Okay, let’s take this one bounty at a time.
Amanda Kroger murdered her husband; Phillip Lange was murdered by his wife. Jacob Eihler was murdered by a student. Taylor Finch…murdered. Tito Alexander accidentally killed his girlfriend. Michael Samuels wasn’t murdered, but he did die due to someone else’s negligence.
So change murder to wrongful death and all the links still apply.
This theory was beginning to hold weight.
Keep going. Who’s left?
Kristin Esterby and Tim Regan. How had they died? Pneumonia for Kristin and AIDS for Tim. Not murder, not negligence. A simple illness and a devastating virus.
Her once weighty theory now floated away like a soap bubble.
Okay, so scratch murder or wrongful death.
What else could she find to link these poor unfortunates?
Money? Some kind of inheritance? Phillip Lange was murdered for his life insurance. Kristin Esterby’s siblings were involved in a nasty inheritance battle. Ditto Taylor Finch’s family. But Michael Samuels had no money. Nor did Amanda Kroger. Tim Regan had nothing as far as she knew. Tito Alexander wouldn’t have gained a dime from his girlfriend’s death.
So if it wasn’t money and it wasn’t murder, what other links might exist between all the bounties?
Think, dammit, think.
What exactly had Luc told her about his death and his subsequent assignment here?
The last time they’d discussed their lives on Earth had been before they went after Phillip Lange. Right here. In her bed. Her gaze skipped to the mattress with a longing to crawl inside and yank the scratchy blanket over her head.
No. Not unless Luc was here with her. Melding, soaring, wrapping himself around her, in her…
Think, dammit, think! Stay focused.
Right. The bed. Before they’d hunted down Phillip Lange.
She’d just told him about her own childhood and the reason she kept her scars in the Afterlife. And then she’d attempted to find out about his past.
“I still don’t know how you died.”
“I was murdered.”
The words were clipped, bitter, brooking no emotional reaction.
She remembered pressing the issue.
“Then why are you here? I mean, I thought we were all suicides.”
“Apparently not all of us.”
Then what happened?
Ooh, clever boy. He’d halted all conversation right there by seducing her. And foolishly, she’d fallen for his machinations, for his kisses, for his smooth caresses, and murmured words of adoration
. Afterwards, he’d upped and left her there as if he were the only fireman in town and a five-alarm blaze had broken out. When they spoke again, it was because the Board had contacted them to pursue Phillip Lange.
When Luc showed up at her door, s
he’d noticed how drawn he had looked. No. Not just drawn. Drained. And pale. Because his condition worried her, she’d suggested she take the hunt alone. Which resulted in some nasty retort on his part followed by her question.
Do you treat all your partners with such disdain
?
Why are you interested in m
y other partners? Just because we hit the sack together a couple of times doesn’t mean you’ve staked a claim on me, you know.
The words bothered her, but the memory of Luc’s sorry state worried her more. Was it really possible he was stuck here in the Afterlife as a form
of Karmic Justice? That would explain his condition and his reaction when he learned about Human Life Empathy. The two instances had to be related.
“Jodie!” Sean’s pro
mpt snapped her back to reality before she melted into the filthy carpet.
A wire tripped in her head, and she suddenly knew the link.
“Betrayal,” she said in hushed awe as the realization flooded her from head to toe. “Betrayal and forgiveness.”
Sean folded his arms over his chest and twisted his lips in a
doubt-filled frown.
“You don’t see it, do you?” Jodie asked.
He shrugged. “Convince me.”
“Betrayal and forgiveness. It’s just a theory, mind you. But it works. All of our bounties were somehow involved in or victims of betrayal. I committed suicide because I thought my boyfriend betrayed me. Luc was murdered. That in itself says betrayal, don’t you think?
”
“Logical, but I need more.
Link the bounties for me.”
