That didnt make it any better. She was calm now, but shed been wielding a pickax with a vengeance.
With an inward groan, he wondered what the hell it was going to be like when he met the rest of the team.
The bones had been taken by a pathology team that had been called in along with the crime scene unit, and after a great deal of discussion on exactly who should be collecting the bones. They were planning on sending the bones on to another team at the Smithsonian, a team that specialized in bones that were over a hundred years old.
Frankly, Angela didnt need any team to tell her a simple truth; the bones were those of Nathaniel Petti, the man who had owned the house before selling out to Madden C. Newton. But the exact cause of Pettis death might be determined, and the man with such a sad life and death might be put to rest at last.
Angela wondered if it was wrong to be starving after she had just found the remains of a human being. But she was alive herself, and being alive meant that the machine must be fueled. She couldnt wait for the last of the policeeven though she really liked Andy Devereauxand the crime scene unit to leave.
Of course, it was a bit uncomfortable, having Jackson Crow watch her throughout the proceedings as if he was studying a strange and foreign objector meeting an alien.
Her hunger was going to have to wait. When the other officers had left, Jackson asked Andy about the police shooting range. Andy arched a brow. Its getting late
Can we still get in?
Id like a little target practice, Jackson said. Angela felt her cheeks color. He didnt want target practice; he wanted to see if she was really capable with a weapon.
Andy looked at his watch. Come on, then, lets get the house locked up, and Ill take you.
Jackson stared at Angela. Shall we get our weapons?
Yes, she thought. She was being put on trial. Fine; shed go to target practice.
It was quiet when they arrived; two men were down the row, earmuffs stifling the constant sound of the explosions.
Andy wasnt practicing; he set up Jackson and Angela.
Her gun was a Glock and she knew how to use it. Somehow, shed been blessed with twentytwenty vision, and the ability to utilize it and her weapon properly to aim. Her stance was steady, and comfortable, and she used both hands in a grip known as the Weaver position, her weaker handher leftsupporting her grip. She was stronger than she looked, and ready for the powerful recoil on the gun. She didnt let Jacksons presence disturb her, and in a matter of seconds, shed removed the entire heart area from her target.
She turned and looked at Jackson, who hadnt fired a shot yet. Satisfied?
He had the grace to grin. I just want to make sure youre ready for whatever comes.
My dossier must have told you that I can shoot, she said.
Some things are best viewed in the world, he said with a shrug. He turned away from her. Andy, this was great. Thanks.
Yep. Ill get you back. Its getting late.
Andy brought them back to the house. Angelas stomach had begun to ache. She couldnt help it; she was feeling resentful and irritated. She was being judged.
At last they closed the front door on Devereaux, and Angela noted that although she had taken out her weapon as requested, she hadnt taken her suitcases, small as they were, anywhere yet, and she should probably pick a room before going out.
Im just going to throw those somewhere and find a place to eat, she said to Jackson, whose gaze remained on her.
He nodded. Ill go with you. I havent had dinner, or, anything that really resembled lunch, for that matter.
Not an emotion in sight. Jackson Crow was an interesting and arresting man. Shed assumed that his surname, Crow, definitely meant something of a Native American background. His eyes, however, were an extremely deep shade of bluenot black at all, as she had first imagined. A strong contrast with his black hair. He seemed excellent at concealing his thoughts and emotions, but she had seen a look in those deep dark eyes a few times that seemed to judge her as being certifiably insane. Then again, of course, given the way he had found her, she supposed it might be quite logical that hed look at her as if she was a bit askew.
If she quit on the first day, would they let her back on to the force?
She wasnt going to quit. No matter how he looked at her.
Did you pick a room? she asked.
I thought Id take one thats straight up the stairs and to the left. I put my bags there. Some of them need sheets and a dusting, but there are three rooms on the level just above us that have apparently been kept upIm assuming the senator and his wife were prepared for company, livein help, and probably, the senators aide, chauffeur and bodyguard.
