Spooky Business (The Spectral Files #3) - S.E. Harmon Page 0,76

name. My real name. Shawna Murphy. Not fucking Veilchenblau.”

Kane’s color was starting to return. Dark purple fingerprints marked either side of his neck, and he let out a raspy growl. “You have them doing your bidding now?”

“That was her decision. And her decision to stop,” I reminded him in case he got any bright ideas. “I don’t have control over that.”

“And if she decides to do that to me when you’re not here?” he demanded. “What then?”

Then, you reap what the fuck you sow.

My expression made his face darken with anger. “You’re never gonna get those Roses. You hear me, boy?”

“I already have them,” I said coldly. I opened the folder and pulled out an aerial shot of River Island grove. “Nothing stays buried forever, Kane. You should know that.”

His mouth fell open a little with shock as he stared down at the picture. After a beat of silence, I put another photo on the table that really brought the hammer down. “The scent of oranges confused the dogs for a while, but as you can see, the recovery team found all the barrels.”

The barrels were standard in size, with the logo JJM stamped on the side. Not that we’d needed further proof, but Graycie confirmed that Kane had cleaned for a company called John James Machinery. No one even noticed when a few old barrels went missing.

“No, that’s not right,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “This isn’t the way things are supposed to go.”

Tough titty said the kitty, but the milk’s still good.

His face suffused with color as he tried to regain control. I wasn’t going to give him the chance. I pushed away from the table and stood. He watched, still a little slack-jawed as I gathered my things. “Where do you think you’re going?” he snapped.

I headed for the door. “I think we’re all done here.”

He hit the table again, this time with both fists. The chains around his wrists and hands made a godawful cacophony as it struck the metal surface. “I’ll see ya real soon, Doc,” he vowed dangerously. “That’s a promise.”

The door clanged shut behind me. I glanced back through the observation window. He was surrounded by his “art,” and they weren’t exactly keeping their distance. He flinched as Janet brushed a finger across his ear, and I saw yet another emotion on his face that I’d never seen him display.

Fear.

Chapter 20

I got home slightly after dusk.

The house was quiet and dark and I wasn’t sure if I was happy about that or not. I slipped off my shoes by the door and headed for the bedroom, flipping on lights as I went. On the one hand, I could use Danny’s stalwart, unflappable presence. On the other, I wasn’t fit company for anyone.

A long shower helped. Doing routine things around the house helped even more. I puttered about busily, loading the dishwasher and wiping down counters. I disinfected the already pristine microwave door and all the cupboard door handles. By the time I turned on the Roomba and took out the trash, I was starting to feel a little more like myself.

I was slightly derailed by the cardinal rule of refrigerators—if you pass by a fridge five times, you must look inside. And no, it doesn’t matter if you’re hungry. It’s just what you do.

I pulled on the handle and stared at the contents for a while, wasting electricity and letting the cold air wash over my bare feet. In the end, I decided food in all its forms was too much trouble. I was too tired to cook, I wasn’t hungry enough to roll the dice on old takeout, and I wasn’t motivated enough to get new takeout.

I shut the door.

I made my way to the living room and flopped on the couch. Just as I flicked on the TV, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw it was Graycie. I groaned. It had taken a good two hours to drain the tension from my body, and I knew even before I answered that he was going to single-handedly put every ounce of it back.

I put the TV on Mute and answered on speaker. “What is it now?” I asked wearily.

“What the fuck did you tell those ghosts to do?”

“Excuse me?”

“Thomas Kane is dead.” Graycie was never one to belabor the point. “So I repeat, just what the fuck did you tell those ghosts to do?”

“Trust me, Grace, if I could manipulate those ghosts to do anything,