Chapter Three

 

DEAN sat up and stared around in confusion at the sea of emergency lights illuminating the shoulder of the road. A number of people milled about him, talking and examining the ground and van as the sun sank lower in the sky, casting long shadows on the ground.

Andrei. Dean had to call him. He was late getting home, and his partner would be very worried by now. He checked his pockets only to discover that his cell phone was missing. What the hell had happened? Why was he on the ground? His last memories before he passed out were a muddled blur.

“Do you mind telling me what’s going on?” Dean scrambled to his feet as a cop approached.

The cop ignored him as he crouched and dropped a plastic number on the ground next to the lug wrench. “The vic might’ve had a chance to fight back. He looked like a fighter, took more shots than the woman. The perp could be hurt,” he said to another man taking notes.

“Or the perp saw him as the bigger threat.” Neither of them looked at Dean as they carried on their conversation.

A memory emerged from the chaos in his head. The sound of little feet running away from a monster that chased her. Dean tapped the side of his head, struggling for a name that finally surfaced.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. Did you find Inez, the little girl? What happened to the baby?” Dean peered into the van, steeling himself for the horror of blood and small bodies in the thickening shadows, but to his relief it was empty. He ran to his own car, which remained just as he left it except for the pacifier lying on the passenger seat and the door being wide open.

Dean’s confused thoughts bombarded him as he walked back toward the cops who were still talking as they took pictures. What was wrong with them? They couldn’t spare two minutes to talk to a witness?

Then those last few horrible moments came rushing back in a montage of terrible images. How huge the gun had seemed when it had been pointed at him. How Robin had jerked and crumpled when she’d been shot. The sickening fear on Inez’s little face.

Dean stooped to pick up a bit of green hair ribbon and clutched it in his fist. He swallowed hard against the rising bile as he finally noticed the shrouded body lying on the ground next to the van and the other body being loaded into the back of an ambulance. Both adult-sized. Not child.

“Look, you have to listen to me. Inez called the guy Daddy. He’s the one who shot me and Robin. I think maybe I need to go to the hospital, and I need to borrow a phone, my….” Dean’s words faltered as neither cop glanced at him. “Fucking look at me.”

Dean reached out to grab one of the cops on the shoulder, stealing himself for a shove or a punch, and gaped in disbelief as his hand went right through the man. Warmth spread across his chest, and a chill raced through his body as he stared down at the growing red stain on his dress shirt. It was ruined. He’d never be able to get the blood out.

“Will somebody please help me?” Dean pressed his hands to his chest, trying to staunch the blood. Something was wrong. This whole situation was even more surreal than being shot. Why wasn’t he being tended to? Having his statement taken? Andrei should already be here trying to take charge of the investigation.

“You died.” The stark words struck him as forcefully as the bullets had.

He couldn’t be dead. He didn’t feel dead. A dead man wouldn’t tremble like this. Dean shook his head, trying in vain to ignore that voice.

“The blood will go away if you stop thinking about it.”

A young girl stood several feet away staring right at him. She was older than Inez by several years. Her long black hair was caught back in two braids, and there was something familiar about her face, though Dean couldn’t place where he’d seen her before. She wore a red-and-yellow sundress and battered sandals and clutched a stuffed turtle to her skinny body. His confused mind picked out those little details and latched on to them. They were concrete, real, and somehow more vivid than the other people around him.

“Wait, you can see me. Tell the cops what I said. It’s important.” Dean moved toward her, practically vibrating with urgency. He had to remind himself not to scare her away and tried to summon up a reassuring smile, only he wasn’t sure that he succeeded.

“They can’t hear me, either. Most people can’t hear or see the dead.” A sad expression crossed her face. “Some can but don’t want to, so they block us out.”

“I am not dead!”

Dean stared down at the blood that now saturated his shirt and shook his head in denial. Somewhere in the back of his consciousness he could feel his wounds throbbing along with his heartbeat. Shouldn’t they hurt more than that? He’d been fucking shot for godssake. Maybe the EMTs had already given him something for the pain. This couldn’t be happening.

