Incorporeal Page 13

  “Sara, this is embarrassing. He found my business card in your wallet and he called me up first thing this morning because you haven’t been answering your phone. Did you ever think to answer your phone? I’ve been calling you since last night. I can’t believe you left your wallet at the Ferry Building. Mark drove all the way from San Francisco to return it. How sweet is that?”

  Without turning, Sara asked, “If you drove all the way from San Francisco, where’s your car?”

  Dalton answered for him again. “Oh, he followed me here. Your lane is so narrow; he parked down the road a ways. C’mon, Sara, quit acting so crazy rude. You’re embarrassing me.”

  “Do what she says,” Nathan insisted. “Let him in.”

  Sara’s stomach turned major somersaults and she felt dizzy. The only way Nathan can deal with him is if I let him inside, but if I let him inside, someone might get hurt or even killed, and Nathan… She couldn’t finish the thought. The notion was too awful to contemplate. The entire situation was too awful to contemplate.

  She felt Nathan press an incorporeal hand against the small of her back. “I will see that you and your friend come to no harm. Let him in, Sara. You have no choice.”

  “Yes I do. I do have a choice.”

  “Sara, who are you talking to?” Dalton grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the door. “You’re acting very weird. C’mon in, Mark. She probably just needs some coffee.”

  “No,” Sara yelled, ripping her arm free. She ran for her phone.

  “What are you doing?” Dalton laughed. “Sara, what the hell is wrong with you?”

  Sara turned around in time to see Mark step into the house and shut the door. He flipped the dead bolt behind him. She dialed 9-1-1.

  “Sara? What are you doing?”

  “I’m calling the police. Do you hear that, Mark? I’m calling the police.” She shoved Dalton toward the back door. “Go. Get out.”

  Dalton refused to budge. “What’s going on? I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t.” Mark grabbed Dalton by the hair and jerked her against him. With a shriek of surprise, Dalton stumbled back, the bag of bagels flying from her hand. “Shut off your phone, Sara.” His voice was quiet, yet filled with terrible menace.

  Sara shook her head. “I’ve already dialed the police.” She tossed the phone across the kitchen. “They’ll hear everything. Let her go.”

  In one smooth motion, the man pulled a knife and held it to Dalton’s throat. He shot a quick glance in the direction of the phone. “Pick it up and tell them you’ve made a mistake.”

  Heart pounding, Sara observed the dawning awareness and growing terror in her friend’s eyes, and the cold, cruel expression of the man who held her captive. He smiled and drew the knife lightly along the side of Dalton’s neck. A thin red line of blood welled up.

  Dalton opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He gripped her hair tighter, tipping her head back farther.

  I have to get her away from him.

  “I’ll do whatever you want if you’ll let her go. I swear,” Sara said. As she spoke the words, Nathan materialized right behind Mark. I’ve got to keep his attention on me. “It’s me you want, not her. Let her go. Please, let her go.”

  “You know, you’re right about that,” Mark said. “I don’t need this bitch.”

  Sara screamed at the top of her lungs, expecting him to slit Dalton’s throat, but the knife flew by her face as Nathan knocked it from his hand and tackled him, wresting him to the floor. Dalton crashed between them. Sara dove into the mix without hesitation, wrapping her arms around her friend’s waist and pulling her to safety.

  “Take the phone and get outside,” she yelled over Dalton’s screams. “Tell the police what’s happening.” She pushed her towards the phone on the kitchen floor.

  “I don’t understand,” Dalton cried.

  “You don’t have to understand, just move.” Sara turned back to the two men grappling on the floor.

  I have to help Nathan. She looked around for a weapon she could wield.

  Grabbing the fire poker, she circled the men. Both had groped to their feet. Nathan landed a punch on Mark’s jaw that sent the man flying, right into her.

  With a whomp, Sara landed on her back, the air rushing out of her lungs. The fire iron skidded across the floor. As she fought to catch her breath, Mark pulled her in front of his body, using her as a shield, trying to keep her positioned between himself and Nathan.

  “Won’t work,” Sara managed to whisper. Nathan vanished from sight.

  With a howl of rage, Mark groped to his feet, hauling her with him. He turned in a circle, keeping her in front of his body. “Where is he?” He shook her. “Where the fuck did he go?”

  “I’m right here.” Nathan materialized on Sara’s right. His fist connected with the side of Mark’s head. As the man’s knees buckled, Nathan snatched Sara to safety.

  “Leave,” he ordered. “Leave now.” A well-placed kick kept the man from rising. Groaning, Mark rolled onto his side and lay still.

  Sara cringed at the murderous look in Nathan’s eyes. I’m not afraid of him. I’ll never fear him. “I’m not leaving you. I’m staying with you until the police come.”

  “Sara, I don’t want you here.”

  Sara looked into his face. There was blood on his lip. His eye was already swelling. “But you need me, you’re hurt.”

  “I’m not hurt.” He grasped her shoulders and tossed her out of the man’s reach. “I’m already dead, remember? Go. Go outside with your friend. She needs you. I won’t have you here when I finish this.”

  “No, I’m not leaving. Nathan; watch out!”

  It was too late. Another knife had appeared in the man’s hand and he thrust upward, stabbing Nathan in the gut, embedding the knife to its very hilt. With a grunt, Nathan dropped to one knee, both hands grasping Mark’s. Sara knew he was trying to stop him from pulling out the knife and sticking him again. As they struggled, Mark managed to twist the knife in Nathan’s abdomen. Red blood spilled across their hands, Nathan’s blood.

