The Dirt on Ninth Grave(45)

"You still gonna call the cops?"



"No. The captors must be on edge now. Anything could set them off. Could convince them to cut their losses  –  and the Vandenbergs' throats  –  and run."



Charles had finally stopped poking my head with his finger. He'd graduated to phrenology, examining every inch of my head by touch.



"What are you going to do?"



I turned to Angel, thankful that while the departed were solid to me, I could still see through them for the most part. Charles was now studying the shape of my eye sockets and the size of my nostrils.



"We drive around."



"Oh, hell, yeah," he said. "We'll cruise. Chill out a little. Check out the babes."



"Do people still say babes?" I asked him, starting the car.



"What? They don't?"



"I'm going to drive around town and, well, try to feel him. Is that dumb?"



"Only because he's married and he's probably not in the mood to be fondled right now."



"His emotions. They were so powerful today, maybe I'll be able to pick them up."



"Are you sure it's safe to drive with Charles glued to your face?"



"Probably not."



We drove around for hours. After we stopped for cat food and a bottle of water, that is. By the time we pulled up to my apartment, the cat was snoring, we'd lost Charles somewhere around North Washington, and Angel was telling me about the time he almost got to third base with Lucinda Baca. And while his stories were riveting, I was tired and disappointed and worried. I hadn't felt anything. I'd taken every single street in both Sleepy Hollow and Tarrytown to no avail.




 

 



I parked the car in Mable's backyard, curled the cat into my arms, and walked around to the front of my house.



"I wanted to marry her," Angel said, and I snapped back to his story. His statement brought into focus everything he'd lost.



"I'm sorry, Angel. How did you die?"



A sad smile slid across his face. "It's a long story. Maybe tomorrow?"



"Okay."



He stepped back, and I'd learned that when he did that, he was about to vanish. I stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Thank you. For all your help tonight. I don't know what I would have done."



"You would have been just fine. You're always fine."



"You clearly don't know me well," I said, with a soft laugh.



I let go of him, but before he disappeared, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. Then he stepped back again, and right before he vanished, he said, "I know you better than anyone."



A soft gasp pulled cold air over my teeth and into my lungs. I lunged to grab him, but I missed. He'd said it with such confidence. Did he know me? Did he know who I was? If only I could somehow summon him back just by thinking about him. Lord knew when I'd see him again. He was as sporadic as psoriasis.



I turned to unlock my door, but something seemed out of place. I glanced inside and spotted a light on in the bedroom. A light that I knew was not on when I left my apartment, because it had burned out two days ago.





10





Signs you drink too much coffee:

You don't sweat. You percolate.

-INTERNET MEME



After sleeping in Mable's car  –  and longing for Denzel something fierce  –  I reported to work the next morning looking like something the cat dragged in, half eaten yet somehow still alive. Sadly, I didn't care. I'd finally braved my apartment that morning wielding Satana, the Vandenbergs' cat  –  I'd named her based on her personality  –  and a two-by-four named Leroy.



Whoever had been in my apartment was long gone, but by the time I screwed up the courage to go in, it was too late for me to take a shower. Not that I'd actually slept in the car. I was shivering and worried and my mind wouldn't stop, not even for a few seconds. If I couldn't find Mr. Vandenberg and his family, I would have no choice but to go to the police. They had protocols that would put the family in danger, but there was nothing I could do about that. I had high hopes that Bobert would be able to help me. 



I strolled up to Cookie, pulling Reyes's jacket tighter around me. The same jacket that kept me from freezing to death. Also, Satana put out a lot of body heat.



"Did Bobert find out anything?" I asked Cookie.



She took one glance at me, then headed for the coffeepot. I didn't have the heart to tell her I'd already had quite a bit of the dark elixir. When I couldn't sleep, I'd driven to a local convenience store and bought coffee to keep warm. Twelve times. So I was pretty psyched about the day. Other than the fact that I'd developed a tick in my left eye and slurred my S's ever so little, all was good. I would find the Vandenbergs and then go to the police.