Out of Body

about himself a bit would put her at ease.

“My old man was a cop,” he said, unsure why he started there. Then he knew. “So I wanted to do what he did. He was…is a good guy.” Talking about his father was easy.

Illness had shrunk Gus Fisher from the big, strong man he’d been into a memory of himself. Sometimes Gray thought of his dad as two people, the one who slew a boy’s lions and seemed invincible, the other still wise and funny, but who had reversed roles with his son. Gray was his father’s rock now, or he was when Gus would allow him to be.

“I like to hear people talk about their families,” Marley said.

Gray gathered himself. “You work with yours, don’t you?”

She laughed. “Yes.”

When she didn’t go on, Gray let it go. “Gus didn’t really want me on the force. I thought he did, and he pretended that’s the way it was, so we fooled each other for years. He was proud to have me there. When I made my first moves up through the ranks, he was about ready to pop, he was so pumped. It didn’t matter to him that he was what he called a plain cop and always would be. That was good with him.”

“You love him a lot,” she said and he heard her soften.

“I thought I was a cop for life, but I only got more frustrated because I wanted something else. Long story short, with my dad’s blessing—and I knew he’d give it—I took time off to see if I could make it as a writer.”

She was quiet once more and her pace slackened. They walked slowly through the heavy night. As they got farther from the river, nothing moved but the two of them. Gray didn’t remember the city being so quiet at this time of the morning. But then, he didn’t hang out in this area anymore.

“Whew,” Marley said. “It’s so muggy.”

His turn to laugh. “That’s new?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and smiling up at him. “I’ve never liked the real heat even though I was born here.” Her smile faded very slowly.

She’d gone away from him again. And his spine began to tingle as it had several times in the hours since he met her.

He almost laughed at himself. Even journalists had libidos. Marley Millet had his doing contortions, not that he knew why. She was good to look at in a kind of breakable way, but that wasn’t it. The lady appealed to his need for challenge. He wanted to know her and know about her.

Come on, Gray. You think she’s got something to do with this case.

“You were going to tell me about Liza and Amber,” she said.

And so she persisted—because, like him, she wanted something. They wanted things from each other.

“Writing about jazz singers in New Orleans is a natural,” he said. “It’s not a new idea, but maybe it is the way I’m doing it. I’m not going after people who are institutions already. It’s the strugglers who interest me— mostly the women. Women always came, but not in the numbers there are now. What is it that makes them want to make it badly enough to come here? This can be a dangerous place for a woman more or less on her own.”

“From where I’m looking, it is a dangerous place,” Marley said. “Liza and Amber know it is, too.”

Gray figured he’d walked into that.

Marley would not have gone two steps with Gray Fisher, alone, if Sykes hadn’t threatened her with a fate worse than death if she didn’t.

“How,” he had asked, “are you going to find out if the guy’s a threat without giving him a chance to jump you? Trust me and do it.”

She hadn’t laughed, or not on the outside…

While she listened to Gray, Sykes loped along on the journalist’s other side. Now that he had Marley’s attention, Sykes had dimmed himself. When she saw his face, it was almost clear, but the rest of him blended into the background and appeared as a figure made of transparent shadows.

And Sykes had never had any trouble making himself heard and understood whenever he felt like it. Unlike Uncle Pascal, they all knew Sykes was a scary-when-he-didn’t-smile, scarier-when-he-did-smile, outrageously powerful paranormal talent.

“What do you make of Danny Summit?” Gray asked. “I didn’t know he was so involved with Amber till tonight.”

“I don’t know anything about him,” Marley said. “Maybe he’s just what he seems to be, worried about his girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Gray snorted. “Neither of them said a word about it to me.”

“Until tonight,” Marley said.

“And they live together.”

“Seems that way,” Marley agreed. “I don’t think he meant to tell us that. Earlier he told me he loved her, but she wasn’t his girlfriend. Go figure.”

Sykes nodded and took mincing steps as if he had to struggle not to outpace Marley and Gray. That wasn’t as true when it came to Gray, who was almost as tall and long-legged as Sykes.

“Don’t do anything to make me laugh,” Marley communicated with him. “You don’t need to walk at all, do you?”

“You are such a killjoy,” he responded. “It’s boring to float. Too easy.”

To Gray, Marley said, “You still didn’t say how you chose Liza and Amber.”

“I didn’t, really. A drummer at Blues Heaven mentioned Liza and Liza introduced me to Amber Lee. They were both right for what I wanted. What I still want.”

“Which is?” The more she could get out of him, the better.

Sykes leaned forward and touched the tips of a thumb and forefinger together.

“Glad you approve.” She let him know she didn’t appreciate his interference.

“Sarcasm never suited you,” Sykes said.

“The story’s about the network here, the jazz network, and what it takes to break in,” Gray said. “I’m not interested in anyone with connections. Not anyone who already knew people who would help them out when they got here. All Liza’s got is her voice—and she’s easy to look at.”

“This is where you tell him all men are the same,” Sykes said. “We only care how sexy a woman is.”

“All he said was, she’s easy to look at.”

“Code for sexy,” Sykes said. In a single long stride, he bounded forward and turned to walk backward in front of Gray. “Do you know he’s sensitive?” he asked Marley. “He’s just waking up to it. Don’t know why, unless it’s something to do with you. Yeah, could be. He’s trying to pretend he doesn’t notice anything really different.”

“I do know about him,” Marley said. “Be careful he doesn’t intercept you talking to me. Keep your guard up. I think he heard Uncle Pascal.”

Sykes snapped his fingers soundlessly and danced in front of them to music only he heard. “Baby, baby,” he sang in his husky tenor. “My guard is always up, up, up. I’m always ready. Bring it on.”

“I’m glad we’re having this opportunity to talk,” Gray said.

Marley did her best to shut out Sykes’s image. “Really?”

“I was serious when I said I want to know more about your…what do you call that?”

Her instinct was to leave him flailing around, searching and finding ever more foolish terms for the powers she had. “You don’t have to call it anything,” she said, taking some pity. After all, he hadn’t jumped her yet. “You don’t have to think about it at all.”

“Didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.” But he might very soon.

“So tell me,” he said. “You saw Liza and Amber somewhere since they went missing?”

“Does anyone even know how long they’ve been missing? Who told the police about it first?”

He laughed.

Marley risked glancing at Sykes, who made an owlish face.