moving to Rockford. He was the
Chief of the Paranormal Division at the Rockford County Police Department.
Daphne had channeled an old ghost lingering near her shop and helped Mark solve
a cold-case murder that was fifty years old. He’d been tagging along after her
ever since. Mark was smart and considerate, and definitely handsome. Daphne had
never been able to explain why she wasn’t leaping at the chance to be Mrs. Mark
Callaghan. Until now. Compared to Isaac, Mark was just a too skinny
smarty-pants born in a generation of men that hadn’t learned the art of
chivalry. He usually had
her
open the door because he couldn’t be
bothered to pull his hands out of his pockets.

Daphne realized by the look on his face that Mark had noticed
that her hair was down. A very unusual occurrence for her. The mass of pale
blond curls - all natural - fell almost to her hips in beachy waves. She’d been
going for a Victoria’s Secret model type vibe, again hoping that Isaac would
enjoy it, and hadn’t counted on sharing the experience. He responded with an
overly-encouraged grin and a “Nice hair,” comment that immediately made her
feel guilty. She smiled halfheartedly back with a muttered “thanks” and checked
the time on her phone. She prayed that Mark wasn’t going to stick around too
long. She didn’t want Isaac to catch them together. Daphne told herself that it
was because she and Isaac were sort of dating now, so she didn’t want him
getting the wrong impression about Mark.
And
she didn’t want Mark to see
her and Isaac together and get his feelings hurt because she’d chosen someone
else. Damn these men and their fragile egos!

“Did I hear you say ‘Emma’ when I was walking in? That’s the
latest victim’s name, right?” Mark asked, stuffing his hands in his pants
pockets and wandering forward. She’d always found this ‘awe-shucks’ habit to be
charming, now she started to wonder if he was actually trying to draw her
attention to his peen.

“Yes, she was hanging around today, but she just left,”
Daphne answered, sliding behind her desk and keeping her phone out so that she
could watch the time.

“That’s odd, isn’t it? Why would she be sticking around you?”
he asked, leaning a hip against the desk and staring down at her curiously.

“Yeah, it is odd. I was trying to ask her what she needed,
but then she poofed,” she said, trying to scoot her chair back so that Mark
wasn’t looking directly down her shirt and into her cleavage.

“So, she didn’t tell you anything else? Nothing you haven’t
told me about yet?” he pressed. Daphne was annoyed by his questions. She wanted
to solve the murders just as much as him. He was almost acting like he was
worried that Daphne was hiding something from him.

“No. She didn’t say anything, just sort of dangled around all
day,” she answered shortly. Now why had she said that? Why hadn’t she told him
about the girl’s odd voice and message?

Daphne rolled her neck in annoyance. She always followed her
instincts, and right now, her instincts were telling her that something was off
with Mark.

“So, why did you stop by, Mark? Any progress with the
information I
did
give you?” she asked, her subtle emphasis implying
that Mark might have some explaining to do himself.

“Just wanted to compare notes. You said in your email that
you thought the killer was human. I was hoping you could show me the
transcripts from your sessions with the dead kids that support your theory.
Since you’re the only one they seem to be going to, I figured you’re the most
reliable source,” he said, sliding back around the desk and sitting in the
vacant chair.

Wow! Now there was a dark implication.

“What exactly do you think that means, Mark?” Daphne asked.
If he was going to act like she had something to do with the murders, then he
better grow the balls to come right out and say it.

“Just that you’re the only person I can go to for help. I
wouldn’t bother you otherwise,” he said, tapping his thumb against the desk and
squinting at her. After the last time she’d turned down a dinner invitation
from him, Mark had grown more distant. Not physically, since he took every
opportunity to talk with her about cases, or drop by to compare notes, but
emotionally. Like now, with his I’m-a-cool-tough-guy act.

Whatever.

Scratch her last wish, now she was hoping that Isaac
did
show up. It would serve Mark right for acting like a tool and peeking down her
shirt.

Daphne had all the sessions in a single folder on her
computer’s desktop. She was able to bring them up easily and started scrolling
through transcripts and videos. Once she began talking to Mark about her
suspicions she forgot the time. Her desperation to catch the murderer overshadowed
everything else.

