Medium Chris Wilson is used to the dead, but the living Derek Brandt is her biggest challenge yet. As they hunt for his brother's killer, the wall between skeptic and believer begins to crumble. In a house full of restless spirits, their uneasy alliance might just become the one thing they can't live without.
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“No.”
“Jimmy—”
“It wasn’t him.”
Derek sighed. He sat on the edge of the couch, looking at the box on the coffee table and wishing he could see his brother’s face so he could look him in the eye. “There’s no one else who fits the description. He had motive—”
“We didn’t even know a scout would be there!” “You didn’t. But what’s to say Steve didn’t catch wind of it somehow?”
“He would’ve told me.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he decided it was his chance to come out from under your shadow. That maybe all his dreams could come true with the star quarterback out of the way to let him shine. And that’s exactly what happened.”
“It wasn’t him,” Jimmy insisted. “I would’ve known him. I’d have recognized his voice.”
Derek threw his hands up in frustration. “He could have disguised his voice. Just like he hid his face.” The ghost box fell silent. Derek stared at it a moment, then glanced around the room. “Jimmy?”
“I’m here.” The box’s voice mashup somehow managed to sound sullen. “You don’t even know where he was that night. Maybe he has an alibi.”
“The police will check that out when they question him.”
“You’re going to call the police?”
Again, Derek sighed. “Not until I’ve talked to Uncle Jim. He’s on his way over. Maybe he can supply an alibi for Steve.”
“Why don’t you talk to Steve? He’s the one you’re accusing.”
“Jimmy, listen to me. Somebody already deliberately crashed into us and put Chris in the hospital. If that was Steve, do you really think it’s a good idea to tip him off that I suspect him?” Derek thought about their meeting the night before and let out a bitter laugh. “And he acted so surprised and concerned when I told him what happened. He even called me brother.”
“Maybe that’s because he was surprised. Because he’s innocent.”
“Maybe,” Derek conceded. He shook his head. “But the pieces fit.”
“Only because you want them to. Look, Derek, if finding out my best friend is the one who killed me…if that’s what it takes for me to move on, then maybe I’m better off staying right here.”
“Do you really mean that?” Again, the box was silent. “Jimmy, I know you—” The doorbell rang, cutting him off. He stood up with a sigh. “That’s Uncle Jim. Maybe we can get this all cleared up. If it turns out I’m wrong, you can feel free to call me an idiot.”
“I already do.”
Derek paused on his way to the door, then decided to let that remark go as he went to answer it. Peeking through the front window, he was surprised to see Chris on his front stoop instead of Uncle Jim. He frowned. She was supposed to be home resting. And safe.
“Hey,” she said when he opened the door. She sounded a little breathless, like she was over-exerting herself.
“What are you doing here?” She seemed taken aback by the question. He realized how brusque he’d sounded. “Sorry.” He rubbed his face. “It’s a bad time. But shouldn’t you be resting? Are you even okay to drive?”
“I’m fine. I’ve had more rest than I can stand. I was hoping we could talk, but if it’s not a good time—”
“It’s really not. I wish you’d called. I would’ve told you not to bother coming over.” Her face fell, and he felt like a jerk. “I didn’t mean—”
She ignored him, looking past him into the house. “What’s wrong?” Before he could answer, she pushed her way in and went over to the sofa, focusing on a spot on one end. “Jimmy, are you okay?”
“No,” said the box. “Derek’s right. It’s not a good time.”
Chris glanced back at Derek. “What’s going on?” He shut the door and joined her in the living room. She kept her focus on Jimmy as Derek explained the results of his meeting with the retired detective. When he was done, she sank onto the recliner’s footstool and leaned toward Jimmy. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he told her. “Derek’s wrong.”
She looked up at him. He let out a frustrated groan and headed toward the kitchen, motioning for her to follow. Once there was a little distance between them and Jimmy, he said, “You’re right. We need to talk.”
Chris looked surprised, then nervous. She took a deep breath. “Okay. Well, I wanted to tell you—”
He held up a hand to cut her off. “I’m sorry, but I think I should go first. I’ve had time to do some thinking since this morning.”
