Youve been to see Dr. Collier already? Vining asked a little sharply.
No. I just know of him, Bryan said. And he is top-notch.
There will be a reception following, but I cant help you get access.
Thats fine. Ill manage, Bryan assured him. And thank you again.
You just keep in touch, Vining said firmly.
Its a promise, Bryan assured him.
Before hed actually reached the street, Bryan had received a digital folder. Vining clearly meant to keep his word.
A glance at his email showed him that hed received the autopsy notes, as well. He could have told Vining that Dr. Edward Collier had been a medic on Bryans ship during his first two years in the United States Navy. Maybe he should have done so, but that wasnt pertinent to the case.
He headed on out for his third stop that day.
He wanted to see where Marnie Davante lived.
Just to observe. It was a day for gathering information.
Tomorrow would be time enough to put some of it to use.
* * *
Marnie Davante stood quietly by the graveside and listened while the priest spoke about life and death, and his certainty that while they buried the mortal remains of Cara Barton, her soul went on to a better place, one where there was no pain and no fear, and where love reigned.
Marnie hoped it was true.
For a moment, she thought she saw Cara there, dressed beautifully in the red-and-black tailored suit shed been dressed in for her viewing, enjoying the attention her funeral was receiving.
Marnie had truly loved Cara, but she knew as well that years of fighting to maintain a career had left Cara jaded and weary. She had dated many a heartthrob, but she had never married. Her parents had long ago departed their mortal coil, and shed had no siblings. So she left behind no one with very close ties to her. But in Marnies mind, there had been many wonderful things about her friend. Cara had cared deeply about animalsshe had raised money and awareness for humane societies and no-kill shelters. She had given what she could to childrens charities.
And Marnie had had a chance to talk about all the good in Cara latelyshed been interviewed right and left, almost to a point of embarrassment.
Cara would have been happy.
In death, she was incredibly famous.
So much was being written about her. Every celebrity and pop culture magazine out there was doing an article on her.
Marnie was somehow the golden girl in most interviews, and it was very uncomfortable. She had remained friends with her fellow castmates from Dark Harbor, and she hoped to God that they knew she had never mentioned herself as the success story from the show while the others had gone on to face less-than-stellar careers.
She wasnt sure how exactly anyone measured success. It wasnt as if shed suddenly been besieged with scripts for blockbusters. Shed just managed to keep working, and a lot of that had been theatrical work.
The priest was going on. He was a good man, Marnie knew. He and Cara had been friends. That was one thing people hadnt known about her. Cara had been a regular churchgoer.
A cloud shifted in the sky.
Marnie thought that the late-afternoon sun must be playing tricks on her; she could have sworn that Caraor someone dressed similarly, wearing one of the ridiculous giant black hats Cara had wornhad just slipped behind the priest.
Someone was sobbing; it was Roberta Alan, Marnies sister from the show. Well, of course. Roberta and Cara had often bickered, but they had been very close. Since Cara had lacked real family, her Dark Harbor fellows were being seen as her closest relations. To be fair, they had been something of a family for a time. Marnie had been so young herself when shed startedjust turned sixteenshe had leaned on the others. While Cara had been huge at emotinglarger than life, more than a bit of a divashed always been kind and something like a very whacky but caring aunt for Marnie.
For a moment, she closed her eyes, wondering if she was still in shock. Marnie had done enough crying herself, the night at the hospital when she realized there had never been a chance for Cara, that doctors had gone through the motions, but there had been nothing they could do.
Since then, she had just been going through the motions. Moving by rote, speaking by rote...
Getting herself here today...she didnt even recall how.
As Roberta softly sobbed, a spate of flashbulbs went off. Marnie could see them even through her closed eyelids. There was press everywhere. There had been ever since Cara died.
The priest, deep in his reflection, didnt miss a beat.
Marnie opened her eyes again.
That was when she saw her fully. The woman dressed like Cara.
She was on the other side of the coffin, standing beside one of Hollywoods hot young leading men and an older, well-respected actor. They didnt seem to notice the woman.
How the hell they didnt, Marnie didnt begin to understand.
She looked just like Cara.
