Talking With The Dead Part 6

"She's trying, Tanya. She can't turn back time. He isn't leaving any clues. She can only do much," Mike said, trying not to let her sense his frustration.

Tanya's eyes closed. "I know. The girl's dead though. So am I. Can she stop him from doing it again?" Her image wavered, a certain sign of rising emotion.

"I don't know...that might be up to you."

Tanya's eyes flew open. "What can I do? d.a.m.n it, I'm stuck here. Here or at that d.a.m.ned cabin where he...where he..." Her voice faded away and her eyes looked stricken as she stared at him, her image wavering in and out of sight.

"Tell me who he is. Can you see him yet?"

She spun away from him. "No! I don't want to see him...he's just...just there! I can't-"

Michael sighed. Running a hand through his hair, he glanced at Daisy. She was staring at him, her eyes wide and apprehensive. She'd sensed something from Tanya. Tanya had pa.s.sed too close to her. The sheriff was a sensitive. She'd felt the cool touch of the deceased. He looked away from her pretty face and focused on Tanya. "It's okay-don't force it then."

Looking at Daisy, he said, quietly, "Come on. Lets go for a drive." Maybe he'd get lucky and just feel something lingering from the young girl's pa.s.sing. Daisy stared at him.

"We just went for a drive. Here. Now we're going for another one?" she demanded sarcastically. "What's with all the silent stares?"

Michael shook his head. "Nothing. There's nothing here right now."

"Nothing my b.u.t.t," Daisy snorted, propping her hands on her hips. Arching one elegant brow at him, she said, "What's going on?"

Michael repeated, "Nothing." He walked between the two women, one living, one caught between the world and what waited beyond. The cool icy touch of death grazed his flesh as Tanya's arm brushed his. On the other side, he felt the warmth of life and the sweet scent of Daisy's body flooded his head.

"Where are you going? I thought you came here to help."

"You're not ready to help me. I'll do it another way," he responded, trying unsuccessfully to block Daisy's scent from his head. She smelled too sweet.

"Where are you going?"

"We're leaving," he responded shortly. Too d.a.m.ned many voices in his head. "Nothing here right now."

"The h.e.l.l there isn't. I felt something-d.a.m.n it, you're the spookiest d.a.m.ned person I've ever met in my life. If you weren't talking to somebody then I'll eat my badge."

Michael stopped. Tanya circled around them, staring at him with shuttered eyes. "You're supposed to help me-isn't that why you can see me? But you're just going to leave. Why aren't you helping?"

"I will help you-when it's time." Turning away, he looked at Daisy. "Tanya's here. But she still can't help me. Can't help us. I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do until she's ready."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Tanya said angrily. "What in the h.e.l.l do you want from me?"

Daisy stared at him warily, watching as he looked off to the left. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Her mouth parted and she whispered, "The diner...d.a.m.n it, you were talking to somebody at the diner. d.a.m.n it, was there somebody you were talking to at the diner?"

Arching a brow, he asked levelly, "Did you see me talking to anybody at the diner?"

She scowled at him, her rosebud mouth puckering up as she replied snottily, "I didn't see you talking to anybody just now either, but I'd bet my next paycheck you were talking to somebody." She stood there, glaring at him in the moonlight with her hands fisted on her hips, her eyes glinting with temper.

And Michael suddenly had only one thing on his mind.

Kissing that scowl off her face.

Forget about the dead crying out for justice. Forget about the voices that had crowded his brain for far too long. Forget about the malevolent evil that darkened this small town.

He wanted to kiss her. It was the weirdest thing, too. Because Michael didn't forget about his responsibilities. He hadn't ever been able to silence the voices in his mind.

Her eyes flicked to his mouth and he heard her soft intake of breath. Taking a step, he heard a branch break under his foot. She spun away and he closed his eyes, muttering under his breath. You've lost your mind.

But another part of him said, This is the closest to sane you've ever been.

Turning away, he found himself staring at Tanya. Her gaze moved back and forth between him and Daisy, her pale, transparent features still full of fury. "You're just going to leave? There has to be something else you can do. How can you just leave?"

"Because until you are ready to help me, there's nothing I can do here," Michael told her as gently as he could. Then he walked away.

After a minute, he heard Daisy falling in step behind him.

You've lost your mind, Daisy told herself.

Had he almost kissed her?

Had she almost kissed him?

And d.a.m.n it, she was really disappointed when that kiss hadn't happened.

