Ghost Walking

  The eclectic but cozy interior Maggie had visited before was draped in white—walls, ceiling, the single window, and floor, covered in a white, gauzy material. Hundreds of white candles burned, the air heavy with a musky incense. The music from a single lute played from somewhere, an ethereal sound, soft, moody. Selena knelt in the center of the floor, her large figure robed in shimmering white silk. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be in a trance.

  “Selena?” Maggie said uncertainly.

  “Shh, give her a moment,” Dalia whispered.

  Josh’s fingers curled around Maggie’s hand and gave a firm squeeze. She locked her fingers with his, and they stood quietly for long moments until Selena’s eyes suddenly popped open.

  The mystic stared wide-eyed into the distance, apparently not seeing them, then suddenly shuddered and focused on Maggie. Recognition flashed across her face.

  “Thank the goddess you’re here. I’ve been praying for hours to keep you safe.”

  “Safe from what?” Maggie started to kneel beside her, but Selena pushed upward with one hand and lurched to her feet. She teetered and might have fallen if Josh hadn’t caught her arm and helped her to the rattan rocking chair. Selena sat with a whoosh.

  “Thank you. These old knees aren’t what they used to be. Not after kneeling that long.” Selena smiled up at Josh. “You must be Detective Brandt.”

  “That’s right. But it’s Josh.”

  Dalia handed Selena a bottle of water from the fridge and hovered while the exhausted woman took a long drink, emptying half the container, and handed it back.

  Maggie dropped Josh’s hand and stepped forward to touch Selena’s shoulder. “What makes you think I’m in danger?”

  “Ophelia told me. Early this morning. I’ve been praying for your protection since then.”

  Maggie swiveled her head to look at Dalia, her voice flat. “Dead Ophelia?”

  Dalia gave her a what-can-I-say look. “I told you she hears voices.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t mention that they tell her about the future.”

  “Oh, not really the future,” Selena said, sitting up straight. “At least not the distant future. The present. Bits and pieces of the near present. Someone you know and trust wants to harm you, is actively plotting against you as we speak.”

  Maggie stared at her. A chill flitted across her back. Was this why she’d felt so…well, spooky all morning? Did that mean she’d sensed Ophelia’s… She shook her head. No, it didn’t mean anything, and this was just the same mystical stuff dished out by carnival vendors. She couldn’t believe they’d driven all the way to the bayou to hear the vague portents of terrible danger and great evil without substance. Where were the facts she could relate to—the when, where, how or most importantly, who. “I don’t suppose Ophelia gave you a name.”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Dalia said gently. “Those who’ve crossed the veil cannot speak the names of the living, even to one like Selena.”

  “So tell me how it does work. A warning isn’t much good without specifics.”

  Josh put a hand on her back, its warmth penetrating through her shirt. “Why don’t we let Selena tell this in her own way?”

  He sounded so at ease, as if this were a perfectly normal conversation. It wasn’t, by any stretch of the imagination. But Dalia and Selena were genuinely upset, and she needed to calm their fears before she could leave.

  “You’re right.” She flashed him a grateful smile before focusing on Selena. “I’m sorry if I sounded impatient. Can you start when Ophelia first appeared?”

  “I didn’t see her. Her voice woke me just before dawn.” While Selena talked, Josh found chairs from somewhere, and they sat in the small room listening to Selena retell her visit from the Beyond. “Once Ophelia had my attention, I drifted into a vision of two shadowy men, one portrayed as huge as if he held much power over the smaller image, the one who does his bidding. They were whispering, conspiring. I felt a great sense of evil. In the background, I clearly saw Maggie and one, perhaps two, other men. Then the vision switched briefly to a crime scene with police and yellow tape.” Selena sighed. “The vision faded, but Ophelia wasn’t done.”

  “Before you go on, can you describe these people?” Maggie asked.

  Selena frowned. “Of course not. My visions are painted by Ophelia’s voice, but I can’t form a detailed image of something or someone I haven’t seen. Yours was the only clear image.”

