The Dead Tell (Magical Temptations Collection) (8 page)

Sammy sighed.  “Fine then, if you won’t talk about important stuff, then h
ow was it?”

“
For God’s sake, Sammy, we didn’t even come back to the bakery. We spent all afternoon and evening and night in bed. How the hell do you think it was?”

Sa
mmy just stared at her, then grinned and finally laughed. “Well, when you put it that way, the question does seem rhetorical. And I agree with Mike. You two are good together.”

“
Shut up.”

“
Never, doll. Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

“
Mike manages that just fine.”

“
And here I thought he kept you on your back most of the time.”

It was her turn to throw a muffin.

He waited, the light fading. He’d decided to use the evening twilight. It was perfect, gave a different glow to the area. Of course, this creation he’d taken to an old cemetery outside of the city. The funeral art here wasn’t as spectacular as some in the city, but there were a few mausoleums. He found he could take his time. He’d had to find a location that allowed him more time. So it had to have trees or some form of vegetation for him to hide. Great thing about these old small town cemeteries. They rarely had gates and if they did they weren’t the huge locking kind he found in the city.

The black
-streaked white marble almost glowed in the fading light. The car he’d rented sat parked near the gates. He’d told someone who’d stopped earlier he was researching his family lineage, and wanted a bit of time to explore the cemetery. The elderly lady had been all too happy to help him. Good thing he’d been out here yesterday to find the grave he wanted to use.

His dolls deserved
only the best.

Some might w
onder at using his dolls in such a macabre setting, but he liked the paradox of the innocence and the darkness. He
really
liked that. He also liked the fact he could make them up to look like whatever he wanted. He spent a lot of time looking at doll magazines. This latest one was special. He’d dressed her as a Harvey Girl. The hair had taken him longer than he’d thought it would. Another reason he was using the evening rather than the early morning—which he honestly preferred. It gave him more time to set up if he got there in the dark. Now he was racing against the fading light, but as far as that went, this shoot had been good.

Well, after the busybody had left him to find his family graves and to explore the cemetery.

This one was beautiful. Another brunett
e, long hair that had taken hours, yes, hours, to get just right in that pulled up knot. Of course, he’d had to touch it up when they’d gotten here and he’d set her up against the tombstone.

She sat, her pale skin alabaster in the deep
ening darkness, leaning against the tombstone. Her legs were bent and tucked under her simple black skirt, which contrasted well with the dying summer grasses. Her blouse almost billowed around her, sort of like her cloud of hair. Her head rested against the edge of the stone, her eyes closed, her makeup very light. Harvey Girls had not been allowed to wear makeup so he’d fudged there, but the light concealer was needed.

She was...
almost as perfect as the forties girl.

They were all perfect
—and imperfect—in their own ways. This one, luckily, had the longer clothing—hid her bruises better, since he’d rushed with her. She’d been a tempest, hadn’t she? He didn’t like hurting his girls.

The drugs though didn
’t work on her like they had the others.

As he was out and away from the city, he
’d brought his bellows camera and watched as the silver went to work with the acid, the photo of her slowly coming to life. He grinned, loving that process. There was just something about the old cameras, about the old ways.

He was born in the wrong century. He had to be so careful. So very
, very careful. If he wasn’t, he’d be caught and then he could never talk to her, see her again, tell her what he’d done—
for
her.

He saved all the photos he
’d taken. There was a reason; after all, he didn’t just want them for keepsakes. He needed them. To show her. But the time had to be right.

He had started to wonder what she
’d look like as a doll, but that was wrong. She was the reason he made the dolls.

He set the plate aside and wanted to w
ait for it to fully develop. As he waited, he took a few more shots with the digital.

Would she like them? Surely she would, they were the dolls to end all dolls. She deserved them.

They were perfect.

Soon, soon
, he’d share this all with her.

* * *

Paige jerked awake when a coldness shivered over her.
She lay there for a minute, felt the heat of Mike at her back.

He
’d been there for the last several days, barely letting her out of his sight. If he wasn’t around, then it seemed Sammy was, or one of the Riggio brothers. She had never liked being under a microscope. Too many years of people carefully watching her, of people wondering if she was seeing things, hearing voices, and whatnot.

When she’d mentioned it to Sammy, Sammy told her she was just paranoid.
No one was watching her.

S
he knew none of her friends were actually doing that but it felt that way. She knew they cared and worried. And from things Sammy had mentioned before, she got the feeling the Riggio family had their own secrets and their own brand of knowing things.

Might be why they were never shocked when Sammy blurted out at some family dinner years ago t
hat Paige talked to dead people. No one had shifted or shied away. Never asked her why she wasn’t on meds, or seeing a counselor.

They simply accepted
it, accepted her.

She often wondered if Sammy understood how precious that was.

Paige had never really told her friend how bad it had been for her when she was younger. Though Sammy probably wondered, maybe even knew, since Paige had alluded. She’d just never wanted to share it all.

Mike shifted and again the difference in his warmth and the cold of the room skimmed over her.

Not again.

“
Please, go away,” she whispered. “Not now.”

“
Now. Before. To come,” a voice whispered.

There was a sha
dow in the corner, or was there?

The voice she heard
, she knew she had, but to whom the voice belonged, she couldn’t tell.

“
Not now. Let me sleep.”
Please.

She heard a sigh and then the room warmed slightly.

But she lay there looking into the darkness. Was this another girl some man and killed and left in a cemetery, or was this a new ghost? One that belonged to the building?

