Lost Souls (A Caitlyn O’Connell Novel) (23 page)

Things were hopping. Two clerks staffed the front desk. New arrivals were being processed. Looked like business as usual. Odd in a place where numerous bodies had been dug out of the walls. Hadn’t these people read the newspapers?

Mr. Lewis, looking rested, his posture held straighter than on the previous days, walked toward them. “I need those rooms. We’re getting calls for bookings from as far away as California. Reservations. And they’re all requesting that floor. I’ve got repairmen lined up to fix the holes your people left as soon as you clear out.”

Cait eyed him, wondering if he was the demon. Then wondering why a demon couldn’t manage a more imposing figure.

“Sir, we’re working as fast as we can,” Sam said, his voice calm and firm.

Mr. Lewis’s gray brows bunched together over his faded eyes. “I’ve spoken to your director of police. He has assured me you’ll be out of here by tonight. There’s nothing more to be learned. You have your evidence. Your bodies.”

“Looks like all this fuss is good for business,” Cait murmured.

The old man’s glance was sharper than she expected, nearly making her take a step backward.

“Damn curiosity seekers. It’s all your fault. Letting that film crew up there. Staging that ridiculous display. It’s all over the Internet.”

Cait’s stomach dropped, wondering whether the crew had posted everything they had. She was particularly worried about the part where she appeared to be talking to herself. Leland wouldn’t be pleased because then he’d have to defend his decision to hire a crazy person.

Sam’s hand touched the small of her back, and he ushered her forward. “We’ll get back with you before we leave. Give you an estimate of how much longer we’ll be.”

“You do that,” Mr. Lewis called after them. “But don’t be surprised if the plug gets pulled for you.”

In the elevator, Sam shot her a glare. “Leland’s going to put that all on you.”

For a split second, Cait closed her eyes. “Don’t forget, you were there too. Right beside me, while I was talking to the air. You’re gonna look like you’re as big a flake as I am.”

“Dammit, Cait. Why didn’t you sit on those guys?”

Her teeth ground before she spoke. “Because you kicked me off the case.” But the erstwhile TV crew had been the least of her worries.

The door to the Reel PIs room was propped wide open.

Cait glanced inside to find the space teeming with black T-shirted dorks, the Reel PIs logo prominent on their chests.

Clayton gave her a cheerful wave. “We’re a hit,” he shouted over the din. “Discovery and The CW have called.”

At Cait’s frown, he rushed over. “Don’t worry, Cait. I edited bits. Just aired the part where we’re running down the hall, and the swirling vortex. Doesn’t mean I won’t want to interview you for that episode.”

Cait didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or grimace. “Really think it’s going to happen? A TV show?”

“We’ve had more than three hundred thousand hits since we posted this morning. That was Mina’s idea. I didn’t want to give away anything until we had the clips edited. But she said what with the case making the major networks and the story plastered all over the newspapers, the time to strike was now.”

Sam’s hand clamped hard on one side of her hip. “I’m glad for you,” he growled. “But how the hell did all these folks get in here?”

Clayton waggled his eyebrows. “All crew members of Reel PIs, Inc., were cleared for admittance. These guys had to buy our T-shirts. Walked right past the cops.”

Cait and Sam shared a glance. She pressed her lips together to keep from congratulating him on his chutzpah.

Sam shook his head, a dire warning in his darkened glare. “I’d better check that hall. Make sure no one slipped past. We don’t want any more excitement.” His hand dropped from her side.

“What the hell is goin’ on here?” Leland’s voice rang imperiously from the doorway.

Cait pursed her lips. Shit was about to hit the fan. With an effort, she cleared her expression and turned.

His cheeks were florid, and both fists curled at his sides. “I want everyone out of here now!”

Sam went to the door, standing there as folks trailed out.

Cait indicated to Clayton that he, Booger, and Mina should stay put.

When the last of their fans exited, she faced Leland, schooling her expression and wincing inside.

