Chapter 14

T he next morning, back at her office, Kate was still waiting to hear from Dr. Smidge on his forensics findings for both cases, Robert Mulhouse and now Shawn. She was getting more and more frustrated as she sat here and did her due diligence on everything, without anything concrete to even go by. That drove her crazy. Yet she knew waiting for forensics was a constant in her world and there was no point in trying to push Smidge because it invariably just turned bad. Pushing someone was not helpful in this line of work, particularly not Smidge, as others had found out, and had forever regretted.

At least waiting for forensics gave her a chance to go into the history of this ghostly Paragon property downtown and the mystery as to how anybody had gotten Shawn to the Feldspar property. She had already made that request of Reese to chase down that license plate to the black truck that took off with Shawn.

Just as she picked up the phone to call her, Reese walked into the bullpen area. Kate caught sight of her and set down the phone. "Great minds and all that."

Reese rolled her eyes. "That just means you're looking for information that I may not even have."

Kate nodded. "Yeah, it sure does. It's the license plate I'm worried about now. "

"That's interesting because it was stolen."

"Why does it always have to be stolen?" she complained, staring at Reese in frustration. "Why does no criminal ever use their own vehicle for these things?"

Reese laughed at her. "When you get the answer to that question, you can enlighten the rest of us, but I wouldn't hold my breath on that."

Kate groaned. "Of course not. So stolen from where?"

"Actually stolen just a few blocks away from where Shawn was picked up. The truck was parked behind a business, as the truck's owner raced into the building to pick up something he had left behind. He reported it stolen immediately and was pretty pissed about it."

"Right, I'm sure he is, and now I suspect that it'll turn up sometime very soon, probably clean as a whistle."

"I would think so," Reese agreed, with a smile, "but, in the meantime, I don't think you'll really care about the history of it. Still, I'll fill you in. It belongs to a workman who does a lot of construction downtown. He was literally dropping stuff off and had forgotten to pick up something else, and his truck was stolen right outside this business as he quickly ran inside."

Kate nodded, then reached out a hand for the information in Reese's file. "I'll add it to my report." Then she froze for a moment before asking, "Is there anything on the history of the Paragon property, where Shawn was last seen alive at?"

"I can run some more down," Reese offered cheerfully.

Kate nodded. "So far, nothing has really popped that was unique, different, or of interest, but…"

"But?" Reese asked Kate.

"My gut instincts tell me that we will find it of interest. "

Reese laughed. "Yours or Simon's?"

Kate groaned again. "That's the trouble with having Simon around.… Nobody thinks I have a gut feeling anymore. It's so frustrating."

Reese laughed once more. "No, we just think you have superspecial x-ray vision in your world now."

Kate shook her head and sighed. "All I'm doing is good old-fashioned police work."

"Yeah, we agree with you, but it certainly doesn't hurt to have Simon around."

"Unless we start depending on him," she said in a flinty tone, "and then it'll hurt us a lot. We can't exactly haul him into court, not without expecting to be laughed right out of the courtroom."

"I know," Reese agreed, "but, if we can get any direction from him, we can start digging."

Kate nodded. Reese quickly disappeared, and Kate added the information on the stolen vehicle to her report. It wasn't much, and it wasn't a big help. Yet, when it came to getting convictions in these cases, they had to tie off these bits and pieces constantly, just so they didn't leave any loopholes for somebody to come back on, saying they hadn't checked out everything. She had a hard-enough time with the court as it was because it seemed as if her department did a ton of work, and then these criminals still got off sometimes.

So far, she was grateful that the ones she'd been involved with were going down for a very long time, even though she still had a couple court dates coming up that would make her not sleep well at night, mostly out of fear that they would get off and go terrorize the world again. Not something she looked forward to.

But then, sitting back, gazing at her computer screen with a photo of the license plate number in front of her, she thought more about that. A stolen car meant preplanning, and that meant somebody needed Shawn out of the way. What could possibly be important enough to take a homeless guy off the streets? Unless of course he knew something that was dangerous, but, if he did, what did he know, and did he understand how dangerous that was?