No one had ever told her about the guilt. She
’d felt it before when she’d ignored the others, but never on this level. How did she deal with it? And
why
did she feel guilty? They were dead, not like she could change that fact. Didn’t she deserve a life free of
them
, at least for a few hours? Is this what it was always going to be like for her?

She’d gone so long without acknowledging the others, now that they were always there, she didn’t know what to do, how to help them more. How to get a moments peace.

Lately she was seeing them all the time, she hadn’t told Mike that.

There were the two
—possibly three?—women from the cemeteries.

But there was an old man as well. Who he was, she had no clue, but she saw him out of the corner of her eye on her way to the shop and when she walked home. She just ignored him.
And the young boy probably from the last century going by the clothes he wore.  There was also a girl she’d seen in the alley. They weren’t all connected to the first ghost though.

She
’d spoken with the first ghost that fateful morning and now look what happened. Every other girl the bastard killed followed the first right to her doorstep, or bedroom and invited more. She wanted to help them, she just didn’t know
how
, more than telling Mike when a new girl showed up that she
knew
was connected to his case.

She hadn
’t told Mike about the pop-ins. He might have an issue knowing the ghosts were watching at odd hours.

Not that she paid attention
to too much but Mike when he was around, but still. What if they
watched
?

Freaky.

Settling back against Mike, she wondered why her. Why did they keep coming to
her
? Why now? Were her defenses just down? Was there some sort of connection between her and the girls? Not that she knew, she’d tried. She’d learned the first two names and as far as she knew they had no connection to her. Sammy couldn’t remember them coming into the shop, though if they had, she didn’t know.

She
’d asked the first ghost and the second to see if they knew anything she could pass on. All they could tell her was that he took them, dressed them up, posed them, took photos. She’d been right when talking to Sammy as well. The more emotion they showed, or felt, the more solid they became. She’d told Mike what she’d learned, but knew it wasn’t anymore than the police already knew.

So w
hat was the man doing? Why dress and pose them?

Sort of like dolls, she supposed, which was creepy. She took a deep breath.
She’d always wanted dolls as a kid, and as a foster kid she didn’t get them.

So why was he
killing these women? Why were the women coming to her? Did they mean something to someone else and that was why he killed them? Maybe he just enjoyed the killing? Who knew?

* * *

Mike
felt Paige shift against him. “Why are you awake? It’s still too early for you to be up. Another dream?”

She shook her head.
“Just thinking.”

“
About what?” God, he was tired but he didn’t like her up and awake and worrying alone.

“
Why?”

“
Why what?”

“
Why does he do it? Why kill these women? Why the costumes he puts them in? I mean, for what purpose?”

“
Babe, he’s a crazy ass. Crazy asses don’t always need rational reasons, at least not our rational.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but he didn’t want her worrying on this. That was his job, not hers.

“
They might not be rational, but there are still reasons. There has to be.”

He grunted
and stared at the ceiling of her room. Paige hadn’t shut the blackout curtains, the lights from the neighbors and street slanted through the window.

“
I mean, one of the women said they were his creations. What is he creating? Have you searched for famous poses that match the women or something? Artwork? Old photographs or stories or dolls or something?”

“You told me about the photos and creations. We’ve looked.
” But as far as artwork or dolls, no, they hadn’t, actually. He frowned. “Not all those, but they’re good ideas. Hadn’t thought to look up old stories. Maybe local ones?”

The mayor and his
lieutenant were on his case. Well, not the mayor personally, but still he knew the mayor rode LT’s ass, thus his as well.

How to explain this one?
He could just say it came to him. Costumes, perfect makeup, the posing, which they’d already covered. Almost like dolls. Made sense. Photographs, stories, just another angle to cover.

“
I’ll check tomorrow.” He rubbed his chin in her hair. “Today. Whatever.”

She nodded.
“Why do they contact, connect to me? I mean there’s a lot of ghosts in the city and I’m seeing more, but these are...”

“
Contacting you, so why?” he asked her.

“
Yeah, that’s why I’m up. I don’t know if they are connected to me or not, or if they seek me out simply because I was dumb enough to talk to the first one.”

“
But was she the first one?”

It
was a thought he’d had several times. There was no way to know for sure. There was just his gut. Somewhere out there had to be other cases that would tie to this one. This guy had to have practice runs because these here were too smooth, too perfect for the bastard to have just started. He didn’t kill the women in the cemeteries, but dumped them, even if they were posed. He transported them after he killed them and left the women for others to find. His creations.

But where, that was the question.
They were already doing database searches, but he’d have to broaden the angle and see if anything popped.

Paige huffed out a tired sigh. He didn’t want her worrying about this to the point she couldn’t sleep.

“I think… I think there might be another one,” she whispered.

“What? Another one? Already?”
he said, rolling so he faced her, and turning her to face him.

“I don’t know for sure. I’m
…” She trailed off. “Never mind. I’ll tell you when I know for certain.”

“I’d rather you tell me when you’re also uncertain.”

“I don’t want to cry wolf.”

“Paige.”

Her breath sighed against his neck. “I’m seeing more ghosts and they’re not all tied to this, so I don’t know and she, or he, isn’t really… there. More a shadow. A cold shadow I see by not looking. I think it’s a she, but I don’t know if she’s tied to this or she’s just new.” She snorted. “That sounds so insane, but it’s the only way to explain it.”