The Dirt on Ninth Grave Read online

  “Billy!” I yelled, pounding as hard as I could. “Erin! Open up! Hurry!”

  After about two minutes of disturbing the peace at the most irritating time possible, I’d managed to get everyone in the neighborhood to turn on their porch lights except Erin and Billy.

  “Billy!” I screamed, shoving all my weight against the door. If I couldn’t get them to come to me, maybe I could go to them. But the door was made of some kind of super wood. The harder I shoved, the more stuck it seemed to become, until finally, like a light shining down from heaven, their porch light flickered on.

  Erin cracked open the door as far as a chain latch would allow, her brows drawn from both sleep and fury. “What the fuck, Janey?” she asked, her voice thick and groggy.

  “Open the door,” I said.

  “Fuck you.”

  Once again, I didn’t have time to explain. “Sorry about this.”

  I drew in a deep breath and threw all my body weight against the door. The chain broke, and Erin stumbled back with a scream.

  “Erin!” Billy said, scrambling down to help his wife up.

  I tossed him the doll. “It’s not the doll. I was wrong,” I said, as I shot past him and up the stairs.

  “Janey!” Erin screamed. She hurried up the stairs behind me, but I soon lost track of her movements. The minute I crossed the threshold into her daughter’s room, I stopped short.

  Delbert was there, and he had Novalee by the throat, his meaty hands choking her. She slowly sank to the floor. Could he really hurt her? She was already dead.

  She looked over at me. At least I thought she did. With no irises, it was hard to tell.

  Yep, she was definitely looking at me, and she appeared none too happy with me. Then I realized why. She was keeping him distracted, and I was rubbernecking.

  “Billy, get your daughter out of the house,” I ordered.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Erin asked, demanding an explanation. Unfortunately, Delbert had lost interest in choking his wife to death and had whirled around to face me.

  Billy—God bless him—didn’t hesitate. He ran for Hannah and scooped her up. “Where do I take her?”

  Erin stood appalled and more than a little confused. “What is going on?” she asked him, alarm raising her voice an octave. She rushed to join Billy as he grabbed Hannah’s diaper bag.

  I honestly had no clue where he should take her, but surely a place with holy ground would keep evil away.

  “To a church,” I said. “Or a cemetery. Anywhere with consecrated ground.”

  He nodded and bounced Hannah as she began to cry.

  Her cries caught the undivided attention of The Mayor. His eyes glittered with appetite.

  “Now!” I yelled at him, then to Billy. “Get them out!”

  Again, he didn’t hesitate. He latched onto Erin’s hand and bolted down the stairs with both of them.

  Anger flared to life around Delbert like electricity when they left. I took it. Siphoned it off him. Absorbed it and molded it to my will. He was strong, though. And I’d forgotten my flashlight. I wondered if any light would do.

  I searched for a light switch and realized Erin had come back. “Erin, what the hell? Get out.”

  She shook her head. “No. Billy is taking Hannah to safety. I need to see the end of this.” She knew. Somehow she knew that there was something supernatural upsetting her life.

  I didn’t know what she could see, but I was pretty certain the earthquake that shook the house would leave an impression.

  Novalee found her footing and stepped back, arms crossed and a satisfied expression on her face. I wanted to tell her about the flashlight, but Delbert was growing both angrier and weaker by the moment.

  His energy, evil or not, felt wonderful. I blinked in surprise. He was like a drug. Like heroin or extacy or 3 AM coffee. I stepped closer, unable to get enough as though suddenly parched. I drank him in. Reveled at the high it gave me. Inhaled him until he was completely drained of energy.

  Novalee placed hopeful hands over her chest. Delbert groaned. And the house shook to its foundation.

  Pretty soon, Delbert was holding his arms over his eyes. He squinted as though blocking light.

  “I’ll kill your daughter, too,” he said in a desperate attempt to stop whatever was happening to him.

  I curled a hand into the lapel of his dusty jacket and pulled him closer. “I don’t have a daughter.”

  “I’ll be sure and tell her that when I steal the breath from her lungs.”