  “So why the vision? Couldn’t she have just told you?”

  Selena nodded. “Ophelia wanted me to feel their evil so I could convey it to you.” The woman held out a hand toward Maggie. “These men are determined to kill you.”

  Maggie’s mouth went dry. She’d known that, but the way Selena said it…sounded so real.

  “You must not despair,” Selena went on quickly. “Your fate is not decided…only if you do nothing. But be cautious, listen to your instincts. Your actions will place another in danger, and you’ll need help if you hope to avoid another tragedy.”

  It had to be Josh. “Who’s in danger? What happens to him?”

  Selena shrugged. “Even Ophelia cannot tell you that. The future is always in flux until it happens.”

  Maggie frowned. That wasn’t helpful. “Did she say why this is happening? What have I done?”

  “Something in your past. Not what you’ve done. Perhaps what you’ve seen.”

  Josh stiffened, and Maggie glanced at his tense profile. It’s what he’d been saying all along. She leaned forward. If Ophelia could fill in this piece… “What is it? What could be that important?”

  Selena shook her head. “Ophelia didn’t know. Her voice started to drift away as if her visit was over, then she returned to mention a figure in a gold and black hood. She said you’d know who it was. His killer is now stalking you.” Selena lifted her massive shoulders. “That’s everything she said.”

  Maggie sucked in her breath. Had she ever mentioned the hoodie to Dalia or Selena? Was Selena’s…vision, nightmare, conversation…an unconscious result of things she’d been told?

  But a nagging voice reminded her Hurst was real. Why not Ophelia?

  She stood and impulsively hugged the large woman. “Thank you for caring about me. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but please don’t worry anymore. Josh and I will handle this. I promise. And, uh, tell Ophelia, I said thanks. If she could find out what it is I’m supposed to know…well, keep in touch.”

  The drive back to New Orleans was relatively quiet. They let Dalia off in her driveway and watched until she’d safely entered the house. It wasn’t until they were halfway to Maggie’s apartment that Josh asked, “Why did you change the meeting with Toby this morning?”

  “What?” That was about the last question she’d expected. “I don’t know. A funny feeling, I guess.”

  “Like somebody was warning you to be extra cautious?”

  She swung her head to look at him. He was concentrating on traffic, but his profile didn’t give her a clue to his thoughts. “You think it was Selena…or Ophelia?”

  His tone was level. “Why not? It’s becoming clearer all the time anything is possible. We should heed the warning, take extra precautions now instead of waiting until our plan is fully formed. After all, this is exactly what we’ve expected. Let’s move you to my place tonight. There’s no reason to make it easy to be found. And we’re not telling anyone, not after Selena said it’s someone you know and trust. Since I know it isn’t me, I’m reluctant to let anyone else around you.”

  Maggie sighed and slumped back in the seat. “I don’t think you can put me in isolation, but yeah, OK. I did feel something unusual this morning. And who am I to remain so skeptical? I have Hurst to prove me wrong.”

  * * *

  When Brandt returned to District 13 on Tuesday morning, the department hummed as it settled into the ninth day of searching for a cop killer. The detectives manned the phones, talking with informants and checking out leads from t
he tip line, or they were pounding the pavement looking for potential witnesses. Several of Castile’s known associates were brought in for questioning but were released when lawyers arrived or bail was posted by their boss.

  Instead of moving on to regular business, the precinct’s tension and frustration grew every day. Any hope the man Brandt had shot was Wernier’s sniper deteriorated when a search of the intruder’s apartment failed to turn up a rifle or rifle ammo, and they couldn’t find links between the two men or to Wernier’s prior cases. The two handguns recovered weren’t in the system. A petty thug, likely to be on Castile’s payroll, but another dead end.

  Of particular annoyance to Brandt was the gossip in the break room. News of the lab investigation had leaked throughout the building. Any chance of catching the culprit by surprise had vanished.

