Chapter Nine

Because Lucian was blocking the computer screen, it took Olivia a moment to see what had caused his latest round of profanity. Not Tatum. But something else she didn’t want to see.

Estelle and Harvey.

Since it was barely seven o’clock in the morning, Olivia figured this wasn’t a social call. And judging from the way Harvey was pressing the doorbell nonstop, he wasn’t any happier about this visit than they were.

“You’ve actually met them?” Olivia asked, putting the T-shirt back on.

Lucian shook his head.

Great. That meant either Tatum had turned this duo on to them or else Estelle and Harvey knew about the research Lucian and she had been doing.

Maybe even the spiritual possession.

It didn’t help that today was the anniversary of Damien and Marissa’s murders.

Lucian picked up the landline phone from the desk and jabbed a button. “What the hell do you want?” he asked, and his question was relayed through an intercom at the front door.

“To talk,” Harvey snapped, and he glared at the camera that was mounted at the corner of the house.

His hair and face were wet from the rain, but he wasn’t dodging what was left of the bad weather as Estelle was. The woman was wearing a raincoat and hovered beneath an umbrella.

“Then, go ahead and talk,” Lucian fired back. “But you’re not coming inside. Anything you have to say will be said out there.”

“It’s not safe for us to be out in the open like this,” Estelle volunteered. Unlike Harvey, she was looking all around as if she expected someone to jump out at any moment.

Which was a possibility if Tatum was still around.

“We’re in danger, thanks to you two,” Harvey added. “You turned that psycho on us, and now you’re going to call him off. He’s threatened to kill us because he thinks we’re trying to hurt his precious Olivia and Marissa.”

Lucian and Olivia exchanged glances. She tried to muffle a groan, but she figured while one of their visitors could be a killer, there was only one real psycho in this mix. The man who’d stalked her and nearly killed her.

“Andrew Tatum,” Lucian supplied. “I didn’t send him after you. Why, is that what he said?”

“Damn right he did,” Harvey verified. “He sent us both messages, and we turned them over to the cops. They’ll be in touch with you soon.”

Olivia hoped the cops found Tatum before that. “Someone got Tatum out of the psych hospital. Was it one of you?”

The denials started immediately. Of course, Olivia hadn’t actually expected either of them to confess to any crimes.

“You can’t keep dredging up these old memories,” Estelle added. “I lost my husband for Christ’s sake. I don’t need you to keep reminding me of that by digging up…the past.”

Olivia wondered if the woman intended to say bones.

If so, it could have linked Estelle back to those threatening notes. Of course, those notes might be Tatum’s doing, too.

“I told you he wouldn’t let us in,” Estelle said to Harvey, and then she, too, looked up into the camera. “Ms. Mercer, you shouldn’t be involved in this. Especially not after the other attack that you barely survived. You must know you’re in danger.”

“I have an inkling of it.” Olivia didn’t bother to take the sarcasm out of her voice, either.

“You have no idea what you’re up against,” Estelle argued, but her gaze darted away as if she’d said too much.

“What do you mean?” Olivia asked.

Estelle shook her head, gave a weary sigh. “I swear Marissa’s haunting me. Taunting me,” she amended. “She’s vindictive, and she took my husband. My life. That’s what she does. She takes.”

Olivia reminded herself to breathe, to stay calm. Hard to do with her heart jackhammering like crazy. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Everything. If you’re looking into her murder, then don’t be surprised if she doesn’t try to take over.” Estelle’s mouth tightened. “It’s already happened. I can feel it.”

Oh, God. That was not the right thing to say.

“Marissa’s dead,” Lucian snapped, taking the reminder right out of Olivia’s mouth.

“I keep telling myself that,” Estelle said. “I don’t think you believe it any more than I do.” She moved closer to the camera. “Damien, are you back, too?”

Harvey rolled his eyes. “They’re only back in your head, Estelle,” he mumbled.

“You’re wrong,” the woman whispered. After another uneasy glance around, she turned and headed toward a sleek silver car that was parked in front of Lucian’s house.

“You two didn’t drive here together?” Lucian asked Harvey.

“No. I’m just up the street. Estelle called, said she was on the way out of town and wanted me to make this visit with her. She was scared, she said.”

“Of us?” Olivia challenged.

“You and things that go bump in the night. Estelle believes in spirits and shit like that,” Harvey explained. “Not me, though. I figure you two have become obsessed with Marissa and Damien’s murders, and now you want to see their killer brought to justice. Well, so do I. But you’re barking up the wrong asshole, because I didn’t kill them.”

“Then who did?” Lucian snapped.

Harvey glanced at Estelle as she was driving away. “Maybe her. Hell hath no fury and all that. That applies to Marissa, too. Bet you didn’t learn from all your digging around that Marissa came back to me, huh?”

“What?” Lucian and she said in unison.

