The Sullivan Gray Series Box Set Page 2

  Dez leaned down, as if the hushed tone of their conversation was no longer enough.

  “You only see them when someone’s killed them, when they’re after justice, right?” He didn’t wait for the answer; he already knew it well. “We busted the guy who killed her. Breanna’s common-law confessed. I mean, Danny hasn’t been all the way through the courts yet, but he’s charged and in custody, and the case is a pretty good one, I think. What do you think she’d be after?”

  Given what Dez had said, Sully couldn’t imagine. “No idea. But whatever it is, she seems pretty intent on getting it.”

  2

  Dez managed to score himself a dinner break, allowing him to stay a bit longer at the bar.

  And Betty had business well in hand, giving Dez, Sully and Bulldog some extra time to sort through Breanna’s sudden appearance.

  In all honesty, Dez would have liked to be anywhere else, ghosts right up there with contagious disease and ballet when listing the topics he least liked to discuss. But he was well enough versed in Sully’s visions—or gift or curse or whatever it was—to know there had to be something to this. The Major Crimes unit had put this case to bed a couple of weeks ago, having moved on to a particularly disturbing home invasion that had left an elderly man dead. There were some loose ends to tie up on the Breanna Bird case, true, but the bulk of the investigation was complete.

  That said, it was now quite possible there was more loose about the case than just a few wayward strands. It could be the whole thing was about to unravel.

  Sully had pulled up a chair next to Bulldog, allowing them to speak quietly while Dez monitored from his spot along the wall. He liked to position himself somewhere he could watch Sully’s eyes. If they fixed on something Dez couldn’t see, he would know which area of the room to avoid. He’d never seen one of Sully's ghosts despite the knowledge he’d shared plenty of space with them over the years. He’d be happy to keep it that way.

  Sully was working on easing Bulldog into this world gradually. “You’ve been feeling tired and sick for a while now, haven’t you?”

  Bulldog nodded slowly.

  “Since your sister died?”

  “Yeah, I think that’s what started it. She was a good girl, you know? She had a big heart, always gave me a place to stay when I was in her neck of the woods. Hard to get past something like that happening to her.”

  “Grief’s a bitch,” Dez said. He knew grief. He’d carried it his whole life.

  “Who’d you lose?”

  Dez scuffed a boot across the floor, focused on its progress to avoid sinking too deeply into memory. “My brother Aiden. I was eight. He was just five.”

  “Jesus, that’s the shits. What happened?”

  Dez didn’t want to go too far down that path. Not now. Not ever, come to that. “He drowned.”

  The two words took Dez back there anyway, standing in a funeral home, trying to rationalize how Aiden’s whole body, small as it was, fit into that tiny urn. For months after, he’d looked for him, listened for his laughter, prayed he’d wake up and discover it was all a vivid nightmare. Instead, he was left with the unwavering reality he’d never be able to take back that final morning when he’d been too annoyed to play his little brother’s game of hide and seek. Dez hadn’t found him, hadn’t even tried, not until it had become brutally obvious there was no longer anyone there to find.

  Dez had gone to bed that first night to the sound of his mother’s tears and the knowledge his father would be out all night with the search party Dez hadn’t been allowed to join. He had prayed he’d wake up to see Aiden poking him awake as he often did, his impish smile prodding him into one annoying game or another. Instead, Dez had awoken to a godawful quiet, broken only the next day by his mother’s screams as she was told they’d found Aiden dead along the banks of Kettle-Arm Creek. Ever since, Dez carried the knowledge Aiden had been down there because of him. Because he had been so frustrated with Aiden he’d momentarily wished him away.

  There would be no waking from that reality, from the guilt and the pain it elicited. But he could at least find some peace in the here and now, which he’d been pulled back into by Sully’s gentle pat on his leg. Sully remained visually focused on Bulldog, but he always had Dez somewhere in his sights.

  Bulldog grunted mournfully, a sound Dez recognized as both empathetic and consoling. “Sorry, Copper.”