“There has to be some kind of mistake. I can’t be dead. They’re going to resuscitate me at the hospital. I’ll get better and Andrei can go after the bastard and get those kids back,” he insisted, too aware of the sheet-shrouded figure on the ground behind him. The sensation crawled across his skin with little fingers. Fucking creepy.

Dean ignored its intrusive presence by concentrating on Inez and Tristan. He fingered the bit of ribbon in his pocket. They were what was important. He had to find out if they were okay or not. That bastard wouldn’t shoot his own kids, would he? Their mother was horrifying enough, but they were just babies.

The understanding, sympathetic expression in the girl’s familiar, dark eyes drove it home far more than words could. Her gaze was older than her appearance, and Dean felt a shout of denial and rage lodge in his throat. No, no, no… Andrei, oh God…. “I’m not dead, damn you,” he snarled.

“I’m sorry.” Tears glimmered in her eyes, and she hugged the stuffed turtle to her. “Please don’t be mad at me, Dean.”

Great, good job Dean, be an ass and make a little girl cry. He sighed and tried to summon up a smile through the frustration, anger, and fear. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. Now, don’t start crying on me, okay? Please?”

The girl threw herself into his arms, and Dean let out a startled yelp as she pressed her cheek against his blood-stained shirt and squeezed him tight in a hug. “I’m glad Andrei picked you. I’d never liked any of the other guys he kissy-faced with. You made him happy.”

Dean’s mind spun as he tried to absorb the implications of that statement out of everything else that had happened. Reality began to sink in past the denial and confusion. The way he couldn’t touch anyone and how no one would even look at him, much less talk to him. They were looking through him. The way the pain seemed nebulous, like it really belonged to someone else, or something else outside his body. And how everything seemed washed-out and unreal. Everything except himself and the young girl with him.

He didn’t want to admit that it was over. He couldn’t. All those plans with Andrei… God, Andrei, he would be all alone now. Dean’s throat closed up in grief at the thought. Even more than missing Andrei already, feeling as if an integral part of Dean’s being had been cut from him, the thought of Andrei being alone to deal with this sent a surge of fury through him. He had a powerful need to hurt someone. Inez’s daddy. Blake… that’s what Robin had called him. He’d get his hands around the man’s throat and choke the….

“Stop it!” The strange girl tightened her arms around him. “No, no, no. You can’t think that. Even toward the bad man. You’ll bring the Jackal Wraiths. Please, stop thinking the bad thoughts. You can’t help Andrei if you get eaten.”

Dean put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back. To his surprise, her cheek remained clean despite being against his shirt. “Okay, who are you? You seem to know an awful lot about Andrei and me.” He’d never heard of a spirit guide being a young girl who carried a stuffed animal. Where were the bright lights, the feeling of peace, and all the other mumbo-jumbo he’d heard from those who’d had near-death experiences?

“I’m Ileana. Andrei’s big sister.” Her face took on a stricken look. “Didn’t he ever tell you about me?”

Dean smiled in recognition. He should’ve realized it sooner. Andrei had a battered picture of the two of them taken just a few weeks before she had died of pneumonia. Ileana had had a protective arm slung around her baby brother’s shoulders, and Andrei had been leaning into her, his dark eyes lit up with joy. That picture had been sitting on Andrei’s desk for as long as Dean had known him. Ileana and Andrei shared the same eyes. He should’ve recognized that if nothing else.

“Yes, he did. He had quite a few stories about you and mentions you often. Though I’m surprised by how well he remembers you. He was only five when you got sick.” From the way Andrei talked, it sounded sometimes like they’d grown up together. But whenever Dean would start asking questions, Andrei would stop talking about her for a while, so he’d learned to leave it alone.

“That’s because he knew me for a long time after I died. Andrei used to play with me all the time. It upset Mum and Dad something awful. They used to yell at him whenever he’d talk about me.” Her dark eyes were solemn as she looked up at him. “They thought I was a mulo, a bad spirit, for staying behind. But I wanted to play with him.”

Dean looked at her in astonishment. She really was serious. “You aren’t joking. Andrei can hear and see you?” Andrei had never told him that. Not in all the years they’d been friends even before they became a couple.

