Ghostsnaps (Knead to Know Book 4) (12 page)

Baker led me out without another word. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all as we headed away from the shop. It took almost ten blocks before I knew where we were headed. We were going to the house I inherited when Baker died. It looked pretty much the same as it did in my own time, only newer.

“I swear that wasn’t my fault,” I said, when I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I rushed to keep up with his long strides as they ate up the sidewalk. “I tried to not even speak to him, but the creep kept after me. I could have hit him or something and knocked him out, but I thought that might cause a scene. Hitting him with the vase seemed like the easier fight to explain.”

Baker looked over at me with a sudden smile. “I’m not complaining, baby. You’re the bees knees as far as I can see.”

“Really?” A rush of relief cascaded over me. “You aren’t angry that I’m completely turning your life upside down? I really don’t mean to.”

“Nah,” Baker said. “It makes life more interesting. Not to mention, given the trouble I already have from all corners, this is hardly worth acknowledging. Don’t think on it again.”

“Have I mentioned that I have really missed you, Baker?” I took hold of his arm, slowing his pace to something my much shorter legs could keep up with.

“Once or twice, but feel free to tell me again.”

Baker knocked on the glass paneled wooden door again, and we waited for Professor Floyd Clifford to answer. According to the department secretary, we were smack in the middle of his office hours, but we had been standing in the hallway for at least five minutes without a peep from inside.

“Maybe he’s not here. If professors today are anything like they are in the future, maybe he’s running late or not coming at all.”

Baker glanced at his watch then back at the door. “You’re probably right. Want to try again tomorrow?”

It had taken a good hour to drive out here. I didn’t want to have to sit through that again. “Wait here,” I said.

I went back down the hallway to the secretary’s desk. “Professor Clifford seems to have forgotten about office hours again,” I said with a smile.

She laughed. “Between you and me and this plant here, he misses more of them than he makes. You might find him in the lab.” She looked up the room number and wrote it down on a slip of paper for me. “Good luck.”

Baker and I found the lab without any trouble. I knocked softly and turned the door handle. Unlocked. Inside a cramped, slightly messy room, the man I’d seen running away from Josephine’s house in my vision was hunched over a table filled with books and maps. He looked up, and I noted his hair and brown suit were rumpled.

“May I help you?” He nudged his round, wire-framed glasses higher on his nose and studied us, but stayed hunched over his books.

“We’re friends of Josephine Quinn,” I said.

He straightened fully and turned toward me. “How do you do? What may I help you with?”

I glanced at Baker. I wasn’t exactly sure where to go with this. I could hardly ask if he intended to kill her on May first. “Um, we’re interested in ley line research. She said you might be able to help us.”

“Really?” he asked with a pleased expression. “I’m not sure I can offer you anything she couldn’t, but I’ll try. What sort of questions do you have?”

“Um.” I licked my lips, my mind blank. Nothing came to me except whether or not ley lines could be used for time travel and that seemed like a good way to get kicked out.

“Could ley lines be used to predict events to come?” Baker asked when it was clear I wasn’t going to speak.

“Actually, that’s what I’m contemplating right now—going over some notes Josephine sent me a while back on her experiments. While I doubt the two are connected, I’m interested in her methodology. If you look throughout history, ley lines have always been an influence. At least in theory. There is no way to empirically prove any of this.” He waved us over. “You see these energy paths are believed to have existed and influenced even prehistoric structures, but not all of them line up. They have influenced everything from roads to religious monuments. However, to the naked eye there’s nothing there. Are people drawn to the areas on a cellular level or a spiritual level? It’s all quite intriguing. Are you familiar with Josephine’s research?”

“Intimately,” I said.

“Good, good.” He pushed his glasses up again. “She theorizes that this particular line running through her house,” he dug through a pile of maps until he produced one of Chicago and pointed to a line intersecting Josephine’s street, “has been there long before Chicago existed. Because of that, she believes the same line will be here well into the future and that by tapping into that energy, she should be able to speak to people who have not even been born yet. Naturally, she hasn’t had significant results, but she has opened the field up to a much wider view.”