Murder investigation, h.e.l.l-O! she shouted at herself. She really needed to sit herself down and have a talk, explain the basic rules of common sense. The weird guy pa.s.sing through town wasn't the best guy to have a fling with-well, some people might argue he was the perfect guy for a fling. But Daisy didn't do flings. And if she did...well she just didn't. She was also a little busy trying to catch a serial killer before he killed one more woman. Definitely not the ideal time for any kind of romantic interlude.

A couple hours of good, hard, mind-blowing s.e.x might just clear your head and let you think better. Okay, that was her libido talking.

She needed some sleep, that was what she needed. Well, sleep or a self-induced o.r.g.a.s.m. Any of that might help a little. But instead of going home and telling tall, dark and strange here to get lost and come back when it was light out, they were out driving.

Stuck in a car with a man who did the weirdest things to her system. He made her skin buzz and at the same time, there was something about him that really, really freaked her out. He didn't talk, either. He just sat there, his hands resting on his thighs as he stared outside.

What in the h.e.l.l he was looking at, she didn't know. Where they were going? She didn't know that either. At least earlier there was a destination. He'd been talking to Tanya in the field. She knew he had been. Now though, she wasn't so sure what his game plan was. Driving down 402 when it wasn't even three in the morning wasn't how she had planned to spend her night.

"I should have made some coffee," she muttered. She pressed her fingers against her eyes and rubbed, but it didn't make it any easier to hold her eyes open.

"He picked her up here."

Daisy hit the brakes. "What?" she demanded. Turning on the overhead light, she looked at him, feeling a cold chill dance up her spine. His eyes were glowing again.

"He picked her up here," he said quietly, staring off into the darkness. "She was. .h.i.tchhiking. Wanted to go to Indianapolis-she'd never been. There was a play she wanted to see. Mom was afraid she'd get sick."

Daisy had absolutely no idea what to say. Swallowing, she shifted her gaze forward and realized she was still in the middle of the road. Easing the car to the shoulder, she shifted to park and turned the overhead light off. "Who is she? I can't do anything until I know she is."

He didn't hear a word she said. "She was walking-it was late, almost dark. She'd thought she'd get to town before it got dark. He pulled up and he just looked so safe...so normal."

Her palms were sweating. That icy cold sweat. Fear and rage clamored for equal footing inside her. Rage at whoever in the h.e.l.l was doing this in her town. Fear that it was happening...and with such apparent ease...

And she was also uneasy as h.e.l.l.

Michael O'Rourke was entirely too spooky. He didn't seem quite human. "Can you tell me something that will help me stop them?" she asked, her voice rough with emotion.

"She saw his face." He continued to stare out the window, but his voice seemed a little more focused, a little more there.

"You...you aren't talking to her, are you?"

He blinked and the glow faded from his eyes. A sad, but relieved smile curled his lips and he glanced at her. "No...no, she's gone. It's just-kind of like an echo."

"What's this about his face?" Daisy asked, closing her hands tightly around the steering wheel.

The smile that lit his face now wasn't sad, or relieved. It was downright mean. "She saw his face...I can't see him yet. But I'll know him."

Closing her eyes, Daisy thunked her head down on the steering wheel. "d.a.m.n it, shouldn't it be easier than this? Can't you just tell me who he is so I can go grab him?"

Michael started to laugh. "If you just go and grab him, even if I could tell you a name, you'd never be able to keep him. You're a cop, Daisy. Think like one. There has to be proof. He'll give himself away-when he does that, there's going to be proof."

Growling, she turned her head and glared at him. "Don't you think I've been looking for proof all this time? And while I wait, he'll grab another girl. If she died before he had his fun like you think, then he is going to be p.i.s.sed."

Through the shadows, she could just barely see his face. The dim glow coming from the dashboard didn't give off much light. She watched as he leaned his head back against the seat and sighed. "I don't think he's going to grab another right now. He's not p.i.s.sed-he's scared. Something has him scared."

Chapter Four.

Tanya hovered in the darkness, watching him. He had already methodically stripped the girl naked and right now, the clothes were burning away in the fireplace. Thanks to the gasoline he'd doused them in, there wouldn't be anything left of them but cinders and ashes.

Anger burned in the pit of her belly and frustration ate at her. Stuck here...stuck, trapped. Watching while he started to lift the still, pale body of the girl in his arms. Tanya didn't even know her name.

"They'll find you-why are you wasting your time?" When he jumped, it made her smile.

His hands were shaking as he pulled away from the girl and spun around. His eyes were wide and terrified as he searched the room. "Go away!" he rasped.

