Raintree Read online

  Hope pulled out her own cell phone and made the call, and Gideon walked closer to Lily Clark’s much-too-solid image. “You can find those clothes for us,” he said. “Your blood, a part of you, is there, and if you concentrate, you can find them. I can’t guarantee that the clothes will lead us to the woman who killed you, but it’s a possibility.”

  “I don’t know how to do that,” the ghost whispered.

  “You can see so much more now, if you try. Think about that night. Remember what happened after. You watched Tabby walk out that door.”

  “Yes,” Lily whispered. “I screamed at her, but she didn’t hear me. I tried to stop her, but I couldn’t do anything.”

  “Did she have the clothes with her? Were they wadded up or stuffed in a bag or—”

  “She was wearing my favorite dress,” Clark whined. She seemed to view that as just another indignity. “What nerve.”

  “What about the clothes she was wearing when she killed you? Did she have them with her when she left?”

  Lily cocked her head and turned her mind back to that night, even though she undoubtedly wanted nothing more than to forget. Maybe when this was done and she moved on she would forget. No one should carry such painful memories with them for eternity. “No,” she said thoughtfully. “All she was carrying was her purse. The knife was in it, freshly washed and wrapped in one of my nightgowns, and there wasn’t room in that purse for her clothes, too. She loved that knife,” the spirit added. “She touched it like it was alive.”

  Gideon turned to Hope, who had just ended her phone call. “The clothes are here somewhere.”

  “The room was searched,” she said.

  Gideon walked into the bathroom. “Lily, did Tabby ever carry those bloody clothes out of this bathroom? After she had that shower, did she bring the clothes back out?”

  The ghost shook her head, and Gideon glanced up at the tiles in the ceiling.

  It would take a few days to get solid evidence from the clothes and the towel Gideon had found hidden above the ceiling tiles, but it was a step. They didn’t expect Tabby would have her name and address stitched into the clothes she’d worn, but at least they had something concrete, and there was bound to be recoverable DNA. All they needed was Tabby in custody so a match could be made.

  They’d hit a dead end with the vehicle, which was all they’d gotten out of Dennis Floyd—who was locked up in a Hale County jail, still terrified that Tabby would find him, somehow. No blue Taurus in North Carolina was registered to anyone named Tabby or Tabitha, and none of the Catherines were a match. They would now begin searching all females, but damn, it was a long list.

  Hope didn’t think they had that kind of time before Tabby struck again.

  Gideon pulled the Mustang to the curb in front of The Silver Chalice, and Hope leaned over to kiss him briefly. “Be here by seven, if you can,” she said, and then she smiled. “Sunny is a better cook than I am, so you’re going to have to learn to grab a good meal when you get the chance.”

  “Are we going to tell them the news over peach cobbler?” Gideon asked.

  “Not yet.” Hope wasn’t sure how to tell her mother and her sister that she was going to marry this man she’d met on Monday. And as for Emma, there was no logical explanation. Not that her mother had ever required logic for anything.

  Gideon nodded, visibly relieved. Maybe he wasn’t ready for explanations, either. “I’ll be back by seven.” He was going to the station to help Charlie with the vehicle search, unable to give up just yet. Unable to rest. She supposed that was something she would have to learn to live with.

  “Sure you don’t want me to tag along?”

  “It’s Saturday, and you need some time to visit with your sister before she heads for home.”

  “Yeah, partners or not, it’s not like we’re joined at the hip or anything.” So why did she hate the very idea of watching him drive away? Tabby had been quiet for a couple of days. It was possible, even probable, that she’d left town after she’d stabbed Gideon. If she had a brain in her head, she’d run that very night. Gideon had seen her, and so had Hope. Hope wasn’t so sure Tabby’s brain worked in any logical manner; however, anything was possible.

  Even if Tabby was still around, Raintree could take care of himself. So could she. They both had protection charms, weapons and better-than-average instincts. Her eyes flitted to the building across the street.

  “They’re still there,” Gideon said.

  “For how long?”

  “Until we catch Tabby or have proof that she’s out of the picture.”

  “I’d rather catch her.”

  “Me, too.”

  He kissed her again, and she exited the Mustang. The Silver Chalice was busy, as it of ten was on a Saturday afternoon. Tourists and regulars perused the items for sale, and there was a class of some kind going on in a back room. Meditation, vibrational healing…things Hope had always dismissed as nonsense.

  She was able to look at the people in her mother’s shop with new eyes today. Maybe they knew something she didn’t. Maybe they saw or heard or touched things that had always been invisible to her, the way Gideon did.

  An upside-down world wasn’t as unsettling as she’d imagined it might be. In fact, she was finding it more comforting than she’d thought possible.

  Tabby slung the big purse off her shoulder and set it down behind a display of copper bells, partially hidden behind a book rack. This corner of the store was crowded with merchandise and was also unoccupied at the moment.

  Normally she wouldn’t spend a second longer than was necessary in this place. The people here sought positive energy and were, for the most part, peaceful and calm. There was no power for Tabby in being in their company. She took no joy in this place, and in fact, it made her a little antsy. Still, she could hardly run into the shop, drop off the bomb and run out again, so she pretended to be interested in the merchandise.

  She glanced up when the door opened with the jingling of a bell and smiled when she saw Raintree’s woman walk in. Well, this would be a nice bonus.

  Even though the cop had chased her down the riverfront, Tabby didn’t fear being spotted here today. She was wearing a short dark wig and a baggy dress that disguised her shape. She stooped to diminish her height. There would be nothing familiar about her even if the cop noticed her. In any case, the woman wasn’t even suspicious. At the moment the detective was happy to the point of distraction.

  Tabby felt that happiness the same way she was able to feel fear and horror, but she took no pleasure or strength from it. She did, however, take pleasure in knowing that happiness would be short-lived.

  She walked away, leaving her oversized purse behind.

  It was tough to help when getting too near the computer wasn’t wise, but Gideon tried. He looked at the vehicular records Charlie had printed out, and he scanned driver’s license photos until the faces all started to blur. Maybe Tabby’s name wasn’t Tabby after all. Maybe the car had been stolen from another state and the tags switched, and had been recovered or burned by now. Whatever the reason, he was getting nowhere.

  He sent Charlie home with thanks and the promise of a get-together at the beach house, and sat down with the files of the unsolved murders that might or might not be Tabby’s work. Some cases came together quickly. Murderers weren’t usually the brightest colors in the box, and they left massive amounts of evidence behind. Tabby, if that was indeed her name, didn’t. She wiped down doorknobs; she cleaned up after herself. Dennis Floyd and the bloody clothes from the hotel and a couple of hairs were all they had. And none of those would do any good unless—until—they caught her. When they did catch her, all that evidence would be enough to put her away forever.

  His cell phone rang, and since there was no one else around to answer for him, he did it himself. The caller ID listed a Charlotte number, which meant it was likely Echo. She probably wanted to know if it was safe for her to come home. She was going to have a fit when he told her no.