Nightwalker (Harrison Investigation #8)

Nightwalker (Harrison Investigation #8) Page 21

“A tech guru might be able to figure it out.”

“That would be very tough and not very likely,” Dillon said. “And like I said, the reason I think the two deaths are connected is that Rudy was parking cars at the Sun that night, and I think he got a look at what the cameras missed. So thanks. I appreciate the offer of help.”

“I’ll appreciate yours, too, if you get anything,” Durso told him.

The two men shook hands goodbye, and as Dillon walked slowly back toward the exit, he keyed in the phone number Sarah had given him the night before.

“Hey there,” she said, once he identified himself.

“Hey yourself. I have a question for you. Do you know anything about what Tanner Green was wearing the night he died?”

“Top of the line,” she told him. “Designer all the way. His shoes must have cost more than I make in a week.”

“Was there any damage to his clothing?”

“Well, there was the hole made by the knife,” she said. “And the bloodstains.”

“Anything else?”

“Wait a minute.” He could hear her rustling papers.

“Yeah, his shirt was missing two buttons,” she read off a report.

“Thanks,” he said. “Thanks.”

“What have you got?”

“As soon as I’m closer to really knowing something, I’ll let you know.”

Passing the squad room on her way out, Jessy looked over at the sea of desks and the officers who were hurrying from place to place, almost as if they were ants busying themselves around their hill.

She still felt tense, and she didn’t know why. Looking around again, she found herself half expecting Tanner Green to be seated at one of the desks, staring at her. But he was nowhere in sight, a fact that should have filled her with more relief than it did.

One piece of information sat dully in her mind. Tanner Green had been an only child.

She was also curious about the fact that Dillon Wolf had been in with Cheever. She supposed it was because they were both investigating Green’s death, so they undoubtedly needed to work with one another, even if they didn’t necessarily like one another.

And why hadn’t she told Cheever what she hadn’t been willing to tell Dillon, either: that just before dying, Tanner Green had whispered a single word to her?

Indigo.

“Jessy?”

The sound of her own name startled her, and she jumped. Dillon Wolf was walking down the hall toward her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

He was tall, solid. Certainly attractive. And it wasn’t just his looks, either. It was the confident way he moved. The way he spoke. Even in a dream, she had felt the attraction, the longing to be with him. The need to be held. And touched. Was this strange attraction all because she was seeing a ghost, or was she genuinely attracted to him? She was very much afraid it was the latter.

She was edgy around him, and she wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t afraid of him, exactly, it was more that she was afraid of…how much he seemed to know about her, the way he saw through to the vulnerability she longed to deny.

“Are you all right?” he asked, looking at her skeptically.

“Fine, thank you.” Oh, God, she was such a liar. And he could see it, of course. He didn’t ask another question, he just studied her with his dark, intense eyes, and she found herself babbling. “I just came in to see what was going on with the investigation.”

“Sure.” He glanced at his watch. “You working today?”

“Yes.”

“The same show?” When she nodded, he asked, “Does that mean you have time for a late breakfast or an early lunch…or just a cup of coffee?”

She wanted to say no. She wanted to run away.

Which was just crazy. And seriously, did she want to be alone right now?

“Please?” he added.

Why couldn’t he be so obnoxious that she would have a good reason to say no?

“I guess brunch would be a good thing,” she said.

“Great,” he told her, then laid his hand against the base of her back to usher her from the station. Outside, he suggested that they take his car, offering to drive her back afterward for hers, and she reluctantly agreed.

He drove a small hybrid. Vegas might be a city of extravagance, but thinking about the man, she decided she wasn’t surprised.

He chose a charming mom-and-pop place she’d never been to before. At first she was surprised by that, and then she realized that Las Vegas was filled with restaurants, many of which came and went in the blink of an eye, so perhaps it wasn’t so strange after all.

The restaurant was sparkling clean; the little vases of flowers on the table were fresh. The room itself was sunny and airy, but despite that, as they sat down, she looked around, afraid she was going to see the mournful eyes of Tanner Green staring at her. Pleading with her. But for what?

“The eggs Benedict are excellent,” he suggested. “And the soups are homemade.”