Did he make the mistake of trying to blackmail somebody about it?

Did he contact someone?

The questions swirled around in her mind, and then she remembered that, of course, Shawn had talked to somebody. He had talked to Simon and to his homeless buddies. Frowning, she glanced around the office, but she was completely alone. Everybody else was off working on cases. She picked up the phone, and, when Simon answered, his voice cheerful and bright, she sighed. "When you talked to Shawn," she began, "did he mention talking to anybody else? Maybe warning anybody else or having any conversations with anybody else?"

"No, I don't think so."

She groaned. "Of course not," she muttered in exasperation.

"Why? What's the angle you're working on?" he asked, curiosity in his tone.

"The only point in killing him," she replied, "is if the killer had a reason to do so."

"Sure," Simon agreed. "Almost every killing has a reason behind it."

"Exactly, but Shawn was pretty harmless," she pointed out. "I mean, most people—and I don't mean this in a bad way—but most people didn't even know Shawn existed. "

"That's very true," he replied thoughtfully.

"And, looking at the way this went down, I would say it was premeditated."

"How so?" he asked, his tone sharpening over the phone.

She explained about the stolen vehicle and was again met with silence at first, but then Simon spoke, sounding surprised. "That definitely seems premeditated, doesn't it?"

"Absolutely, and, when it's premeditated, there's a reason. This isn't somebody just stealing a vehicle and going off and killing a homeless guy. The driver stopped, talked to Shawn, and he got in the vehicle with the driver, for whatever reason, and then Shawn didn't come home."

"And, of all the places for Shawn to disappear, it happens to be the property he was most connected to. So the driver knew where to find him."

"Yes, that's true."

"Did you find any connection between the Paragon property and the Feldspar house?"

"My analyst is looking further into it, but I did find something of interest, when I did a walkthrough of your ghost property on the third floor."

"Right, the third floor."

"Yes… where you told me to go."

"I did?" he asked in astonishment.

She froze. "You texted me third floor ."

"Well, damn," he muttered. "I'll have to look back on my call history, but I don't remember that."

"I'll just assume that you did it on purpose and that whatever was going on in your world was something that had you so busy that you forgot."

"And it could be that," he muttered, an odd tone in his voice .

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Sure. Plus, you'll probably be pissed if I tell you, but you'll also be pissed if I don't," he added, as he took a deep breath. "So this is definitely a no-win situation."

"You better tell me then," she snapped back, "so I can get pissed and get over it."

He burst out laughing. "I really don't know how this works, and I don't have any idea if this is even what I saw, didn't see, or may have seen."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she interrupted. "What did you see?"

"I thought maybe I heard and saw…" He hesitated for a long moment, then finally the words burst out. "Shawn's ghost."

"Oh, Christ," she whispered, staring at her phone. She looked around the bullpen again to ensure she was alone. "Is that possible?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm not a medium, remember? But it seems awfully fast if it was him."

She racked her brain, trying to figure out the difference between what everybody's woo-woo title was and what they could do. And that was easier than contemplating an average time frame for a dead person to appear as a ghost. This was so not in her wheelhouse. "But didn't Shawn tell you how he could see ghosts and even talk to them in your ghost property?"

"That's very true," Simon confirmed. "Yet I didn't necessarily think of Shawn as a medium."

"Right," Kate agreed. "Most people think the homeless are nuts when talking about ghosts—or are on drugs or something."

Simon sighed loudly. "Plus, I wouldn't have thought the transition from dead man to ghost would happen so quickly. I thought mediums, or whatever they are called, would take messages, somehow communicate with the ghosts, but I don't know if mediums can see the ghosts. I am, for sure, no medium, and have no desire to be one," Simon shared.

"Right, okay then." She had to admit that some of this was starting to make a little more sense. "I'm sure that must have been a very strange experience for you," she murmured.

