Chapter 10

Sunday morning rolled around, but I had nowhere to go and nothing to do after I mailed the ash sample.

Except avoid the cemetery, hope I wasn't arrested for murder, and call Mrs. Minchin. Her loaner was still at her address, according to the tracking app. Maybe Josie was right, and she was making a weekend out of it, but I wanted to be sure. I might even ask her to return early as a favor, under the circumstances.

Happy in my bed, I dug my cell from under the covers and dialed the familiar number.

A curt voice answered their landline number. "Yes?"

"Hi." I switched the phone to my other ear. "Can I speak with Mrs. Minchin, please?"

"Frankie?" Carter's exhale roared across the line. "Minchin was one of yours, wasn't she?"

"Carter?" Dread unfurled black wings within me. There was only one reason why Carter would be there. I shivered as I levered myself up against the headboard. "Why are you answering the Minchins' phone?"

No, no, no.

I felt the target on my back growing larger with every second that passed while I waited for her answer.

There was no way Harrow wouldn't throw me under the bus if another of my loaners had gone rogue.

I should have called sooner. I should have brought her in. I should have done more than check an app.

I failed her. She had trusted me, and I failed her. I was sick with the possibilities.

"The call I got before I dropped you?" She waited for confirmation. "We were dispatched to this address."

"That was last night." I pinched my arm, praying I would wake up, but no such luck. "You're still there?"

Twelve hours must have passed since they dropped me off at the shop to investigate the call.

"Thanks to the chief, we got here first. We looked around, but the crime scene techs weren't far behind us. They tossed us out while they did their work. We got the all-clear to return about an hour ago." Her voice dipped low. "Now that I've updated you, you can return the favor. Minchin was yours?"

"Yeah," I croaked, heart lodged in my throat. "She was a regular."

"Then I would pull on some pants. Sounds like you just woke up. We'll be there in thirty."

Still in pajamas, I ran up two flights of stairs and let myself into Matty's apartment.

He was already gone. Or, more likely, went out last night and hadn't come home yet. Not that I had a say, but I hoped he was with Keisha.

Backing out of his space, I jogged down a flight and let myself into Josie's apartment.

She was there. Unfortunately. Buried under Armie's thrusting mass.

Slapping a hand over my eyes, I stumbled back to the door and fumbled the knob until it opened for me.

"I didn't know you liked to watch," Armie grunted out while I vomited in my mouth a little.

"Josie, we need to talk." A flush rose in my cheeks. "Can you hurry it up, Armie?"

"Don't I get a say?"

The sultry voice coming out of my sister's mouth did it, and I skittered out and back down to my place.

"Eww. Eww. Eww." I ran to the bathroom and groped for help. "Mouthwash. Yes. That'll do."

Gargle. Spit. Gargle. Spit.

Why mouthwash? No clue. It would have been more effective if I poured it in my eyes. Or my brain.

The horror was still fresh when I heard a knock, but I couldn't bear facing my sister.

"It's open." I kept a hand over my eyes while footsteps approached, convinced I would never look at her the same way again. "I'm sorry I walked in on you guys, but we have an emergency."

"Yes," Harrow answered. "We do."

Spreading my fingers, I risked peeking through them at him. "Oh, thank God."

"Are you okay?" He gripped my wrists and pinned them down at my sides. "You're not dressed."

"Neither is anyone else who lives here," I mumbled, noticing Carter behind him.

"Nice place." She scanned the apartment. "Love the hardwood floors."

Her voice might have echoed a bit, due to the lack of…well…everything.

Having Harrow in my space, him seeing how empty it was, afraid he would read it as a parallel to the nonexistent social life he had already called me out on, curved my shoulders in a wish that I had caught him at the front door.

"How did you get in?" I recovered enough to regret I wasn't wearing a bra. "Do you have a warrant?"

"The door was wide open." Harrow kept his eyes above the level of my collarbones. "We heard loud gargling and got concerned someone broke in and was trying to strangle you."

Arms folded over my boobs, I squinted up at him. "Was that a joke?"

"Hard to tell," said Carter. "Jokes should end with a laugh. His just end."

A huff of amusement passed my lips.

"See? That is what's supposed to happen," she told Harrow. "If you were funny, you'd know that."

"We need to talk to you about Minchin." He ignored his partner. "Do you want to change first?"