  Though I knew his threats were hollow, the walls shook even harder. Pictures fell and crashed to the floor. Erin screamed but held her ground. I couldn’t say I would have done the same in her position.

  Delbert began convulsing. His skin cracked and bled darkness. His head shot back and his spine bowed.

  “Down, boy,” I said, giving an order I didn’t quite understand.

  But a shadow appeared beneath him. It grew, spreading in all directions under his bodyless soul, until he melted into it, his eyes like saucers, and the darkness took him. He wanted to be evil. He could do it down there.

  The moment the shadowy portal closed, everything stopped and a silence settled around us. Novalee fell to her knees and cried. Erin stood in shock.

  She found her phone and called her husband. We heard sirens in the distance. She didn’t tell him what had happened. She just told him to bring Hannah home. It was safe.

  “That’s so weird,” I said, turning to Erin when she hung up. “We keep having the strangest earthquakes.” Though this one I was pretty sure was caused by Delbert.

  “You’re bleeding,” she said.

  “Oh, shit.” I’d left a large puddle of blood on her carpet. “I’m so sorry,” I said, lifting my foot and bouncing to the doorway.

  “Wait. In here.” She led me to a bathroom down the hall.

  I kept my foot in the sink as Erin ran to the door to greet her family. When a police cruiser rolled up, Billy dealt with them—while I prayed Mable hadn’t reported the car stolen—and Erin saw to the gaping hole in my foot. I sat on her bathroom counter gazing at Hannah as she slept in a basket beside me.

  “She’s so beautiful.”

  Erin nodded, then poured more peroxide on my foot. I got the feeling she enjoyed that part.

  “Are you okay, hon?”

  She nodded again, her lips pressed together as though she were trying desperately to keep calm. She shook worse than I did, though, and I realized she’d been traumatized. Thank God she didn’t see Delbert. She’d be in therapy for years.

  “Erin,” I said, ducking my head to meet her tear-filled gaze, “she saved you from him. Your great-aunt Novalee. She saved you and your mom and your aunt.”

  Her expression showed both surprise and understanding. When she could finally talk, she said, “I’ve always felt a connection with her. Like I knew she was watching out for me.”

  “Now you know why. And I think she’ll be around for a long time to come.”

  “I hope so,” she said, looking around as though trying to talk to Novalee.

  The elderly woman heard her. She was standing right beside me, gazing lovingly at Hannah. “I’m sorry about stealing your extra shifts at work,” I said.

  She shook her head and drew in a cleansing breath. “You were right. I could never have kept it up. Not working that much with a baby. Billy’s great, though.”

  “I agree. And he looks fantastic in a towel.”

  “Right?” she said with a soft giggle.

  “Erin, you don’t need more hours at work. You’re an incredible artist. You need to go back to school. Become a graphic designer or an interior decorator. Your house is amazing.” I scanned the area. “Or, you know, it used to be.”

  “If you hadn’t come when you did…” Unable to hold her emotions back any longer, she broke down. Her shoulders shook.

  I put a hand on her arm, and she tackle-hugged me, almost knocking me off the counter. I held her tight, stru
ggling with the whole thing myself. Her emotions were overwhelming, and I couldn’t tell where hers stopped and mine began.

  “I’m just glad I got here in time.”

  “Me, too.”

  We stood like that while Erin grasped at the tattered edges of her composure. After several long moments, she hiccupped and asked, “When did you see Billy in a towel?”

  18

  If only one of my personalities liked to clean house.

  —T-SHIRT

  There was nothing like a wrecked house and a poltergeist to rob a girl of a good night’s sleep. In lieu of draping my body across Denzel, chasing rest I knew I’d never get, I cleaned. Swept. Scooped. I didn’t have that much furniture to begin with. Now my apartment was downright pathetic. And I needed a new glass.

  When I’d done the best I could, I showered and retaped my foot. It was still early, like dark-out early, but I decided Reyes needed coffee, and I needed Reyes. I stole Mable’s car again and hit the local twenty-four-hour convenience store.