“She came by my place the night before she died. Before she went to that party.” Harvey smiled. Not a pleasant one, though. “To talk, she said, but she was coming on to me. Marissa’s blood always did run too hot.”

It was true about the hot blood, but it wasn’t running hot for Harvey.

Another oily smile from Harvey. “The way I got it figured is that Damien found out about our little visit, and he got ticked off in a really bad way. Probably confronted Marissa, knocked her around some, and she killed him. Then, she offed herself because she couldn’t live with what she’d done.”

The pictures flashed in her head. The ones of Marissa and Damien’s lifeless, bloody bodies.

“Marissa loved Damien,” Lucian insisted.

“Love,” Harvey repeated. “Interesting word, that. Well, I know Marissa loved his dick. Not so sure she was capable of loving the rest of him. If I were you, I’d put her and her memories back in the grave where they belong.”

It sounded like a threat.

Worse, it felt like one.

“Be seeing you,” Harvey added and gave them a much too perky wave before walking away. They watched until Harvey disappeared from view.

“Estelle believes we’re possessed,” Olivia said. “If Tatum believes it, too, that would explain why he wants to kill us, because he senses that I’m Marissa. Of course, that would give Estelle motive as well.”

Lucian made a sound of agreement. “She has plenty of venom for Marissa, but she doesn’t seem to put the blame for the affair on Damien. Maybe I can use that to try to reason with her.”

Olivia was sure that put some alarm in her eyes. “Reason with her how?”

“I can call her and try to find out if she knows anything about the murders that she didn’t tell the cops.” He idly brushed a kiss on her cheek. “I might learn something from Estelle to put a stop all of this.”

Olivia doubted that, but at this point, they had to try anything.

“While you’re making the call to Estelle, I should freshen up,” she said glancing down at the rumpled T-shirt.

The rest of her felt rumpled, too, and she thought it might be a good idea to get her panties on in case Marissa came tapping on her shoulder again. Of course, Marissa’s favorite tapping place was the part of her that the panties covered.

“You’re not leaving the house to put some distance between you and me,” Lucian insisted.

“No. I probably should, but after what just happened on the desk, and the night before, I think that ship has sailed.”

Lucian paused. “What did happen on the desk?”

Olivia went with the obvious answer, knowing it was the wrong one. “Sex.”

“More like attempted sex. You called me Damien. And then you stopped. What happened? You said Marissa was trying to take over, but what made this time different?”

That required a deep breath. “The images came nonstop. Stronger than the others, too. Not the blood this time. Only the sex. And I could hear her whispering in my ear, urging me on.”

And more. In the past incidents, she’d always felt Marissa. But she’d never felt completely like Marissa. She had this morning.

“I think she’s getting stronger because it’s close to the time she was murdered.” Olivia hated to even say that aloud. Hated even more that it was likely true. “How much time do we have?”

Lucian shook his head, scrubbed his hand over his face. “A couple of hours.”

Not long at all. Certainly not much time to catch a killer.

“Any hint that Harvey was telling the truth about Marissa coming on to him?” he asked.

Finally, here was a question that she had no trouble answering. “None. All that fire was for Damien.”

And that brought Olivia to her next thought. “Of our three suspects, Harvey’s the only one who hasn’t said he believes we’re possessed.”

“That doesn’t make him less of a suspect,” Lucian explained. “He could want us dead simply because we’re looking into Damien and Marissa’s murders. If he killed them, then he definitely doesn’t want this case reexamined by anyone. Including us.”

Yes, and Harvey might resort to murder one more time to make that happen.

“Come on.” He took her by the hand, led her upstairs to the guestroom. “Before you freshen up, you should try to rest. I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

She hadn’t. Neither had Lucian.

“Rest?” she challenged.

“Rest…” he verified. “No sex included. Not until we get our heads sorted out. And if you tell my poker buddies that I said that to a half-naked beautiful woman, I’ll deny it.”

Despite their situation, Olivia smiled. Leave it to Lucian to accomplish something like that. “I wish I’d gotten to know you under better circumstances.”

“There’s time,” Lucian said, as Olivia slipped beneath the covers. “Plenty of time.”

Olivia wasn’t so sure of that at all. In fact, it seemed as if time, along with a killer, was closing in on them.

Lucian stepped away from the bed and made a call to the PI. “Get Estelle’s number and call her,” he whispered, probably so he wouldn’t disturb her.

Olivia waited, hoping that Estelle would spill all, but several moments later, Lucian shook his head. “She’s not answering. It went straight to voice mail.”

Well, at least they wouldn’t have to have another verbal confrontation with the woman.

“Any chance your birth mother might step in and help us with some voodoo or black magic?” she asked, only half serious. Actually, she was grasping at straws.

He looked at her. Not so serious. She even got one of those little smiles that Olivia wished she could see more often. “I doubt it. She was a teenager. A student at the Catholic girl’s school near the cemetery.”