  Sully dove back in, steering the conversation away from Dez and his past. “The thing is, Bulldog, sometimes grief only explains so much. Sometimes there’s more to the way people feel than what’s inside them. Sometimes, it’s also about what’s outside.”

  Bulldog narrowed his eyes appraisingly. “Are you drunk, kid?”

  “Do you ever feel like she’s still around? Maybe you smell a perfume she liked or catch sight of something out the corner of your eye or hear someone calling your name when there’s no one there.”

  “Are you asking me if I believe in ghosts?”

  “I guess I am, yeah.”

  “Then, no. I don’t. At least not the way you’re suggesting. I was raised that people die, and they go to Heaven or Hell.”

  “So what about all the things people see?”

  “Hallucination maybe. Or some sort of demon. I don’t know. Hell, I don’t even really believe in any of the Heaven and Hell stuff, come right down to it. If there’s a God, where the hell’s he been all my life? I sure don’t see him rushing to help anyone I know.”

  “I don’t know anything about God, but I do know about what happens after we die.”

  “How? You ever been dead?”

  “No, but I’ve met plenty who are.”

  No matter how many times Dez heard Sully say the words, it still unnerved him, the chill running down his spine as he thought back to the various people his little brother had described over the years. Add to that the condition they’d been in at the time, and you were left with one hell of a living horror movie. No acting required.

  Bulldog craned his neck to peer up at Dez. “He on the level here?”

  Dez nodded slowly, trying for a smile that never really formed.

  “And he’s not crackers?” Bulldog asked.

  “Sully? He’s his own brand of quietly crazy, but not when it comes to this. He’s telling the truth, man.”

  Bulldog’s eyes snapped back to Sully’s face. “So you’re about to tell me my sister’s haunting me, is that it?”

  “I wasn’t going to say it like that.”

  “Is there another way to say it?”

  Sully shrugged. “Not really, I guess.”

  The chair hit the wall as Bulldog leapt off the seat and made for the back door. “This is nuts. I can’t do this right now.”

  Dez took two quick strides and cut his friend off at the pass. “Just wait a second, okay? I know how this sounds, believe me. I didn’t buy all this stuff either until I met Sully. But it’s real. No one hates saying that more than me, but it’s true. And when he sees stuff, it’s for a reason. He only sees people who’ve died because of something someone else did to them, the ones who need justice.”

  “Bree got justice,” Bulldog said. “Her stinkin’ common law is in remand waiting trial for killing her. Danny’s gonna rot in jail and then he’s going to burn in Hell. Sure sounds like some sorta justice to me.”

  “Something’s not right,” Sully said. “I’m not saying they didn’t get the right man. I’m just saying something’s not right. She knows it, and she needs you to know it too. She’s been hanging around you for a reason, and she needs help.”

  “Yeah, with what? What could she possibly need help with? She’s dead, man. Dead people don’t need help. It’s the people they leave behind who do.”

  “That’s not always true,” Sully said. “Sometimes they get stuck here, and they need help to get where they need to go.”

  “Well, I’ll help you figure out where to go.”

  “Bulldog.” The edge in Dez’s voice turned the name into a warning
. It wasn’t easy for Sully, seeing the things he did and, on occasion, acting on them. While there wasn’t much Dez could do to help out with the ghost side of things, he was happy to fall back on size, muscle and affection for his brother to look after Sully within the living, breathing world.

  Bulldog knew that well and recognized the danger he was stepping into. Anyway, Bulldog liked Sully, and not just because he might give him a place to crash now and again.

  “I’m sorry, Sully. I just don’t want to talk about this, all right?”

  Sully nodded and managed a small smile. “I’m here if you change your mind.”

  Bulldog didn’t respond in words, just nodded. He was about to head out the rear door into the rainy alley when Sully stopped him with an offer.

  “Why don’t you stay here tonight? You can have the couch in my room.”