“Not as often anymore. Andrei got old and then got distracted looking at boys. I don’t think he knows how to play anymore.” Her eyes, so like Andrei’s, were sad and confused. Dean knelt down to give her another hug, and she leaned into him with absolute trust. Despite the fact that she had been around for almost forty years, she still seemed to have the mind of an eight-year-old. “Him and Mum and Dad fought all the time, and he stopped being any fun. He became so serious.”

“He never forgot about you, though. That I do know.” Dean sat back on his heels and lightly gripped her shoulders. His mind raced; Andrei could hear spirits. If he chose to. Or at least he had. There had to be a way to get through to him. Ileana could help.

An unnatural shiver raced through him, and Dean turned to see the body in front of the van being loaded onto a stretcher. His body. It might make it more real if he’d seen his face, but at the moment he really didn’t want to. It was too fucking freaky already.

He couldn’t have Andrei find out about this alone. Even if Andrei couldn’t hear or see him, Dean wanted to be there. He needed to be with Andrei.

“Andrei already knows. Well, he’s scared and knows something’s wrong. He got worried when you were late and wouldn’t answer your phone, so he listened to that radio thingie he has. He asked for you at the hospitals, and now he’s at the police station.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed on Ileana. “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“You think very loud.” She gave him an impish grin, a dimple appearing on her cheek. “And your face gets all grrrr, then sad, then confused. Makes it very easy.”

“And how do you know what Andrei’s doing?”

“I always know when he’s upset, so I went to check on him, and when you still hadn’t come back yet, I went looking for you. I thought maybe Andrei would feel better if I could tell him where you were.” She took his hand in both of hers and gave it a squeeze. “Then I couldn’t let you wake up alone.”

Dean listened to the murmur of the cops’ conversation all around him, and his heart plummeted. “They didn’t find the kids?” He didn’t want them to have been murdered or left behind with their mother’s body, but the thought of that little girl and baby in a monster’s hands made him ill.

One thing at a time. Andrei might be able to hear and see him. He could give the police the answers that only Dean knew. His partner was a private detective. He’d know how to approach them. But even if Andrei couldn’t hear him, right now Dean needed the comfort of his presence more than anything else.

“Okay, Ileana, what’s the magic trick? If I’m… if I’m, well, you know, I’m not like stuck in the place where I was shot, am I? Because I’ve got to get to Andrei.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course you’re not stuck where you died or else I wouldn’t be here.” Ileana wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes. “And all the hospitals would be so crowded. We’d be tripping all over each other. At least, those who chose to stay. Boring.”

“Okay, stupid question, fine. How do I get to Andrei without having to put one foot in front of the other or catch rides in random vehicles?” Dean tugged lightly on her braid and gave her a tense smile. “Come on, Poppet. Help me out here. What do you do when you want to see him?”

“I just think of him. Close your eyes and think of Andrei and how much he needs you. That’s what’s worked for me. If you picture him real hard, it’s easy.”

Dean closed his eyes, trying to block out the emergency lights flashing, the cops talking, the scent of blood and death. He thought of Andrei, wished for him, but when he opened his eyes, he was still kneeling on the side of the road with Ileana looking at him curiously.

He bit back a curse. “Now what?”

Ileana shrugged, the kind of pitying look in her eyes only a child could have. “Try again, silly.”

Try again. Dean bit back his frustration with a concentrated effort. He did not have time for this bullshit.

“Maybe you aren’t tied to Andrei,” Ileana said suddenly.

Dean’s eyes flew open again as a chill struck him. “What?”

“A very bad man hurt you. He could be the reason why you’re here. Or the other kids. Why don’t you try thinking of them instead? They might be easier to reach until you get better at this.”

“There is no way in hell I’m tied to that f—” Dean took a deep breath. “I’m not tied to a monster.” But Inez and Tristan, that was a possibility. Even if it was Andrei he wanted to see, he couldn’t deny the possibility that concern for the kids had been uppermost in his mind when he’d died.