Her brow furrowed, her face a mix of hope and worry. “Yeah?”
Derek shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “I think we should slow things down for now.”
She stood there a moment. Then she put her hand on her stomach. “Oh.” Suddenly, a bitter-sounding laugh erupted from her throat. “Of course.”
“Look, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not because—” The doorbell rang again. Derek swore. “That’s Uncle Jim. I have to answer this. But Chris…” He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to look into her eyes. “It’s not what you’re thinking, okay? I don’t want you involved in this. I have some things I need to take care of, and I promise, when it’s all done I’ll call you. Then we can really talk.”
Something seemed to dawn for her. “Wait. Are you protecting me?”
“Just go home, okay?”
“Wow. So that’s how that feels.” She shook her head and scoffed. “What is with everyone suddenly treating me like I’m made of porcelain?”
Derek let go of her and stepped back. “Just go home.” He went to open the door.
He found Jim standing there with his arm poised to knock. “There you are. Thought maybe your doorbell was busted.”
“It’s fine. I was just a little hung up. Come in.” Derek stood out of the way and let Jim enter just as Chris reached the door to leave. Jim smiled at her. “Hello there. Jim Lansing. And you are?”
“Apparently nobody important.” She shot a withering look at Derek, who sighed.
“Jim, this is Christine Wilson. I’m sure you’ll have a chance to meet her properly soon, but she was just leaving.”
“Well, nice to meet you anyway,” Jim told her, tipping the bill of his ball cap her way.
Chris mustered a weak smile. “Yeah, you too.” She glanced back over her shoulder, presumably at Jimmy, and gave a brief nod. With another sour look at Derek, she left.
He closed the door behind her then rested his head against it. He would have so much to make up for. But it couldn’t be helped. Better for her to be hurt and angry and safe than to be on good terms with him and in unnecessary danger.
“Well, here I am,” said Jim, pulling Derek out of his thoughts. “What did you want to talk about? It sure sounded all-fire important on the phone.”
Derek glanced at the box and wondered if he should turn it off. He didn’t doubt that Jimmy had the sense to keep quiet, but he was still a teenage boy. He might not possess a lot of self-control with his emotions running high. He decided to leave it, for now, afraid that drawing attention to the box would raise questions he wasn’t prepared to answer.
He also realized, as he faced his father’s closest friend, that he had questions he wasn’t prepared to ask. How was he supposed to ask Jim about Steve without implying he thought the man’s son was a murderer?
He took a deep breath and plunged in. “I wanted to ask you if you knew a talent scout was scheduled to watch Jimmy’s game the week he died. Did my dad ever tell you anything about that?”
Jim furrowed his brow, then nodded. “I seem to recall him mentioning something about that at your brother’s wake.”
“But not before he died?”
Jim shook his head. His voice was tinged very slightly with bitterness as he spoke. “No, your father decided to keep that information to himself.” He shrugged and smiled. “Didn’t want it getting back to Jimmy. He was afraid it’d make him nervous, make him fumble the ball, throw interceptions, that sort of thing.”
“Is there any way Steve could have known about it?”
Jim seemed to think this over, then shook his head. “I don’t see how.”
Derek rubbed his tired eyes. “Uncle Jim, do you know where Steve was the night Jimmy died?”
“’Course I do. He was at home, having dinner with his family. Just what are you getting at?”
Derek sighed. “Nothing.”
Jim stared at him a moment, studying him. Then he jerked his chin toward the door. “That woman. She was that psychic, wasn’t she?”
“She’s not—” Again, he sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Has she been helping you with Jimmy’s case?” He put finger quotes around the word “helping.”
“She’s consulted on it, yeah.”
Jim let out a disgusted laugh. “What sort of ideas has she been filling your head with, boy?”
“It’s not like that. And don’t worry. She’s not involved anymore.”
“I should hope not. It’s bad enough I had to bail you out of jail over that woman. Now you let her convince you that my son was capable of hurting your brother?”
“She has nothing to do with this.”
“Oh, so you just turn on family all on your own?”
