Gilt Read Free Page B

"And you're going to prove them wrong?"
    "I don't know what I'm going to do," I admitted, my hammering heart starting to slow. "I'm not going to let them smear him without a fight." It was futile to explain. Unless you knew John, you wouldn't know how appalling the charges were. "John died trying to save a child. Whoever set that fire put a fireman and civilians in danger. It's not possible John did it."
    Steele's eyes narrowed slightly and his mouth twitched as though he wasn't sure whether to frown or smile. "I'd like to help."
    "Why?" I heard how blunt I sounded. "I mean, thank you, but why would you want to help me?"
    "If your husband did something to cause that fire, then he is implicated in my wife's murder. And if he didn't, then someone else did cause it and killed her. So I guess you could say I'm interested." His voice was so cold I shivered. "I'll meet you at the library." He closed the car door before I could protest and went to his truck, tossing his cane inside and pulling himself into the cab with a powerful grip on the overhead bar on the driver's side.
    Damn. I turned on my CD player and cranked the volume, letting Pink Floyd's soaring orchestration fill the car. I drove through the cemetery to the exit, my mind in chaos. One thought above all kept repeating in my brain: for better or worse, an ex-cop was going to be examining the evidence. Did I want him poking around in John's past? Was I really sure about what he might find? I looked in the rear view mirror, expecting to see a green pickup following me.
    What I saw was John, sitting in the back seat of my car.

 
    Chapter 2
     
    I jammed on the brakes so hard I'm surprised the air bags didn't go off and smash me in the face. "What are you doing here?" I demanded. I fumbled for the volume control.
    "I'm glad someone is helping you." His fire gear appeared hot but John didn't seem flushed or uncomfortable despite the small sweat tracks inching through the smudged dirt striping his cheeks. I don't know if he even noticed as the droplets rolled down his face. I suddenly remembered the day he died. We had been in a heat wave for a week prior to that with temperatures in the nineties and with high humidity. The deadly heat combined with the size of the fire meant that several different departments were called in to help. Three other firefighters were injured that night and two had heat exhaustion but John was the only one who died.
    I caught a whiff of smoke, that distinctive damp charred wood smell that seemed to cling to him. "Why are you here, John?" I asked again.
    "This investigation might be dangerous. I don't want you to be hurt because of me, Gem. Please be careful."
    "I don't understand." I glimpsed movement in my car's exterior mirror and saw the dark green pickup truck in the distance behind me. I moved my foot off the brake and drove down the cemetery lane, my eyes flickering between the rear view mirror, the exterior mirror, and the road ahead. "If you have something to tell me, why don't you do it? Do you know who set that fire? Why are you here? Why are you haunting me?"
    His eyes opened wider. "Haunting you? You're the one who's haunting me. Every time I go away you draw me back."
    "Go away?" I shivered. Where did he go? I shivered again. Someone's walking on your grave. That's what Aunt Portia used to say when a shiver came out of nowhere like that. I checked my rear view mirror. The back seat was empty. All I saw was the green pickup, coming around a curve in the cemetery, silhouetted against the gravestones.
    I drew in a long, steadying breath and drove through the black wrought iron gates that marked the cemetery's exit onto the quiet city street. My brain felt numb or frozen, as though the ghost sighting had driven away all rational thought and simply left behind an elemental me, one who drove like a robot and only appeared to be a thinking, logical human being.
    Was I really being haunted? Or was I only imagining things? I looked into the