“So she said,” the older man nodded. “Do you need anything? You seem a trifle green.”
Marty shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m just processing the information. I know his cousin. We’re not close, but I’ll reach out to him, see if he can tell me what happened and what’s going on.”
“I wish you all the best, then. Safe travels.”
Marty waved, and the man went back to his newspaper.
With heavy steps, Marty returned to the rental car, climbed in, and sat still for a moment. He considered trying to find out where the money for the sale of the house was supposed to go, but he doubted he would be able to track it down. His influence became severely curtailed once he crossed the border between the US and Canada.
He started the car, pulled away from the curb, and began the drive back to the airport.
Why, Shannon? he wondered, his thoughts slow and dull. Why did you take the girls? Did you finally accept what it is that I do for work? Is that it? And did you really go to Europe, or did you disappear into some other place in the world?
Where are you?
A fog of anger and bitterness settled over him, and Marty continued his drive in silence.
Chapter 27: The Fallon House
Sunday, 1:00 PM
Shane opened a bottle of water, sipped from it, and shook his head. Half a block ahead of him on Baxter Street, multiple police vehicles were parked. The New Hampshire State Police’s mobile crime lab had been brought in, and as Shane watched, several techs exited the vehicle and made their way back to the house of Nick Fallon. It hadn’t taken much to find the man’s residence. A little digging on the city’s website and a search of tax records had given Shane the man’s address.
Well, it seems like I found her, he thought, and he watched as a body was brought out through the front door. I’ll need to come back later.
Shane reached for the ignition, but his hand paused as he saw Jack Thompson walk up to the doorway of the Fallon house and stop to talk to a technician.
No, Shane groaned. Come on, Jack, why go in there all by yourself?
Shane watched as Jack turned and entered the house.
***
Jack walked around the crime scene, well-familiar with them as a whole. When he had spoken to the tech, he had learned they were wrapping up. The detectives had given the go-ahead for the removal of the bodies, and there was little else to do. The scene had been photographed, mapped, and recorded in every possible way.
Now all the detectives have to do, Jack thought, is find out how they died.
The victims had all been unmarked by any of the tell-tale signs of a ghost attack, though, of the three, only the boy seemed to have died quickly. The husband and wife, Sandy and Nick Fallon appeared to have died badly, although there were no marks anyone could see. The coroner would search for further details when he cut into the bodies, an act which was due to take place next.
That I don’t need to see, Jack told himself.
Despite having been given the all-clear by the gas company, Jack still hesitated near the basement door, sniffing for the potent scent of the chemical placed in natural gas.
As the company had said, there was no gas in the air. No leakage at all.
They weren’t murdered by any living person, he mused, which means Nick Fallon probably took Miriam’s sunglasses out of his cousin’s house and brought them here. Thank goodness for Sergeant Davis. Made finding this guy a whole lot easier. If he hadn’t gone to school with Fallon and Linda, I never would have known that they were cousins.
So, Miriam killed him. Right away. What did he do to upset her? Why would she kill him when she hadn’t killed any of the others?
Jack shook his head and tried to wrap his mind around the current problem.
He walked out of the kitchen, thinking of where the now-dead Mr. Fallon might have placed a pair of sunglasses.
Was he going to give them to his wife? Maybe hold onto them for a bit?
Jack entered the dining room and saw the forensic vehicle drive off, followed by the last of the cruisers. The captain would lock up and make sure the home was sealed when he was done.
Right. If I was a pair of haunted sunglasses, where would I hide?
He left the room and paused in the kitchen again. Something was wrong.
The shades had been open a minute ago, he realized, looking at the window over the sink. It’s darker in here now. Colder, too.
His breath puffed out, visible for a brief moment as his skin prickled, the small hairs standing on end.
Jack knew he wasn’t alone in the room.
He turned around and glanced into the dining room. The front door, which he had left open, swung shut on its own accord.
A woman stepped out from a shadow far too thin to have hidden her, had she still been alive.
Jack Thompson found himself looking at Miriam Shaw.
“Why, hello there,” she murmured and moved gracefully to the couch. Despite the hole in her belly and the bloodstains, she gave off an aura of raw attraction. As she sat down, fluid and beautiful, Jack found himself unable to look away. “You look like a big, strong man.”
With a languid stretch, she smiled. “Tell me, what are you doing in here?”
Jack was about to tell her when he understood what was happening. He was falling into her. The lilt of her words, the movement of her body despite her being dead. She exuded power and attraction, and he found himself wanting to do nothing less than anything she desired.
How? he thought, shaking his head and taking a cautious step back. He cleared his throat. “I need your sunglasses. I have to take them to someplace safe.”
His words were weak, lamely spoken, their falseness loud in the cold air of the house.
“No one takes my sunglasses,” she told him with a small smile, “unless I tell them to.”
Jack ground his teeth together, forced control over his mutinous mind, and said, “Please, tell me where they are.”
“No,” she whispered, and she winked. “Now, what’s your name?”
***
Shane finished a quick text to Jacinta, lit a cigarette, and looked up at the Fallon house.
He frowned.
The front door’s closed.
Swearing, he stubbed out the cigarette and got out of the car. Slamming the door closed, he made a straight line for the front door and put his iron rings on as he crossed the street.
***
Jack tried to leave the room and exit the house altogether.
Miriam Shaw didn’t let him.
He took a single, faltering step, and then she was there. She slipped the fingers of her right hand into his thigh. Jack bit back a howl of agony as the muscle seized and sent him tumbling to the floor. Gasping, he tried to get up, but she pressed her hand into the small of his back, her dead fingers grazing his spine. Excruciating pain caused blackness to sweep over his eyes for a split-second.
She let out a delighted laugh.
“You’re even stronger than I thought you were,” she told him. “But you’ll tell me what your name is soon enough.”
As she reached for him again, the front door exploded inward.
***
Shane took in the situation in a split-second. The look of pure pain on Jack’s face, the pleased expression on Miriam’s as she stood beside the fallen man.