Flight From Death Page 16

  “How did you sleep?” I slid into the chair opposite him, eyeing the spread. It smelled delicious and my stomach rumbled.

  “Uneasy.” He handed me the jam for my toast. “I had nightmares about the attic.” He looked tired, and when my hand brushed his from taking the jar, he jumped, but I didn’t think it was shyness.

  “You okay, Ralph?” I spread a thick layer of the blackberry preserves across the bread and bit into it, closing my eyes at the burst of flavor that filled my mouth. “Yum. We don’t have stuff like this in the Dragon Reaches.”

  He grinned, then. “You mostly eat cows?”

  “And sheep and whatever else we can hunt. We seldom eat in our human forms there.”

  “I bet this is a treat, then. And probably took you some time to get used to?” He paused, then leaned forward. “Shimmer, I don’t think we got rid of the spirit. I just . . . I think there’s still something in this house. My dreams were full of fire and ash and dark laughter, and when I woke up, I could have sworn I saw something leaning over my bed.”

  That made me stop. “What do you think it was?”

  “I don’t know, but I know it wasn’t my imagination. I’m too logical to imagine stuff like that.” He glanced around the room, then squirmed, shifting his shoulders. “Can you feel it? Like right before a big storm. The air feels charged. Something’s waiting to break.”

  I put down my knife and the toast and sat back, closing my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. There . . . what Ralph had described. I could sense it—like a rubber band being stretched to the limit, ready to soar.

  “You’re right. Maybe it’s residue? Tonya should be here soon. I guess we wait till she shows up and see what she thinks? We can’t very well ask Alex or Patrick right now.”

  The phone rang and Ralph picked it up. He spoke briefly, then hung up and turned around. “That was the police. Officer Paris? They put a rush on the skeleton from the yard. The coroner says the bones have been in the ground at least fifty years. Female, killed by a blow to the head. Whoever hit her broke her neck. They think it was murder because of the force of the impact and the trajectory.”

  “Is there a way to find out for sure if it’s Lacy?”

  “There might be, but even if they can, that won’t tell them who murdered her.” He frowned. “I want to talk to Toby again.”

  “Why?”

  “He might be willing to provide a DNA sample that they could link to the DNA in her bones. If it’s Lacy Buckland, they should find a recognizable connection.” He glanced at the clock. “Want to run out to the garage before Tonya gets here?”

  “Yeah, we can do that, but first . . .” I paused, thinking for a moment. “I want to go back in the attic first. I want to see if we can find anything from the rest of the family that would lead to an answer of what they were doing to her and why.” The spirit of the young woman had been so gentle and so plaintive that I wanted to know her story and make sure she was set to rest.

  “Are you sure you want to go back up there?”

  I nodded. “Can you grab a ladder so we can reach the ceiling? Or a chair that’s tall enough. I’m six feet, but the ceilings are pretty high.”

  “That they are. All right, I’ll help you, but you have to promise me that if something starts to happen while we’re up there you’ll get the fuck out of the attic. I’m going to sit on the top of the ladder and keep watch both ways. The last thing we want is for the door to close on us and trap us.”

  “Good idea. And yes, I promise. I’ll rinse off our plates while you go get the ladder.” I peeked out the kitchen window. The cops were back in the yard, sifting through the area where we’d found the skeleton. “We’ve got company. Why don’t you take them some coffee?”

  “I could invite them in. We could ask them some questions. Maybe there’s something else we can learn about the case?” Ralph headed toward the door.

  “Sure, if you think that’s a good idea?”

  But he was back in a few minutes with the ladder. “They don’t have time, but they send their thanks. They said that they’d be taking the tape down. There were several bags there of evidence—buttons and what looks like a few patches of cloth . . . they wouldn’t talk about it, of course, but Officer Paris said that the bones will be kept for evidence. And because we already told them who we suspect it is, they’re going to contact Toby about the possibility of the DNA match. After that, Paris said they’ll bury her. Probably in an unmarked grave unless Toby agrees to attend to her burial arrangements.”