Harrow was awfully concerned about how I was dressed, and I couldn't decide if he was embarrassed to see me braless, which, same, or trying to be kind about how I'd look in my mugshot.

"I'm fine." They were here now. I might as well get it over with. Bra or no bra, it didn't matter. Haul me away, and I would get issued the same jumpsuit as everyone else. "Want some tea?"

"Sure." Carter tugged Harrow out of the doorway to give me room. "You don't have to hide her. I see a woman in pajamas nightly. In the mirror. Frankie doesn't have anything I haven't seen a hundred times."

"Harrow?" I sidled past them. "Tea?"

"Yes, please." He stood at the bar, driving home the lack of stools. "Tell us about Minchin."

Breathe in, breathe out.

Time for the finger-pointing to begin. For the claims of incompetence to start flying. For the blame to fall in my lap with a thud heard around the world.

"Like I said, she's a regular. She has a lot of anxiety. Mostly about leaving her stove on and burning down her house with her husband asleep in his recliner. He enjoys her visits, so when she gets the urge, I lease to her and charge the card on file. Sometimes, she's gone an hour. Other times, she's gone twenty-four. The longer trips are holidays, birthdays, or when she stays to cook his meals for the week and freeze them."

"Oddly domestic when the husband was a vampire." Carter joined him at the bar. "What else can you tell us?"

"Hold on." The mug slid out of my hand. "He was a vampire?"

"Mr. Minchin is dead." Harrow watched for my reaction, which sucked. I hated to let him see me cry, but I had liked Mr. Minchin. "His throat was slit, same as Phelps." He rubbed a finger on the counter. "A second body, that of a young woman, was found at the scene without a mark on her."

That made me two for two, or four for four if you were counting corpses. Good Lord. There was no way I was getting out of this with our original deal intact. Not with such a clear-cut case against me.

Poor Mr. Minchin. Poor Mrs. Minchin. Neither of them deserved this.

"Mr. Minchin hadn't told her he was a vampire." I swallowed. "He was waiting for the right time to explain, but it seems he ran out."

"Walk us through it," she pressed. "Any detail you can recall, no matter how small, will help."

After filling the kettle, I got down mugs shaped like bats. "This time started out like all the others."

"She was gone a little longer than usual, right?" Carter traced the scalloped bat wing on her mug. "That's why you reached out."

"We're closed on Sundays." I got down the sugar and took out the cream. "I wasn't sure if she was trying to respect our days off by stretching her lease until Tuesday or if there was a family thing. I swung by her house after I visited the morgue the first time, and her yard was full of cars."

With that many witnesses, she should have been safe. But even family had to go home sometime.

"You know your clients well," Harrow observed. "How do they feel about leasing?"

"Grateful," I clipped out, glad the tea was done. "How would you feel?"

"If I had anything worth coming back for—" he locked stares with me, "—I would be thankful."

"You don't make house calls for no reason." I poured them each a cup. "Why are you really here?"

Please don't say to arrest me. Please don't say to arrest me. Please don't say to arrest me.

"I assume you keep records of the, uh, donors?" Carter was trying to pick up my lingo, which was a nice change. "If you could provide us with copies of that information, we can cross-reference the names. There might be a connection between the donors that helps explain what's going on."

Other than using my services, I couldn't think of anything they had in common off the top of my head. It didn't mean much when I occupied a small corner of my clients' afterlives. There was a lot about them I didn't know, things not relevant to a lease agreement. Things I wish I knew right about now.

"The donor was Cait Grover." I watched Carter dump a half cup of sugar in her cup. Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised if she crushed cheddar puffs in her hand and sprinkled them over the top. "She's at your morgue?"

"For now." Carter stirred until satisfied then drank it all in one gulp. "We were hoping you could try your luck reaching Mrs. Minchin through her donor."

"Do you still have Phelps?" I stared into my mug, unable to stomach the tea with it in front of me. "What about Mr. Minchin?"

"Yes." Harrow studied me. "Do you want to try them too?"

The door chose that moment to swing open, and I swallowed a groan.

"Fear not." The sun backlit my sister wearing a crop top and a pink thong. "I have arrived."

"You're too late." I let the cops' presence speak for themselves. "Tell Armie I said thanks."

"Quickies aren't so quick sometimes." She sauntered in and helped herself to my cup. "Hello, officers."

Harrow found the light fixture above my head of sudden interest, but Carter made no such deferment. She might not be interested in a relationship, but she had no problem admiring what was right in front of her.