  But the news wasn’t all bad. Internal Affairs stopped by Brandt’s desk to return his pistol. His shooting of the intruder was ruled as justified. He hadn’t been worried—although dealings with IA were never comfortable, but it was nice to have his Beretta back where it belonged.

  Mid-morning, Toby Sloane stopped by and dropped a paper on his desk. “I copied this from my partner’s file on the lab leak. Check out the phone number hallway down the page. Although Shank’s phone is still missing, his provider gave us a list of recent calls, and that number is the last one he called.” Sloane tapped his finger on the page. “It traces to an inactive burner. Not much to go on, but finding it in that file suggests our hunch was right. He was hunting Castile’s mole that morning.”

  Brandt sighed. “This discovery is how the word on the lab investigation got out. I wondered.”

  “Yeah, the commander’s got detectives down in the lab now, questioning everyone.”

  “So much for keeping it low-key.”

  Sloane shrugged. “Maybe they’ll learn something. I can’t see any of our techs as a professional hit man, but we might get Castile for tampering with evidence.”

  After Sloane left, Brandt read over Wernier’s page of notes. Most of it focused on a case with missing footprint evidence and included a list of potential witnesses and their phone numbers. Two names had been scratched out, including the one next to the relevant phone number. Could mean Wernier was through with them, but since he’d retained the phone number, it was more likely he’d decided to keep the one confidential.

  Brandt peered closely at the redacted name—even used a magnifier—but couldn’t come up with more than a possible final s. He called Sloane.

  “Where’s the original page? We might be able to recover a name to go with the phone number.”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. His entire file’s a photocopy. We’ve tried to lift the name without any success.”

  “Was he in the habit of keeping files at home?”

  “Nope. And his wife already looked.”

  Brandt tapped his finger on the page. “So when was the substitution made? Did Wernier hide the original? Or did someone take it? And why leave a copy?”

  “All good questions. If you come up with any answers, I’d love to hear them. We’ve reported the irregularity, in case it’s linked to the lab problem.”

  Brandt swore softly. “If the thief recovers the name of this informant, he’d be a marked man. We need to find him first.”

  “As I said, we’re open to suggestions.”

  He disconnected, tapped on a familiar number, and waited for Maggie to answer. He’d left her still in bed that morning, looking warm and sleepy…and tempting. She hadn’t slept well, and the dark circles under her eyes had nearly undone him. He’d limited his rush of protectiveness to suggesting she stay home today, but she’d been noncommittal. He had no illusion she’d take his advice unless it fit her own plans. Playing it safe just wasn’t in her DNA.

  “Hey, I was just going to call you,” she said, sounding a good deal more awake now. “How’s the PD this morning? Anything new?”

  “Buzzing. They’ve heard about the lab problem, and IA was here to return my Beretta.”

  “No hassle?”

  “None. In fact, his only comment was ‘too bad it wasn’t the sniper.’“

  “Is that confirmed?” Her voice held an underlying disappointment.

  “Pretty much. They’re still turning over every rock, but I doubt they’ll make the connection. Sloane stopped by.” He told her about the file entry.

  “Isn’t much to go on. What about re-interviewing the witnesses? Maybe they’d know who else he talked to.” She sounded distracted, as if her mind was only half on their conversation.

  “It’s already been done. As I said, every rock. They’re going off in all directions, hoping to sweep up something.” He frowned at the phone. Was she shuffling papers? “Am I boring you? What are you doing?”

  “Oh, sorry. I’m going through files. That’s why I was going to call you.”

  “What files? Where are you?”

  “My apartment.”

  “Maggie—”

  “Just listen. I got to thinking about the cases with missing evidence, including Otley. You’d concluded the bullet/casing never made it to the lab, but we hadn’t compared all the Otley techs there with those at other compromised crime scenes. I’ve done that now.”

  Brandt stifled a sigh. He might have known she’d go straight to the most obvious place for anyone to locate her. “And what did you find?”