“Uncle Jim—”
“I’ve heard enough. Steve was home with me and his mother when Jimmy was murdered. You think the police didn’t already talk to us about that night?”
“I didn’t know that.”
“No. There’s plenty you don’t know, apparently.” Jim practically shook with indignation, and Derek wondered if he could feel like even more of a jerk. “You keep away from that woman, and you stop digging into your brother’s murder. It’s making you crazy. Leave it for the police.” With that, he stormed out.
Derek resisted the impulse to go after him. He didn’t see it doing any good. Jim clearly needed time to cool down.
“You’re an idiot,” said the box.
Derek glanced at it but didn’t say anything. He stood there a moment, not sure what to do next. Then he knew. There was one more person he needed to talk to to be sure. Derek went to the entry table, put his wallet in his pocket, and picked up his keys.
“Are you going after Chris?” Jimmy asked.
“No. I’m going to talk to Steve.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Derek hesitated, too surprised to move. “Can you even do that?”
“I’m coming. Bring the box.” Jimmy’s tone brooked no argument. Derek nodded and did what his big brother told him.
Chris made her way out of Derek’s neighborhood in an angry haze.
What just happened?
She’d gone over there to give him her heart, to finally be as honest with him as she was with herself.
But he’d put the breaks on this thing between them before she could even get a word out. Sure, he claimed—or at least, implied—that it was for her own good, but was that all it was?
He said he’d been thinking since their little detour that morning, when she’d delivered Marie’s message. What had he been thinking, exactly? That it was too weird? Too much?
Chris sniffled and gripped the steering wheel. If it were any other guy, she could believe that. But not Derek. Not after everything he’d been through with Jimmy.
So he was protecting her. Which was bull. Okay, so she had spent one night in the hospital. But she was fine. It didn’t mean she couldn’t handle herself, even if their assailant was a little more corporeal than she was used to.
She huffed out an angry laugh. This indignation must be what Derek had felt when she’d tried to keep him at a distance for his protection. Maybe she needed a taste of her own medicine. But that didn’t make it okay. If anything, it made it worse.
He should know how much it would hurt her to be sidelined. If he had any idea how much it would suck for her, just sitting around worrying about him and his safety instead of being there to help watch his back…
Except he didn’t know how much she would worry, because she didn’t get the chance to tell him.
Well, if he thought she was about to stand back and let him go after a killer on his own, he seriously needed to rethink some things.
By the time she got home, she’d worked up a healthy dose of indignation. She stomped into the house and into her office. She sat down and started her laptop, forcing her thoughts away from Derek’s misguided stupidity and onto what he and Jimmy had told her about Steve Lansing and the talent scout. If they could make a connection between Lansing and Scott Tucker, they’d have him.
She was in the middle of typing out a search request when Ron appeared and perched on the desk. “So how’d it go? Why are you here instead of with Derek?”
“He kicked me out.”
“What? Oh, sweetie—”
“For my own good. He’s protecting me.” When Ron opened her mouth to speak, Chris pointed at her. “Not a word. I already get the irony.”
Ron pressed her lips together. After a moment, she spoke anyway. “Okay. So, then, what are you doing?”
Chris told her what Derek had learned, as well as what he suspected. “What about another meeting with Scottie Tucker? Maybe if we tell him we already made the connection to Steve Lansing, he’ll be more willing to speak. After all, if he’s worried about his mom, she’ll be safer if Lansing’s put away.”
“I don’t know. Scottie was pretty scary last time we tried. Joe wouldn’t like it. At least, not without him there to watch my back.”
“Can you go ask him?” Before Ron could answer, the doorbell rang. “Hold that thought.”
Chris’s heart pounded as she went to answer the door. Had Derek come to apologize? Would this be her chance to make her feelings clear to him? Was she still ready for that? All of her questions faded into irrelevance as she looked through the front window. They were immediately replaced by a single, overriding question: What in the world?
She opened the door to her unexpected guest and forced a smile. “Hi. You’re Derek’s uncle, right? Is there something I can do for you?”
Jim Lansing didn’t return her smile. “I was hoping we could talk. Just the two of us.”
Chris let her smile falter. “Is there something wrong?”