  I felt incredibly morose. “I hope Toby says yes. It doesn’t seem right. Her remains should be laid to rest, and she deserves to be remembered. If he won’t, maybe we can help out somehow.” Following him up the stairs, I tried to push the idea of Lacy being buried as a Jane Doe out of my mind. Ralph set up the ladder and I climbed up to open the door. I decided to just ignore the folding ladder—I was able to get past it without opening it up. Ralph sat midway up the stepladder, keeping watch down the hallway.

  As I hesitantly turned on the lightbulb, a gust of wind shook the trees outside the nearest window and I stared into the bleak day. The sky was silver and rain-shorn, and everything seemed to mute into the same foggy color. But I loved the weather here, with so much rain and the winds off the ocean. Coming Earthside had been hard enough, but at least I wasn’t having to adapt to a desert or a jungle.

  I started with the desk and dressers nearest me, opening every drawer, hunting through every niche. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but if I found it, I’d know. As my toe nudged against one of the trunks, I decided I might as well go through those, too. There were at least four or five of them within reach, and more toward the center of the attic. It was as if every member of the Buckland family who had lived in this house had owned a trunk that had been secreted up here when they died.

  The first was half full, and mostly souvenirs, though there was a birth certificate for Mia Buckland, who was born in 1925. That means she might have been Lacy’s sister, if they had both lived here. There was nothing like a diary, but I was able to make out her story to some degree.

  There was a packet of letters addressed to a Mia Buckland, from a Lt. Jacob Ayers, which were sent from Germany. The postmarks were from 1943 to 1945. I found a wedding album, with just a few pictures in it. The bride and groom looked incredibly happy and the names on the back were Jacob and Mia, November 1, 1945. Then, ticket stubs to Brigadoon, a Broadway show, from 1947. They were tied together with a red ribbon.

  The next picture was of the couple in front of what looked like a large cruise ship. The banner across the ship read THE OCEANIC, and I glanced at the back. The picture was dated July 7, 1949. The next thing I found was a newspaper clipping. The Oceanic had sunk on its way to Alaska. Fourteen hundred people had been rescued; forty-six had died. As I skimmed over the list of the dead, I saw that Jacob and Mia Ayers and their one-year-old daughter, Tansy, were listed.

  I stared at the papers, thinking about these people who had lived so long ago. If Mia had been Lacy’s sister, then she must have known what went on. Had she done anything to stop it? Had she participated in tormenting her sister? I placed the items in a bag, slowly closed the trunk, and moved on to the next.

  The second trunk was empty, as was the third, but in the fourth, I discovered a jumbled mess of papers and journals. I scooped everything into a bag, then checked the other trunks. I found a scattering of mementos that weren’t just clothing or old dolls, so I loaded them into a third bag, then handed everything down to Ralph.

  “I’m going to give Lacy’s bedroom one last go-over to see if there’s anything we missed.” I headed back into the depths of the attic, the skin on my arms puckering as I did so. Whether it was from what we’d already been through, or if somebody was still hanging around, I wasn’t sure. Seeing that I was up here by myself, I didn’t really want to find out.

  As I poked around and found nothing, I grumbled and sat down on the bed. The faint scen
t of lilac wafted over me again, and I froze.

  “Lacy? Lacy, are you still here?”

  The scent grew stronger. And then, the gentle touch on my shoulder. So much came through that single touch—regret, a gentle sadness, tears, and an overwhelming loneliness.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I hung my head. “I wish I could do more. Is there anything you can do to help us? Anything to help us find out who did this to you? We found your body . . .”

  Suddenly, something was tugging on the hem of my jeans. I frowned, looking down, half expecting to see a hand reaching through the floor. But there was only the fragrance of lilac lingering in the air.

  What was she doing? And then I realized I was staring at the floor next to the bed. What if there was something beneath the bed? I quickly crouched down, getting on my hands and knees with a flashlight. I flashed it under the frame and there, in the corner against one wall, saw yet another trunk. There were way too many cobwebs between me and that box, but I found a piece of wood and brushed them away.