  Bulldog’s face split into a toothy grin, turning him into a closer approximation of the man Dez had known in the days before Breanna’s death.

  “You’re a peach, kid. Lot nicer than your oaf of a brother there.” He turned and patted Sully on the cheek, reserving a solid jab for Dez’s gut. Dez managed to shift his abs back a bit but still ended up doubled over in a coughing fit while Bulldog laughed it up.

  “He’s not going to be an easy customer on this,” Dez said once Bulldog had headed upstairs to Sully’s one-bedroom apartment. “I’m not so sure he’s got it in him to do anything about Breanna.”

  “I’ve seen her,” Sully said. “I don’t think she’s going to give him much of a choice.”

  By ten that night, most of the crowd had left the bar, headed off to fight for space at the nearby shelters or, for those who had one, home to ensure the place hadn’t yet flooded.

  The rain fell harder, at times pouring down in sheets that made it impossible to see across the street. Sully had all but pushed Betty out the door, urging her to head home before things got worse. And, for what could easily have been the first time in her life, she hadn’t argued.

  Betty was nervous, that much was obvious. She’d seen severe storms in the past, but she’d become a broken record of doom tonight, proclaiming this as shaping up to be the worst by far.

  It wasn’t just raining anymore, lightning flashing alongside cracks of thunder and a wind alternating the rain’s course between sheer vertical drop and full horizontal.

  The power had been coming and going for the better part of an hour and it finally quit altogether, causing the bar to fall back on the generator. But that didn’t help with everything, the oak-panelled interior left darker than usual and the till out of commission, leading to the final mass exodus of the night. Only two people remained in the bar: Sully and Edgar Maberly, a man somewhere in his seventies who’d been coming here pretty much since the Black Fox was established, and who seemed to pride himself on being the last one out every night. But, like most nights, Edgar wasn’t much aware he’d won that particular contest, having passed out at his usual table in front of a half-finished glass of cheap scotch.

  Sully was about to wake him and call a cab when his cellphone rang.

  “Hey, Dez. How’s it going out there?”

  “Fine, long as I don’t have to get out of the car. Unfortunately, with everyone stressed out and indoors, we’ve had three domestics already tonight, and it doesn’t look like that’s likely to change anytime soon. How’s everything there? Your power out?”

  “Yeah. Doubt it’s coming back on tonight, either. I can’t imagine they’d send crews out in this.”

  “No, we’ve been told crews are only going out on emergency calls. The public’s been warned to get by on generator power or to do without until things calm down a bit. How’s Bulldog?”

  “I went to check in on him about an hour ago, and he was crashed out on my couch.”

  “So, in other words, he’s fine. You? You get everyone out okay?”

  “Just me and Eddie left in here.”

  “So a typical night then. And, uh … anything else?”

  Sully smiled, let it show in his voice. “Any sign of Breanna, you mean.”

  “It’s not funny. None of it is funny.”

  “No, it’s not. But you are. Don’t worry; if she’s going to change tacks at any point, she’ll come at me, not you.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “She’s just a person without a body, Dez. That’s all. A person who needs help.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Listen, I wanted to tell you, I made a call to a friend in Major Crimes. The lead investigator on the matter was Forbes Raynor. He’s a real jerk, and his investigative technique leaves something to be desired, but my friend backed Raynor’s play on this. Sounds like they really did get a confession from Danny. He didn’t go down for it easy, but he did go down. Admitted to the whole thing. Of course, now that he’s been appearing from time to time in front of a judge, he’s singing a different tune, saying he didn’t do it.”

  That was interesting. Given Breanna’s presence, very interesting.

  “Sully, you hear me?”

  “Yeah. Just thinking.”

  “Wanna include me?”

  “She seems pretty intense to me, even comparing to others I’ve seen. What if Danny didn’t do it? What if the real killer’s still out there?”

  “He confessed, Sull.”

  “People confess to things they haven’t done sometimes, don’t they?”