I glanced at Baker. This wasn’t a man who sounded like he wanted Josephine dead, but Baker was focused on the map and what he was saying.

“Now back to your question, if you used her theory and positioned police officers along these older more stable lines, it is possible some horrible tragedies could be avoided. However, just like all structures were not built on ley lines, all crime doesn’t take place along them either.”

“But large events do?” Baker asked.

The Professor nodded. “Some of them do.”

Baker’s finger followed the line that traveled through Josephine’s house and my bakery on the other side of the city, his frown deepening. “Do you know anyone who would wish Josephine harm? Anyone who might not like the research she is doing?”

“What? No. Most people don’t believe a word of any of this. It’s a new field of study and widely speculative at the moment. I only work on it in my free time. Why? Has something happened to Josephine?”

I shook my head. “She is absolutely fine. There have just been a few strange occurrences that we’re concerned about.”

He nodded, worry lining his face. “If there is anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

We showed ourselves out.

“Are you sure you heard a gunshot?” Baker asked.

“It sounded like one to me. Why?”

“That cat in there hasn’t shot anyone—and never will. What if we’re looking at this whole thing the wrong way?”

It was possible of course, but I didn’t see how. “Well, let’s go over it again. I was standing in the house and there was a party. I saw Jeanette talking to people and I saw Josephine sneak into the office with a worried expression. Then everything lowered—the music and what not—and I heard what sounded like a gun shot. Seconds later, Professor Clifford raced from the room and out of the house.”

Baker nodded. “What did the newspapers say?”

“There was blood, but they never found a murder weapon or a body.”

“Then she might not have been shot. There are other things that could make a similar noise, could leave blood . . . and obviously the professor was there that night, but I know people and that man is not a killer. I’m a killer. You’re a killer, but he’s not.”

My mouth fell open. “I’m not a—”

Baker opened the car door for me. “Don’t play innocent. I’ve seen it in your eyes. With Al, with Frankie B. You’re a dangerous woman, Maggie Edwards—my favorite kind.”

I snapped my mouth closed and focused on the window. I couldn’t actually deny it. I had killed people. Bad people, but still people. It was how I fed, though my control had been good enough lately that I hadn’t had many slips. “I don’t like hurting people,” I finally said.

“You don’t have to like it to be capable of it. And that you are.”

I nodded. “Back on topic, what besides a gun do you think was used?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have a clue, but I do know she’s messing with magic she doesn’t have any business messing with and she isn’t even aware of it.”

“Is it possible she’s a witch and knows full well?”

“It’s more than possible. It’s damn likely and who knows what sort of attention her activities attracted? Could be other witches, a demon, anything. And the fact her body was never found? What if, to connect with your time, she opened her home and herself to something malevolent? These ley lines aren’t just energy sources. They also attract trouble. I know that because the same one that runs through her house also runs through the flower shop.” He gave me a look out of the corner of his eye. “You said O’Banion is going to die. Is that where he is killed?”

“I think so.” Something about that sounded right, but I wasn’t completely up on my mafia history. The only event I actually knew about was the St. Valentine’s Day massacre, but I couldn’t actually say where it took place other than it was in a parking garage. “There are a lot of bad times coming up for your friends,” I said. “Al Capone pretty much takes over the city.”

Baker nodded. “Speaking of that, we need to come up with a solution to our information problem.” I gave him a questioning look. “I think you’re right. I know too much. I nearly warned O’Banion someone was gunning for him. We have to figure out how to get what you’ve told me out of my head before you leave. How many traits do you share with vampires?”

It was pretty clear what he was hoping for, but unfortunately it wasn’t quite in my wheelhouse. “I’m not very good at compelling. I tried once and it went horribly wrong. The man I tried to help went briefly insane.”

Baker laughed. “Through no fault of your own?”

“I was trying to make things better.” I shook my head unable to laugh with him. I still felt really bad about Garret. Thank goodness Holden was around to help or he probably would have been institutionalized.