“That wasn’t anywhere in your bio.”

Lucian lifted his shoulder. “I told you that you didn’t know everything about me.”

And sadly, there might not be time to learn.

“How’d you find out?’ she asked.

“I had my DNA tested with one of those genealogy groups. I found a cousin match and worked my way to the most logical possibility. Her name was Minette Fontenot, and she was sixteen.”

Probably scared out of her mind. Desperate, too. Olivia had been right about that. “And your father?”

“Not Damien, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He gave a fake shudder. “Talk about really messing with my head. No, my birth father was Minette’s sixteen-year-old boyfriend. He’s a mechanic in Baton Rouge now, and she’s married to a factory worker in New Orleans.”

So, he had all the answers, but there was still a trace of pain in his eyes. Pain that she wished she could kiss away.

“So, the odds are we won’t get any mystical intervention,” Olivia mumbled.

“None. Not from her, anyway. But I’m thinking Marissa and Damien might want to have a say in another attempt to murder them.”

Yes, Olivia was counting heavily on that.

Lucian got into bed, too, but he stayed on top of the covers, and he eased her to him. Who would have thought a man like Lucian was into cuddling, but that’s exactly what he did.

And it worked.

Almost instantly, Olivia could feel her body relax. No heat. Well, not the fiery ache she usually felt for him. This was fire of a different kind.

Her own.

It’d been a while since Olivia had felt it not filtered through Marissa’s desperate urges, and it caused the muscles in her body to go slack. Her eyelids drifted down. And Olivia thought she might finally do something that hadn’t happened since she’d met Lucian.

Rest.

But no such luck.

The images started, and while Olivia silently cursed them, they completely captured her attention.

Because these were different.

Not smears and fragments but clear images.

She could see Damien, naked on a blanket stretched out on the floor of the office. Olivia instantly recognized the scene. It was a different angle of the photo that Lucian had shown her and the ones from the pictures that’d been on her bedroom wall.

It took her a moment to realize why she wasn’t seeing Marissa. Because she was Marissa, and she was seeing Damien through Marissa’s eyes.

Olivia shook her head, tried to open her own eyes, but it seemed as if they had been fused with Marissa’s. It was the same for her mouth. She wanted to call out to Lucian, to tell him what was happening, but her throat had snapped shut. Olivia had no choice but to watch.

“I’m turning the camera off,” Marissa said.

There was a slight clicking sound. The sound of Marissa’s bare feet on the floor. It was cool and smooth. Olivia could feel it, too. And more. She felt the warmth of Damien’s body when she settled next to him. Damien leaned into her, giving her a lazy kiss.

“I have bruises on my ass,” he mumbled. “Maybe on my dick, too.”

Marissa laughed. It was smoky and thick, the sound of a woman who knew how to enjoy herself. But the laughter ended as quickly as it’d come. And Olivia heard something else.

Footsteps on the stairs.

Oh, God.

The killer was coming.

Marissa knew it, too, because she sat up, her gaze spearing toward the door. That didn’t last, either, because she turned, and even though Olivia was seeing this through Marissa’s eyes, Marissa still seemed to look at her.

“You have to stop this!” Marissa yelled.

“How?” Olivia asked though she was certain she hadn’t asked that aloud. It echoed in her head, along with those footsteps.

The killer was getting closer.

“Come to the office building,” Marissa insisted. “Come and reenact everything that happened that morning. Everything. Every detail could be important.”

“The details were Damien and you having sex,” Olivia reminded her, but Marissa didn’t seem to hear that. In fact, Marissa wasn’t hearing anything Olivia was saying. Still, she tried. “Just tell me who killed you so we can tell the cops.”

Again, no answer.

“Find it,” Marissa said. “I don’t know what it is. I didn’t see it when it fell, but when you find it, we fix this and we can rest in peace. You have everything you need to find who killed us.”

“It?” Olivia pressed. “Find what?”

Marissa didn’t answer. She tried to move in front of Damien, but he shoved her behind him. Olivia felt his grip, hard and rough on her arm. She felt the throb of his heartbeat.

She heard the door open.

But she couldn’t see because Damien was blocking her view.

“Come to the office building,” Marissa repeated. “If not, it won’t stop. It won’t ever stop.”

And the bloodcurdling scream roared through her head.

Olivia’s eyes flew open, and she reached for Lucian to tell him what’d happened, but he was already reaching for her. There were beads of sweat on his face, and the muscles in his jaw were iron hard.

“I heard it,” she said. “Saw it.”

But that wasn’t all Olivia saw. She gasped, clutching her chest and her heart that pounded there.

The words were everywhere in the room.

Help us. Or die.

The same warning Marissa had given them before. This time though it was scrawled on the ceiling, the curtains, the walls. Even the bed where Lucian and she had slept.

And each word dripped with fresh blood.