"Yeah, that's one word for it." He groaned.

"I don't suppose Shawn's ghost shared anything helpful, like, Hey, catch my killer, and his name is so-and-so , right?"

"No," Simon declared, with a snort. "That would have been nice though, wouldn't it?"

"Any chance that's why he appeared to you?"

"His ghost was at that ghost building."

"Oh, so …"

Simon asked, "Does that mean Shawn was killed at the Paragon building?… I don't know."

"He was seen leaving from there, with the driver of the stolen truck."

"Exactly. But we are just talking, since I figured you would be pissed if I didn't tell you about seeing a ghost."

She half laughed. "Wow, do we have a difficult relationship?"

"No, we don't," he argued. "It's just one that we must keep our lines of communication open and our minds adaptable."

"That's a good way to deal with it," she noted, "and I am sorry you're having that kind of a day."

"Yeah, me too, but it sounds as if you're getting somewhere."

"No, not really. I'm still waiting for forensics, and that always frustrates me to no end. Even with a good relationship with the coroner, he and his staff still have a lot of materials to sift through, and it takes time. As Smidge always says, he will contact me if and when."

"Right, so nothing else on your not suicide case?"

"No, not at the moment. Again, still waiting for forensics, and that one is frustrating too because it was a murder, but the wife will deny it until the bitter end."

"Yet, if it were a suicide… she probably doesn't get any money."

"What do you mean?"

"Suicides are generally not part of a valid claim within the insurance system. Therefore, if somebody commits suicide, the spouse or whoever the beneficiary is, whoever is supposed to receive the benefit money, won't get anything."

"Right, and Amie is one greedy bitch who would definitely have confirmed the existence of life insurance."

"Check that out too."

"I'll do it right now." She quickly rang off, phoned to check for any life insurance in the husband's name. Yes, indeed. Now that the husband's death had been classified as a murder, the life insurance proceeds were eligible for a payout.

"Shit," she muttered to herself, as she sat here. That makes no sense, yet in an ugly way it made a lot of sense. She just didn't like the way it was turning out because Kate would end up being the instrument for this hideous woman getting an insurance payout on her dead husband, and that was not good news at all. It's not that Kate had any personal animosity to the wife, other than Amie could be responsible for at least one of her three husbands' deaths. The question was, how could Kate prove Amie was guilty?

*

Kate walked into Simon's apartment building a little later to see Harry smiling at her.

"You don't look quite as tired this time," he noted, with a smile, "but you do look frustrated."

" Ya think ?" She glared, sure daggers darted from her gaze. "The damn criminals are getting smarter all the time."

The smile fell from his face, as he nodded. "But it really all comes down to the same elements," he pointed out, "usually greed."

She groaned. "Yeah, greed is a big one. Love and power are others."

He winced at that. "I don't understand how love can turn into something so bad," he murmured.

"Oh, it doesn't generally happen on its own," she noted. "Too often an awful lot of other bits and pieces go with it. Generally somebody loses out on the deal."

He nodded at that. "Power is a bad one, isn't it? Regardless, I'm sure you'll find your killer. I'll buzz you up."

As she walked over to the penthouse elevator, gave Harry a wave, and headed up, her thoughts were centered on his words about how those three concepts corrupted so much in life. The supposed love in this life seemed to turn to hate, without any discrimination or motive needed. Yet there was always a reason why it happened, and it was usually something to do with lust, somebody breaking up with somebody, somebody realizing, all of a sudden, that their partner wasn't the same as they thought they were.

All kinds of things can and did happen, like how Amie would get a payout from this, assuming her husband hadn't committed suicide. That was really a challenge. It made Kate feel like a terrible person. By doing her job to the best of her ability, that just gave Amie a big insurance payout. Even if Amie didn't have anything to do with killing her husband, Kate was almost rooting for her to be guilty of something else, so at least Kate could charge Amie with something that would stop this repeating cycle of dead men in her life.

