in the distance. Her heart skipped a beat and then thundered fast.
Cait pushed up to her feet and ran for the hallway. “No, no, no, no,” she chanted as she pounded down the hall. The cop who’d been on duty was gone. There was no sign of Sam.
She went straight to the taped-off door and tried the handle. It turned, but when she pushed, it wouldn’t budge. Standing back, she lifted her leg and punched her foot against the thin door. The lock gave, and the door slammed open, bouncing against the interior wall.
The gaping hole in the wall looked just as it had the first time she’d seen it, but she held her breath and looked inside.
Two more bodies lay inside. Their remains were twisted together, so grotesque her stomach lurched. Again, her heart seized in her chest and then pounded.
“That’s not Sam,” she whispered and backed away, bumping into Leland, who gripped her shoulders and guided her back out. “It’s not him,” she repeated, her voice rising as her body shook.
Leland wrapped his arms around her and dragged her from the hallway.
Cait shook her head, her stomach lurching.
Voices echoed inside her. An excited chorus of whispers and shouts, words unintelligible—but one deep rumble unmistakable.
Sam’s.
16
Voices chased Cait. Wails from the dead came howling. Whispers from uniforms and forensics techs combing a crime scene everyone was sick to death of seeing.
All bore stoic gray faces. Every one of them had known Sam. Everyone had liked and respected him. And because of their respect for him, they gave her peace, working quietly, their gazes never lingering long.
Cait didn’t know if she could have held it together if they hadn’t given her space.
As it was, Leland hovered over her from the moment he pulled her from the room, rubbing her back, offering her his condolences in a broken voice, and then shouting at everyone around them to “hurry the fuck up.”
Covering her ears, Cait shivered like a leaf in a gale. All blood had drained from her head, leaving her faint. Her fingers felt ice-cold. When Leland offered to drive her home, she stared, wondering where that might be. But she’d nodded her acceptance, only because she didn’t have the strength to argue.
She wished he’d just dropped her off at her door instead of following her inside and making her tea, looking as though he was prepared to stay when all she wanted was for him to leave.
When at last she’d issued her request in a scratchy voice, he sank on a knee beside the kitchen chair where she sat, her hands wrapped around her hot mug. The voices were a staticky, torrential hum, filling her head. She had to look at his mouth to know he asked her if she’d be okay alone.
“Just go, please,” she repeated, and at last, he did, sparing her one sad glance from the door before closing it softly behind him.
She didn’t stay long in that chair. The moment she heard his sedan’s engine roar, she lurched to her feet and grabbed her keys, goaded onward by the voices, which only faded away once she pushed through the door at O’Malley’s.
Cait sat dull-eyed and silent, waiting until nearly closing before her father joined her in the booth. Her hand was clenched around the Nick the Plumber pen forensics had pulled from inside the wall next to Sam’s body.
“Why can’t I see him, Daddy?” she asked, her voice rasping and dry. She’d screamed so much after Leland pulled her out of room 323 that talking hurt.
The TV crew had been moved to another floor. Then Leland had locked the third floor down tight. No one in. No one out. Even the elevator was locked to prevent anyone else using it.
The manager wasn’t happy, but he’d stood stoically as Leland told him he was lucky the whole building wasn’t cleared.
Avery Lewis had remained calm, his eyes glinting with quiet anger.
Even Leland had lost all his bluster.
Cait had been herded past Mr. Lewis and barely managed a single glance his way.
The hotel manager’s lips had curved with the barest of smiles, confirming her suspicion.
He’d won. She’d lost all will to fight him anymore. Without her special skills, the flurry of activity and negative press would fade from memory. He’d be busy with bookings from every nut job and psychic wannabe eager to walk the hallways in hopes of a legitimate “experience.”
All he’d have to do was wait, and then he could resume his killing, carefully spacing the deaths as he had before to avoid too much attention to his killing field.
“Caitydid,” her father said softly, pulling her back. His green eyes gleamed with compassion. The harsh contours of his rugged face softened.
Cait swallowed the burning lump in her throat. “Why hasn’t he come? I tried summoning him. Used the same spell I made for Sylvia. But nothing happened. It’s dead quiet,” she said, then laughed, the sound more like a ragged sob.
“You giving up on Sam?”
She aimed a teary glance his way. “He’s dead. What else can I do?”
“I’m not the person you should ask.”
She blinked away tears, hearing what he said, but not understanding.
“You’re strong, Cait. Everyone knows.”
“Everyone?”
“All of
“Maybe summoning him is the wrong thing for Sam. Maybe he’s in a good place. Past the pain and fear.” She sniffed and fought against the burning in her throat. “You didn’t see him, Daddy. Every bone in his body crushed, twisted together like a pretzel with that other cop’s.”
“This can’t be the end for you two, Caitydid.
Her lips twisted in a snarl. “Who’s ‘we’? You ghosts?”
“We O’Connells,” he said with a one-sided smile. “And what the hell are you doing here in O’Malley’s?”
“I didn’t have anyone else to talk to.”
“Not Jason or Celeste?”
Cait shook her head. “Jason would’ve, if Leland hadn’t been there. Hell, Leland would’ve stayed the night, but I couldn’t bear the looks he gave me. Like I was some poor, beaten little puppy. And Celeste, well, I’m not sure she even knows,” she said, although she wasn’t so sure that was true. Celeste’s sight was always tuned to those she loved most. And Cait, despite the fact she hadn’t been great at keeping in touch, was family.
“I don’t want to be hugged,” she whispered. “Not now.”
Paddy O’Connell’s solemn gaze reflected her sorrow.
“I’m too brittle,” she rasped. “If I start crying, I might not ever stop.”
“You have a key,” he said, sliding from the seat. He bent near her.
For a moment, she expected to feel his breath on her cheek.
“Use it, darlin’.” And then he was gone. Wisped away.
For a long moment, she thought about what he said, realizing he was right. She couldn’t let things stay the way they were. Couldn’t accept that she and Sam were done. Without resolution. Without him knowing he was everything to her.
Cait slid off the seat, eager to leave.
As she left, she didn’t acknowledge Pauly. Didn’t want him to say again how sorry he was for her loss.
Sam wasn’t hers to lose. Not really. They hadn’t mended the rift that ended their marriage. They’d only just begun to realize that living apart was only half a life, even though being together hadn’t been easy or comfortable
