Lost Souls (A Caitlyn O’Connell Novel) (15 page)

Eyebrows raised, Clayton’s glance swept her. Booger’s did too. “She’s cute. Should look great on camera.”

Cait elbowed Jason because he was snickering beside her. Then she reached out a hand. “I think we have a deal.”

Clayton gave her hand a crushing squeeze. “Deal.”

“For now, stick around the lobby.” She circled her hand. “I’ll have to discuss this with the PD and get a room cleared out for you.”

“I really appreciate this opportunity to work with you, Ms. O’Connell.”

“Same here, Clayton. And everyone calls me Cait.”

As the trio trailed out of the room, already talking over each other with excitement, Cait turned in her chair. “Good Lord, what did we just get ourselves into?”

“Sounds like you’re gonna be on TV.” Jason’s grin was gleeful.

She huffed. “Those cranks will never sell it to the network.”

“They will if they actually film a ghost.” They shared worried glances.

A knock against the door frame sounded, and she glanced up to find Sam striding into the room.

“I saw the TV crew leaving.”

“They’re on board. I’ll need to coordinate access to a room on the third, away from the action, for their equipment. Once the dogs and sonar are gone, they’ll be setting up to watch tonight.”

“And your part in all this…? You have the ink?”

She patted the pocket of the thin black leather jacket she’d thrown on over yet another dark tank—her summer uniform because she was in the habit of not thinking about what she had to drag out of the closet first thing in the morning. Since she was staying in the hotel throughout the day and likely most of the night, she didn’t worry about the summer heat.

A squawk sounded from the radio Sam held in his hand. He listened for a moment, met her gaze, dipped his chin, and then turned on his heel to leave the room.

“We should roam a bit,” Jason said. “Take a look at everyone and make a list. Tick off their names as we go and exclude likely candidates.”

“I’ll leave that to you. I haven’t checked out the dining room or the bar. Might help to flash around Oscar’s photo and see if anyone saw who he’s been talking to.”

Together, they left the break room and reentered the hallway leading to the foyer. The crowd was less dense now.

The manager was standing in the center of the room and hurried over when he spotted them. He looked a little less harried than before. He wiped his damp forehead with
a handkerchief before giving them a tired smile. “I’ve been moving guests out of the foyer so your people don’t have to wade through a crowd. Most are in the dining room. A few headed to the bar. I brought in more staff and offered guests half price off the menu and the booze for their inconvenience.” His fingers jerked the lapels of his jacket. “Do you have any idea how much longer this is going to take? I’ve already had half a dozen people ask for their money back and check out.”

“Shouldn’t take more than a few hours for the dogs to make their way through. Depends, I guess, on what they find. You’ve been here a while, Mr. Lewis?”

He nodded. “Started as a busboy in the restaurant when the hotel first opened.”

“Ever notice anything odd?”

“The Deluxe used to be a respectable place.” He shook his head, his faded blue eyes staring owlishly through his thick black frames. “Nice clientele. Pilots and stewardesses. Businessmen. But then more and more hotels sprung up, closer to the city center. Nicer. Now, it’s blue-collar workers and the usual one-nighters,” he said, giving her an apologetic smile. “We cut a break to keep some longtime residents filling the rooms.”

“We’ll need a list of those long-term guests.”

He gave her a small smile. “I’ll go put that together for you. Shouldn’t take me long.”

Cait smiled her thanks. As soon as he was out of earshot, she cut a glance at Jason.

“Yeah, adding him to the list too.” His chin dipped. “And any other older employees.”

Cait sighed. “We’re assuming the demon has kept the same persona all these years.”

“We have to start somewhere.”

They strode down another hallway to the dining room. A corkboard beside the entrance listed the limited menu and various event posters—the one for the AA meeting being prominent among the bunch.

After a quick scan, she wrinkled her nose at it and stuck her head into the room. Faded multicolored carpet in wine and green. Mismatched dark furniture. Framed prints that looked as dingy as the rest of the decor. Still, the food smelled good. Her stomach rumbled.

“Have you eaten?” Jason asked, as though reading her mind.

“I could do with a breakfast biscuit. Want to grab something for me while I check out the bar?”

His eyebrow rose, but he gave her a nod and headed toward the cashier’s desk.

Cait took a deep breath and turned on her heel. The bar was right next to the restaurant, and she wondered if the alcoholics stopped in for a quick drink after their meetings.

Inside, the bar was cozy, as it should be, with rich old leather booths, smooth, heavy wooden chairs. A large glass mirror at the back of the bar reflected the comfy golden glow of recessed lighting and highlighted the lovely hues of the bottles lined along two sturdy shelves in front of it.

“Thought I might find you here today.”

She jerked and glanced over her shoulder at Eddie Bradley, the EMT who’d transported her to the hospital the day before. “What are you doing here?”

His smile was warm. His gaze swept over her, lingering on her face. “Just curious. I’m off today. But I have an emergency bag in my car just in case. I got the impression
yesterday that you’re accident-prone. The emergency staff at the hospital knows you by name.”

She gave him a steady look. “It’s kind of you to worry, Eddie, but as you’ve probably seen, we have tons of people on the premises.”

“Okay, you have me.” He lifted his hands. “I was hoping to see you. To make sure you were all right. You did leave before the doctors checked you out.”

“I’m right as rain.” She waved her hands down her front and held them at her sides.

“Yes, you are.”

His smile was slow, his sleepy eyes the kind that invited a woman’s confidence. A subtle come-on. Luckily, she was immune to his charm. “It’s a little early for me to buy you that drink.”

He flashed a sheepish grin. “That was just an excuse. And I’ll stay out of your hair. I just dropped by.”

“Yeah, to check on me.” She narrowed her eyes as she continued to study him. “You should probably know that drink won’t ever come. I’m a recovering alcoholic.”