"I'll wait in the truck." Harrow directed the comment toward the ceiling. "I have some calls to make."

"You are nothing but trouble," Carter told Josie after Harrow left, and I couldn't disagree.

"Clothes were invented by man. Dryads prefer nudity. Failing that, the artful application of leaves."

"You might want to put on actual clothes." Carter backed toward the door. "I've never seen a man try so hard not to notice a woman isn't wearing a bra."

"Nah." Josie glanced down at her chest. "I don't do bras except when I work in the office."

"I wasn't talking about you." She winked at Josie, who blushed as red as canned cherries, and exited the apartment. Carter stood on the landing and snapped her fingers. "Make it quick, Frankie."

Only after she shut the door did I let my tingling arms fall to my sides. Sometime during my interrogation over tea, I had tucked my hands under my armpits to mash my boobs as flat as possible. When, really, who—other than Josie—cared about nipples? Harrow hadn't even looked down. Not that I wanted him to ogle me, but he had kept his gaze above my neck the whole time. He could have at least pretended to struggle.

"Oww." I slung my wrists to get blood flowing. "I hate that pins and needles feeling."

Pitiful attempt at conversation, but it was the first thing that came to mind. I didn't want Josie to worry. Harrow hadn't thrown the book at me. He was giving me a chance to prove this wasn't my fault. Second chance, really, now that we were up to two cases. But she wouldn't see it that way. She would grab the go bags we kept hidden in a false panel in the back wall of the garage and demand we run.

"I wonder if she would have fallen prey to my charms if I came to the door as Mother Nature intended?"

"Bark for skin and flowers growing from your scalp?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

"What are your plans for the day?" I rushed to the laundry room. "You heard mine."

"Armie is still upstairs." She stole a biscotti from a tombstone-shaped cookie jar. Josie bought that one for me three, maybe four years ago. Spooky cookie jars were the default gift for me. "That's as far as my plans have gotten."

"Have you heard from Matty?" I yanked off my pajamas and dressed for the day in front of the dryer, telling myself it was more efficient than buying a dresser and folding my clothes. "He's not home."

"He had a second date late last night." She was now drinking from Carter's mug. "Stargazing in Pooler."

"Romantic." I finessed my hair into a ponytail. "Why didn't I know about this?"

"He texted Keisha after the movie ended, and she invited him over. She's tracking a comet for a paper."

Once I looked presentable, I packed a fresh kit with extra candles to ensure I had enough to go around, which reminded me I had to restock the one in the wagon. "She's a student?" Maybe my interpretation of paper was too literal. "Or a reporter?"

"I don't know." She cut me a scowl. "Don't look at me like that. You know his views on relationships."

"He's obsessed with the idea his condition is terminal, but it's not. It's biology. For him, anyway."

"That doesn't change the fact that in a few decades no one will be behind the wheel of his body. He will exist entirely on the dream plane, where we can only visit through REM." She gathered the mugs, rinsing them in the sink. "I get why he wouldn't want to start a relationship that can only end one way."

"You start and stop relationships like they're cars at traffic lights."

"At least my odometer isn't in the single digits. Cars roll off the factory lot with more miles on them than you've got on you."

The duffle bag I chose for this outing dug into my shoulder worse than a bra strap when I slung it on. The thing weighed a ton. I never performed bulk summonings, but this was a special circumstance. "I'm out."

"Be careful." Josie rushed after me, locking my apartment behind her. "Call if you need me."

"I will." I waved a hand and set off down the stairs. "Have fun with Armie."

"I always do," she promised, laughter brightening her voice.

Carter, tucked behind the wheel, lifted her fingers in a hello when I walked in front of her truck. Harrow I found leaning against the rear passenger door. He spotted the duffle and straightened, reaching for the strap.

"I've got it." I walked past him and slung it into the bed. "Thanks."

"You're with me." He opened his door and indicated I should scoot in. "The front seat is taken."

Sure enough, strapped into the front seat was a grease-stained cardboard box the size of a small child. The logo on the side informed me it was a commercial-sized box of individually bagged cheddar puffs.

That wasn't weird at all.

"That's okay." I didn't want to treat him to a chorus of grunts as I hauled myself to my side, which could only make me sexier after this morning. Not that I wanted to be sexy. Especially not for him. But it would be great to maintain some dignity throughout this process. "I'll go around."