  Osh was there in his signature top hat, buying several packages of extra-large condoms. He gave me a conspiratorial wink. I tried not to snort, though I didn’t doubt he had no problems with the ladies. The kid was pretty. Those dimples and shimmering bronze eyes were going to get him into trouble.

  When I got to Reyes’s motel, his windows were dark. I parked and walked to his door. Holding two giant cups of the good stuff, I knocked softly. If he really was sound asleep, I didn’t want to disturb him. The door opened almost immediately, and a groggy, gorgeous specimen of a man in desperate need of a shave and sporting hooded lids and mussed hair answered. Also, he was shirtless.

  I gave him a sheepish smile. “Were you awake?”

  He opened the door farther in a silent invitation.

  “Do you look this good when you wake up every morning?” I asked as I stepped into the warm room. “I look like I died in my sleep.”

  He closed the door and took the coffee I handed him. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “You made your bed?” It was perfectly made up. He’d answered the door immediately. How did he have time to make his bed?

  “Nah, I just slept on top.” The last time I’d been in this room, the covers were mussed from him lying on it. That bed had not been lain on. “Are you okay?”

  I stood looking at the collection of books piled on his nightstand. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He sat at the small table and watched me. Like always. “Just making sure. You seem tired.”

  Crap. I knew it. “I didn’t get much sleep.”

  He leaned back, tilting his chair against the wall, and folded an arm behind his head. “Anything wrong?”

  I turned and sat on the side of the bed. “Not at all. Are you okay?” I asked because, on the way home from Erin’s, I could’ve sworn I saw him across the street from her house. I did a double take and he was gone. Like always.

  “Peachy,” he said, and I almost laughed. I would never have pictured him using the word peachy to describe anyone, much less himself.

  We talked for about half an hour. It was nice, but he had to get to work soon. I checked my watch. “I’ll let you get ready for work. I have the day off, so—”

  “You don’t have to go.” He stood and started for the bathroom. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  “Um—Okay.”

  His sexy mouth tilted sideways as he unbuttoned his jeans without closing the door between us. I froze, my gaze laser-locked onto his crotch, before sucking in a sharp breath and whirling away from him. I heard a soft chuckle. Pants hitting the floor. Shower water coming on. I peeked over my shoulder. He’d pulled the white curtain closed. Damn it. I stared hopefully at the opaque curtain, but nooooo. I had to be gifted with time travel instead of x-ray vision.

  I finished my coffee and walked to his kitchenette, which was oddly not that much smaller than my kitchen. And he had glasses. Like four. I thought about stealing one, but what kind of person would that make me?

  A few minutes later, he strolled out with one towel around his waist and another around his shoulders. He was using that one to rub his head, obstructing his line of sight, so I took the opportunity to gape in honor of women everywhere who’d never get the chance.

  When he dropped the towel back and shook his head, my knees almost gave beneath me.

  “Oh, you already have one,” I said when he looked at me.

  He glanced around. “One what?”

  “A towel. I was going to get you one for Christmas.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, well, it’s not really mine. The motel frowns when I steal them.”

  “Good. They should. I frown when you steal them, too. But what about the glasses? Are they the motel’s? I hear the penalty isn’t as harsh for glass thieves.”

  He sobered. “Do you need glasses?”

  “Nope. Five by five, baby.” When his mouth thinned, I said, “Mine broke last night.”

  “All of them?”

  “Oh, no.” I laughed. “I only had one.”

  “You only had one glass?” he asked, taking all four off the counter.

  “Yeah. It’s not like glasses grow on trees.” He searched for something to put them in. “Reyes, I was only kidding. I don’t need your glasses. I have two plastic cups. And coffee cups out the ass. Not sure how that happened.”

  He looked down at them. “These aren’t that great anyway. I’ll get you some at the store today.”

  I chuckled. “Really. I can get a couple of chipped ones from Dixie. It’s all good.”

  He’d grown serious. The glass thing really seemed to bother him.

  With head still lowered, he said, “I have to let you find your way.”

  I felt guilt waft off him. Guilt and frustration.

  “What do you mean?”