No. His last thought had been of Andrei. Dean closed his eyes and cleared his mind. He brought up memories. Simple things. How Andrei’s face softened when he slept, the rough edges becoming more open and vulnerable. The scent of his hair after he’d showered, and the little rumble in his voice when he laughed. The way Andrei liked to come up behind him to slip his arms around Dean’s waist and lay his chin on Dean’s shoulder.

The ground lurched sideways, and the change of temperature from summer evening to artificial, chilled air told Dean he’d shifted. He could no longer sense the flash of lights through his eyelids, and it was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

His heart thudding hard, Dean opened his eyes, and his skin crawled as he realized he’d shifted into a medical examiner’s office. The clock on the wall showed just after 9 p.m. And he was utterly alone. No Andrei and no Ileana. Great. Now what? He was really sucking at this ghost business.

It was strange. He was supposed to be dead, but he didn’t feel dead. He still had all the sensations he would have if he were still breathing. Well he wasn’t on the side of the road anymore, though, so that was progress. Ileana’s trick had worked. Now he just needed to figure out what he was tied to and why he’d showed up here instead of with Andrei. And how was he going to do that with no Ileana to guide him. He must’ve fucked it up somehow.

The room was cold and unnaturally clean. There wasn’t a spot of gore or the clutter of tools anywhere. One wall held a bank of stainless steel lockers, and there were several pristine examining tables, deep sinks, and neatly arranged instruments that Dean did not care to look at too closely. Yeah, definitely the wrong place. Ileana had said that Andrei was at the police station. Dean closed his eyes and was ready to try again when a slither of intuition had him turning around.

A sheet-covered gurney sat between an examination table and an observation window. Dean swallowed hard as an icy chill raced through him. He knew. Somehow he just knew that was his body under there. God please, don’t let me be fettered to my own body. That would just be sick.

Dean’s head jerked around as the door opened and a young woman in a lab coat came in leading Andrei. Dean’s heart lurched at the sight of him, and he took an involuntary step toward Andrei, relief and a terrifying sorrow warring in him. “Andrei.”

Andrei looked terrible with a haunted look in his dark eyes, his hair mussed instead of neatly groomed, and deeply etched lines of tension on his brow and around his mouth. He had changed out of the clothes he’d left in that morning. Dean never had a chance to talk to him, to find out whether or not he’d been successful in searching for the missing teenager.

An awful realization hit him, shaking him out of his shock. “Oh no. No! Get him out of here. You can’t ask him to do this,” Dean snapped, rushing forward to block them from the gurney.

It was the strangest sensation, to be talking, looking right at Andrei without a flicker of recognition crossing his face. Whatever ability he’d once had to see ghosts must have faded. A cold feeling settled in the pit of Dean’s stomach, and his eyes burned as they stopped in front of his body.

“Andrei, I’m right here, babe.” Dean started to reach out to touch him and then let his hands fall. He didn’t know if he could handle seeing them go right through Andrei. The woman paused, her hands hovering over the sheet.

“Are you sure, Mr. Cuza?” the woman asked in a gentle voice. “Detective Mansle already ID’d him. You don’t have to do this.”

“I have to see him with my own eyes,” Andrei said tersely.

The woman nodded. “If you’re ready, then.”

What kind of an asinine statement was that? Dean raged in his head, his eyes locked on Andrei’s face as his partner shoved a hand in his pocket and nodded. To those that didn’t know him, it seemed as if Andrei’s expression didn’t change when she folded back the sheet. But Dean knew every nuance of him. And to have to watch the last, desperate hope die in Andrei’s eyes hurt far worse than those gunshots had.

“Yeah, that’s Dean.” Andrei’s jaw clenched as he forced the words out.

“Andrei,” Dean said, his voice hoarse. “Please, babe, you’ve got to hear me.”

Andrei’s eyes lifted, and their gazes clashed. Dean’s breath caught as a lump hurtled up into his throat, choking him. He tried to speak, but no words would emerge. Andrei’s eyes widened. Oh God, Andrei could see him. Ileana had been right. Dean blinked back the burning in his eyes as he tried to smile.

And just as quickly as the hope hit, it died again when horror replaced the surprise in Andrei’s expression. Andrei looked away, his shoulders tensing and drawing in, his jaw clenched tight enough to shatter bone.