F
or God’s sake
. Fingers scrubbing her scalp, she paced the narrow room. “Try to follow along, if you can,” she snapped. “Kristin Esterby died of pneumonia. Before her illness, she gave birth to a daughter. A daughter she was forced to relinquish to a servant to keep her social status.”
“The child’s father?”
“Not in the picture, but she mentioned he wasn’t an appropriate man. I didn’t think to pursue the topic at the time. Kristin’s real hold on life was her daughter. I believe her greatest worry was making sure her greedy siblings didn’t get their paws on her little Rebecca.”
“
Okay. A stretch, but not so far the band will snap.” His fingers flitted in the air, an irksome prompt that sent her molecules skittering. “Next.”
Tamping down her annoyance, she began to traverse the carpet, p
acing miles of ruts into the already pitted nap. While she walked, she outlined each bounty and the links they held to the ideals of betrayal and forgiveness. From Taylor Finch and the thief who attempted to steal his life’s work to Jacob Eihler and the student who gunned him down after being stood up at the school dance. She linked Michael Samuels through his mother, who had imprisoned the child in an asylum where their cruel and bizarre treatment methods eventually killed him. Poor Amanda Kroger was betrayed twice: first by the man who’d promised to love and cherish her, and then by a justice system that refused to see how her desperate need for escape drove her to such drastic action. Tito Alexander betrayed his girlfriend’s trust and couldn’t forgive his error in judgment. Tim Regan had fled to a church to seek forgiveness.
“Finally, we have Phillip Lange who was murdered by his wife to collect on his life insurance policy.” She turned in mid-stride and flashed him a victorious smile.
“Voila. Betrayal and forgiveness—or the lack thereof. Fits every single case.”
“Loosely,” Sean admitted. “But for lack of any better scenario, let’s run with your idea for now.”
“Wow,” Jodie retorted flatly. “Your enthusiastic vote of confidence underwhelms me.” Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. To think she used to consider Sean more reasonable than Luc! Well, no more. In fact, she ought to get down on her knees and thank the Board for not saddling her with a partner who played devil’s advocate for his own blasé amusement.
Sean’s
laughter reawakened the prickles in her frazzled synapses. “You must drive Luc crazy.”
“
Yeah,” she retorted, slipping onto the closest stool. “Wacky hijinks ensue every night. Are you going to help me or not?”
“No wonder the Board paired you up. You’re so well-matched, I’d swear you were two halves of the same whole.”
She was so not in the mood for bullshit. “Did you moonlight for Hallmark in your spare time?”
The smirk
faded while he shook his head. “You don’t realize how special what you guys have is, do you? You think the heart-stopping melds, the mind-to-mind communication, the partnership in general, is something
every
spirit here receives?” He straightened to his full height, towering over her. “Fuhgeddaboudit. Let me tell you something, sunshine. I don’t know
why
the Board decided to hook you up with Luc, but what you two have is rarer than dinosaurs walking among us.”
“
Really?” Her hands shot to her hips. “What exactly do you think we have?”
“
I haven’t the faintest idea.” His smile widened, and he eased forward, more casual now, eyes dancing with delight. “But I’m pretty sure you know.”
Chapter 31
Yeah, she did know. Or at least Jodie had a pretty strong suspicion. But she’d be damned if she’d share that information with Sean Martino, Ace Detective. Not until she gained the opportunity to express her feelings to Luc. First, of course, she’d have to find him. Dammit. She had no idea where to look, barely enough energy to stand upright, and now Sean’s mind games only continued to delay her from her goal. She didn’t have time for nonsense.
“You know what?
You’ve been a big help. So thanks a bunch.” Calling up the last dregs of activity in her circuits, she stood, strode past him and yanked open her door. “If you’d be kind enough to leave my room now, I have to consider my next move.”
“You don’t have the energy to
make another move.” Inching closer, he cupped her jaw to tilt her eyes toward the overhead light. “In fact, I’m surprised you’re still standing at all. You need sleep, honey-pie. Bad.”