“You attending meetings?”

“Haven’t found one yet,” she said, omitting the fact she hadn’t really been looking.

“I could introduce you to the guy who runs the meetings here. They meet tonight.”

“How convenient,” she muttered. “But I’ll be working.”

He shrugged and held out his hand. “Well, when you’re ready then.”

She gave him hers, a little reluctantly because he was a very yummy guy and his smile was killer. The moment their hands touched, she felt warmth flood her body, flush her
cheeks. A moment passed before she pulled away and wiped her hand against the side of her jeans.

“Hope you find what you’re looking for, Caitlyn.”

She watched him move away and decided to add him to her list. Out of self-preservation, maybe, because her hand still tingled and her heart had sped up while he’d tried flirting. She had a man. A damn good one. One she meant to keep, although she suspected Eddie would be an easier partner, less in her face about her mistakes and weaknesses.

A comfortable kind of man to be with.

She shook her head. Yeah, Eddie Bradley was going to the top of the list of possible incubi for the simple fact she found him tempting.

By noon, four more female bodies had been found inside the third-floor walls.

All dried husks with missing organs. All doused in scented oils to cure and mask the odor of rotting flesh.

As they were all nude and no identifying items were found with them, Sam held out little hope they’d get IDs for weeks as they waited on DNA testing. If they or someone in their family were even in the system.

Darkness was falling as the last of the little army of crime scene techs finished up with the final rooms. Entering the room the Reel PIs crew had been assigned to set up their equipment, Sam found Cait, hands fisted on her hips. Besides Booger, Mina, and Clayton, another woman stood in the row with the wannabe film crew facing Cait.

At his approach, Cait glanced over her shoulder. “We have a psychic,” she said, her voice deadpanned.

Sam’s lips tightened in irritation. The investigation was already a circus.

“Madame Xavier is here to walk the hall and pick up any bad vibes.”

The portly woman straightened her shoulders and lifted her double chins. “I’m here to communicate with the dead.”

Cait rolled her eyes.

“She’s got loads of experience with police investigations,” Clayton said, his words tumbling in an excited rush. “We’re lucky she was free to help on such short notice.”

Cait’s thin smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, we’re so lucky,” she said, her tone remarkably even. “However, I would recommend you not enter the last hallway.”

“The point of conflux?” Madame Xavier nodded. “Being wary is wise when there’s the possibility of a demonic possession. So much more powerful than any ordinary ghost.”

Cait’s eyes widened.

The woman whose shoulders would have looked good on a linebacker returned Cait’s thin smile, a hint of challenge in her bright hazel gaze.

Cait returned her stare, then murmured, “Maybe we can use you after all.”

The woman nodded, her teased-high, carrot-red hair bouncing. “Perhaps we should talk privately.”

“Let me grab my handheld camera,” Mina said quickly.

Cait speared the younger woman with a glare. “Ground rules, Mina. When I need to talk to someone about confidential details of the investigation, you have to let us speak alone. I promise there will be plenty to film later.”

Mina’s lips pressed into a straight line. “Fine. We have to tune our equipment anyway.”

As Cait led the way, Sam stood aside. He gave Clayton a warning glare to stay in place and then followed the two women into the hallway.

Cait eyed the woman curiously. “You said demonic possession.”

The older woman gave a dramatic shiver. “I felt it. Smelled the vague scent of sulfur when I walked through the front door. Didn’t you?”

Cait didn’t seem surprised that the woman addressed her as an equal. “Not until I was poking my head into the wall where the first body was found.”

“I’ve had experience with spirits and demons. Not all the cases I help the police with have involved human monsters.” Madame Xavier’s gaze studied Cait, her eyes squinting a bit as she did so. “So many dark colors around you, dear.”

“You reading my aura?” Her body stiffened.

Sam pressed his lips together at the note of affront in Cait’s voice. She acted as though the woman had lifted her skirt to peek at her underwear.

The psychic’s expression softened. “You’re not very accepting of anything metaphysical, are you?”

“I’m not… I don’t have a problem…” She finished sputtering, then simply scowled. “No.”

“And yet you have powers I’d give anything to possess.” She raised a penciled eyebrow and stared as though trying to see inside Cait. “I’m just a psychic, not a witch.”

Cait’s face tightened. “I’m just a PI.”

“So you say. But so many violent colors surround you. Dull red and orange, edged with black. I’d worry more
about your nature, but there is blue as well.” Her gaze narrowed. “You are searching for truths. Perhaps for answers?”

Cait shook her head. “All I want to know is who to pin the murders on. If you can help with that, I can handle the rest.”

“Unfortunately, my sight is rarely so clear.” A shoulder shrugged. “I can divine clues. Pick up on energies. But I can be useful.”

“What do you propose?”

“I must do a cleansing, then cloak myself and anyone else who accompanies me as I search the floor.”

“That would be me.”

Madame Xavier nodded, squinting again and training her gaze along the outer edges of Cait’s frame. “I sense you’ve already worked a little protective shield of your own. That’s good. What I will do won’t be nearly as powerful. There’s white light radiating through all your murky colors.”

Cait inhaled, and Sam sensed her impatience with the woo-woo language. Despite being the real deal, Cait preferred to keep things ordinary, tangible. Something he appreciated, because all this talk of auras and energies was still a little hard to swallow without his gut churning.

“The techs should be done shortly,” he said. “As soon as I sign off, we’ll have access to the halls.”

Just as the words were out of his mouth, a man wearing scrubs and paper booties approached with a clipboard. “Detective, we’ve got everything bagged and tagged. I just need a signature.”

Sam reached into a pocket of his jacket for a pen and signed off as the officer in charge of the crime scene.

“Have problems with your plumbing?” the tech asked.

Sam blinked then looked at his pen.