In all the years he’d known Andrei, even when they’d just been friends and Andrei had been a bitter teenager angry at the entire world, Andrei had never rejected him with such utter finality. It was a punch to the gut that Dean had never expected, and once again he found himself unable to speak. Not even to say Andrei’s name. What kind of a fucked-up nightmare had he fallen into?

“I’ve seen enough, ma’am. Thank you for your time,” Andrei said, his voice so faint that Dean barely heard him. In some way that Dean didn’t understand, it was as if finding out he’d become a ghost had been an even bigger blow than hearing about his death.

Before Dean found his voice again, Andrei left, practically running through the door as the woman covered Dean’s face again. He jumped, realizing that he hadn’t gotten a chance to see himself, before being pathetically glad he hadn’t. The woman wheeled him away, and Dean drifted toward the door that Andrei had disappeared through.

Dean could see him through the little window. Andrei had his back to him, fist clenched against the wall as he leaned into it. Dean watched him, his emotions a confused whirl. It made no sense. Andrei would talk with Ileana, but not him?

There was more than one mystery to figure out, and if Andrei thought Dean would just go away if he ignored him, he had a thing or two to learn. Apparently he still had things to learn about Andrei too.

“This is far from over, babe.”

 

 

THE more Andrei tried to get himself under control, the more he thought he was about to lose it altogether. He pounded his fist against the wall to keep from screaming. Dean had been murdered. His thoughts jerked back to that one cold, hard truth. He still couldn’t believe that, much less that Dean was still hanging around. Stuck. Just like Ileana.

Fuck, he couldn’t go through that again.

He should have listened to his parents and not encouraged Ileana. The dead needed to stay dead. They had to move on. And the living had no business interacting with them, making them believe in something no longer real. He’d dealt with that guilt every day and would continue to do so for the rest of his life. He couldn’t let that happen to Dean too.

Andrei bowed his head, grateful that the lab technician hadn’t followed him into the hallway. He needed to get himself together, and he didn’t trust himself with anybody right now. Not with the need for violence running through him. Not with that raw, screaming place inside.

Dean. He couldn’t get the image of his partner’s face, leeched of all color and animation, out of his mind. It wasn’t right. If there was anybody destined to end up in the morgue one day, it was him, not Dean. Blinking rapidly against the stinging in his eyes, Andrei started shaking as bile rose into his throat.

The door behind him opened, and Andrei stiffened. A low murmur sounded in his ears, and the susurration filled him with a strange warmth, the sound wearing down the sharp edges of his grief. For a split second, he thought he felt the touch of fingers in his hair, and a light breeze slid up his arms. Andrei shook his head and jerked away, his heart skittering. He couldn’t encourage Dean; as much as it tore him apart to turn away, he had to give Dean every reason not to stay.

And if Dean considered him a coldhearted, cruel bastard for it, at least Dean would be safe. Though, fuck, hurting Dean in any way, especially now…. A hot, acidic ball of grief blossomed in his chest, squeezed his lungs, and tears filled his eyes.

Oh God, Dean. What the fuck? What the fuck? Andrei couldn’t stop the litany in his head. His whole fucking world had bottomed out and shattered. He forced himself to take several deep breaths to get himself under control again and blinked the tears away. Losing it wouldn’t solve anything. He didn’t have time to grieve. Dean’s murderer was out there somewhere, and every minute that the bastard walked free was one fucking minute too long.

Andrei stalked out of the medical examiner’s anteroom and bore down on the detective waiting in the hallway. Justin straightened and the expression of sympathy that crossed his face had Andrei’s hands balling into fists. “Andrei, I—”

“Don’t,” Andrei bit off before Justin could tell him how sorry he was. He didn’t want to hear it, not even from a friend. “Just fucking tell me you know who did it.” Andrei stopped in front of Justin, his chest tightening as soon as he’d ceased moving. He squeezed his fists until his palms stung from his nails biting into them. “What happened?”