She jerked away and stumbled against the counter.
“I can’t sleep. I have to find Luc.”
His
steely gaze stabbed right through her pretense. “You have to recharge first, Jodie. No way in hell you’ll make it far with your current energy levels. And I’m guessing wherever Luc went isn’t in this realm.”
The realization splashed over her like ice water. “Earth? You think he went back to Earth?
What makes you say that?”
“Because I’d imagine if he were anywhere in the realm of the Afterlife, you’d be able to reach him psychically.”
Oh, yeah. With everything else to worry about, she’d forgotten about that psychic communication link. Sleep-deprived fog crept into her brain, and she shook her head to find a clear thought. “But why Earth?”
Sean shrugged.
“Unless you think someone here betrayed him.”
“
You think he went to confront whoever killed him? Why? I mean, why now? Luc has always said he had no reason to go back to Earth.”
Sean’s expression turned smug.
“Was that before or after you told him about Karmic Justice?”
Score one for the ace detective.
He leaned one
hand against the door jamb, creating a wall between her and the only exit. “Look, Jodie, believe it or not, I do want to help. Luc’s a friend and if he’s in trouble…” On a slow shrug, he sighed. “I want to help.”
“Yeah?” She folded her arms over her chest.
The effort nearly spilled her into the carpet, and she quickly gripped the counter to stay upright. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Meld with me, Jodie.”
She snapped to attention, back rigid against the counter. “What?!”
“Relax.
” Sean waved a hand in dismissal. “Melding with me won’t be anywhere near as intimate as what you and Luc share.” He waggled his brows. “At least I don’t think so.”
“
That does it.” She shot a hand at the door. “Get out!”
“Oh, for Chrissake!” In one swift motion, he grabbed her hand and slapped it flat against his chest, directly over his heart.
Power surged into her in a fusion of electricity and atomic energy, heating her aura and rejuvenating her lagging spirits. Thank God, Sean hadn’t lied about this experience differing from her melds with Luc. Throughout the procedure, she never lost her sense of self. Her nerve endings tingled and sparked to life, but without the shooting star sensation and the desperate, all-consuming need Luc created inside her. In fact, Jodie remained firmly planted to the floor as the waves of heat warmed her chilled insides and awakened her to full alert status in no time at all. Which, considering time didn’t exist here but kept running on Earth, still gave Luc a helluva head start on her.
On a gasp, Sean pushed her away, breaking contact. “Go now,” he huffed
, bent at the waist. “Find Luc and bring him home where he belongs.”
~~~~
Outside the Frank E. Campbell Funeral Home, Matt paused at the curb. Luc hovered directly behind him, unnoticed. Amber street lights reflected off a puddle, enhancing Matt’s muddy aura. In fact, every aspect of Matt’s celestial appearance came through to Luc as filthy, black, and ice-cold. Perhaps, Luc saw him that way out of bias—painting him bleak and dark because he now knew his former friend’s dirty secret.
Seconds later, a black stretch limo glided to a stop in front of them both.
Well, well. Moving up in the world, eh, Matty-boy? My death certainly improved your standard of living, didn’t it?
The uniformed
driver stepped out, ran around the rear of the car, and opened the passenger door. Gloved fingers touching his cap, he intoned on a slight bow, “Mr. Cooper?”
“
Adam…” Matt replied in greeting as he slid across the leather interior.
Before Adam the limo driver swung the door closed, Luc darted inside and settled himself opposite his one-time friend. “Hello, Matt.”
Not surprisingly, Matt didn’t hear and didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a small yellow vial with a black rubber cap.
Luc’s jaw dropped.
“Goddamn it! I thought you gave that shit up years ago.”
After all the times Luc had bailed this sorry coke-hound out of a jam, culminating in the fiasco in El Salvador
… How could he have been so stupid? So blind to what occurred under his nose? Or at least, under Matt’s nose?