  After I’d cleared out some of the dust and cobwebs, I managed to snag hold of one of the handles and drag the square, flat trunk toward me. I pulled it out and made sure there was nothing else under the bed, then carried it to the front of the attic, where I set it on the surface of the desk. Cautiously, I examined the closure. It was locked, with no key in sight. But locks couldn’t stop me—not anything this old. First, I was adept at picking them from my thief days. Second, I was strong. If nothing else, I could easily break the hinges on the box, because they were old and partially rusted from the salt that hung heavy in the air in the coastal town.

  I fiddled with the lock. It wouldn’t take much to pick, but for that I’d need my lock picks and they were in my backpack. I handed the trunk down to Ralph and then turned out the light and climbed down out of the attic, shutting the trapdoor behind me.

  “What’s this?” Ralph glanced at the trunk. “Should I put away the ladder?”

  “Leave it, in case we need to go back up there. That’s a trunk that I found beneath Lacy’s bed. She’s still there, Ralph. She hasn’t left, and if she hasn’t . . .”

  “Then maybe the rest of them are here?” He frowned. “Are you sure it was her?” He carried the trunk over to the stairs.

  “Just a second. Let me get my lock picks.” I stopped in my room to grab my pack. As I paused, looking at the unmade bed, I thought I saw the covers move. But when I focused my attention on the blankets, they stopped. I glanced around the room. Nothing, but the feeling of unrest was growing and I let out an impatient breath. “I know you’re still here,” I whispered.

  Rejoining Ralph, I took the trunk from him. “Yeah, I know her feel by now. It was her. Listen, you go get all the equipment and our notes. Just do it. Bring them downstairs with us. I have a feeling . . . just, please humor me?”

  He studied me for a moment. “You know the rest are still here, too, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “But I don’t want to upset the apple cart right now. We have too much to lose with Alex and Patrick both sleeping.”

  “Then maybe we should just take all our suitcases downstairs?” Ralph gave a short nod toward my door. “What do you think?”

  I paused, sussing out the energy as best as I could. It was whirling, like before a waterspout or a funnel cloud formed. “Yeah, good idea.” Going back into my room, I grabbed my suitcase as well. I hadn’t unpacked yet, given the unwelcoming nature of the dresser drawers when I’d first tried to settle in, so all I had to do was toss a few dirty clothes back in the case.

  We met back in the hallway and helped each other get our gear downstairs. Once it was piled by the kitchen table, I felt a little silly but decided that I’d rather feel stupid than be sorry later on. I fished out my lock picks and began working on the ancient lock. It had rusted shut, but with a little oil and some adept jiggling, it didn’t take long to jar it loose. Within five minutes, I’d popped the lid.

  As I opened the trunk, Ralph held out the camera, intent on recording everything. I looked up at him, then back into the trunk. Inside was a bloody shawl. The shawl had been white, and the reddish brown liquid dried into the material could be nothing else. I cautiously reached out and opened the shawl, unfolding the corners. Inside lay a hammer—old and heavy—and also a pair of leather gloves.

  “This was what killed her. The hammer—this is the murder weapon.” I stared down at the box. I’d seen death before; I’d seen dragons murdered. But for some reason, this woman’s life—and death—was touching me in a way I didn’t fully understand.

  At that moment, Tonya knocked on the back door. Ralph let her in and she didn’t bother with small talk, just dragged out a chair, sat down, and said, “They’re still here. I dreamed it.”

  “Yeah, we know.” I glanced up at her. “We’re trying not to rile things up too much by challenging them. But we know. Look what we found today.”

  She peeked in the trunk. “That’s what killed Lacy?”

  “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure the blood is hers. We should get this to the cops. I guess they will be able to determine whether she was murdered with it. For whatever good it does. The murderers are long dead, unless they happen to be Supes . . . in which case . . .”

  “They aren’t. They’re all too human.” Ralph frowned. “We can drop this off at the station before you go swimming.”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to leave Alex and Patrick unguarded. We don’t know what these spirits are capable of, and I’m too uncomfortable to let them prance around here while our friends are vulnerable.”