  “Not one tech was present at every scene. We’re looking at the wrong people. It can’t be a tech. Unless several are involved.”

  He stiffened and lowered his voice. “Not likely. Have you checked others on the scene? Patrol officers, detectives?”

  “I’m checking that now. No strong correlation so far. Lots of overlaps. Coridan and I were at a couple scenes, so were three or four other teams. A few patrol cars took the initial call or handled traffic more than once but not regularly. A lot of people were involved.”

  “The files won’t show everything. Officers stop by all the time offering help, and nobody records it.”

  “Sure, but would the same person go unnoticed that many times? How could he or she be sure they’d get ahold of the critical evidence?”

  Brandt raked a hand through his hair and dropped his voice another notch. “I don’t know, Maggie. But I’ll be there in a few minutes to help with those files. This is beginning to stink like a dirty cop.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Maggie leaned on the kitchen counter and studied the lists of personnel logged into the crime scenes of the cases spread around her. If Castile had recruited someone at the PD… My, God. There were over a hundred officers at District 13 alone. And many of the street patrols overlapped with other districts, even detectives upon occasion.

  Who had the time and means to investigate all these people? Who could be trusted? Could the tampering have succeeded this long without some higher-up looking the other way? She shifted her body and rested on the other foot, hearing Selena’s voice saying someone you trust. That’s just it. Did she trust anyone anymore? Could she even trust Captain Jenson? Or anyone on the squad?

  Even Josh?

  She whipped her head toward the rattle of a key in the lock. The door opened, and Josh walked in. He glanced at her, and his brows shot up. “Did I startle you?”

  “Yes. No.” Maggie sighed and straightened. “I’m just on edge. I don’t know what to think about any of this.”

  “Yeah, I was ready to leave the office because I couldn’t stand the thought Castile’s man might be watching me.” He crossed the room, his eyes unreadable, his frown deepening. “Maggie? Something wrong?”

  “I just needed to see you.” If she couldn’t trust Josh, there was no one. She came around the counter and walked into his arms.

  “Yeah, me too.” He held her close for a moment. “Why don’t we take all this back to my place and open a bottle of wine? I don’t like you being here. An intruder found his way in once, and we still don’t know how.”

  “OK. At least yo
u haven’t had any break-ins.”

  “Not yet.” He looked down and gave her a grim smile. “If I do, I may have to hide you with Mom and Harry.”

  Maggie suddenly pulled away. “Oh my god, Josh. Are they safe? We’ve been thinking lab personnel, but another cop could walk right in without being questioned.”

  Brandt’s face paled. “Don’t even say that.” But he reached for his phone. “Harry, it’s Josh. Everything OK?” He listened a minute, and nodded at Maggie. “No, no problem. At least I hope not. Be extra careful. Don’t trust anyone, even a cop, especially if you haven’t seen him before.” He frowned at something Harry said. “Don’t bother Mom. Just keep the gun I gave you handy. We’ll see you shortly.”

  He disconnected, shaking his head. “I may have done more harm than good with that call.”

  “You gave him a gun?”

  “Yeah, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I have to go and settle Harry down.”

  She started gathering her files. “Not without me.”

  By the time they reached the hospital, they’d talked and gained a little perspective. Nothing so far indicated the killer was so desperate he’d reveal himself by walking into the hospital. But Harry was very much on edge. After enduring his fidgeting and frantic eye rolls while they spoke with Carolyn, Maggie suggested coffee in the hospital cafeteria.

  In his green scrubs, Harry looked like any other hospital employee taking an afternoon break, except for the lines of anxiety on his forehead. “Weren’t you telling me the shooter could be a cop?”

  “It’s a possibility,” Josh admitted. “We’re trying to cover the bases, Harry. A cop would have to be pretty brazen or dumb to shoot someone in the middle of a hospital. The odds of being seen are too high.”

  “So I should hope for a smart, timid hit man who plays the odds?”

  “Harry.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just being snarky. This sucks, Josh.”