But its just us now? she asked him.
Just us. And the others will be in tomorrow.
Have you met any of them?
Nope. Were all a surprise to one another, he said.
She was pretty sure that shed been quite a surprise to him.
All right, Ill just run these bags up. Youre in the last bedroom on the lefthand side once Im up there? she asked.
He nodded. I can take your bags up for you, he offered.
Its okay. I never travel with what I cant carry. Ill be right down.
She felt his blue gaze on her as she grabbed her carryon and her shoulder bag. As she reached the landing, she saw that there were three rooms to her left; the first seemed the easiest place, and so she deposited her luggage on the floor by the foot of the bed. The room was handsomely designed with a blackandgold motif, almost à la the New Orleans Saints. Angela imagined that Regina had carefully planned it as a guest room, which, definitely, did not sound like the act of a woman contemplating suicide. In fact, from what she had seen, the grieving mother had been dedicated to making the house the perfect home for a manofthepeople politician.
Angsela wasnt an expert on the depression that led to suicide, so she couldnt really be sure how people might behave before taking their own lives. A call to a few forensic psychiatrists was in order.
Any particular cuisine in mind? Jackson asked her as she came back down the stairs.
She gazed at him questioningly. It is New Orleans, she told him. Anywhere.
Most places are open until at least ten. How about Irenes?
Lovely.
They locked the house and strolled two silent blocks down to Royal, passing the burst of sound that was Bourbon as they did so. Two mountedpolice officers at the corner watched over the night, lest the revelers become a bit too happy. Comeon persons were in the street, hawking the cheapness of an establishments drinks, the wonders of the band or the exotic talents of the dancers within a certain club.
Even when Jackson was approached by a slightly longinthetooth woman urging him to an upstairs establishment to see Wicked Wanda on a pole, he seemed amused.
Sorry, Im with a friend tonight, he told the hawker.
She can come, too!
Its okayI know that Id just love Wicked Wanda, Angela said. But were heading off to dinner.
We serve food! the woman told him. We have an amazing menu. Two amazing menus, actually. Spankings are five dollars a shot, pants up or down.
And then the servers bring you your food, Jackson said, grinning. Sorry, he lied, we have reservations.
They managed to elude the persistent woman, and walk quickly on down to Royal where they reached relative quiet. Royal Street was known for its antiques shops and boutiques, and was more serene than the raucous Bourbon by night.
Arriving at Irenes, they were ushered past the first dining room to wait at the bar, where a pianist played and sang old tunes, nicely performing At Last. Jackson asked her if shed like a drink, and she opted for a cabernet.
You know, I could get the drinks, she told him.
He grinned. Were on an expense account. Let me use the companys money.
I wonder what the taxpayers would think about that, she murmured.
Actually, Adam Harrison funds the special unit. I believe he started off in a nice financial place at birth, and managed to parlay his inheritance into a tidy sum through investments and real estate. The last thing he would begrudge his people, I think, would be drinks and dinner after digging up a corpse.
Bones, she corrected.
Dead man, he said with a grin and a shrug.
By the time he acquired the drinks, the hostess returned to lead them to a table. Angela had always liked Irenes; the food was delicious, there were fine white cloths on the table, and the noise level was at a gentle hum.
Angela couldnt help but note the way Jackson fascinated their server. She herself had set out to dislike the man, or, if not dislike him, set up a reserve against him. She knew that he knew a great deal about everyone on his team, while the team knew almost nothing about himor each other. Though tall enough to stand just an inch or so above most men, he had an easy courteous manner and a slow smile that appeared to enchant everyone around him. Perhaps it was natural that he should attract attention.
So, here we are, one day in. Bodydiscovered, he said, taking a swallow of his scotch on the rocks.
It was only logical, she said.
He laughed. Only logical. That man has been buried beneath the stairs since Reconstruction, and you found him in an hour.
Im an extremely logical person, she said, running her fingers up the stem of her wineglass.