He drew a deep breath, staring daggers straight at her. “It’s all over the damn Internet. Director’s on my ass to get this thing sewn up tight.” He turned to Sam. “You’re the one in charge here. How the hell did that footage get leaked?”

“It’s my fault. I didn’t confiscate their recordings.” A muscle in Sam’s jaw ticked.

Clayton cleared his throat. “Sir, we’re within our rights—”

Leland’s head swiveled sharply. “This is a goddamn crime scene. Already had an earful from the manager downstairs. Told him he’d get his hotel back when I was good and ready to release it.”

Cait sucked in a deep breath. Alarm bells rang. If he’d been that forceful in the foyer, anyone might have heard. She could think of at least one entity who wouldn’t be happy about the fact life wasn’t returning to normal in the foreseeable future.

No sooner had that thought slipped past than the floor beneath their feet began to vibrate. A hum sounded, louder than the one that had sounded right before she’d been electrocuted.

Her glance went to Sam, still standing in the doorway. His gaze locked with hers, and after another violent shudder, he spread his hands to hold the door frame.

Equipment bounced on mattresses and tables, then crashed to the floor, some plastic cases splintering.

Cait stood, barely balancing herself as the shaking intensified.

“Earthquake?” Leland shouted, bracing a hand on a wall.

She shook her head. So much worse. She could feel it in her bones. “Can’t you smell it?”

Sulfur. A thick noxious cloud of yellow fog began pouring through the vents, quickly obscuring the room.

Hand over hand, she grabbed along the edge of the dresser, needing to get to the hallway. Needing to get closer to Sam because above the loud rattling she heard long, wailing cries. Echoes of the dead.

The floor rolled beneath her feet, and she stumbled to her knees. She crawled forward through the noxious cloud, bumping into Leland, who sat on his ass beside the bed, a look of pure horror on his face.

“Sam!” She kept crawling, found the doorway, and moved outside.

The hall was clear of fog, quiet and empty. A flash of light burst farther down the hallway. A door slammed in the distance. Her heart skipped a beat and then thundered fast.

Cait pushed up to her feet and ran for the hallway. “No, no, no, no,” she chanted as she pounded down the hall. The cop who’d been on duty was gone. There was no sign of Sam.

She went straight to the taped-off door and tried the handle. It turned, but when she pushed, it wouldn’t budge.
Standing back, she lifted her leg and punched her foot against the thin door. The lock gave, and the door slammed open, bouncing against the interior wall.

The gaping hole in the wall looked just as it had the first time she’d seen it, but she held her breath and looked inside.

Two more bodies lay inside. Their remains were twisted together, so grotesque her stomach lurched. Again, her heart seized in her chest and then pounded.

“That’s not Sam,” she whispered and backed away, bumping into Leland, who gripped her shoulders and guided her back out. “It’s not him,” she repeated, her voice rising as her body shook.

Leland wrapped his arms around her and dragged her from the hallway.

Cait shook her head, her stomach lurching.

Voices echoed inside her. An excited chorus of whispers and shouts, words unintelligible—but one deep rumble unmistakable.

Sam’s.

Voices chased Cait. Wails from the dead came howling. Whispers from uniforms and forensics techs combing a crime scene everyone was sick to death of seeing.

All bore stoic gray faces. Every one of them had known Sam. Everyone had liked and respected him. And because of their respect for him, they gave her peace, working quietly, their gazes never lingering long.

Cait didn’t know if she could have held it together if they hadn’t given her space.

As it was, Leland hovered over her from the moment he pulled her from the room, rubbing her back, offering her his condolences in a broken voice, and then shouting at everyone around them to “hurry the fuck up.”

Covering her ears, Cait shivered like a leaf in a gale. All blood had drained from her head, leaving her faint. Her fingers felt ice-cold. When Leland offered to drive her
home, she stared, wondering where that might be. But she’d nodded her acceptance, only because she didn’t have the strength to argue.