“Come on, let’s go somewhere a little more private, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Andrei nodded shortly, even though frustration threatened to strangle him. The sooner he had answers, the faster he could find Dean’s killer. He’d known Justin for years, though, and he knew he wouldn’t get one word out of him until Justin wanted to.

Soon they were in a booth at one of the bars around the corner. “Let me buy you a drink.” Justin started to gesture for the waiter, and Andrei grabbed his hand, shaking his head.

“I don’t want a drink. I want answers.”

“This is just between you and me, Andrei. It can’t go any further for now.” Justin leaned in close, his gaze intent. “I want your promise. I’ll trust that.”

“You’ve got it,” Andrei replied without hesitation. At least Justin hadn’t tried to get him to agree to not investigate on his own. That was a promise he couldn’t give.

Justin searched his face, and then, apparently satisfied with what he saw, he sat back with a tired sigh. “As far as I know, Dean stopped to help someone change their tire on the Baltimore-Washington parkway and was shot.”

Andrei closed his eyes as his stomach clenched spasmodically. Dean had always been far more trusting than Andrei. Out of anybody else Andrei had known, Dean had always been the first to give a helping hand to another without one question. And to lose him through such a senseless, random act of violence… it was perverted in its wrongness.

“Was he robbed?” Andrei asked through stiff lips.

Justin waited until after the waiter came and went before responding. “His wallet was taken. Would he have had a lot of cash on him?”

“Not enough to motivate a murder. He may have had a couple twenties. Neither of us carry cash often.” Andrei picked at a piece of lint on his shirt, rolled it into a ball between his fingers, and set it on the table before searching for another piece. The task helped to keep his tenuous hold on his rioting emotions. “What about the person he stopped to help? Do you know who it is?”

“She was killed too. And I’m not giving you a name until we’ve informed her family,” Justin cut in before Andrei could ask. “It looks like she may have had kids with her. Young ones, but they’re missing. The Feds are now involved with the search for them.”

Andrei’s took his eyes off the lint he was rolling and cut a glance at Justin. That explained quite a bit. Dean would’ve done anything he could have if there had been kids in danger. “Do you think they’re dead?”

“It’s too early to say, but I have hope we’ll find them. We’re trying to move as fast as we can on this.”

Andrei’s mind raced, thinking of all the reasons why the children had been taken instead of killed out of hand. His plucked another piece of lint and started rolling it with the others until Justin reached over and stopped him by laying his hand on top of Andrei’s. “Don’t bother getting involved; you’re staying out of this.”

Andrei wouldn’t respond to such a ludicrous statement. Nothing could impel him to drop it and leave it to the police and their politics to handle. Justin was a good detective, and he knew the other man would try, but Andrei wasn’t bound by the same rules as Justin. The difference in their personalities was why Justin had excelled in the police academy and Andrei hadn’t.

Andrei eyed the whiskey that the waiter set in front of him as Justin picked up his beer. The rawness inside of him craved the numbness it would give. The oblivion he’d sought out when he was younger and he had lost everything. Ironically, it had been Dean who’d pulled him back from that edge with his friendship. Dean and his family.

He didn’t think Dean had ever known what that had meant to him. How could he ever really understand? Dean’s family had never been anything but accepting and loving with him, and that had extended to Andrei as well, both when they had become friends and then, much later on, lovers.

Andrei’s throat tightened to the point of pain, and he pushed the whiskey to the side. “You know more than you’re telling me.”

“We’re chasing leads. I’ll be all over it, Andrei. I swear to you. We won’t let this bastard walk.” There was no way the guy would walk, because Andrei had every intention of hunting him down first. “I hate to ask this, but I need to cover all possibilities in case this was deliberate. Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt Dean?”

“Sweet Jesus,” Andrei swore, going hoarse as his throat tightened again. “No. He’s a good guy. He got along with people. And if he had an issue with anyone, I would’ve known about it.”

“How about you?” Justin persisted. “You had to have pissed somebody off. An ex looking to get back at you for photos you took? Someone who didn’t get their insurance claim? What have you been working on lately?”