As if completely aware she was being watched, the woman turned to stare at Marnie. She winked, waved and smiled deeplyas if it were a terrific joke, as if she were hiding, as if it were normal that no one else seemed to see her.
It was Cara.
Cara Barton.
It couldnt be. Of course, it couldnt be. Marnie had seen her die.
She had seen the sudden surge of blood that had erupted from her friends throat.
She could remember staring, frowning, in absolute disbelief and confusion. Because what had happenedCara being sliced apart by the lighted sword as if it were a real bladewas impossible. It was just a comic con, for Gods sake...
But it had been real. The blade had been real.
And she had screamed and screamed, and hunkered down by her fallen friend, trying desperately to staunch the flow of blood. Everyone had been screaming, people had been running. Someeven more confused than she had beenhad applauded!
Not at death, no, not the horror of death.
They had thought themselves privy to a very special show. But then the EMTs had arrived and the police and the crime scene investigators. And she had been inspected and questioned, and then inspected and questioned some more. And she had tried to remember everything there had been to remember about that day: the beautiful German shepherd by them, whining every time his nose got hit with a drip of water from the leaky ceiling. She had spoken to Zanethe old Western starand been impressed with his charm and humility. They hadnt met before. Shed had her picture taken with at least two dozen guys dressed up as Marvel superheroes, another dozen or so zombies and, of course, because of Dark Harbor, tons of vampires, werewolves and shape-shifters.
And, before that particular Blood-bone had appeared, shed had her picture taken with a few other people dressed up as the character, as well.
It was highly possible, the police had told her, that one of them had been the killer.
Cara Barton was dead. She had died in Marnies arms.
And yet there she was, watching the proceedings, nodding with approval as the priest went on emotionally, as Roberta cried softly, as others followed suit.
The priests words came to an end. Marnie remembered that shed been holding a rose; a number of people, those who had been closest to Cara in life, were stepping forward, dropping their roses onto the coffin. It was almost time to leave. Caras coffin would be lowered into the ground.
Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes.
Cara had always known that she would be buried here, in Hollywoods oldest cemetery, close to so many actors, directors, writers, producers and musicians she had known and loved. Shed adored the place. Marnie had come with her once to see a showing of a black-and-white silent classic on one of the large mausoleum walls; Cara had giggled and said it was like a living cemetery. They could catch a flickand leave roses on the graves of Rudolph Valentino, Cecille B. DeMille and so many, many more. Sometimes there were concerts in the cemetery. Johnny Ramone would surely love it.
Cara Barton was dead. Cara Barton would soon be lowered into the ground in the cemetery she had always loved so muchwhere she had always known she wanted to be.
Someday.
It shouldnt have been so soon...
Marnie blinked. She could still see her.
The woman looked just like Cara. She was grave; she was sad, and then she clapped her hands and wiped her tears, delighted as the hot star of the day stepped forward, casting down a rose and saying, She was truly an enormous talent! Such a devastating loss!
Marnie followed Roberta Alan, Jeremy Highsmith and Grayson Adair, all casting their roses over the coffin.
She stopped dead, staring across the coffin.
Cara was there. Cara. Not someone who looked like Cara.
She looked at Marnie and smiled sadly. Did you see? Oh, Marnie. Everyone is here. Oh, my Lord. I mean everyone who is anyone. This is so wonderful. If only...
Marnie froze. Obviously, it had all just been too much.
Cara dying in her arms.
The blood.
The EMTs taking Caras body from her. She had just sat there. She could still see the blood, feel the blood, smell the blood.
And see the characterBlood-bone.
For what had seemed like an eternity, he had just stood there, staring at them all while those in the crowd went crazy clapping.
Then he had turned and disappeared into the crowd. It had taken forever, so it had seemed, for people to realize that her screams were real, that something terrible had really happened. It had been no performance.
Crazy. So damned crazy.
And every night now, Marnie had nightmares that featured Blood-bone dancing before her, wielding that sword with its array of colors...
Not just a light-up sword. A real sword.
She had made it through the day. Through the comic con being closed down. Through the questioning by the police. Through the hours of smelling her friends blood...until she could finally change into the police-issued scrubs.
