Page 4 of Ghost of You
Nodding Cope followed Tennyson into the conference room. Oliver Adams sat with his arms wrapped around himself. The man looked as if he hadn’t slept in the four years his wife had been missing. “Oliver,” Cope began. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“You’re sorry!” Oliver exploded. “The cops said Francesca’s body has been there all along. Four years my wife lay moldering in the woods, soaked in thunderstorms, buried by snow, her body ravaged by predators, scavengers, and God knows what else. Why the hell couldn’t any of you have found her?”
Cope took a deep breath and readied himself to respond. Jude beat him to the punch.
“We want to help in any way we can, Oliver, but we can’t do that if you’re going to shout down the walls.” Jude got up from the table and grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge. He brought it back to the distraught man. “You know that what Cope and Tennyson do isn’t an exact science. Neither of them had been able to communicate with Francesca and to the best of my knowledge no one else has either.”
Salem only rivaled New Orleans with the number of psychics per capita. He knew that Oliver had visited other talent in town. Cope would have done the same thing if he were in the man’s shoes. “I’m still not able to communicate with her. How about you, Tennyson?”
Ten shook his head. “I’ve been reaching out to her spirit all morning.”
“Why isn’t she talking?” Oliver asked, sounding more in control of himself.
“There are a lot of reasons.” Cope locked eyes with Jude, silently begging him to keep Oliver as calm as possible. “Francesca may have already crossed over. She may not want to speak with us. She might not be able to speak with us.”
“What do you mean, might not be able to speak?” Oliver’s gaze bounced back and forth between Tennyson and Cope.
“When we die, we have to learn how to communicate with the world of the living,” Ten said. “If a death was sudden, unexpected, or violent, it sometimes takes longer for the spirit to recover from their death.”
“Spirits get depressed, just like we do,” Cope said. “Francesca might not be willing to discuss what happened to her or she might be too scared to relive it, both of which are completely understandable.”
Oliver sunk his head into his hands. “Cops showed up at my house yesterday to deliver the news that remains had been found. They wanted me to hear it from them before I heard about it online or in the media. I already knew. I’ve got a police scanner. Over the last four years, I’ve learned the radio codes.” He shrugged, sinking deeper into his seat. “The cop was empathetic for all of ten seconds. After that, he says to come with him down to the station so I can answer more questions. I should have called my lawyer. I shouldn’t have spoken to them, but to be honest, I can’t get out of my own way. All those years my wife was just missing meant there was a chance she would walk through the door. Now, there’s no chance. No hope. All I’vegot to look forward to are more interrogations and possibly a prison cell.”
Fitzgibbon opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when all three detective’s phones pinged. Fitz pulled out his phone, tapping on the screen. Seconds later he looked to Ronan and then Jude. Both men nodded. “We’ve all been called into a meeting with Chief Cisco Jackson in an hour. I assume he’s going to ask us to take this case.”
Ronan and Jude nodded along. “I promise we’re going to do everything in our power to solve your wife’s murder, Oliver.” Ronan set his hand over his heart. “Just keep in mind that we’re going to need to speak with you officially.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Oliver asked, with little fire in his voice. The man sounded tapped out, like he didn’t have the energy for anything that was to come.
“In order to focus on the killer, we have to eliminate the usual suspects,” Jude said. “You are one of them. So are Francesca’s parents. Your parents. Her friends, fellow volunteers and the people who served on the Salem City Council with her. We’re going to speak with all of these people. The best thing you can do is cooperate. Let us do our job and eliminate you.”
“I’ve done nothingbutcooperate for the last four years. My life is a mess. My vet practice had started to rebound, but now people are cancelling appointments like crazy. I didn’t kill my wife.” Oliver looked around the table at the detectives. “You know how much she loved this community. All my wife did was volunteer, at the food bank, cuddling preemie babies at the hospital, running clothes and food drives. When word of the missing money came out, Frankie went from hero to zero overnight. My wife doesn’t deserve to have this unfounded claim laid against her.”
“Do you know anything about the money?” Jude asked.
Oliver shook his head. “When it was discovered that the money was missing, the Salem Police analyzed every penny that came into or out of our accounts. I assume they’re going to do it again. I have nothing to hide. If you want to speak to me further, contact my attorney, Reagan Pryce.”
“We will,” Fitz said.
Jude knew the attorney well. Reagan was the best defense lawyer in Salem, possibly in all of Massachusetts. He’d been the first person Jude called when Ronan had been arrested for the murder of one of Ten’s clients. Thanks to the attorney and the kick ass investigative skills of himself and Fitz, they’d been able to solve the case and get Ronan off the hook. Hiring Reagan was a smart move on Oliver’s part.
Oliver turned his attention to Tennyson. “Can you try reaching out to Frankie?” His voice had taken on a desperate, begging tone.
“I’ve been doing that very thing ever since the news broke about remains being found in the forest. I was hoping being here with other psychics would boost our reach, so to speak, but I’ve not heard from her.”
“Neither have I,” Cope confirmed. “I promise that neither of us are going to give up on Frankie.”
Ten nodded his agreement.
“So you’re saying that all I can do is what I’ve been doing for the last four years? Sitting around and waiting for that knock at the door, the handcuffs and the perp walk.”
“I wish there was more we could do for you, Oliver,” Ten said. “What I can tell you is that Ronan, Jude and Fitz are the bestin the business. They’re not going to railroad you. They’ll do everything in their power to find the killer, but you need to be patient and let them work. I’m sure that’s the last thing you want to hear right now.”
“Yeah, I hear you. How will I know if the three of you have been given the case?” Oliver asked, getting to his feet.
“We’ll call Reagan Pryce and set up a time to meet,” Fitz said, gently. “One piece of advice I’d like to offer is not to speak to the media. They’re going to shout all kinds of questions at you. They’ll park their news vans in front of your house. Ignore them. Don’t say a word. I guarantee that will be one of the first things Reagan will tell you as well.”
“Thank you, Captain Fitzgibbon.” Oliver dropped his head, his eyes were glued to the floor.