So, whats your story? he asked her.
You know my story. You have the dossiers. I start the questions.
Okay, shoot.
Whats your background? she asked.
He grinned. Obvious, Id say.
American Indian. What kind?
Cheyenne.
And what else?
Englishwell, Scottish, originally, but my mom grew up in London.
Cool. Are your parents alive?
No. My mom died from cancer eight years ago, my father had a heart attack four weeks later.
Im sorry.
So am I. And you?
My folks are gone. You know that. They died in a plane crash.
And since the plane crash
My turn, she interrupted. Do you know your familyor families?
Yes, of course, very well. I like family. You? What is your feeling for your brother?
I adore him. My turn. Siblings?
No.
Ah. Youre an only child, she said gravely.
Yes. Im so sorry.
She shrugged, grinning. Ive met a few people who were an only child within their household, and they came out okay.
Ouch. Preconceived notions.
No, its just that, rich or poor, a person who has siblings has had to share upon occasion. There will always be a time when what happens in a siblings life is more important. Thats all.
Ah, but Im Cheyenne, he said, a quirk of amusement on his lips.
And that means?
Were all about community, and the People.
I see. Leaning back on your pedigree, she said solemnly.
Dont forget that part of me is clansman, he said.
All for the good of the clan? she asked.
He laughed. Were big into standing up for one another in feuds, he said. Actually and honestly, I do play well with others.
Their server arrived with their food orders. She opted for another glass of wine and Jackson decided on a second scotch. He laughed and teased the pretty girl serving them, pleasantly, and not obnoxiously, Angela noted. He was still smiling when she left them at the table with their fresh drinks and plates of food.
Do you see ghosts? Jackson asked her.
She froze, startled by the sudden impact of the question. She had to force herself to swallow her bite of food.
Do you? she replied.
He took another sip of scotch, and his eyes met hers squarely. I believe that the world is full of possibilities. Do I believe in ghosts like the ones on TV? No. Im pretty sure that if ghosts exist they are around both by day and night, and that we dont need to see a lot of people with their eyes wide opendeercaughtintheheadlightsjumping at every sound.
Logical, she told him.
Pardon?
Logical. If they exist, they must exist in daylight as well as in the middle of the night.
What about Griffin? he asked her.
Once again, she froze. He had a knack for throwing in a tough question just when she had relaxed.
What about him? she asked dully. Hes dead.
Do you ever see him?
She shook her head. No.
You two were together for years, he commented.
Five, to be exact.
You didnt foresee his death? he asked.
She stared at him, every muscle in her body as tense as piano wire. When they told us that the cancer had spread into every organ and riddled his bones, yes, I foresaw it.
Im sorry, he said. I wondered if it made yoususceptible.
Susceptible to what? she demanded.
Seeing ghosts. I just wanted to make sure that you were over it, and that you were standing on even ground.
Am I over it? Do we ever get over the loss of loved ones? NoI have never managed to do so. My parents, and Griffin, are always alive in my heart. Do I accept the reality of it? Yes. And they are all gone. Gone. They dont come and take my hand and direct me to dead bodiesor to lost children, for that matter. She paused, needing to wet her lips. She didnt sip her wine, she chugged it. Most unattractive, she was sure; she didnt care. He could be so completely courteous. He could make her comfortable, he could make her laugh. And then, he could home right in for the kill.
What about you? she demanded more heatedly than she had intended. Do your lost field agents come and speak to you in the night? Do they ask you how you didnt happen to get there in time to save them?
There wasnt so much as a crack in his expression, not a change whatsoever in the steady dark blue eyes that surveyed her.
No. They are gone. Like you, I accept that they are gone. Like you, I do remain haunted by the lives they once led.
She flushed. He should feel badly for badgering her about the losses in her life. She was left feeling similarlybut she had phrased her words in a much meaner manner.
Im sorry, she murmured uncomfortably. Damn him! She didnt need to be apologizing to him.