And she was still moving. She didnt know if she was or wasnt in shock. She just kept going through all the right motions.
She had to be in shock. Or the events being so crazy had turned into her being crazy.
Marnie? Grayson Adair had turned back to her. He looked at her with sorrowful affection, like a real big brother.
She blinked. She cast down her rose, looking across the coffin to the other side of the grave.
Cara was still standing there. She gave Marnie a thumbs-up.
It was impossible. Apparently, Grayson Adair did not see Cara.
Surely that meant that Cara was not really there. But Grayson not seeing Cara was not the only reason she could not be there. Cara could not be there because Cara was dead. Her poor murdered body lay in the coffin.
Cara wasnt therenot really. She was just there in Marnies worn and tormented mind. Marnie took a deep breath and pretended she wasnt hallucinating.
It wasnt going to be easy.
Marnie?
Grayson was speaking again, looking back at her and offering her an arm.
Marnie took it. But as they started out, she felt something. Something extremely strange, as if a cool fog had formed into some kind of substance on her other side.
She looked to her left. To her free arm.
It wasnt free; Cara had come up beside her. She had slipped her arm through Marnies and was walking at her side.
At least it was a sensational funeral, Cara said. Im so grateful. Oh, not for being murdered, though, of course, that does mean that Ill be famous forever. Ive seen the headlinesFamous TV Matriarch Brutally Taken by Blood-Bone Character. And they said that I was beautiful and aging gracefully. Ive seen everything youve said, too. You are just such a little doll. Frankly, youre a little too good and innocent, and you really dont belong in Hollywood. Where was it you came from originally? Atlanta, right? How rude of me not to really remember, but then again, I was meant to live in the dog-eat-dog and plastic part of HollywoodI do believe that it is all about me!
It sounded like Cara Barton; the voice was just a little bit raspy, as if it had been created from the wind or the air. The cadence was all Cara, as was the admission that yes, the world was all about her.
Even when she was dead.
Or especially because she was dead.
Someone called out and Grayson paused, turning to talk to the man. It was another reporter.
Really. Lovely funeral. Im sure you had a part in planning it? And if I know you, you made sure that it was more than public noticethat everyone who is anyone would be here, Cara said approvingly.
Youre not really here, and I cant hear you, Marnie whispered, and she knew that her tone was low, that her words were breathy.
For a moment, she felt that she was going to keel over. No, she couldnt pass out. That would bring attention to her, away from Cara. And Cara wouldnt be happy.
Cara was dead.
Yep. Dead.
And yet Cara was still standing next to her.
Marnie? It was Grayson speaking again. He was looking at her with dark, concerned eyes.
Grayson had always been known for his good looks. He was tall, and his hair was as dark as his eyes. He was truly concerned for her, Marnie thought.
But he was also extremely aware of the cameras going off all around them. Yes, he was aware of the press and of the possible headlines: Marnie Davante Stumbles from Cemetery in Shock, Held Up by Manly Hands of Former Costar Grayson Adair.
Im fine, she said softly.
Oh, please, youre not supposed to be fine! Caras ghost protested. Im dead! I was murdered. Youre not fine.
No, Im stone-cold crazy! Marnie said.
What? Grayson asked, twisting around to look at her, a frown creasing his handsome features. Theres that hot gossip blogger coming toward us. Are you all right? Really?
Yes, youre fine now, Cara said. Be sure to tell them how wonderful I was, how much you loved me. I do bask in all this!
The blogger came forward and brashly shook hands with them both. He apologized for disturbing them then; he was afraid he wouldnt get near them once they had reached Rodeo, the trendy new restaurant where theyd be having the reception.
Marnie told him how much she had loved Cara; she told him what a wonderful actress she had been in a scene, in an ensemble. She vowed they would hound the police until the killer was found. They would never stop.
Wonderful, Cara said.
Excuse me, Marnie said, escaping from Graysons hold and turning to head back to the grave site. The funeral workerswho had been about to lower the finely carved coffin into the groundstepped back, obviously surprised and a little annoyed that their time was being taken. They did, however, respectfully move away, allowing her personal and intimate time with her dearly departed loved one.