Otherworldly [McKnight, Perth & Daire 1] (Siren Publishing Allure) Read online

  “So Zach is dead?” Mrs. Braddock-Masters clarified, her shoulders slumped.

  Charlotte took a deep breath and tried shaking off the vision. “I’m so sorry. His spirit is strong. He wants to be found.” She reached out and took Mrs. Braddock-Master’s hand, holding it comfortingly. “Detective, that warehouse had a distinct odor. Soured, perhaps a little mechanical. Does that sound familiar at all?”

  “I…I think so,” he murmured, as if dazed. “The, um, smell. Maybe old grease?”

  “Grease? Like car grease?”

  “Yeah. Down across the train tracks is a set of old garages that have been abandoned since the seventies. Chains were used with cherry pickers. Those could be the crossbeams on the ceiling. And that crevice you mentioned could be a service pit.”

  Looking at Jonas, it was hard to tell what was going through his mind. His posture remained stiff, and he rubbed his face with one hand. His eyes blazed with equal parts disbelief and denial. He didn’t want to believe her, but the law enforcer part of his brain couldn’t ignore any type of lead.

  Without another word to her or his aunt, he turned on his heel and left.

  Mrs. Braddock-Masters sniffled. “Let’s go back to the den, Miss Perth. I have a need to sit-down.”

  “Of course,” Charlotte said and helped the older woman to stand.

  “I’m their great aunt, you know,” Mrs. Braddock-Masters explained. Charlotte let her talk, knowing that sometimes talking helped resolve grief. “I married into the Braddock-Masters clan. My husband had been a direct descendant of the original pioneers who settled in this area before the Civil War. Their wealth came from lumber and the trade route, especially building cities up and down the West coast. We’d always been a prominent family in Alecia Falls, but we’ve all died, one by one. There were cousins that moved out of the area at the turn of the century, the last century, that is, and we’ve not really kept in contact. When Zach disappeared I just knew something was wrong…I suppose it’s just Jonas and me now.”

  “I’m so very sorry for your loss,” Charlotte murmured.

  Mrs. Braddock-Masters sighed. “At least I won’t have to tell Zach’s parents. They were killed last year in a boating accident. One tragedy after another. I can barely stand it.”

  In the den she helped Mrs. Braddock-Masters settle back onto the sofa then handed her a box of tissues.

  “Thank you,” she said, dabbing her nose. “And thank you…about Zach.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. “The rest of your fee.”

  Charlotte took the envelope and slipped it into her own pocket. “May I hold onto Zach’s ring for a little while?”

  “I suppose so,” Mrs. Braddock-Masters whispered.

  Charlotte patted her hand. “There might be a little pull of him left on the ring. I’ll be in town for one more day. I always stay until…I’ll be here until Zach is found. I’m at the Travel Star if you need to get in touch with me.”

  Mrs. Braddock-Masters nodded, though Charlotte could tell the woman was distracted, lost in her memories and thoughts over Zach. So Charlotte stood, grabbed her purse, and made her way to the door. Right before she walked out, she gave one last look at Alice Braddock-Masters, a bright jewel lost whose luster seemed to have dimmed in the past few minutes

  As she drove to her hotel, the panic she saw in Zach’s eyes played over in her mind. What was he warning her about? To keep quiet about his death or to keep quiet about finding his body?

  Chapter Two

  Charlotte pulled into the parking lot of the Travel Star just as her belly rumbled. A quick glance at her phone told her it was after two in the afternoon, way past her missed lunch break, and her stomach was protesting its loss.

  Grabbing her overnight bag, she headed to the office.

  “Welcome to the Travel Star. Can I help you?” the woman behind the counter asked.

  “I have a reservation. The name is Perth.”

  The woman clicked on her ancient computer, the large monitor resting heavily on the counter and taking up almost the entire area. Charlotte bet it even had a dot matrix printer.