  He worked his jaw. “You have to understand, it goes against every fiber of my being. But I have to let you navigate the terrain on your own.”

  What was he getting at? That he knew more about me than he was letting on? That he was following me but couldn’t interfere? “Were you there last night?” I asked him point-blank. “Were you at Erin’s?”

  He put the glasses back and said without turning to face me, “No.”

  He was lying. He had to be. I saw him. “I have to get Mable’s car back.”

  “Wait,” he said, but I was already out the door. He’d been there. And if not him, then Garrett or Osh. They’d been tag-teaming, following me around. They knew more than they were saying.

  I gulped huge rations of icy air when it hit me in the face. It was like plunging into the Arctic Ocean. I hurried to climb into the driver’s side, fumbling in Reyes’s coat pocket for the key.

  Before I could slide it into the ignition, a knock sounded on the window.

  Reyes stood outside. In the towel. With soaking wet hair.

  Sure he was barefoot as well, I jumped out. “What are you doing?” I asked, pushing him toward his door. Not that he moved. Not even an inch. And, yes, he was barefoot. Darwinism at its finest.

  “You’re not what you think you are,” he said as I shooed him back. That didn’t work either.

  “I know,” I said, throwing my weight into it. I put a shoulder against his midsection and heaved-ho. Nothing. “I’ve known for a long time. Duh.”

  He finally took a voluntary step back. I was making progress.

  “You know?” he asked.

  “Yes. I know what I am.”

  “You—you do?”

  “I’m a time traveler.”

  All progress came to a screeching halt.

  I leaned against him, panting. “I think I’m from the future.”

  “Okay.”

  “My question is, where are you from?” I faced him again and poked him. In the chest. With my finger. “What are you?”

  He lowered his head, examined said finger, then said, “I’m part of an interdimensional time investigations unit.”

  “Shut the fuck up. Are you
for real?”

  “No,” he said with a snort.

  I deflated. “Oh, that’s messed up.” I pushed again. This time he obeyed. The sun was just cresting the horizon, and his eyes sparkled like fire in the glowing light.

  “Get inside. I have errands to run, and you have to go cook shit.”

  “I thought you were taking Mable’s car back.”

  “I am. Then I’m going to ask if I can borrow it again.”

  He nodded. The frozen ground, the frigid air, none of it fazed him.

  Just before I climbed into the car, I said, “Save me some posole for breakfast. I’ll be in later.”

  He chuckled. “How ’bout I make you breakfast.”

  “Okay, but it better be as good as that posole.”

  “You have my word.”

  On the way home, I made another stop at the convenience store and bought a cheap, pay-as-you-go phone for emergency use, then stopped by Mable’s, told her I’d stolen her car last night, gave her the last of my tip money to cover the expense even though I’d filled it up, and drank another cup of coffee with her.

  She didn’t say anything about Mr. Kubrick. I took that as a sign that he hadn’t gotten any shots of last night’s events. Too bad. He could have sold them to a tabloid. Made a little extra cash. But it did help me out a lot that he hadn’t. No idea how I would’ve explained that one.

  “I hate to say this, but I may need the car again today. I’m … investigating.”

  “Oh. Sounds intriguing. Anything I can help with?”

  I perked up. She might know where the cabin was. Then again, she could talk to the wrong person and … I couldn’t risk it.

  “No, but thanks.”

  “Well, you know you can take it anytime you want to. I’ll have to call the police and tell them to cancel that APB they put out on you last night.”

  My eyes rounded. “Really?”

  “No.” She cackled with delight. “Gotcha.”

  * * *

  Apparently it was National Punk the Amnesiac Day. I walked back to my apartment to plug the phone in to charge for a bit—the battery was low when I activated it—and decided I’d try to catch Mr. P at the café when I went in for breakfast. He’d been a detective. Not here in the Hollow, but he’d lived here long enough to know people. Maybe he’d know about the cabin. Or at least the area. I hadn’t been showing the picture around that I’d lifted from Mr. Vandenberg’s shop because when I took it, I was breaking and entering. Breaking being the key word. A lot of breaking.