“That would be some feat,” the police chief said. “Seeing as how she was with me, watching the Lakers game.”
“Don’t worry, Zakaria,” Mrs. Farhat called, as her son was led away, struggling, by the two men. “We’ll get you the best attorney money can buy. Rashid”—-she punched her husband, who was looking dazed, in the arm—-“call your brother.” Glancing at me before she left the room—-almost as an afterthought—-she asked, “Are you really all right?”
Jesse had crossed the room to slide an arm around me. I probably could have stood unaided, but it was nice to have a strong, masculine arm to lean on—-especially one that was attached to such a tall, attractive body.
“I’m fine,” I said, though this was an exaggeration. I was going to be sore tomorrow . . . even sorer than I was now.
Still, she was a nice lady, and she had enough to worry about.
“I’m glad,” she said, and managed a smile that was at once both warm and regretful. “I’m so sorry about . . . about . . . well, about my son. I have another boy—-Zakaria’s older brother. He’s away at university, like your friend.” She glanced at Jesse, the smile turning into a beam. “We’re very proud of him. Only he's studying to be a concert pianist. He's very talented. But Zakaria—-” The smile faded. “Zakaria has always been a worry. And now . . .” The smile disappeared altogether. “Tell me . . . will you be pressing assault charges against my son? I’d understand it if you did. But I’d like . . . well, I’d like to be prepared.”
“No,” I said. “I won’t be pressing any charges against your son, Mrs. Farhat.”
She looked relieved . . . but only until I added, “But Mrs. Farhat, I think you do need to prepare for something else. Have you paid for any repairs on your son’s truck recently? Has he had the paint touched up, or the bumper replaced? Things like that?”
“His truck . . .” A dark cloud—-darker than any that had loomed outside during the storm—-passed across her face, and I knew that she knew the truth now, beyond a shadow of a doubt. The ring was one thing—-no one would ever be able to prove her son had coldly pulled that ring from Jasmin’s finger as she lay dying in the wreckage of Mark’s burning vehicle, though I hadn’t the slightest doubt that’s what had happened. Zack could claim he’d visited the site of the accident later, in his grief over his cousin’s death, and found the ring lying on the side of the road.
But the repairs to his truck—-which I’m sure the Farhats had unquestioningly paid for, as they did all their son’s bills—-were something else. They would never be able to dispute what those were for. Credit card charges for auto repairs, like diamonds, were forever.
And because of them, Mrs. Farhat would do her duty—-not to her son, but to Jasmin—-and make certain that Zack got what he deserved.
“God help us,” she said. “Yes. Yes, I see. Thank you. I’ve got to be going now. You can show yourselves out. Have a good evening.”
Then she was gone, leaving Jesse and me behind in her son’s broken bedroom . . . with the ghost of the boy he’d killed, and who’d been trying all night to kill him in return.
Doce
“YOU DID IT,” Mark said. “I didn’t believe you when you said justice would be served. But you did it.”
He was growing fainter by the second, the paranormal glow around him less and less bright. Part of that was because of the tremendous amount of psychic energy he’d exerted, summoning that storm.
But another, greater part was because he felt ready now. He felt ready to go wherever it was his soul was meant to be.
“I didn’t do it,” I said, wrapping an arm around Jesse’s waist. “You did, Mark. Zack would never have admitted to any of it if it hadn’t been for you scaring the living daylights out of him with that storm. The thing with the French doors? That was very excellently done for a BDP.”
Mark looked confused. “What’s BDP?”
“Beginner Deceased Person.” I felt he’d earned the upgrade in title from Non--Compliant Deceased Person.
“Trust me, Mark,” Jesse said. “You don’t want to move past the beginner stage.”
“He’s right,” I said. “Although you didn’t do so badly yourself tonight, big guy.” I gave Jesse a little squeeze. “You burst in at the perfect time.”
“Timing has always been my forte,” he admitted modestly.
“Everyone did pretty well tonight,” I said. “Even our friends in law enforcement. Heck, even the media.”
“I never thought I’d hear you utter those words,” Jesse said, returning my squeeze with the supportive arm he’d slid around me.
“Well, they did hold back a description of the ring,” I admitted. “Otherwise, Zack could have made a copy and been wearing that, and we’d never have been able to convince anyone what a psycho he is. I mean psycho in a thoroughly diagnostic way, of course, not pejoratively.”
“Of course,” Jesse said.