Kate was instinctively blaming Amie without proof yet, and that wasn't fair either. It was also not part of Kate's job, and she typically tried hard to be professional and detached.

Simon took one look at the expression on her face and asked, "Change of plans?"

She blinked at him, not getting where he was coming from. "Change of plans over what?"

He let out a long sigh. "We're supposed to go out on the boat."

She stared at him and then nodded. "You're right. We are."

He winced at that. "So, change of plans?"

She thought about it for a moment, not sure how to proceed. "I'm definitely off for the evening," she stated, "and, unless anything else happens, there's really nothing else I can do for the moment."

"And let me guess.… That's really eating at you, isn't it?"

"It's not so much that it's eating at me but I have open cases, and people are dying, like Shawn, and I don't know why or how." She shook her head. "It makes no sense, and I just want answers. Yet answers are a little thin on the ground."

He nodded. "Sounds as if we need to go out in the boat."

She finally smiled. "I think that's a great idea. And if I do get called out? "

He shrugged. "Then you get called out, and I return us to shore.… At least let's go find some enjoyment in the rest of this crazy world that we live in."

"Yeah, I can get behind that." She looked around, frowning. "Do I have clothes here for that, or do we need to go back to my place?"

"I wouldn't want to go back to your place if we don't have to," he noted. "It'll just eat into our time. So take a look at what you've got here, see if you've got a change of clothes for the night. I've already ordered a picnic for tonight and tomorrow. We'll pick it up on the way."

She grimaced. "Damn, I'm really sorry.… I forgot what day it was."

"It doesn't matter," he said gently. "You've got a lot on your mind."

"So do you," she noted, mulling over her own carelessness, "but you didn't forget." As she walked into the bedroom, she realized just how much of these relationship things she seemed to continuously louse up. It wasn't a very comfortable feeling. She considered herself beyond competent when it came to most things. However, it seemed she could use a refresher course on this relationship stuff.

She winced at that because a refresher course sounded terrible and made her feel as if she were back in school and not as good as she could be. That was never a good thing.

She decided that whatever she had in Simon's closet would definitely do and quickly packed up a change of clothes, adding several towels. She came out with two full travel bags. "Hopefully this works."

"Let's go now before anybody else decides to interrupt our time off." Then laughing like children playing hooky, the two of them grabbed their bags and hurried downstairs .

Harry was still on the front desk as they raced past him. He called out, "Have a good evening."

Simon lifted a hand, then turned to face Harry, just as they went out the front door. "We'll be down at the boat, if anybody calls. Hopefully nobody will need us, but…"

"Oh, I know," Harry acknowledged, with a quirky tone. "The chance for time off is a little thin when it comes to her line of work."

Kate winced. "Exactly, and boy, do I need to get out a little more."

"Go, go, go," Harry urged them.

And with that, they quickly raced outside. By the time they had picked up their food for the trip and headed to the docks, she was starting to completely fall in love with the idea of taking off for the weekend.

"Are you on call this weekend?" Simon asked.

"No, but yes," she replied.

"Right, no, but yes , in that everybody's dead and gone, and you can't help them anyway… besides working hard on solving the cases."

"I've just run out of anything I can do with these right now," she admitted, with a shrug. "And, as callous as it may sound, I only have so many hours in a day and only so many hours I can put in, without needing a change or a chance to recharge."

He squeezed her hand and glanced over to her. "I'm actually glad to hear that. Is your department getting any new people in?"

"Supposedly," she muttered, "although we're just finally jelling as a group. So I'm not really too thrilled with the idea of getting anybody else in. Yet we need another person to fill Andy's void. "

"I would think so," he agreed, "yet you don't really want anybody else?"

"Not really. We're pretty happy now that we're finally to that point of acceptance."

He pondered that and nodded. "I get that. Obviously an awful lot of things are going on in your world and a lot of cases to handle, but you still need some downtime."