Much to my relief, Harrow didn't stomp around and open my door out of a misplaced sense of chivalry. I got my own door, thank you, and climbed in using the handle for help. This was not a short girl approved ride. Carter had a couple inches less than me to work with, so her choice of vehicle boggled my mind.

We hadn't made it far before I got a text from Vi reminding me to fess up to Harrow about Kierce.

gt;You spying on me?

gt;gt;Would I use my psychic talents for evil?

gt;Yes.

gt;gt;I'll pretend you didn't say that.

"I spoke with Madam Fontenot last night." I started off easy, with the summoning update. "The reason I couldn't summon Ormewood is because her spirit has been consumed by…a creature."

This was the tricky part. Either they believed me, or they thought I was blowing smoke for cover. Since I didn't have hard evidence—yet—it could go either way.

Once Vi received her sample of the candle residue and rendered her findings, I would have an expert with a loud opinion on my side. But her findings might not clear me of incompetence if I screwed up the summonings in a way that resulted in the spirits breaking our contract.

"Consumed?" Harrow kept to his side of the bench. "Does that mean she moved on?"

Shaking my head, I ignored the pang in my chest. "It means she no longer exists."

"Does Fontenot have any idea what manner of creature is responsible?" Carter caught my eye in the rearview mirror. "Not many eat spiritual essence."

"She doesn't want to point us in the wrong direction. She'll touch base with me when she knows more."

"The summonings you're about to perform should be definitive." Harrow shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable. "You'll prove consuming victims' essences is the killer's MO."

"That sounds perilously close to an endorsement for my skill set." And my innocence.

"I've never claimed your gift is anything less than miraculous."

"That's not how I remember it. Better to starve than use it for personal gain, right?"

No matter how nice he had been to me—lately—I couldn't stop resentment from bubbling up at times.

"I was protecting—" He locked his teeth together. "Did Madam Fontenot have anything else to say?"

A second text hit my phone, and I knew who it was without checking. Vi was in full-on meddling mode.

gt;gt;Stop being a chicken.

"I met someone." I locked my gaze on my phone. "In the cemetery."

Without missing a beat, Carter dove right in. "Was he cute?"

A low growl came from Harrow's corner, but Carter shrugged it off as nothing.

"The important thing is the spirits warned me to run the first time we met."

"That means yes," Carter interpreted for Harrow. "Girls love the dangerous ones."

"They told me he would devour me."

Humming softly, she asked, "In a good way?"

"Carter," Harrow rumbled, his fingers digging into his thigh. "That's enough."

"I'm pretty sure they meant he would eat me—" I flushed hot as Carter snickered at the phrasing. "Kill me." I turned my face to hide my blush. "That he would kill me."

"Did the spirits have anything else to add?" Harrow was locked on me. "Have you seen him since?"

"I run in the cemetery, and he goes there, so yes. I've seen him since," I rambled on. "A few times."

Leave it to him to home in on the worst part of it. "Why did you ignore the spirits?"

"He doesn't frighten me." I hadn't expected that to fall out of my mouth like a spear of asparagus hiding under a piece of roast chicken. "He's…I don't know. Odd but nice. He hasn't said or done anything to make me believe I was in any danger from him."

"I see." The corners of his eyes tightened. "Can you arrange a meeting with him for us?"

"I don't have his number." I wasn't sure he had a cell. "We just sort of bump into one another at Bonaventure from time to time."

The weight of Harrow's stare pressed me into the seat cushion. "That doesn't strike you as odd?"

"He memorized my schedule," I said weakly, aware that only made it sound worse.

"He's interested in you." Carter smiled to herself. "We can use that."

"When does he expect you again?" Harrow glared at the back of her head. "Tuesday morning?"

Bristling at how quick he was to guess, I glowered at him. "How do you know my schedule?"

"It's my job," he said, but Carter snorted, which left me convinced he was lying.

"Yes." I clenched and unclenched my hands in my lap. "Tuesday morning."

"I'll meet you there," he decided without further input. "You can introduce us then."

"You're welcome to try your luck." I mashed my lips together. "I make no promises."

We arrived at the morgue before they could coax more damning details about Kierce out of me. Like the picnic, which I did not want to disclose to Harrow for reasons I refused to examine closely. Aside from a physical description of Kierce, and what little Paco had learned about him, I didn't know anything more.

For a change, I was grateful that was the case.