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random. I scrolled again and clicked on a link, any link.
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It brought up a black page with white lettering. An
amateur job. Simple with a single image, a photo of the
young woman.
Amanda Harris, spirit medium. There was a phone
number and an address. The drive would take a couple
hours. Small town though, that seemed okay. "This
one."
The boys peered over my shoulder. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah Rob, I m sure." Something about her eyes
made me think we had something in common. Like she
had seen the things I d seen. That she could help.
***
I had to stay at least one more night with Cassie and
Jack. Mostly because I hadn t figured out how to get
there given my trashed bike. Cassie had ordered pizza
this time, and Jack was watching football and
judiciously ignoring Cassie. I just wasn t that interested
in the football, my team was losing. Cassie s knitting
was in a basket on the left side of the chair I had claimed
and I needed a distraction from the tension.
A half-finished pink scarf. Probably for Tara. Cassie
would likely not finish it in time for Tara s birthday.
I picked it up and started a new row. It looked like a
simple purl knit purl. Jack raised an eyebrow, I kept
knitting. He couldn t knock my knitting; I d fixed his
sweater the day it got caught in the drawer. With pencils
no less. I finished the row as Cassie came into the room
with the pizza.
"What are you doing?"
"Knitting."
She set down the pizza, hands on her hips and glared
at me. She was pretty. But that didn t explain what Jack
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saw in her, had seen in her? I wasn't sure what the status
of their relationship was at the moment. "Why?"
I shrugged. "I wanted something to do with my
hands." Despite the distraction of her conversation, I
managed another row. "Besides, I know you won t
finish it."
She looked about to say something else but didn t.
She opened up the box of pizza. Sausage and
mushroom, extra cheese. My favorite. "Eat." There were
paper plates and forks already out next to chips and dip.
Cassie was strangely subdued throughout the meal.
Reggie s death. Reggie was staring at the pizza.
Ghosts don t eat (as far as I can tell), but I bet they wish
they did. I was going to adjust my learning curve to my
situation. I couldn t just let all of this slide anymore.
Whether I wanted to believe it or not, these things were
real.
I shifted in my seat, setting down the knitting and
grabbing a slice of pizza. My necklace caught on my
shirt. I tugged it free. Two silver rings hung from the
chain. Our rings. Rob and mine. I d keep them close
until this was over and then& then Rob and I were
through. I put them back under my shirt and ate my
pizza.
"Jack?" I said between bites.
"Yeah?" He looked up from his own slice, sauce on
his cheek. I restrained the urge to get a napkin and wipe
his cheek. That would be crossing a boundary, I m sure.
"What d they do with the rest of my bike?" The direct
approach was best.
"Why?" He wiped off the sauce with the back of his
hand and grabbed a napkin.
I shrugged. "I want to fix it."
He gave me a steady, assessing look. "You want to
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fix the bike that almost killed you?" He paused. "No,
you just want a method of transportation."
"Fine. Yeah. I want to get the hell out of here for a
bit. I promise I won t leave the state." I finished my
pizza.
He closed his eyes and sighed. "Not happening, kid.
If you leave Chicago now, they ll arrest you before you
can snap your fingers."
"Jack -- "
"Nope. We wait this thing out. The only reason you
haven t been arrested yet is because your father is
holding off the vultures. Voight is circling, Fynn, it s
only a matter of time."
I sighed, but it wasn t as though he was wrong.
"Okay."
I just had to be patient. Not my best subject.
The Hanged Man's Ghost - 125
Chapter Eleven: Haunted
I went to church. Monsignor Quinn was busy, but I
managed to go to confession, which did not make me
feel better this time. Too many people had died. Jessica,
Reggie, Eddie Bailey; hell, I could probably add
Michael to that list. Jack had nearly died. I had to find
this thing. I had to destroy it. There was nothing more
important than that now. I had to protect the people I
cared about.
I painted Celtic crosses in oil on the windows and
doors of Jack s apartment. I prayed when I went to bed
at night. Maybe God would listen now. I could only
pray. I hated not to be able to do anything. It had been a
week since Reggie died and only a massive lack of
evidence had kept me out of jail this long. Well, that and
my father's political maneuverings. I generally wouldn't
be the first to admit to nepotistic advantages to being
one of the boys in blue, but this is Chicago. But I had to
stay out of the public eye. The lack of physical action
made me itch. Which made me smoke.
The fact that I was drinking again was something I
decided to ignore from a moral standpoint.
And all of that led to my current location. I liked
Yearling s. The fact that it wasn t a cop bar played even
better for me now that Voight had painted me dirty.
Sure, it was only three in the afternoon but I couldn t
find it in me to care about that just now.
My phone rang.
"Adder."
"Fynn, it s Jack. You have a problem."
"What kind of problem?"
"A warrant was just issued for your arrest. You have
twenty-four hours to turn yourself in before they hunt
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you down."
"Jesus fucking Christ... I ll be there, don t worry."
"You re sure?"
"Yeah. Where do you want me to go?"
"O Bryan. He ll see to it you re safe."
"Done."
"And Fynn."
"Yeah?"
"Don t be late." He hung up.
I shook my head, hung up the phone, and slipped it
back in my pocket. This was not the best day of my life,
that was for certain. I ordered another drink, downed it,
and went outside to hail a cab.
I felt very cold walking up to the station. This was
definitely not a possibility I d ever considered when I
became a cop. My family could only protect me so
much. I went inside and I walked up to the desk cop. He
didn t even look up.
"Can I help you?"
"My name is Fynn Adder. I m here to turn myself
in."
The desk cop woke up. He looked at me, really
looked at me. He fiddled with his computer for a minute
before calling out another cop. Said cop took me to
processing.
I got the kid glove treatment. The cell they shoved
me in was empty; no one mentioned I d been a cop.
Careful. Everything carefully said and done. Captain
O Bryan still believed in me then. At least someone did.
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