"Which is why I'm here," she noted, then quickly sent Colby a text message that she was out on Simon's boat, if needed. In a surprise move, Colby called her to talk over how far she'd gotten on the one case.

She explained where she was, waiting for forensics, how she still had nothing new in terms of either of her current cases.

Colby replied, "That's definitely not how we want the cases to go."

"I know. Do you want me to come back in?"

"No," he stated quickly. "You've done a ton of overtime already, so it would be good to do something different for a while. Then come back rested, with a fresh perspective."

"I know, but I admit to feeling guilty."

"Which is not what you should focus on," he stated firmly. "We're supposed to get new staff, but budget cuts and all that.… The trouble is, we need detectives on board twenty-four hours a day, and we won't ever have the staff to do that.… Check in tomorrow. You may only get tonight, but check in tomorrow."

"Will do," she confirmed, then ended the call. She looked over at Simon and saw him nodding.

"That's fair," he said. "I get it. You're short on staff. These victims' families all need answers, all of them, Shawn too. "

"I couldn't find any for him so far," she noted, "and that was one of the things we were looking at today. We're trying to track down family, but I believe they're back east. We haven't got any solid information for him."

"I suspect he lost track of any family when things got difficult for him."

She frowned. "After his military service?"

"Probably. Most people—not most but several—lost somebody. So, they often struggle when the PTSD gets bad. Not everybody can handle the symptoms."

"Particularly him," she reminded Simon.

"Exactly, and it's hard enough when you're just dealing with it yourself, but, when you also have little kids around, and spouses, it can all go off the rails pretty fast."

They soon got to the marina, and Simon got on board to prep the boat. Then he carried all the bags in, while she quickly unhooked the ropes on the mooring. He started the engine, and gently they powered their way out toward the bay.

As soon as they got out far enough, she settled in beside him and watched as they ate up the water. With every passing mile, she felt her insides release stress.

He smiled at her and asked, "Feeling better?"

She nodded. "Surprisingly, yes, and that's not exactly something I expected so soon."

He nodded. "That's one of the reasons why we do this, even if only for tonight or just a few hours.… Let's get out on the water and remember why we're alive and why it's worth fighting for."

She looked over at him. "Does it seem as if it's a fight for you sometimes?"

He nodded. "You're telling me it doesn't for you? "

"Yeah, it does," she admitted, "and I hate that aspect of it. I'm fighting the bad guys, but the murderers are getting trickier, and I'm fighting liars who never seem to want to give up the truth."

"That's because they can't face the consequences," he noted, "particularly if they're at fault. Most people who do these unimaginable deeds—unless they are psychopaths and take great pride and joy in the devastation they caused—are people with a conscience. Too often they can't accept the reality of what they've done and have to hide it even from themselves."

She pondered that as they moved out to the open water, her face turned up to the wind, loving the tug against her skin, the crisp fresh air almost biting into her cheeks. She laughed as a wave splashed up and over.

He smiled at her. "Not everybody appreciates the water," he noted. "I'm really glad that you do."

She nodded. "I've never really had a chance to before, but this is pretty special, and I'm really grateful you bought this boat."

He eyed her in delight. "Lots of people would have told me that it was a stupid purchase."

"No," she murmured, "not a stupid purchase at all, and one I certainly understand better now that I've been out here." Then she added, "On the other hand, if you didn't bring enough food, I might have to send you back in early."

He burst out laughing. "Why don't you check out the food, and maybe we can get started on that." And that's what they did. By the time she had the food dished out and ready to be eaten, he idled the engine and let the boat gently motor along, as they sat under the canopy with just enough of the breeze to counter the lingering warmth in the air .

"You know, for early December," she noted, "it's surprisingly warm out here."

"I'm surprised you are warm at all," he declared, looking at her. "You're often chilled."

"Maybe," she muttered. "Maybe it's just that feeling of being out here in the fresh air."

