Chapter 19
Madame Zola wasn’t with a customer this time.
Cal had been worried she might not even be home—it was Friday night. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been home on a Friday night. In his old life, he’d be on a date, or laughing with his teammates at one of the local bars.
But there was Laura Stag, standing at the stove, wearing a pink robe that hung off one of her shoulders. Her locs had been gathered at the nape of her neck, secured with a red scarf. As Cal studied the subtle swell of muscle along her shoulder, he struggled to come up with a plan. He’d tried to knock, unsuccessfully, of course, and now he stood across her apartment, watching Laura like some creep. Cal shifted from foot to foot, debating on what to do. Should he say her name, and risk scaring the shit out of her? Maybe he could give her a warning, or a preemptive head’s up by getting the lights to flicker, or something.
Then Laura said, “Are you going to make a habit of this?”
For a moment, Cal wasn’t sure who she was talking to. He glanced around the room again, wondering if he’d missed someone. Laura turned around a moment later, and her blue eyes met his. A jolt went through Cal—it was still surreal, being seen by someone other than Cass. He realized her question had been meant for him. “Until you help me, yes,” he said.
That small line appeared between Laura’s brows. “Say that again. Louder, please. Focus on my pulse, here,” she instructed.
Cal followed the movement of her hand, landing on the point where her fingers rested. He watched the small flutter at Laura’s throat, trying not to glance toward the curve of her collarbone. He’d suddenly noticed how much of her smooth, dark skin he could see beneath the low-cut, oversized T-shirt she wore. That pink robe hung open, the ties dangling at Laura’s sides, and the thin silk brushed against her bare thighs.
“I’ll make a habit of this until you help me,” Cal repeated, saying it more forcefully than he’d probably needed to. He raised his gaze back to hers.
The voyant made a disdainful sound. “You really think harassing me will make me want to help you?”
Cal certainly hoped so. Laura was his best bet to finding the guy on the bridge, and he didn’t know how else to convince her. But it seemed safer to change the subject than tell her that. “Where did you learn the thing with your heartbeat?” he asked.
Laura sighed and carried the teapot over to the stove, her slippers shuffling along the tiles. She turned the ignition dial, and it clicked into the quiet apartment. “Trick my mom taught me,” she mumbled.
Cal watched the burner flare, then settle into a low flame. “What else did she teach you?”
As her water began to heat, Laura turned and leaned against the counter. She didn’t look at Cal as she said, “My mother taught me never to trust a spirit.”
I’m not a spirit, Cal wanted to say. He even started to, before he remembered that it wasn’t technically true. But he wasn’t like the others, he knew that. Cal wasn’t even close to those confused, monstrous presences he felt sometimes, always briefly, and yet never brief enough. The terrifying things his sister had described. He’d never be one of them.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cal said instead, hoping Laura heard the truth in his voice. The hard, quiet certainty. But her mouth tightened, and her beautiful features hardened. Cal’s heart sank.
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Laura replied curtly. Just as Cal opened his mouth to reassure her again, Laura shifted and stood on tiptoe, opening one of the cupboards. Whatever Cal had been about to say faded as Laura’s T-shirt rose, exposing the barest glimpse of her perfectly round ass. She took out a chipped coffee mug displaying a shirtless Tom Selleck, and Cal almost didn’t hear it when Laura asked, “Why do you want to find this guy?”
Shit. Cal knew there was really no getting around this. She’d just keep asking, and Laura would probably never agree to find the guy until she had a reason. A real one. Something told Cal that she’d know if he lied. Her eyes were so piercing that it felt like she could see right inside him. See every secret and terrible, shameful thought.
Cal resisted the urge to shift his feet again. He reminded himself that he wasn’t some bashful, stick-legged kid, and he didn’t need to lie. He held Laura’s gaze and said simply, “I want answers.”
She didn’t move. She didn’t look away from him. Cal didn’t back down, and neither did she. “And that’s it?” Laura asked.
“That’s it.”
But Cal knew he hadn’t convinced her. He could see it in Laura’s eyes—a shadow of doubt. Shit, Cal thought again. How could he persuade this stranger that he was trustworthy?
As he mentally reviewed his options, the tea kettle went off. Laura picked it up and turned the dial, then poured the hot water into the Tom Selleck mug. The sound of trickling water trembled between them. Once she was done, Cal put his hands in his pockets and faced the beautiful voyant.
“I’m not a bad guy, Laura,” he said. “I’m not some fucked up spirit. I’m just looking out for the people I love.”
“Look, if I helped every soul who doesn’t know why or how they died, I wouldn’t have time for anything else.” There was finality in the way she said it, a decision made. Cal knew he’d been dismissed. His fear was confirmed a moment later when Laura brushed past him, starting in the direction of her bed.
“She doesn’t sleep,” Cal said abruptly.
Laura paused. She stood there, holding her tea, seconds away from getting into that bed and permanently ending their conversation. Cal couldn’t shake the feeling that if he didn’t convince her now, tonight, he never would.
So he forced himself to keep going, swallowing the rise of pain in his throat. “My sister,” he clarified. “She doesn’t sleep. She’s too scared. Not just of the ghosts, which are bad enough, but about the guy who did this to us, too. So she does this awful, in-between thing, where part of her is always aware of the room… or what might be in it. She makes herself small, like she’s hiding. But Cass isn’t afraid of anything.”
His voice came out more pleading than Cal meant it to. He bent his head and went silent, working to control his expression. After a minute, he raised his chin and refocused on Laura. “Help my sister sleep,” he finished.
Another silence swelled between them. Laura still said nothing. She stared at Cal again, and this time, he didn’t worry about looking sincere or trustworthy. He let her see all his fear. His constant, consuming worry. Cal just wanted to keep his family safe, and see them happy again. They never would be as long as they were being haunted by the bogeyman.
Laura’s lips pursed. After a moment, she raised her gaze upward, as if she were saying a prayer or already regretting what she was about to do.
“Fuck,” she sighed.