Out of Body

to say and looked at the way he held on to her, at his big, well-used hands and the way they covered hers.

“I’m not sick,” he said.

He was a man who would be noticed wherever he went. Marley decided she would certainly notice him and felt uncomfortable with the idea. She stood up, pulling away from him as she did so. “I have to talk to someone,” she said. Rather than starting another set, Sidney was getting ready to leave.

“Sidney?” Gray said. “You want to talk to her before she leaves.”

Marley didn’t respond. She didn’t have to, but was it an easy assumption that she would try to talk to Sidney before she left. Or had Gray picked up on her intentions again?

Hurriedly, she left him and walked the length of the club.

Sidney was much taller than Marley, who had to look up at her.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Marley Millet. Could we talk for a few minutes?”

“I don’t think so,” Sidney told her in a slightly nasal, purely upper-crust New Orleans accent. “Maybe another time.”

“It’s about Amber,” Marley said. “And you, of course.”

That earned her a more interested look down Sidney’s elegant nose. She took the card Marley offered, but barely glanced at it.

“You’re with Gray Fisher,” the woman said.

“You know Gray?”

One shoulder rose, causing the front of a black dress to gape.

Sidney laughed low in her throat. Her lashes fluttered. “I suppose he’s decided I’m good enough for his little story now.”

“That’s not what I wanted to ask—”

“You were always good enough for a story, Sidney,” Gray said, joining Marley and cutting off whatever she had been going to say next. “You’re in my lineup. Or I hope you’ll agree to be.”

Sidney watched him through narrowed eyelids. “Would I have been in your lineup if you hadn’t lost two of your preferred interviews already?”

“If that’s what you believe, I won’t try to change your mind. Let’s forget we had this discussion.”

“I will not, Gray Fisher,” Sidney said, all but purring. “I’d be honored to talk to you, but not tonight. My family worries if I’m out too late.”

“When, then?”

“I hoped we could talk,” Marley managed to get in. “Could I call you?”

Sidney smiled at her, but spoke to Gray. “Give me your number and I’ll get in touch with you.”

He was taking a card from the inside pocket of his jacket when Marley saw her brother, Sykes. Or rather, more-or-less saw him.

Nearby, one ankle crossed over the other, his weight braced against a post, stood all more than six and a half feet of Sykes Millet. His black hair curled to his collar and his brilliant blue eyes laughed at her. The smile that curved his lips would be a killer to any other woman looking at him.

No other woman looked at him tonight because only Marley would be able to see him. And she could see straight through him to the wall behind.

Chapter 9

“Marley! Wait!” Gray caught up with her when she reached the curb in front of the Hotel Camille. “Marley —”

“I can’t talk to you anymore.”

“Never again?” he asked.

She glanced at him, but didn’t crack a smile. “Most likely.”

Gray prepared for battle.

“Sidney won’t call you,” he told her.

“Do you really think she’ll call you?” she asked tightly, scanning the street in both directions.

“Yeah, I do. She’s still ambitious enough to want publicity. You saw that. Amber was the talent. Hey, you don’t live so far from here. We can walk.”

Marley stepped off the sidewalk. “I’ll get a cab,” she said, searching up and down the street again then back at the hotel entrance.

The Camille wasn’t the kind of place that kept twenty-four-hour doormen around. No help would come from there.

The street was silent and empty.

To the west, even the neon flare from Harrah’s Casino looked subdued against the hazy sky.

The first chill of early morning slithered off the Mississippi, barely shifting the odors of old buildings, old beer, or the scent of flowers in hanging baskets.

“You don’t need a cab,” he said. “I’ll walk with you and you’ll be fine.”

A ship’s horn bleated from the river and Marley jumped. Standing in the street with him on the sidewalk, she seemed even smaller. “I’ll be fine?” she said, only it wasn’t a question really.

He threw up his hands. “Oh, for God’s sake. Do you really think I’m some sort of perverted killer?”

“I don’t know what you are,” she said.

No, of course she didn’t. He pulled out his wallet and searched through it. “I may have a cab number in here somewhere,” he said. Why fight her logical arguments? In her position he wouldn’t want him to walk her home, either.

Mentally, she had moved away from him again. He felt it without looking at her, but when he did glance up, he knew he was right.

Green, gold and pink, Scully’s neon sign pulsed over Marley’s shuttered features.

“Marley?” he said, deliberately quiet.

Her face moved in his direction, but not her eyes, or not immediately. “Doesn’t look as if I’m going to get a cab,” she said finally.

He took another look through his wallet.

“We can probably be home before I get a ride,” she said, but she didn’t sound convinced. “Let’s go. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” There wasn’t much he liked about this. She behaved as if she were acting under pressure. “We could go back inside and find a phone book. Hell, someone in the club will know who to call.”

Again she looked away and thought about it. “That would be silly. You know I’ve had…It’s been hard today. I don’t go around telling people about myself, not the stuff they’ll only laugh at.”

She didn’t need more grief, not after what she’d taken from Nat earlier. “Okay, then.” He grinned and offered her an arm. “I didn’t laugh when you said you saw things…or people, was it? When you aren’t in your body you see them?”

“Thanks,” she said, “but you’re laughing now.”

She started walking.

“No, I’m not,” Gray said, catching up and falling into step beside her. “I’d like to know more about…more about it all.” What did bother him was hearing voices, or feeling things he shouldn’t feel.

“There’s nothing more to know,” she said.

She was probably right and it might be kinder to his health to think so. Anyway, he knew better than to press her again on the subject and they went in silence to the corner of Iberville Street and made a left. His shoes rang on the sidewalk. The soles of her shoes must be soft.

“Tell me how you got to know Liza and Amber,” Marley said. “Why did you choose them? Detective Archer said you were a good cop. Or he more or less said that. So why be a journalist at all?”

Gray wasn’t sure what to say, or if he ought to tell her anything at all. But it couldn’t hurt to see if talking