“Thanks,” Jude told him. Whitney was walking over to him. She greeted Ellis courteously, looking at him as if waiting for something new. Ellis recognized the look and quickly informed her, “No, sorry. I haven’t anything else. Well, other than the fact that they should make a giant hotel out of this place—people seem to love ghoulish crap. They’ll pay the big bucks for such a haunted property. I imagine the movie will really make a fortune—the publicity it’s getting is going to make it spiral right off the charts.”
“True,” Whitney agreed. She looked at Jude. “We have food next door.”
Ellis sniffed. “He hasn’t noticed that he hasn’t eaten.”
“I’ll come over, thanks,” he said.
He started to walk with Whitney, leaving Ellis in charge, but then he hesitated. “Ellis, can you get a rush put on the forensics on the limos that carried people from that set? We had them taken in, but I haven’t heard anything back from the team that was inspecting them.”
“They’ve been on the crime scene evidence. I’ll push it on the limos,” Ellis told him wearily. “It’s damn hard when everything is a rush. They’re calling out the troops, and bitching about overtime all the same.” He shook his head and walked away, ever the good cop.
“Simple, quick—and we can feed tons of people, if need be,” Jenna Duffy said, tucking a stray strand of light auburn hair behind her ears. She flashed Jude a smile. “Shepherd’s pie, a rather good early dinner, if I do say so myself. Will is our expert sushi chef, but it’s hard to feed the masses that way. Help yourself, please. Beer and soda are over there…”
Whitney slid up behind Jude, taking a paper plate from the pile on the kitchen counter and handing him one. She was surprised that she’d gotten him to leave the site and come over; she felt that there was nothing more either of them could do there at the moment. “Hey, eat up. You have a large machine there to keep going,” she told him.
“Large machine, eh?” he replied. “Are you suggesting I need to diet?”
“Not at all, you seem to be doing well with the machine. I’m suggesting you dig in, and make way for those behind you!”
He grinned, offering her his place. The others, except for Jenna, had already filled their plates. Walking into the hallway, he saw that Angela and Jackson had their plates at the bank of screens, and were watching the continuing action at the site next door. Hannah was with Jake in the den, enjoying his computer and programs, and Will Chan was waiting politely with Jenna so that she would prepare a plate of food for herself. Jude tried to wait politely as well, but Jenna and Will shooed him and Whitney out of the kitchen. “TV is on in the front parlor, you might want to take a look at the news programs,” Will told them.
“We hooked up the cable while you were at the site today,” Jenna explained. “You can get over eight hundred channels from I don’t know how many companies.”
“Wonderful—I guess,” Whitney said. She dared to catch Jude’s arm and steer him in the right direction.
The front parlor was filled with period furniture—except for the television and new cable system. They settled on the sofa in time to catch the weather, but then local news came back on. A pretty anchorwoman announced, “More shocking news today from downtown. Experts are now excavating the construction site off Broadway in the lower East End because skeletal remains have been found on the site. The Darby Building was slated for demolition last month and imploded, but the foundations had been deemed sound. However, before the Darby Building, a reputed destination for the city’s Satanists known as the House of Spiritualism occupied the land before the turn of the twentieth century. Speculation is running high. Murder victim Virginia Rockford, working on a movie at the site, was found killed Ripper style just days ago. A little over a mile away in the Bowery, the body of Melody Tatum was also discovered. Police spokespersons have little to offer the public at the moment. We’ll bring you Deputy Chief Green, taped this afternoon, right after our commercial break—and an exclusive interview with the beautiful actress Sherry Blanco regarding the upcoming epic O’Leary’s, with a clip from the movie.”
Jude let out a groan and winced.
“The movie just became an epic,” Whitney said.
“And who would cash in on that?” Jude asked rhetorically. “Angus Avery, Bobby Walden and the ever-caring Ms. Sherry Blanco. Women are dead, bones have been dug up—and the public is still going to want to see Sherry Blanco,” Jude said.
Whitney nudged his arm. “Eat.”
“Before I lose my appetite,” Jude agreed.
His gaze didn’t leave the television screen, but, mechanically, he took a bite of the shepherd’s pie. It was good—Whitney already knew, having had Jenna’s shepherd’s pie before. The aroma had been enough to make her realize she was starving.
Jude’s second bite was far more energetic, and while they went through commercials that sold floor cleaners, cars and a product to extend a man’s penis, he wolfed down the food on the plate.