Andrei forced himself to consider the possibility despite the horrifying implication that he may have been the reason Dean had been killed. Once again that warm murmur filled his ears, melting away the ice that had seized his spine, and Andrei knew Dean hovered close, even if he couldn’t see him. Knowing was both a comfort and a cause for more pain, and the comfort brought guilt. He couldn’t allow himself to indulge in that consolation and tempt Dean to stay. No matter how much he wanted to. He kept his concentration on the table instead of looking around for another glimpse of him.

“My gut says that it wasn’t a client, an ex-client, or somebody that got burned because of evidence I turned up,” Andrei said, shaking his head. “How would they know Dean was going to be on the parkway at that time? It’s a pretty elaborate trap, a woman on the side of the road with a flat? Come on. Give me a fucking break. So if it’s not Dean, what about the other victim? Did someone sabotage her tires? Give me something, Justin.”

“You know I can’t share that with you. What about that business deal Dean went to today? Could someone have followed him?”

Andrei took a deep breath, trying to tamp down the seething frustration and rage that gripped him. He had to consider every angle. “I’ll look into it, but the last message he left me….” A lump slammed into his throat, making it impossible to speak. Andrei swallowed around it, his eyes stinging.

“Babe, it’s time to celebrate. Break out the good shit and get in your boxers. I’m on my way home.”

On his way home.

“It sounded like everything had gone very well,” he said when he trusted his voice would be steady. “It was a huge deal for Dean, but we weren’t talking a lot of money. Not the kind of money that people get killed over. He met with some people to discuss plans for opening a new gym in DC. That’s it.”

Justin frowned and Andrei held his breath. His friend had to drop some small clue, give him a direction to go in. Anything. “You’re right, it doesn’t sound like much of a motive. We’ll find the guy, Andrei. I swear to you. I’m going to look at everything personally.”

Andrei felt a hand on his own as his fist balled, but when he looked down, he couldn’t see anything, and the sensation faded like a ghost on the wind. Dean. So close and still impossibly far. “Tell me what you know,” he said, his voice becoming hoarse again despite his best efforts. Not again, please, not again.

“You know I can’t.”

With supreme effort, Andrei suppressed the white-hot spurt of rage that threatened to choke him. “Bullshit. Give me something. The other victim’s name. What was the caliber of the gun that was used? Anything. At least tell me when you’re going to release Dean so I can give his parents that, right after I fucking crush them when I tell them he’s been murdered.”

“As soon as I hear that they’re done with him, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

Andrei did not want to think of a bunch of strangers poking and prodding at Dean’s body. His logic and training said it was necessary. His upbringing screamed that it was unnatural.

“Go home, Andrei. Let us take care of it. Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Justin reached out to touch him, and Andrei jerked back violently. Justin meant well, but Andrei did not want company in their home or to feel like someone was babysitting him. “Don’t bother, I’ll be fine.”

“What are you going to do?” Justin asked as Andrei rose from the table and dropped some money down for his untouched drink. “Please don’t do something fucking stupid, and stay in town. You know some people are going to want to talk to you. Don’t make me sic someone on your ass.”

“Yeah, I got it. They’ll want to rule me out as a suspect. I’m going home and grabbing my files, and then I’m heading down to St. Mary’s City to talk to Dean’s parents.” He fixed the detective with a hard look. “I’m the one who’s going to talk with them, got that?”

“Don’t worry. No one’s going to take away your prerogative. I already took care of it.” Justin’s brow furrowed with worry as he studied Andrei. “I don’t like the thought of you being alone right now.”

“Well that’s just something we’re all going to have to learn to live with, isn’t it?”

 

 

ANDREI’S heart lurched as he pulled up in front of their house still blazing with lights. He almost kept going to drive on to St. Mary’s City. Though he hated the thought of disturbing Dean’s family this late at night and destroying their peace. All of his files were here, however, and he needed them if he was going to rule out one of his cases being the cause for Dean’s murder. So he had to come home. And Dean’s dad would want to go over them with him.

He pulled his old Volkswagen van around to the back of the house and descended the outside steps to his basement office. He hadn’t been able to sense Dean since he’d left the bar, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. His worry over Dean becoming a ghost and his anger toward Dean’s killer dulled the sharp edge of his loss.