She wasn’t really interested in the food. “Eggs Benedict sounds fine,” she told him.

The waitress turned out to be one of the owners. Dillon chatted pleasantly with her for a few minutes as he ordered.

Once cups of steaming coffee had been set before them, he looked at her and smiled. “Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked her.

“I—I’m not,” she protested.

“The thing is, I think you need me,” he told her soberly.

It wasn’t a line, and she knew it. Still, she tossed back a lock of hair and said, “Well, that’s a new come-on,” she said.

He didn’t reply, didn’t even crack a smile.

“I think your life might be in danger,” he said flatly.

Her fingers trembled as she held her coffee cup; she decided not to try to take a sip. “Why?” she breathed.

He leaned toward her. “Tanner Green spoke to you before he died. I saw it on the tapes.”

“But…only the cops have those tapes, right?” she asked him. “Are you trying to tell me that the police department is crooked?”

“I don’t know how many copies of those tapes are out there. As for the police…it’s a huge department. I’m sure not everyone is crooked, but that doesn’t mean someone can’t be. And the casino has the tapes, too. Look, you heard about the guy who was killed in that hit-and-run—un, right?”

“Yes. It’s very sad.”

“No, it’s more than sad. I’m almost positive he was killed because he spoke with me,” he told her seriously.

“Oh, great—and now I’m speaking with you.”

“Jessy, you know something, and sooner or later the killer’s going to figure that out,” he said.

Eggs Benedict, aromatic and enticing, were set before her. She picked up her fork and cut a bite, then couldn’t bring the fork to her lips.

Tell him, she thought. Just spit out that one word and it will be all over.

She stared down at her coffee cup, but when she looked up again, about to speak, she went silent in stunned terror instead.

Tanner Green was sitting at the table behind Dillon Wolf, staring at her morosely.

Worse. At the table behind him—not with him, just behind him—was another specter.

She’d never met the man in life, but she’d seen his picture on the news, and she couldn’t mistake the face.

Rudy Yorba.

Dillon Wolf saw her expression and swung around to see what she was staring at.

As Dillon turned, Tanner Green leaped to his feet, jostling the table in the process. The salt and pepper shakers rattled.

And then he was gone, with Rudy Yorba disappearing seemingly into thin air right along with him.

Several other diners looked around, aware of something, but seeing nothing.

Not Dillon Wolf. He leaned toward her and said flatly, “You saw them.” It wasn’t a question.

She stared at him, blinked, and tried to deny it.

“I didn’t see anything.”

He had seen them, too, she suddenly realized.

She wanted to scream.

A part of her heard chatter, laughter, the clink of cups and the sounds of forks on plates. She heard music playing in the background, something country, pleasant and soft.

She jumped up, forgetting all about her food.

“You have to stay away from me,” she told Dillon.

He had risen when she did. He grimly dropped money on the table, and when she turned to flee the restaurant, he was right behind her.

In the parking lot, she remembered that they had come in his car.

She winced, but didn’t jump, when she felt his hand on her arm. When she turned, she saw the light of empathy and concern in his eyes, and she was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry, right there in the parking lot. She was tempted to throw herself into his arms, wishing she could forget all of this—the murder, the ghost—and suggest that she screw work and, well, hell, screw him, as well.

But that wasn’t her. No matter what was going on in her life or how attracted to him she felt.

“You’re seeing Tanner Green,” he said without inflection.

“No. Tanner Green is dead,” she said.

“He’s a ghost, and he’s out there,” Dillon assured her. His hand was still on her arm, and she found herself feeling inexplicably grateful. Her knees had gone to water, and her mind kept insisting that none of this could be real, not even the man before her.

She stared at him, the misery suddenly rising uncontrollably. “Why? Why is he doing this to me? Why the hell is he haunting me?”

Dillon leaned toward her, eyes intent. “Short and simple. He needs you.”

8

It was time to find the treasure. And, as amazing as it seemed, with her going through the entire performance on autopilot, she was managing to do a decent job. Somehow she’d compartmentalized the part of her that was in shock and terror, so she could make the show everything it should be for the kids.