"Probably," he said, with a smile. "An awful lot can be said for coming out on the ocean, but most of the time it is colder on the water," he warned.

"I know. You've told me that before, but I'm okay with it. I feel as if I've acclimated fairly quickly to being out here," she murmured. When her phone rang, she hesitated, but he nodded.

"Answer it," he urged. "It'll bother you if you don't, and we both know that clear as day."

She sighed, and it was her analyst. "Reese, don't you go home anytime?"

"Yeah, I'm actually at home. But I just got a call back from one of our messages, trying to locate Shawn's family."

"Oh, good, give me the contact information." And, with that done, she frowned at it and asked Reese, "Do I know that name?"

"Yeah, you sure do," Reese confirmed. "Shawn's father and grandfather were politicians."

"Wow, not what I expected."

"No, and, because of it… I think they've been a little more distant from his world than intended."

"Right, of course, Shawn wouldn't exactly be a boon to anybody in politics, would he?"

Simon looked at her curiously.

"Probably not, but we'll see how much they actually care for him," Kate noted, "because he did deserve to have somebody in his life."

"I'll let you handle that," Reese noted cheerfully. "If you need anything else, don't call me."

Easier said than done because, if Kate needed Reese, then she would be called in to help. Just like the rest of them.

*

Simon woke in the morning to the sound of Kate talking to somebody outside. He checked his watch, surprised that it was seven. He'd slept like a log, but something about being out on the boat was… He wasn't even sure how to say it, but it was special. He felt a sense of peace, a sense of relaxation that he hadn't expected, and he was absolutely loving it.

He got up, quickly dressed, then headed outside to see her tucked up on the deck, staring out at the ocean around them, her phone at her ear in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. He ducked back into the cabin to grab himself a coffee from the kitchenette.

He looked around, wondering whether he needed to make any upgrades to his boat or if it was just fine as it was. It was probably fine as is, at least for a while, until he figured out what he was doing. Yet rehab was always in the back of his mind. So, if he needed to renovate it, he certainly could. Money wasn't that tight, certainly not when it came to the one thing he'd bought for himself, which was this boat.

At certain times in life you should do something for yourself, and he almost laughed at that because it seemed as if he was still trying to justify his purchase. That wasn't how he wished to see this acquisition, but maybe it made sense, when reviewing his life to date .

With a cup of coffee in hand, he headed back up to see Kate pocketing her phone. She looked over at him and smiled. "That was Shawn's family."

He stared at her enquiringly. "Oh?"

"Tears, some recriminations, some sadness, and a lot of history on Shawn that basically fits what we know."

"And that is?"

"PTSD, as you suggested. He was traumatized from his military service and ultimately left the family unit because he couldn't deal with the panicked outbursts and the pain that he thought he was inflicting on everybody," she shared, with a far-off look to the side. "He moved west, and they lost track of him. They sent out multiple people to search for him over the years, but nothing ever came of it. Of course now they want to know what happened and how, and I don't have any answers for them at this point in time. Yet I will follow up as soon as I do," she declared smoothly. She stared at the ocean and sipped at her coffee, but he could sense a disquiet in her.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It's not so much that anything's the matter, but it's always sad to think that Shawn lost touch with his family and ended up dying alone."

Simon winced at that. "Not a scenario we want for anybody, is it?"

"No, it isn't." She gave him a small smile. "But thank you very much for bringing us out last night. I could never have managed a break on my own."

He laughed. "Oh, you were willing to take the time off… and we needed it."

"We did," she agreed. "I've also just received a text."

He knew exactly what was coming and asked, "Are we going back in then?"

She winced and nodded. "Yes, if you don't mind terribly. Is it possible?"

"Of course it's possible." He looked around and sighed. "We should think about spending actual holidays out here."

"After last night," she shared, with a smirk on her face, "I think that's a great idea. You're right. We need more time to commune with nature, without everything else interfering."

"And speaking of interference," Simon asked, "why are we going back in?"

She grimaced. "I have another body."