had been steadily growing in Tucker’s memory as someone important.
“Why?” he asked, frustrated. “Just why?”
“Well, the Greenaways are used to me being male, and to you talking about me as male. So I thought this form would be most appropriate.”
“Sure.”
“No, really, Tucker.” Angel gave him that guileless smile. “Why else would I have changed?”
“To dick with me,” Tucker said flatly. “But you know what I have noticed?”
Angel shifted his weight from foot to foot. “What?”
“I’ll let you know when I feel like it. Now let me go find my gloves. I want to gather the girls’ things. Do we still have the boxes from the grocery delivery?”
“Do you think that will be enough?” Their banter—and sexual tension—was forgotten in an instant. “Those objects are pretty powerfully charged, Tucker. They may bleed through.”
Tucker would have pinched the bridge of his nose, but it was still pretty sore. “They may,” he admitted. “But I don’t have anything made of lead. We can bungee cord the boxes to the truck bed, like the stuff I hauled up from Sacramento. Will that work?”
Angel scowled at the boxes holding the remainder of Damien’s memories like they were to blame for all their troubles. “Sure,” he said sullenly. “Maybe the tragedies can meet and console each other, and you can let Damien go.”
“Sure,” Tucker said. But not like he meant it.
THEY LEFT the snuff box and the paperweight on top of the desk. Angel confirmed Tucker’s suspicion—the paperweight was getting darker inside, a brownish stain spreading like old blood.
“Yeah,” Tucker muttered. “I almost want to lay the girls and James to rest so this fucker can’t get to them. If we can bring them outside of Daisy Place and give them peace….”
Angel nodded and filled in the rest. “We can concentrate on what to do here. I understand.”
It was the age-old concept of getting the children to safety before putting out the fire, and it felt good to know they were in this together. Something about their investigation, about Tucker’s handling of the paperweight, seemed to have brought the evil that was Thomas Conklin closer to the surface. What had once been one shadow of many lingering in the garden had resolved itself into a restless sprit strong enough to kick the crap out of Tucker and malevolent enough to make Tucker remember the ghosts in the graveyard who had wanted so badly to take Tucker’s body.
Fortunately, the brush and the bottle felt happy, somehow, in the palm of his hand before he set them in the small box. So did the diamond hairpin and the cameo broach they’d established had been gifts from Sophie to Bridget.
Tucker picked up the soiled sheaf of papers that was James Beaufort’s letter with gentleness. Obviously if a part of him was here in Daisy Place, those pages were what was keeping him. Them and the paperweight. But Tucker didn’t want that thing anywhere near the little family, dead and buried and still haunting this room.
Tucker put the items into the box and bit his lip. “He was happy to hear from them?” he asked for the umpteenth time.
Angel apparently had no problem following where his mind was going with this. “He was welcoming them with open arms, Tucker. I don’t know what Conklin was doing here, but Beaufort had come to take them home.”
“That’s comforting,” he decided. “That’s… they were all in the same cemetery. None of them died alone, I don’t think.” He brightened. “And at least we know Bridget wasn’t killed by Conklin.” He thought about James Beaufort, pleading for him to take away the stain of killing a man. “Maybe he just needs to know it was worth it.”
Tucker finished packing the objects and turned to leave. He looked around the room before he crossed the threshold. “Tomorrow,” he said decisively. “Tomorrow we strip the wallpaper. The next day we finish the floors. Then we repaint. This room, at least, will be clean.”
“What room will you do next?” Angel asked as he closed the door.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to look into some of the other rooms, you think? I just sort of hared off and found the first ghost I met. Maybe the next room should be closer to the stairs. Or I could really go for broke and do the living room so we can maybe install a TV and you can watch Buffy on a bigger screen.”
Angel turned a shining smile his way. “Oh, Tucker. That would be marvelous. I would really love