Tanya grinned evilly. "I can't. You trapped me here. I can't leave until I do something."

"Who in the f.u.c.k are you?" he screamed. His face was angry, florid and red.

She hadn't ever seen such emotion...Her heart stuttered in her chest as she found herself staring into his eyes. Nononono...not him. Not him.

Her fury exploded through her and she didn't realize she had moved until he started to scream when she flew through the air. Wind started to whistle through the room.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Her voice echoed through the room like a banshee's wail. She reached for him unconsciously and as she did, she saw his eyes move toward her hand and she realized he could see her.

She could see herself. Her hand was visible, pale and misty, transparent. But she could see it. Looking up, she met his eyes and knew that he saw her. Focusing the fury inside her, Tanya said to the man she had known all her life, "You son of a b.i.t.c.h-I'm going to haunt you for as long as you live."

He ran. Hard and fast. He was almost to town when reality settled in and he made himself slow down and suck his breath.

No. He hadn't seen her. She was dead. She screamed out his name, over and over, and then begged him to kill her. They always begged...his mind started to drift and a happy, dazed smile curled his lips as he remembered. The sound of their screams was such a sweet, erotic thrill.

Then a cold wind seemed to whisper over him and his smile faded. I'm going to haunt you for as long as I live. That voice, it wasn't like anything he'd ever heard, echoing around him, within him. She had come back. They didn't do that. They couldn't-d.a.m.n it, this was all wrong. It was her fault. That little b.i.t.c.h. Fury and terror welled inside him and he wanted to lash out, but he didn't know how. His newest little toy was dead. She'd died before he could even have any fun with her. And d.a.m.n it! She was still at the cabin-needed to get her out.

He started to turn and go back to get her.

No.

Memories of that face, that pale ghostly face rose in his mind and he knew he wouldn't go back. Not yet.

That face. Her eyes had been dark, too dark, like black pools in the pale circle of her face and she had screamed at him-it had sounded like death's war cry. He drove home, parking in the garage, but instead of climbing out, he just sat there for long moments.

"None of this is going right," he muttered, licking his lips. First that weird guy showed up in town. He didn't want changes. Changes weren't good right now. It hurt the status quo. Changes made the sheriff nervous and she was already nervous as h.e.l.l-plus she started looking at odd things the minute he showed up.

Then the girl died.

Then the voices coming from the dark.

Now her.

A ghost.

He laughed hysterically. Ghosts weren't real, right? How in the world could ghosts be real? He shoved a hand through his hair and finally climbed out of the car. He edged around the car and made his way through the tight confines of the garage to the house.

It was dark inside and quiet. He needed the silence. He wanted to sleep, needed the quiet. He almost headed for the bedroom. A short nap, maybe a quick shower, and it would clear his head. He could think again and decide what he was going to do.

One glance at the clock though told him he didn't have the time.

Almost time for his shift to start.

Michael came awake at the knock on the door.

His neck was stiff, his mouth was dry as cotton and his back hurt like h.e.l.l after falling asleep at the desk. Slowly, he stood up and stretched, trying to ease the kinks in his muscles. It didn't do much good.

"Yeah?" He wasn't going to open that door until he knew it was the innkeeper. That woman made the Bureau look soft when it came to interrogation. Mike wasn't going through the inquisition again.

"It's Daisy."

The sound of her soft, husky voice started a low burn deep in his gut. His c.o.c.k jerked a little and he pressed a hand against his fly. Just hearing her voice and he got hard. "Just a minute." He glanced at the computer. He'd b.u.mped the mouse when he woke up and the images on the Bureau's website glared at him. He wasn't working this case in any official capacity, but he'd hoped there might be something in the Bureau's database that might help.

He'd been logged out due to inactivity but he didn't want the pretty sheriff seeing him there. If he had something to tell her, maybe. He didn't want her worrying that a lot more feds were going to show up, in an official capacity, and start poaching.

Mike had spent most of the night checking databases, hoping to find something. But no luck.

He padded over to the door and m.u.f.fled a yawn. Shoving a hand through his hair, he opened the door. She looked a lot more awake than he felt, he thought tiredly. She held up a piece of paper but instead of looking at it, he just stared into her furious eyes. "She was fifteen. Fifteen."

Michael felt yet another crack etch itself into his heart as he looked at the flyer. Kerri Etheridge. Fifteen. Runaway from Denton, Indiana. The bright red font across the bottom alerted authorities to the fact that she had a heart murmur.

"Heart attack," he said, closing his eyes. A blessing in disguise.