“See, they each have similar stories. The guy almost acts like
he’s being forced to do it,” Daphne said, leaning toward the screen to re-read
her last entry.

“He’s blaming someone else. There’s a difference.” The soft
words were spoken right over her shoulder, making both Daphne and Mark jump in
surprise.

Isaac was standing directly behind her, reading the computer
entry she’d made from her session with Emma.

“Jesus! Where the hell did you come from?!” Mark demanded
angrily, trying to stand. He was caught with her behind the desk where he’d
pulled his chair and couldn’t move without pushing it back into Isaac’s legs.

Isaac chose not to step back and left Mark wobbling there
with his knees half bent.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were unaware of my presence.
I’ve been here for quite some time,” Isaac said smoothly, dropping his gaze to
Daphne’s. His calm demeanor made Mark’s squawking all the more ridiculous.

Daphne began standing and Isaac immediately stepped back,
reaching past Mark to help her up and to draw her around the desk.

“Hey, Isaac, I didn’t realize it was already this late,”
Daphne said. She had the briefest urge to apologize for Mark’s presence, but
realized that Isaac probably knew all about Mark. His annoyed glance back at
the glaring police chief proved it.

“Damn it! Daphne, I can’t believe I kept you this long. I’ll
escort you home since it’s my fault that you’re out after dark,” Mark offered,
making a not so subtle attempt to pull her away from Isaac.

Daphne covered Isaac’s soft growl with a quick refusal. “No
thanks, Mark. I was actually waiting for Isaac anyway.” She almost winced at
the look of shock Mark gave her. He’d asked her out to dinner on numerous
occasions, and one of her most common excuses for refusing was that she never
ever
went out after dark. Now she’d basically proven herself a liar. She might as
well have told him,
“This is Isaac, he’s way hotter than you so I’m going
out to dinner in the dark with him.”

“You were planning to stay out after nightfall? But you told
me-” Mark began, but cut himself off.

“Fine. I’ll leave you to it then. Thanks for your help,
Daphne,” he said shortly, throwing a hard nod at Isaac and stomping out.

Daphne sighed gustily. There was nothing more annoying than
feeling guilty when you hadn’t done anything wrong. Stupid Mark.

“That malnourished little bobby has nothing to offer you,
Daphne. I’m shocked that you’ve tolerated his presence as long as you have,”
Isaac said stiffly, his eyes slowly tracking across the window, then the wall,
as though he could see right through them to the man in question. He probably
could.

“
Malnourished little bobby
?” Daphne asked on a laugh.

“I could thread the man through the eye of a needle, can he
not afford a sandwich on his pay?” Isaac asked, finally dropping his baby blue
eyes back to hers. They were the eyes of an angel in the body of an incubus.
Daphne had found them irresistible from the moment he first looked her way. A
pulse of heat vibrated through her, making any sort of witty response
impossible. She’d swear that he noticed as his eyes slid down her throat and to
the ample cleavage she was sporting.

“What a lovely sweater,” Isaac murmured as his pupils slowly
elongated. “Pink is definitely your color.”

 “Thanks,” she whispered as his head dipped toward hers.
Movement at the corner of her eye broke the sex spell Isaac was weaving over
her.

Emma was back.

Daphne watched the girl’s eyes shift from dark brown to
bottomless black pits. The bruises on her neck faded in and out as well. All of
the children were strangled to death, an extremely gruesome and personal way to
kill someone. Taking someone’s life without relying on a weapon was a very
unique method for committing murder. It required a level of violence that went
beyond rage, beyond any emotion that Daphne could comprehend.

“Can you see her?” Daphne asked. Isaac had withdrawn as soon
as the child made itself known. He’d either sensed her arrival, or noticed
Daphne’s shift in focus. Now he was standing at her back, waiting unobtrusively
for her next move.

“I can’t see her, but I can feel another presence in the room,”
he answered quietly.

“What else should I ask her?” she said, unsure of how many
sessions Isaac had actually seen her and Mark replaying before making his
comment.

“You were entirely thorough in your questioning, I’m afraid
we must rely on luck to uncover anything new at this point,” he replied. “Let
your instinct guide you.”

The one clue that was ringing the loudest in her mind was the
one the little girl had revealed without prompting.