Harrison Investigations 2 Ghost Walk (37 page)

Then mere was the sound of thundering footsteps from all directions. In the swirl of fog, he saw a dark-clad figure running back in the direction from which he had come—toward Nikki's hiding place.

He pulled his Smith & Wesson and got to his feet, following. He dodged between the crypts and sarcophagi, angels, cherubs, broken stone and masonry, damning himself. He had known that something was going to happen. Come hell or high water, he should have found a way to keep Nikki out of the cemetery. How in God's name anyone could know she was hidden in a crypt…

Tom Garfield was ahead of him.

And ahead of Garfield was a figure, staring into the tomb where Brent had left Nikki and Julian. And he had a gun.

A gun that was aimed into the tomb.

A series of shots from the rear wall of the graveyard sounded, sharp like the bark of thunder in a fierce storm, exploding in the night.

The figure paused briefly, but not for long. It took aim again.

"Stop!" Brent shouted.

The figure turned.

"Put down your weapon."

The figure took aim at Brent.

With no other choice, Brent fired. He aimed for the wrist. And he aimed true. The gun went flying.

But before the figure could do more than scream in agony, another shot was fired in the night.

From behind Brent.

Nikki's would-be assassin fell to the ground. Even as he did so, sirens sounded in the night, so loud that the noise seemed to dispel the mist. Brent looked behind him. In the fading mist, he could see the shooter. The gun was pointed at him now.

He lifted his own weapon again.

"Drop it," came the command.

Brent held his ground, blinded in the night.

"FBI! Drop it!"

"Haggerty?"

"I just saved your life. Now drop your weapon."

Footsteps pounded behind Haggerty.

"Blackhawk? That you?"

It was Massey, shouting.

"Yeah, it's me."

He lowered his weapon. Haggerty did the same. "God above us," Haggerty swore. "It's not bad enough you two clowns are running around in here, we have to bring in the Indian ghost buster, as well. Shit. You ruined it. Ruined the sting. You guys keep out of my way from now on, do you hear? And the fuckin' paperwork is yours, too!" Haggerty bellowed in disgust. He turned and walked away, disappearing in the mist.

Both Massey and Joulette pounded quickly toward Brent. "You all right?" Joulette asked.

"I'm fine. The one in front of me…"

Nikki. Nikki and Julian…

Brent broke off and hurried to the mausoleum, throwing open the iron gates. His heart leaped into his throat and lodged hard.

There was no one there.

 

Nikki fell over the wall, right behind Julian. He caught her, breaking the distance to the sidewalk.

"This is insane. This is all insane," he said. He glared at her. "Nikki, for the love of God, what the hell are you into? You know, I like Blackhawk, but he's a wacko, and he's dangerous. What in God's name was going on in there? We could have been shot!"

Nikki stared at Julian. "I told you not to come."

The sound of another siren tore through the night.

"Let's get the hell out of here before we wind up involved in all this."

"We are involved," Nikki protested.

"No, we're not. We're outside the cemetery."

"Brent is in there somewhere."

"And you think he can't take care of himself? He's like this with the cops." Julian raised his hand, showing entwined fingers.

"Julian, someone's shooting in there and—"

"And we're lucky as hell the guy about to kill us was shot, and that we were able to escape unseen. Nikki, if we go back in, if we get involved, what would we do? What would we say? You had a feeling that you needed to go to the cemetery. You talk to ghosts. Oh, they're going to believe that. We'll wind up under arrest ourselves, if we're not killed first. Nikki, please, let's get away from here."

"Julian, I can't just walk away while Brent is in there."

"There are a million cops in there."

"And it sounded as if there were a million shots fired. How do I even know he's all right?"

"Because he is who he is," Julian said, and his voice sounded just a touch bitter. "He'll be fine. I'm willing to bet he's CIA or FBI or some kind of alphabet-agency person. He's tough as nails. He'll be fine."

"I can't leave him."

Julian stared at her for a minute in exasperation. Another police car went past them, its lights flashing, its siren blaring. He grabbed Nikki, dragging her into the shadows.

"I've got it," he said.