  “Good point. Well, then—should I call one of the officers?”

  At that, I grinned. “Why don’t you call Paris? I can tell you think she’s attractive and hey, maybe she’d go out with you?” I couldn’t help needling him. I’d smelled his pheromones around her and it was all too easy to see that he had the hots for her.

  Ralph blushed. “No! I mean . . . no. I don’t want to bother her. We’ll just drop this off later. When the guys are awake.” He ducked his head in a boyish gesture that made both Tonya and me laugh, but we weren’t being mean.

  “I’ve met Paris before. She’s a good sort, but she’s married. So sorry to burst any bubbles on that one.” Tonya glanced around. “Something . . .”

  But before she could say anything else, there was a crash overhead. We jumped up as another crash sounded, and then the thumping of something large and dangerous thundered down the walls from the stairs, as if somebody were running past with a large stick, banging it against the sides of the staircase as they ran. The noise was enough to wake the dead, but unfortunately it couldn’t wake Alex and Patrick.

  Tonya let out a scream and I found myself on the floor as she body-slammed me to the ground. The next moment, I looked up to see a large chef’s cleaver go sailing over our heads. She had managed to save me from an attempt at decapitation.

  We struggled to our hands and knees as the kitchen suddenly became a veritable beehive of activity, with pots and pans flying every which way. Ralph had dropped to the floor, too, and now he cautiously popped up to grab the equipment and his laptop off the table, fumbling to stow them away as quickly as he could. I darted up and grabbed the trunk with the hammer in it, and we quickly crouch-walked our way to the door and managed to get everything out on the porch.

  “Tonya, put these in the car and then get back here, but be careful. We don’t know how far this thing’s reach extends.” I pushed her toward the backyard, then turned to Ralph. “We can’t leave Patrick and Alex alone.”

  “I’ll grab my bag of tricks and we’ll see if we can calm them down with anything I’ve got.” Tonya raced toward the driveway.

  As we re-entered the kitchen, cautiously, I smelled something coming from the living room. “What’s that?”

  “What’s what?” But Ralph stopped, his nose twitching. “Oh hell, come on!” He raced full-tilt into the living room, heedless of the chaos going
on around us. I followed on his heels.

  There, in the corner, near the gas fireplace, a thick cloud of smoke filtered up from one of the curtains as flames began to lick at the walls, engulfing the filmy drapes that covered the blinds.

  I frantically ran through the water magic I still had available after the Wing-Liege had stripped some of my powers. I closed my eyes, calling on the moisture trapped in the air to form a rain shower over the flames. The air shimmered as my magic began to extract the water from the air, the globules beginning to coalesce. The sudden onslaught pinged toward the flames like bullets, but even though the air was laden with humidity, it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t seem to draw the rest forth. Something was preventing me from charming it to help us. I gave up and turned to Ralph.

  “We have to get Patrick and Alex out of here!” I raced toward the staircase heading to the basement. Taking two stairs at a time, I leaped down the passage.

  “They’ll dust in the sunlight!” Ralph was right behind me, but I whirled, stopping him from following me.

  “They’ll dust if we let them burn to death, too. You call the fire department and tell Tonya to put blankets over the windows of the Range Rover so that it blacks out the light. I’ll try to bring them up.”

  As I raced down the stairs, I prayed that I’d be able to get into their rooms. I knew they could lock from the inside, but I also knew that Patrick had emergency contingencies set into place. I only hoped that we could figure them out before the house ended up an inferno.

  CHAPTER 12

  The smoke hadn’t reached the basement yet. Hopefully, I’d have a few minutes before the house was engulfed. And, if we were lucky, we’d save the building before too much damage was done. I darted over to the rooms Patrick and Alex were in and tried the doors. Nada. Locked from the inside. I knew Patrick wouldn’t go leaving the keys down here, and I also knew that the doors were reinforced steel, which I might be able to break down if I tried.