I tried, but Brad stopped me. Why did it have to be him?
He’d treated Jenn badly; she’d responded in kind. I hadn’t been friendly either. As a result, I didn’t expect much help from him, and I was right.
“No one in until the all clear.” His voice and his face were far too smug.
“I need to talk to Detective Doucet.”
“When he comes out.”
“Now.”
“Why?”
I couldn’t mention the dead kid, who thought the house was going to self-combust.
“Isn’t it dangerous for him to be in there alone?”
“He’s a cop, Raye. One who deals with a lot more dangerous things where he’s from than we’ve ever seen here. He’ll be fine.”
I could try and scoot around Brad, make a run for it, but he’d won a medal at State in the two-hundred-meter dash. He’d catch me, and then I’d never get inside.
I hurried to Jenn, who sat on the hood of her car, playing with her phone. “Distract him.”
“Who?” She didn’t even glance up.
“Brad.”
“No.” Still no eye contact.
“Now, Jenn, or someone’s going to die.”
That got her attention. She lifted her gaze, saw I was serious, and put away her phone. She’d known me long enough to believe what I said. She was Jenn enough not to ask questions.
She slithered off the car with a long-suffering sigh, fluffed her hair, hiked up the girls, and moved off. Unfortunately, Brad was familiar with Jenn. The instant she came near him, his gaze went to me and stuck there.
“Son of a bitch.” Brad had never been as dumb as he looked. He knew that Jenn would not have come near him unless I sent her.
Genevieve gasped. I’d forgotten about her.
“Sorry!” I needed to watch my language around kids—both dead and alive.
She cast me a disgusted glance. “Run,” she said, then she ran straight at Jenn.
My mouth fell open. I had no idea what she was going to do. Possess her? The idea made me squeamish for more than one reason. A child in Jenn’s head—talk about trauma. For both of them.
“Wait!” I shouted.
Jenn turned to scowl in my direction, and Genevieve shoved her in the chest. The child was spirit not form, that shouldn’t have worked. Although Stafford had been around long enough to learn how to do a lot more than any other ghost I’d ever encountered. Why was it that the good children never managed to teach the bad ones their behavior, it was always the other way around?
Jenn tumbled backward; Brad caught her; I scooted around the side of the house and ran.
The back door gaped. Mrs. Noita hunkered beside her own body. I hated when that happened. Not only was it creepy to see the dead and the living right next to each other, but the ghosts were always confused and as upset about seeing their own dead selves as I was. However, I didn’t have time to soothe or explain. I stepped over one and through the other, ignoring both the chill and the scent of too much blood.
“Bobby!” I shouted from the top of the steps.
My response was a muffled curse and a faint: “Stay there.”
Instead, I hurried downstairs.
“I’m going to kill that pretty blond kid,” Bobby muttered. “Get out.”
“Only if you come too.” My gaze flitted around the basement, which was remarkably empty, dry, and clean for a basement. It still had nooks and crannies where all sorts of nasty things might hide.
“I have to make sure whoever killed Mrs. Noita isn’t still down here.” He held his gun pointed toward the ground, but his body was tense, and he appeared ready to lift it at any time.
“She isn’t.” Mrs. Noita no longer hunkered next to Mrs. Noita but stood in her own basement.
“Who?” I asked.
“Never saw her before in my life,” she said.
“If I knew that,” Bobby answered, “I wouldn’t even be here.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
Genevieve appeared at his side. She tugged on his belt. “Daddy, come on! Daddy!”
He frowned and glanced down. When he stepped forward her fingers went through his side, and he shuddered.
“Raye.” Henry stood next to the furnace. It was a convention down here.
I scowled at him. Now he showed up? He pointed at something on the side that I couldn’t see.
“You need to get out.” His gaze followed his own finger. “Quickly.”
I hurried over, ignoring another curse from Bobby, as well as Henry.
“Goddammit, Raye. Anyone could be—”
“Shit,” I said, when I saw what Henry was pointing at.
Bobby’s gun came up, and he joined us, hesitating when he walked through Henry. Bobby Doucet might not believe in ghosts, but he felt them, and I had to wonder why.
His gaze lit on the timer, ticking down to doomsday. We had about a minute left.
“Shit,” he echoed. “Run.”
I wished people would stop saying that to me. I wished even harder that I didn’t have to listen, Our footsteps thundered up the stairs. I leaped over Mrs. Noita a second time.