"What?" she demanded.

He reached into his pocket.

 

"Blackhawk!" Massey called. "What the hell are you doing?"

Brent shoved past Massey, anxiously scanning the nearby crypts. His veins felt as if they were filled with ice.

"Blackhawk?"

He barely heard Massey speaking. "Nikki!"

There was no answer. He started to run down the nearest path, searching the shadows and mist, shouting her name.

"Blackhawk?" Massey was chasing him.

Brent stopped dead. Huey was standing before him. "They got out of here, Injun boy. Jumped the fence."

"What?"

"Blackhawk, what the hell… are you talking to me?"

"She got out of here. It's all right," Huey said.

"Blackhawk, sweet Jesus, but you're giving me the willies."

Staring at Huey, knowing he was hearing the truth, Brent felt such a surge of relief that he nearly sank to the ground.

"She's all right," he murmured, closing his eyes. "I was so afraid that I'd find corpses!"

"There
are
corpses. Three of them," Massey thundered. "What in God's name are you doing?"

At that moment, Brent's pocket vibrated. He reached for his cell phone.

"Nikki?"

To his relief, he heard her voice.

"We're outside, Brent," she said quickly. "Julian thinks we should get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. He says we don't know anything. But I had to make sure you were all right."

"I'm fine."

"What should I do? I wouldn't know what to say to the police. They already think I'm crazy. They must
really
think you're crazy, but at least you're 'officially' crazy—sorry, an official of some kind who's crazy—and… oh, God, you are all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Blackhawk," Massey protested. "Are you listening to me? We've got three corpses in the cemetery. We've got hours and hours' worth of paperwork, and you'd better have some kind of explanation for all this. And what are
you
doing? Romancing your girl on the phone."

"I'm fine, Nikki. Listen, go—" He paused, in an agony of indecision. He was almost positive that Julian was innocent of any wrongdoing. He would be willing to bet that neither Patricia nor Nathan was involved, either.

The problem was, there wasn't going to be just one guilty party in this.

And he didn't know just who
was
involved, or how deeply.

"Go to the police station, Nikki. Tell Julian to walk you there, and if he doesn't want to hang around, he can go home. Just tell them you're waiting for me, all right?"

"You're going to be here for hours," Massey told him.

"Fine," Brent snapped back at Massey, who began swearing.

"Let's go," Massey said.

"Go to the police station, Nikki," Brent repeated.

"All right," she told him.

And they hung up.

Brent turned and stared at Massey. "Three corpses?"

"Yeah, we had help tonight," he said dryly. "Haggerty. Well, hell, none of them got away, anyway."

"Who are they? Do we know any of them?" Brent demanded.

"How the hell do I know? We haven't gotten the ski masks off the stiffs yet," Massey said. "Let's go. The ME is on his way. Oh, man, this is going to be bad."

 

At the station, Nikki and Julian were told that they had to sit and wait.

Hours passed.

Julian grew so restless that he was annoying. His phone rang countless times, and he winced every time.

"Why don't you just answer?" Nikki demanded.

"Because she might figure out where I am and come here," Julian said.

"You've got to deal with it," Nikki told him.

He sighed. "Yeah, I know. How do I get into these things?"

"By being cute and irresistible?" Nikki suggested.

He glared at her and began to pace. "Man, we're a pair, aren't we? You're into a guy who sees ghosts, and I… man, I used to think I was all that. Then I met the nympho of the century. Nikki, do we have to wait here forever? What if we went to Harrah's or something? Someplace safe?"

"Brent said to wait here."

"It's going to be morning soon."

"And when it is, I'll just call Max and tell him that he's got to deal with his own business for a day, because I'm going to sleep. And I'm giving you the day off, too. How's that?"

"Great," he said, taking a chair again.

The desk sergeant gave him an aggravated look.

It didn't quell Julian, who was quickly up again, pacing.

"Can I go to your house?" he asked plaintively.

"Go," she told him.

He sat again.

She stared at him, and he sighed. "No, I'm not going to leave you here alone. We'll wait. We'll just wait."