  “Yep, here it is,” the woman said. She hit a button, and Charlotte heard the unmistakable annoying beeps of a printer head running back and forth. “Just fill this out. Include the make and model of your car plus the license plate.”

  Charlotte took the offered pen. “Do you have any rooms without a bathtub?”

  The woman blinked. “You mean you don’t want to bathe?”

  “I only take showers.”

  The woman frowned and consulted her computer again. “The only room we have available without a tub is a smoking room.”

  “Fine. I’ll take that.”

  “You smoke?”

  “No,” Charlotte answered. “But I’ll take it any way.”

  The woman shrugged and continued with changing the reservation and booking her into the new room as Charlotte filled out the paperwork. A moment later she handed over the key and Charlotte took it, mumbling thanks before walking away.

  When she opened the door to her room, the stench of cigarettes almost overwhelmed her. She wrinkled her nose and hurried to open the windows, letting the breeze flow through to help ease the stench. But as she checked in the bathroom to make sure there wasn’t a tub, she figured a little bad smell was worth peace of mind.

  She showered quickly then slipped on her usual clothing of black leggings with a black body-hugging, off-the-shoulder shirt, and her new fake Gucci boots. She had expensive taste with a frugal mind, so much of her stuff was knockoffs. She pulled her unruly mass of black hair into a high ponytail and studied herself critically in the mirror. Bangs covered her forehead and rested over wide almond-shaped eyes that seemed to dominate her face. Her features were pale, her nose straight over full lips. She’d lost the physique she’d once had of toned, muscled shoulders with a streamlined core. Now, she considered herself a tad too skinny.

  She sighed and wondered again why she lived the life she did, wondered why therapy hadn’t helped her work through her demons. She’d just had her thirtieth birthday. She’d once dreamed of having gold medals around her neck, a passel of kids, and a career teaching the next Olympic swimmer, until life altered radically off course.

  A knock on her door startled her out of her dark thoughts, and she turned from the bathroom mirror to walk up to the door and peek through the view hole. Her mouth dropped open a bit when she saw Jonas Daire outside her door.

  She flipped the dead bolt and opened the door.

  “Detective,” she greeted. “Can I help you?”

  His hands rested on his hips and gave her a tight, restrained look. “Uniforms think they found the warehouse. I thought you might like to come with me.”

  “Of course. Let me just grab my stuff,” she replied, turning and leaving him in the doorway. She felt his eyes on her as she walked to the desk for her jacket and purse and the special manila envelope she’d prepared for him.

  Her stomach rumbled again, reminding her the last time she ate had been breakfast at six a.m. as she caught her flight to Washington. So she reached into her bag for a granola bar to appease the hunger pains. She had a funny suspicion it was going to be a long afternoon.

  She pulled the door firmly shut behind her, making sure it was locked before walking with Jonas Daire to his nondescript-though-obvious cop car. He laid one hand on her back, and she jumped as she felt some type of current flash through her. Her startled gaze met Jonas’s, and she realized he had felt it, too. He let his hand drop and it remained by his side.

  Jonas held open the passenger side, and she settled in, staring at the extensive layout of the interior. A computer wrapped around from the console with a CB radio stashed underneath it. A GPS system was mounted on top of the dashboard, as well as several cell phones in holders.

  Jonas Daire slid into the driver’s seat, and his presence filled up the car. Her heart hammered a little and her breath swallowed, as if she had just run a mile.
She wished she had brought something to drink because her mouth went dry.

  “Do you do this often?” he asked, his voice sounding loud in the small confines of the car.

  She blinked startled eyes at him. Do what often? Feel attracted to a client’s nephew? Absolutely not!

  “Travel around and…you know, find people,” he added, clarifying.

  “Oh,” she replied. Charlotte took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. “Sometimes.”

  “Sometimes? What do you do the other times?”

  “I write.”

  He shot her a quick look. “What do you write?”

  She shrugged, dismissively. “Well, I should clarify that I dabble in writing.”