The anchorwoman came back on; Deputy Chief Green announced that every policeman in the five boroughs was on high alert, that a task force was working all hours and that the FBI had a special unit on the case as well. The chief ended the interview by accepting a question about the House of Spiritualism, and saying that the police were exploring all possible angles. He tried to leave the podium, but one reporter demanded to know if the deputy chief believed that Carrie Brown had been a victim of the Ripper, and he paused, obviously irritated. “I have no personal beliefs on the matter. I’m concerned with what’s happening on our streets right now.”
“Is he targeting prostitutes?” another reporter called out.
“All women should take great care with any new acquaintance. It’s a time for extreme vigilance.”
“But,” cried the same reporter, “it does seem true, doesn’t it? This killer isn’t after affluent women or mothers of kindergarten children!”
“We still can’t say who the killer will target. Excuse me, that is all I have right now!”
Deputy Chief Green managed to escape. The anchorwoman came back with a perfectly coiffed Sherry Blanco at her side. Sherry was visibly distressed. “Poor Ginger!” she said, and tears formed in her eyes; one slid down her cheek and she dabbed at it with a tissue. “We were all so heartbroken!” She shivered. “And it could have been any of us!”
“Will the movie come out as scheduled?” the anchorwoman asked.
“We filmed today in Brooklyn, so, despite what we all have to bear, we’re working hard to see that the fans and our producers are happy,” Sherry assured her.
Jude made a sound.
“Hey!” Whitney protested softly. She took his forgotten dinner plate from his hands and set it on the table. “Don’t blame an entire industry. I know a lot of actresses who are really nice, and would be making real announcements, begging people to be safe.”
“Luckily, it seems that everyone really kept mum at the site today,” Jude said. “It’s important that all the details don’t get out there.”
“Well, since it’s in off the street and teeming with cops, the reporters couldn’t get close,” Whitney reminded him.
“Yet,” Jude said dolefully.
The anchorwoman directed her audience to watch the clip; it wasn’t one in which Virginia Rockford was featured. Sherry Blanco, in period dress, was trying to head home from O’Leary’s, the fictional pub in the Five Points district, when she was accosted by thugs. Bobby Walden appeared, dominating the screen, sending them off. Sherry’s character looked at him with love and uncertainty in her eyes, and turned to run away while Bobby gazed after her in turn.
“Enough!” Jude rose, found the remote and changed channels until a National Geographic show on great blue whales appeared. Jude sank back down on the sofa, closing his eyes. Whitney set her own plate down, and took her seat by him again.
“You’ll find the truth,” she told him. Her voice was filled with certainty.
He took her hand and squeezed it. She remembered thinking that it would be nice to close her eyes as well.
The next thing she knew, she woke up.
Jude was slumped against the end of the sofa. She was slumped on top of Jude. No, she was cuddled up, curled against Jude. He felt warm and solid, vital and alive.
Someone had put a blanket over them.
He was still holding her hand, long, strong fingers threaded through her smaller, slimmer ones.
As her eyes opened, so did his.
Briefly, there was something different in the gray gaze he gave her.
Something soft, and electric, at the same time.
Desire.
She knew that it had been mirrored in her own.
And yet…
There was wariness in his eyes as well.
She looked away quickly. Well, he was a solid, white cop who was all hard evidence and facts; she was a woman of mixed heritage that included voodoo, and—oh—a ghost buster as well.
No hope, no future…she thought.
But, she realized with sadness, desire remained.
11
“Crosby! Hey!”
Startled, Jude sat up, easing Whitney with him to a sitting position just as Ellis Sayer came hurrying into the room.
“Yes, what is it, Ellis?” he asked. Whitney was trying to compose herself, smoothing down the now-wrinkled cotton blouse she wore beneath her tailored denim pantsuit.
“I think I have something. Someone. I came here first—you didn’t pick up on the phone, and I figured you might be here.”
Jude stood. The detective was making no sense. “Who do you have with you, and what did you find?”
Ellis’s droopy hound-dog features actually shone for once.
“Come to the porch,” he urged them.
Jude stepped by him. In the hallway, Angela was still standing by the door, and Jude realized that she had opened the door to Ellis, who hadn’t said a word to her, but had surely seen him and Whitney on the sofa, and just marched right to them. Will was sitting at the bank of screens, looking as surprised as Angela.