  “Sure, people with cognitive issues or brain injuries can sometimes be guided toward a confession. But Danny’s neither. He can be a goof, but he’s more or less in working order.”

  “Any idea how much detail he provided during his confession?”

  Sully could hear Dez’s frown through his reply. “Not much.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I said, not much. He admitted to strangling her, though, and tying her hands.”

  That was something, Sully guessed. Danny would’ve had to be there to know those things. Even if he didn’t physically do the deed, if he’d been standing idly by while someone else did, that was pretty much the same thing.

  But, if that were the case, it meant someone else was out there.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Sully, and no. Danny acted alone. It was a domestic. He said he hit her, gave her a black eye. After that, things just went from bad to worse. I see it all the time. Abuse starts out small, builds over time. Eventually, it can end with someone dead.”

  Sully knew that was true. He’d lived in several foster homes before coming to the Braddocks, enough that he’d learned what abuse was, how it worked. He had the physical and psychological scars to prove it. They’d largely healed, thanks to time and an excellent child psychologist his foster mom Mara Braddock had taken him to. But while the marks had faded, they were there all the same and no doubt always would be.

  But, as far as Sully could tell, this didn’t begin and end with abuse. Not the way Breanna had been whaling away on Bulldog.

  “You know, when you go all quiet like that, I can actually hear your gears turning, Sull. What’s on your mind?”

  “She wasn’t just hovering around Bulldog. She was trying to hit him. Hard. Like she was trying to get his attention or ….”

  Sully didn’t bother finishing the statement. Dez would know what he’d left unsaid. “Bulldog doesn’t have it in him, Sully. He’s a good guy.”

  “When he’s sober, sure. But I’ve seen him drunk. It’s not pretty.”

  “He wouldn’t have killed his own sister. No way in hell. Not even drunk.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  Dez was the one working the long silence now.

  “Dez? You there?”

  “Jesus H. Christ. You really slay my nerves, you know that? Why’d you have to invite him to stay if you suspected he might be a frickin’ murderer?”

  “I didn’t say I suspected him. I’m just trying to look at all the possibilities here.”

  “Well, stop looking. You make me nervous.
Is there somewhere else he can go just so I’m not up all night worrying about your ass?”

  “He’s got nowhere else to go. You know that.”

  “Yeah, well, much as I like the guy, he’s not my problem. You are. I’ll come get him, drive him around until I find him a bed somewhere, all right? Just hang tight with Edgar until I get there.”

  Sully was about to tell Dez it wasn’t needed when he heard movement at the door leading from the bar to the employees’ only area and spotted Bulldog there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

  “Dez, gotta go. Bulldog just came down and he looks like ….”

  Edgar announced his return to the waking world by adding his own overly loud two cents’ worth. “Like he’s seen a goddamned ghost.”

  3

  Sully clicked the “end call” button, ignoring Dez’s barked orders to the contrary.

  “Bulldog, you okay?”

  Bulldog shook his head no. “I think you need to have a look at something upstairs.”

  “Let me get Edgar a cab, and then I’ll lock up and follow you.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to wait that long.”

  Considering his options, Sully decided to lock up with Edgar inside. But no way he was leaving the guy alone in the bar with the beer fridge sitting within easy reach; Edgar could have the contents half gone by the time Sully was done upstairs with Bulldog.

  Sully turned the sign to “closed” and locked the front entrance, then returned to Edgar. “Come on, Eddie, time for a little walk.”

  “Don’t need no friggin’ walk. ‘M fine.”

  “Yeah, I know you are, big man. You’re taking me for a walk.”

  Edgar grunted, which Sully took as plan approval, and the older man allowed Sully to heave him out of his chair.

  Bulldog was still standing at the door to the employee area, vibrating with anxiety as Sully looped one of Edgar’s arms around his neck to keep the guy on his feet. The stairs were going to be a bitch, so Sully left Edgar sitting on the bottom step while he closed and locked the door that separated the back area from the bar. He grabbed a flashlight from the utility closet and followed Bulldog up the stairs.