 

Two men were dead by the wall. Brent was certain that he'd never seen either of them before. Naturally, they carried no identification.

The third corpse, the one by the tomb—the one who had been taking aim right where Nikki and Julian had been hiding—was just as much a stranger.

Massey swore.

"A shoot-out, and all three of the perps dead. This is not good, not good. There's going to be some serious explaining to do. The higher-ups are going to be going crazy."

"I shot this one," Brent said. "In the
hand
."

"You sure?"

"They can check the bullets," Brent told him.

Massey shook his head. "I went after the two coming in from the rear after I heard the first shot. Joulette was right behind me. I don't know if I killed one of the other two or not. They started firing away at us, and I fired back."

"Well, this one was killed by Haggerty," Brent said. "And ballistics will prove that."

"Haggerty was right behind us, but I couldn't say what he was doing. I warned him, but they were already firing at us. Who knows if he heard me." He swore again.

Brent kept silent but clenched his teeth. "We should have gotten some answers from these guys," he said. "They shouldn't all be dead."

"We've got answers," Joulette said, walking tiredly toward him. "There's a stash of drugs in the oven tombs that you wouldn't believe. Apparently this has been a dispersal point."

"Well, I guess that's it then," Massey said. "This is what Tom Garfield was on to. This is why he died. He got in with these guys somehow, and then they made him, knew he was an agent, and that's why he died."

"That's not it. Or not all of it. Come on, Massey."

Brent protested. "There was something wrong with Tom Garfield when he was in Madame's that morning."

"One of these guys must have been around," Massey said.

Brent shook his head. "That's not the end of it, and you know it. No one shot him up with heroin in the middle of Madame's," Brent said.

"No, but… someone could have slipped him something at Madame's, enough to mess him up. Then they got him out of the Quarter, shot him up and dumped him," Joulette said.

"And how does that explain Andrea Ciello?" Brent demanded.

Massey swore. Joulette looked down at his feet. "Maybe we'll have something when we get identities on these guys."

"So you believe there is a connection?" Brent demanded. "And that we're not done, that finding these guys isn't the end of it?"

Joulette looked at Massey. "No. Right after you were in today, we got a report. Andrea Ciello's place was torn apart."

"What?" Brent said sharply.

"It looked like a robbery, except that our fellows don't think that it was. Nothing obvious was missing. We figured we'd get Nikki DuMonde in tomorrow, find out for sure. But there was too much valuable stuff still left there."

"So someone was searching for something," Brent murmured.

"That's what it looks like," Joulette agreed. "Anyway, let's get to work. We need to finish up here, leave it to the crime scene team, and get the paperwork done." He sounded exhausted and despondent. "Dead, dammit. All dead."

"Rather them than us," Massey said, trying to sound more optimistic.

"Yeah, well, there's that. But this isn't going to look good," Joulette said.

"You did make a major drug bust," Brent pointed out.

"And how are you going to explain it?" Massey asked. "The papers will have a heyday with it. 'Psychic warns police on drug deal.'"

"How about we don't tell the papers mat?" Brent said. "Tell them that you talked to the girl who'd been attacked, and that your conversation led you to believe it was more than just vandals or schoolkids pulling pranks?"

"The reporters and the television crews are already assembling," Joulette said. "This mess isn't going to look good for Harold Grant. It will be like, wow, look at the city under him."

"It depends what spin you put on it," Brent said. "Look at what the police officers did during his term. It could give him a boost. Go make your statement. I'll meet you at the station," Brent told him.

Joulette looked at Massey, who shrugged. "What about Haggerty ? What if he gives some kind of a statement, too? Knowing him, he'll claim he was the one who caught up with these guys."

"Hey, he didn't want to be in on the paperwork. He doesn't get to be in the papers," Joulette said. "Blackhawk, you know a way out of here… ?"

"You bet," Brent said.

 

Brent was glad of the time it took to walk from the cemetery to Royal Street. It was time to think. Oddly enough, though it was sad to see anyone dead, it wasn't the fact that the drug dealers had been killed in the cemetery that disturbed him the most.

It was the knowledge that Andrea Ciello's place had been ransacked.