She wished he’d just dropped her off at her door instead of following her inside and making her tea, looking as though he was prepared to stay when all she wanted was for him to leave.

When at last she’d issued her request in a scratchy voice, he sank on a knee beside the kitchen chair where she sat, her hands wrapped around her hot mug. The voices were a staticky, torrential hum, filling her head. She had to look at his mouth to know he asked her if she’d be okay alone.

“Just go, please,” she repeated, and at last, he did, sparing her one sad glance from the door before closing it softly behind him.

She didn’t stay long in that chair. The moment she heard his sedan’s engine roar, she lurched to her feet and grabbed her keys, goaded onward by the voices, which only faded away once she pushed through the door at O’Malley’s.

Cait sat dull-eyed and silent, waiting until nearly closing before her father joined her in the booth. Her hand was clenched around the Nick the Plumber pen forensics had pulled from inside the wall next to Sam’s body.

“Why can’t I see him, Daddy?” she asked, her voice rasping and dry. She’d screamed so much after Leland pulled her out of room 323 that talking hurt.

The TV crew had been moved to another floor. Then Leland had locked the third floor down tight. No one in. No one out. Even the elevator was locked to prevent anyone else using it.

The manager wasn’t happy, but he’d stood stoically as Leland told him he was lucky the whole building wasn’t cleared.

Avery Lewis had remained calm, his eyes glinting with quiet anger.

Even Leland had lost all his bluster.

Cait had been herded past Mr. Lewis and barely managed a single glance his way.

The hotel manager’s lips had curved with the barest of smiles, confirming her suspicion.

He’d won. She’d lost all will to fight him anymore. Without her special skills, the flurry of activity and negative press would fade from memory. He’d be busy with bookings from every nut job and psychic wannabe eager to walk the hallways in hopes of a legitimate “experience.”

All he’d have to do was wait, and then he could resume his killing, carefully spacing the deaths as he had before to avoid too much attention to his killing field.

“Caitydid,” her father said softly, pulling her back. His green eyes gleamed with compassion. The harsh contours of his rugged face softened.

Cait swallowed the burning lump in her throat. “Why hasn’t he come? I tried summoning him. Used the same spell I made for Sylvia. But nothing happened. It’s dead quiet,” she said, then laughed, the sound more like a ragged sob.

“You giving up on Sam?”

She aimed a teary glance his way. “He’s dead. What else can I do?”

“I’m not the person you should ask.”

She blinked away tears, hearing what he said, but not understanding.

“You’re strong, Cait. Everyone knows.”

“Everyone?”

“All of
us,
” he said, nodding. “If anyone can find a way to make this right, you can. You have to try, or you’ll never forgive yourself.”

“Maybe summoning him is the wrong thing for Sam. Maybe he’s in a good place. Past the pain and fear.” She sniffed and fought against the burning in her throat. “You didn’t see him, Daddy. Every bone in his body crushed, twisted together like a pretzel with that other cop’s.”

“This can’t be the end for you two, Caitydid.
We
don’t like unresolved issues, and you two have plenty.”

Her lips twisted in a snarl. “Who’s ‘we’? You ghosts?”

“We O’Connells,” he said with a one-sided smile. “And what the hell are you doing here in O’Malley’s?”

“I didn’t have anyone else to talk to.”

“Not Jason or Celeste?”

Cait shook her head. “Jason would’ve, if Leland hadn’t been there. Hell, Leland would’ve stayed the night, but I couldn’t bear the looks he gave me. Like I was some poor, beaten little puppy. And Celeste, well, I’m not sure she even knows,” she said, although she wasn’t so sure that was true. Celeste’s sight was always tuned to those she loved most. And Cait, despite the fact she hadn’t been great at keeping in touch, was family.

“I don’t want to be hugged,” she whispered. “Not now.”

Paddy O’Connell’s solemn gaze reflected her sorrow.

“I’m too brittle,” she rasped. “If I start crying, I might not ever stop.”

“You have a key,” he said, sliding from the seat. He bent near her.