  “How does one dabble in writing? A bit here, a bit there?”

  “Pretty much,” she replied. She shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable.

  He fell silent again, driving on. Charlotte looked out the window. The town of Alecia Falls, Washington, was a city that had a small-town feel whose economy relied on exporting lumber and fish. Main Street held old brick buildings whose architecture placed them being built almost a century ago. Some of the store signs seemed that old as well. Big leaf maple trees lined the streets, providing a canopy for the people bustling about, shopping.

  As they drove further north, the pretty, picturesque town fell away to reveal a more industrial area. They crossed over a set of train tracks and entered a type of rail car graveyard. The buildings were rounded, reminding her of the airplane hangars of the thirties and forties. Most of them looked condemned with boards nailed over doors and broken windows everywhere.

  “I don’t believe you,” Jonas suddenly said as they drew closer to a building where several cop cars waited with lights twirling.

  “I know,” she replied.

  “I meant…I meant I can’t believe you.”

  She glanced at his profile and waited. The car seemed to slow down, prolonging their arrival to the potential crime scene.

  “If Zach is dead then…then I’ve lost more than my cousin,” he continued, and she heard a gruffness enter his voice. He cleared his throat. “Zach’s like my brother. And I don’t know if I want to go into that warehouse.”

  “I hope I’m wrong,” she murmured and laid a hand on his arm. She felt that strange current again, and she knew he had felt it, too, by the stiffening of the muscle under her fingers.

  He took a deep breath and pressed a little on the gas. A minute later he pulled next to another cop car and shut the engine. He reached up and gripped her hand that still clutched his arm, squeezing it once before letting go. Then he exited, coming around to her side to open her door.

  The first thing Charlotte noticed was the breeze seemed cooler here than in town, and she slipped on her jacket before walking with Jonas into the warehouse. A sense of déjà vu came over her as she stepped into the dim interior. Immediately, the vision tumbled through her mind, and she looked around, connecting the telltale signs to make sure they were in the right place.

  Up ahead lay a streaming bolt of light, almost blinding in the vast darkness of the hangar, and she walked toward it, ignoring the various people she heard shuffling around her. She stepped into the light, looking up through a broken panel in the ceiling, and held her hand up to help shield her eyes. The light helped warm her skin, but deep inside she felt a coldness settle because this was her vision and Zach was near.

  She continued on, stepping from the light and back into the darkness, blinded for a moment as her eyes readjusted. Stepping from the overhead skylight, she continued further into the warehouse and around the corner to where she knew the pit of water lay.

  The smell of old grease hit her, so pungent it made her nose wrinkle. Now that she could see further, there were actually several car pits, but the one that held everyone’s attention was the only one that had water.

  And she was unable to take another step forward.

  Charlotte caught the stare of another man in a suit with a phone pressed against his ear. He looked to be Hispanic with black hair cut ruthlessly short. His dark suit complimented his tanned skin.

  Other officers pushed past her carrying flashlights, and the pinpoints of light congealed onto the motionless water. Charlotte couldn’t tear her eyes from it, partly from fear but mostly in sorrow. Coldness swept through her, holding her immobile and pouring a trove on unwanted emotions through her. Sadness, agony, anger, and hatred. She knew they were Zach’s emotions even though she was no longer connected to him. She had left the ring in her purse, which was still in Jonas’s car, but she didn’t need it to know that Zach was very much aware of what was happening.

  Vaguely, she heard commands being given. Jonas’s training took over as he ordered better lighting and a drainage hose. She didn’t need to watch any more. They would find Zach’s body, and she didn’t want to see the decaying remains. Charlotte turned and headed back through the warehouse, walking slowly past police and ignoring all the curious stares cast in her direction. Yes, she was out of place, and in these moments even more so, and this was just the beginning. Finding the body was just the start of a long journey, maybe one that couldn’t be closed. The person who had put Zach in that watery pit still loomed out there, waiting. Sometimes the cops were able to break the case and make an arrest, but more often than not they had nowhere to go. And a body submerged for weeks would reveal few clues.