As the powder flew up Matt’s nostril, a sharp sting pierced Luc’s brain. His eyes watered, and he closed them against the needles of pain. When he opened them a
gain, his vision focused clearly on Matt. But this was a Matt he didn’t recognize. Or did he?
Familiarity crawled up his spine, an army of tarantulas
leaving shivers where every fuzzy leg touched. Fine hairs danced on his nape as Luc got his first peek into Matt’s black soul. A soul Luc had first naively befriended in New York. When the colony was called New Amsterdam.
With a burst of clarity, he saw how many times their lives had intersected, and the results of each relationship.
In the first incarnation, Luc saw himself as Erick Hamburg, blissfully happy in his marriage to the joyful, beautiful Greta. Until Proctor Verhoeven spun his web of evil around them both.
Never before had Luc seen that particular life, how he’d allowed the minister’s supposed piety to tear him from his wife’s side when she needed him most.
But, oh the viciousness of the proctor’s actions resonated, dragging bile into Luc’s throat. Simple-minded, superstitious Erick said nothing when the villagers arrested his lovely wife for practicing witchcraft, turned a blind eye when she was sentenced to be burned at the stake, and stood beside the proctor on that fiery morning.
Erick
watched his wife die, taking no action on her behalf, believing solely in his reward at heaven’s gate. But within hours of her death, remorse overtook him. Greta’s screams of agony haunted him for the rest of his days, which thankfully didn’t last long. Erick Hamburg died of typhus the following winter.
Luc
vividly recalled his next encounter with this vile snake from his past life review with Placide: the tragedy of Nathan Bledsoe and his beloved Christine. Once again, Luc placed his faith in a traitorous man rather than in the loyal woman he loved, a devastating error in judgment that caused his stomach to pitch now on waves of torment.
But
peering inside Matt’s soul, Luc now saw the truth. Just as with Daphne, he’d placed the blame upon the wrong head. Christine had never received his last letter, had never known her betrothed planned to hurry home to her. Stephen had intercepted the missive and turned it over to his British contacts for a handful of silver. Exactly like Judas.
Nathan’s last thoughts
before his death resonated inside Luc’s head:
May God visit a painful end to Christine Grainger’s days!
R
iding in the back of a twentieth century limousine, Luc watched what had happened after Nathan’s death on that bleak February morning. Corporal Ruskin brought the news to Christine. She broke, like crockery shattered on the floor, into a million raw pieces, shards of screaming pain. Ruskin seized the opportunity to swoop in on the devastated woman and declare his passion for her. But Christine, shocked and disgusted, spurned Ruskin’s advances. She tossed him from her house, swearing to all in the county who might hear that she’d never love another the way she’d loved her Nate.
Hours later,
after the servants had snuffed the last candle and the family slept peacefully, Ruskin returned and lit a torch to the Grainger home. Wood and straw caught in an instant, engulfing the house in flames and thick black smoke. Blinded by tears and darkness, Christine managed to crawl from the wreckage. The rest of her family wasn’t so fortunate. They perished in the blaze. And poor Christine, Nate’s beautiful Christine, suffered agonizing burns which left horrid scars on her once perfect face, her soft hands, her delicate feet. Scars that stayed with her until the day she died, a spinster, alone and penniless, weeping for her lost Nathan.
Watching her upon her deathbed,
in her dimming eyes, Luc saw all the truth he needed. Her eyes had haunted him over generations. Her fathomless eyes of deep oceanic blue, always filled with softness and compassion, allowed the world to see her great capacity for love.
Nathan
/Erick/Luc could never erase the memory of those eyes or the burn scars she carried from one lifetime to the next and to the next.
All the way to the Afterlife where she wore them like her own badge of courage, her personal reminder to hold on no matter how tough the situation.
For Greta Hamburg was Christine Grainger. And Christine Grainger was Jodie Devlin.
His one
true love. His perfect match. His soulmate.