Baker shook his head. “I’ll help you. We’ll take it slow.”

The bouncy ride jarred me up and down until it felt like my teeth might rattle, but I didn’t care. We still weren’t any closer to figuring out how to get me home or save Josephine. If anything, all today did was reveal more possibilities of who could be the killer. And now I had to wipe Baker’s memory or jeopardize the entire future as I knew it. Why did nothing ever go as I planned?

“I should never have come back here,” I said under my breath.

“I’m glad you did,” Baker said. “Even if I can’t remember you after you leave, I’m glad I got to know you. You give me hope that the future is going to work out just fine.”

I stared at him for a moment. “But you die.”

He smiled. “I’ve died more times than I can count. What I haven’t done is come back to a real family and that sounds like what I get this next time. There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more than that. Don’t mourn me, Maggie. Trust me. If Holden and Olivia are half the people you say they are, I’m happier than I ever have been. Don’t be sad for me.”

I smiled a little to myself. I hadn’t considered anything but the loss. Sure, I knew he was back and in good hands with Olivia and Holden, but all I could selfishly think about was how he wasn’t there with us now. Instead he was trapped as a chubby baby with the same grin, only toothless. But after thousands of years of not knowing what life you would fall into next, it had to be a relief to know that the next one was going to be a good one.

So long as I didn’t mess it up for him.

****

At 1:30 on the nose, Baker softly knocked on the front door where Josephine and I were waiting for him. He wanted to watch her open the mirror to the future with his own eyes. We had all agreed that my chances of being seen were better now than later in the month as the moon was shrinking. She went through the ritual exactly like she had before, and I once again climbed through the mirror and crossed the hazy world to my bakery. The now-familiar faint music played.

The café was empty, but voices carried from the kitchen. I pushed my way through the there-but-not-there space and entered the kitchen. Phoenix and Izzy—who looked madder than I had ever seen her—were arguing by the oven.

“I want to know where Maggie is,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I told you. She had an emergency. I’m covering for her while she is away.”

“What type of emergency?”

“Family,” he said smoothly—and I cringed.

“Aha!” Izzy shouted. “She doesn’t have any family and even if she did, she would have told me before she left.”

Phoenix rolled his eyes to the ceiling and touched Izzy’s hand. “Maggie did tell you she had an emergency and that she’d be back as soon as she could. I’m helping with the bakery until she returns. Now you are extremely tired and want to go to bed.”

He released her and Izzy immediately yawned. “Poor Maggie. I hope everything is okay. Do you think she’ll call and let us know how she is?”

He nodded. “I think she’ll get in contact with us as soon as she possibly can. At least she better.”

Izzy stretched. “Well, I’m beat. See you in the morning.”

He watched her go, then ran a hand hard over his face. He looked utterly exhausted as he traced his finger down the list of chores I’d given him before I left. I went to him, lightly touching the back of his hand. It stilled at once.

“Maggie?” he said, not moving a muscle. “Are you here?”

“Yes,” I said, but he didn’t hear me. I touched his hand again. It was the only thing I could do.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“Come on, Phoenix. Haven’t you ever watched a ghost hunting show? Yes or no questions. Set up the parameters. Something I can work with.”

His eyes stayed trained on the back of his hand. I touched it twice, hoping he would get the point.

He sighed. “Once for yes, twice for no.”

I grinned and touched his hand once.

“Can I help you?”

Once.

His jaw flexed. “Are you in 1923?”

Once.

“Are you in danger?”

Twice.

He blew out a slow breath. “I really wish you could just tell me what you want.”

I rested my hand against his cheek and he turned toward me. It felt like he was looking at me even though I knew it wasn’t possible.

“Maggie, you need to come home. You don’t belong there.”

“I’m trying.” I reached down to his hand and tapped once.

He lifted the hand I touched, holding it so his palm faced me. “Have you found Baker?”

I trailed my finger down his palm once.

Flames lit his eyes. “Is he going to help you?”

Once.