  She opened the passenger side of Jonas’s car and sat down, closing the door with a sharp click. She watched the commotion of people, saw the arrival of the coroner. The white van with the city logo painted on the side pulled near the warehouse entrance, and a man in white overalls jumped out. As he walked to the back of his truck to take out the gurney, her phone rang, startling her. She picked up her purse and dug through it until she found her cell.

  Caller ID showed her sister’s name.

  “Hello, Holly,” Charlotte greeted.

  “Hey. How’s it going?”

  “I found him. They’re searching the area right now for the remains.”

  There was a slight hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

  “Seems like one of those car pits filled with water.”

  “And he’s in the water?”

  “Yep.”

  “Shit, Lottie. Are you doing all right?”

  “I took myself away from it. I’m sitting in a detective’s car.”

  “Will I be expecting a call from the detective?”

  “I don’t think so. The victim is his cousin, and as much as he mistrusts my ability, he trusted the tip enough to check.”

  “Well, that’s something,” Holly said and then sighed. “Mom wanted me to ask when you’re coming home.”

  A shudder went through Charlotte’s body. “Why don’t you guys come visit me?”

  “Charlotte—”

  “Hey, it’s a compromise.”

  She heard Holly sigh again. “I’ll talk to Mom and Dad and the other two.”

  Charlotte saw Jonas emerge from the warehouse. His shoulders slumped as his hands rested on his hips. He stared at the ground, exiting the warehouse slowly, not looking where he was going. She watched him stagger to the side and lean over, resting his hands on his knees as his shoulders shook.

  “I gotta go, Holly,” she said.

  “All right. Call me later.”

  * * * *

  Jonas watched from the sidelines. It took every fiber of strength within him to maintain his poker face, but his frayed nerves were making him sweat with effort. As much as he told himself that Zach was not in that pit, a small voice whispered that this was farther than they’d gotten in the whole investigation.

  It would be just like the cosmos to inflict such a lesson. As a homicide cop he’d seen far too many crime scenes and had delivered the dreaded news of loss to family members. And he’d done it without emotion, without too much thought other than the who, when, and why. Now here he stood, about to be one of those people the cops looked with pity. He hoped to god Cha
rlotte Perth was wrong.

  “What are you doing here, Jonas?” his partner, Degas Villarosa, asked.

  Jonas didn’t even spare a glance at him. He concentrated on the water.

  “It was my tip,” he replied.

  “Would there be any way I could listen to this tip?”

  Jonas shook his head. “Anonymous.”

  “Of course. Listen, Jonas, why don’t you go—”

  “Would you go home?” Jonas interrupted. “If that was Rita down there, would you just go home and wait?”

  “There’s probably nothing down there.”

  “I hope like hell you’re right.”

  In that moment a murmur swept through the crowd, and Jonas felt his body stiffening. One by one, the heads turned in his direction and he knew.

  God, he knew.

  Zach was in there. He was in that water. Jonas felt disoriented, as if he were on a sinking ship and he didn’t know which way to turn. He felt someone grab his arm and steer him away from the pit, but he fought to go back.

  Perhaps it wasn’t Zach. Maybe it was some other poor bastard. No, it couldn’t be Zach. It had to be someone else.

  “No!” he shouted and tried to push Degas away.

  “Listen, Jonas,” Degas warned in a low, restrained voice. “Go to the precinct. Wait for me there. We need to confirm that this is Zach.”

  He was dimly aware that Degas told a uniform to follow him out of the building. Once the sunlight hit him, everything came rushing back, and he staggered to the side, unable to keep his balance. His stomach felt like it was going to start heaving any moment, but there wasn’t any place he could run and hide.

  “Detective?” She gently touched his back. “Jonas?”

  “Oh my god,” he told her, and even he heard the tight threat of tears in his voice. “I kept telling myself you were full of shit.”