He nodded. “I’m worried about Derek.”
She relaxed a little. “I am, too. Come on in.” She stood back and held the door open for him as he stepped inside.
“Nice place you have here,” he said, glancing around. “Do you live in this big house alone?”
She considered the question. She didn’t think he was ready to hear about her ghostly housemates, so she simply said, “I have a cat.” She turned back toward her office. “Follow me. We can talk in here.”
As she entered, she found Ron still waiting for her. Her sister’s eyes widened at something behind Chris and she shouted her name. Chris spun to see Uncle Jim holding a gun on her. Her heart leapt into her throat, choking off speech. She could only manage to croak out one word. “Why?”
“How much do you know?”
“What?” Her mind raced. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Know about what?”
“Derek thinks my son killed his brother. Did you plant that notion in his head?”
“No.” She glanced behind her and saw no sign of Ron. An unbelieving gasp escaped her. Surely Ronnie wouldn’t abandon her at a time like this. She turned back to Jim just in time to see both Ron and Joe materialize behind him. Ron looked terrified. Joe looked angry. Chris felt relieved and took another deep breath to steady herself.
“Derek did that story that painted you as a con artist, and I believed him. But now, I’m starting to wonder if you’re the real deal. Bad enough you were poking around that Tucker woman.”
“That was you?” Chris indicated her sling. “I have you to thank for this?”
“I wasn’t the one driving, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But you know who did,” Chris said, putting the pieces together. “You wanted Jimmy out of the picture.”
“I didn’t want him dead!” He pointed the gun emphatically at Chris as he shouted. She closed her eyes and braced herself, but instead of shooting, he kept talking. “They were only supposed to injure him, keep him out of the game. I just wanted my boy to have his chance.”
“Does Steve know about this?”
“No, and he never will. Neither will Derek.” He steadied himself and leveled the gun at her. “I need you to come with me.”
“As if,” said Ron. “You are not going with him.”
“Distract him,” said Joe. “Get him to point the gun away.”
Chris nodded, playing along. “Okay. We don’t need to go anywhere. We can talk about this.”
Jim shook his head. “I really am sorry. Derek cares for you. I hate to hurt him like this. But I can’t have him figuring out the truth.”
“You don’t think he’s smart enough to connect the dots?”
“Maybe, but he’ll never believe it.”
“And what’s he going to think happened to me?”
Jim shrugged. “You’ll be another mystery for him to get wrapped up in. Maybe that’ll finally distract him from finding out who killed Jimmy.” He stepped back into the hall and waved the gun for her to follow.
“Now!” said Joe. Ron grabbed a vase from a table in the hall and threw it against the wall behind Jim. It smashed and he spun toward it, clearly startled. Joe tackled him, holding the gun away from Chris. “Run!” he shouted, and she did.
But Joe couldn’t overpower the living for long. Before Chris could get clear, Jim reached out and grabbed her hair, yanking her back to him. For an old guy, he had a strong grip as he wrapped a hand around her throat and pressed the gun between her ribs.
“I don’t know how you did that. Maybe you are the real deal. But you’d better call your friends off or we’ll end this right here.”
“Okay,” she managed. It was hard to talk with him pressing against her windpipe. “They won’t try anything else.”
“Good. Now let’s go.” He released his grip and shoved her toward the door. She looked back at Ron.
“I’m coming with you,” she said, already on the move. She glanced back at Joe. “Find Derek. Let him know what happened.”
“How?”
“Figure it out!”
Ron followed them down the walk. Jim kept a strong hand on Chris’s good arm and the gun concealed behind her sling as he steered her toward his truck. He made her climb in on the driver’s side before climbing in next to her.
Ron sat on the other side. “We’re going to get out of this,” she promised. “Don’t worry. Just stall him until help comes. It’s going to be okay.”
Chris glanced at her sister and gave a slight nod, grateful that she wasn’t alone in this. Jim transferred the gun to his left hand and kept it pointed at her. “Try anything and I’ll shoot you right here. I can arrange an ‘accident’ to happen with the truck. They’ll never find any evidence.”
With that, he started the engine and drove Chris toward God only knew where.
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