There was just too much to do. Too much to concentrate on. He experienced almost a sense of relief when he entered his office and flipped on the lights. His office had order, this made sense, and he had a job to do. Andrei tossed his keys on the desk and went immediately to his file cabinet and took out the stack that represented the most recent cases. Most he could dismiss immediately, like routine insurance investigations that had turned up no fraud. Or cases where he’d been able to reunite a family.

A lump rose in Andrei’s throat. Andrei tossed the files on his desk, sat down, and fisted his hands in his hair. The house was too silent and still. At this time of night, he should be hearing Dean moving around upstairs, or calling down to him that it was time to close shop and eat some dinner. His eyes burned as he stared at the ink spots on his desk blotter.

It had to be just a nightmare. He’d go up the stairs, and Dean would be waiting for him with that mischievous smile on his face, some smart-assed comment on his lips, and a wicked promise in his eyes. He’d never get to see that again, and their time together when they woke up, that rare morning they got to linger in bed, felt so far away. Now their bed would be empty and cold.

Grief seized his throat as he felt familiar fingers on the back of his neck and the warm murmur sounded in his ears. The sound hovered on the edge of his understanding, and he thought that maybe, if he concentrated a little harder, he’d be able to hear what Dean said. Andrei had to stop himself from reaching to understand.

“Dean, you can’t stay.” Andrei closed his eyes, swallowing convulsively. He couldn’t ignore him any longer. Dean had to understand. “Please, iubito, I know it doesn’t make sense. And maybe one day I’ll have the chance to explain it to you, but you’ve got to leave me behind.”

The murmur became insistent, and Dean’s hands slid to his shoulders, giving him a little shake. A thought cut through the haze in Andrei’s mind, and he gathered what reserves he had left and slowly straightened and turned in his chair.

Dean stood behind him, his warm hazel eyes grave as they stared at each other. He looked so vital and solid. So goddamned fucking real. He could be selfish and let Dean stay, and at first it would be wonderful, until it became obvious that Dean was like an old-time LP caught in the same skipping loop over and over again.

Andrei blinked rapidly. “Why are you here? Is it to be with me? Is it to help you find your killer?”

Ileana had stayed so he wouldn’t be alone, but the cost had been too high for her.

A helpless look crossed Dean’s face, and his lips moved, though Andrei still couldn’t make sense of what he said. “I don’t understand.” Andrei swore in frustration, shoving up from his desk. He pulled a dusty bottle of vodka down from a shelf and poured a glass with a trembling hand.

Dean snatched the glass away, his gaze hard and intent. Inexplicably, Andrei heard the sound of a bird singing—a songbird of some kind, cheery and bright with the promise of spring and sun-filled days. A breeze tugged at his shirt; then far off in the distance, a baby began to cry, the sound rising and falling, melding with the bird into a strange melody.

Andrei opened his mouth to ask a question, but the fierce look of concentration on Dean’s face stopped him. A picture appeared in the middle of the air, fluttering to the floor. Frowning, Andrei scooped it up and saw a little girl with dark hair and smiling eyes. “Is this one of the kids Justin told me about?”

Dean shook his head and a line appeared between his brows. A dozen more pictures fell, all of different little girls with dark hair, all about the same age. Andrei shuffled through them, mentally noting the similarities. “Okay, so you’re saying that one of the missing children is a girl about four or five, maybe bi-racial, with light eyes?”

Dean beamed at him, excitement lighting up his face, and Andrei’s stomach clenched. This had to have been the look on his face when he’d left Andrei that last message. Andrei memorized it, not knowing when he’d ever see it again, fighting the urge to reach for him, because if his arms came up empty, he might just lose it.

“What else can you tell me?”

More pictures began to litter the floor, pictures of babies, of robins, pictures of slim white men in trucker hats, ads of camper trucks. More and more pictures fell, striking Andrei’s face and the back of his head; crying babies, laughing babies, until Andrei thought it would never end.

“For godssake, Dean, stop it!”

The pictures rose up in a whirlwind, and Andrei lifted his arms up to protect his face as they slashed and beat at him before they vanished. When Andrei looked up, Dean had gone too.