  Sara whirled around, desperately seeking the lost fire poker. The handle stuck out from beneath a chair. She dove for it, grabbed it, and came up swinging, catching Mark beneath the eye. She felt a crunch and thought she might vomit, but she swung again with all her strength, hitting him across the throat as he turned in her direction. His head smacked against the floor. His hands left the knife handle to clutch and tear at his throat. Sara knew she had damaged his windpipe. Hearing the horrible gurgling sound, she turned away, unable to watch any more.

  Sara dropped to her knees beside Nathan. He sat slumped on the floor, both hands holding the hilt of the knife. Blood soaked his clothing.

  Oh god, so much blood.

  “Nathan.”

  He pulled out the knife. It fell from limp hands onto the floor. Blood spurted in its wake.

  “No. No.” Sara laid him back against her chest and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her hands over the horrible wound, trying in vain to staunch the river of blood. He must have sliced Nathan’s aorta.

  Nathan’s head lolled back, heavy on her shoulder; his eyes closed.

  Tears streamed down Sara’s cheeks. “Stay with me, Nathan. Stay.”

  Nathan’s breathing grew irregular, shallow. His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft. She strained to hear his words. “It would have come to this sooner or later, Sara. I am a ghost, after all. I cannot stay.”

  “No.” Sara sobbed. “You’re more alive than any man I’ve ever known. You can’t leave me, Nathan.” She pressed her mouth against his ear and whispered, “It’s not permitted. You tell your god that. I won’t permit you to leave me. I love you. Do you hear me?”

  There was no answer. His cheek grew cold against hers, as cold as he’d felt the first time he’d tried to touch her. She shivered. “No, Nathan. No. Don’t go.”

  Sara sensed a flutter of movement against her shoulder as he struggled to speak.
“My life, you’ve given me back my life. I love you, Sara. This time I’ll remember.”

  “What, Nathan? What will you remember?”

  The room grew so hushed that Sara thought he’d left her, but at last he whispered, “I’ll remember I died in your arms.”

  She held Nathan tight, listening as he sucked in one last, ragged breath. He was gone.

  With the weight of his empty body slumped against her, Sara closed her eyes and ears and shut herself off. The love of her life was dead. Her world turned upside down. Was it the middle of the morning or was it midnight? Even the birds had stopped singing. A heavy curtain fell across Sara’s soul. There was nothing left to see. There were no sounds left to hear. The world was already a sad and lonely place, because he was gone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dalton reached for her hand as they sat side by side in the back of an ambulance, wrapped in warm blankets. “It’s my fault. I did this. I brought him to your house. This is my fault.”

  “No.” Sara looked down at their clasped hands. “No, it’s not. He used you. He would have gotten to me one way or another. I guess you were one way.” She gently brushed the fingers of her other hand over the dressing on Dalton’s neck. “I’m glad you weren’t seriously hurt.”

  “But Sara, your friend, he’s, he’s…” Dalton burst into tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  For a few moments, Sara didn’t know how to respond. At last she said, “Thank you. I’m sorry too.” You can’t possibly know how sorry I am. “It’s not your fault.”

  Sara closed her eyes. It was only a matter of time before she’d have to identify Nathan’s body. She’d lie about who he was, because the truth of him was far more fantastic and impossible than any lie could ever be.

  “Ladies, we need to ask you a few questions.” The voice sounded apologetic. “I know this is hard.”

  You have no idea how hard this is. Sara opened her eyes and focused on the grizzled face of a middle-aged detective. Get it over with, Sara. Rip it off, fast, like a band aid.

  “All right.” Dropping Dalton’s hand, Sara slid off the edge of the ambulance. The instant her feet hit the ground, the dizziness she’d felt earlier returned.

  “Detective…?”

  “Flannery, Rodger Flannery.”

  “Detective Rodger Flannery, catch me please.” The last thing Sara remembered was toppling in his direction.

  ***

  “Miss Wise? Before we take you to the hospital, I need you to identify the bodies.”

  Sara shook her head.

  “Miss Wise, your friend has already identified one of the bodies as the man who tricked her into bringing him here, the man who attacked the two of you. I need you to confirm that he’s the man who followed you from San Francisco. But I’m afraid she can’t identify the man who helped you.”

  Sara bit her lower lip in a futile attempt to stop herself from crying. “She doesn’t…” Sara choked back a sob. “She doesn’t know him. She wouldn’t know him.”

  “Who is he, Miss Wise?”

  Sara heard the sound of a gurney being wheeled closer. She turned her head away. “He…” She stopped to take a deep breath. “I met him a few months ago. He didn’t have a place to live and I asked him to move in with me. He’s been staying here for four months.”

  “Then you were close with him?”

  “Yes.” She met the detective’s eyes. “We were very close.” She knew the detective caught her meaning. There was no need to provide any further explanation. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you much more than his name. His name…” Oh my god I can’t survive this. Yes you can. He died, you can answer useless questions. “His name was Nathan de Manua. He told me his family came from Spain, but as far as I know, he doesn’t have any living relatives.”

  She saw Detective Flannery write the name phonetically. “No, that’s not how you spell it. Do you want me to write it out for you?”

  He handed her his notepad. She corrected the spelling of Nathan’s name for him. It didn’t matter that he knew it. He wouldn’t find any records for a Nathan de Manua, unless he cared to look back into obscure shipping documents from the Fifteenth Century.

  What’s the worst thing they’ll do to me? Fine me for harboring an illegal alien? Who cares?

  “Is this him?” The detective stepped aside and an EMT opened the black plastic body bag.

  Sara forced herself to look at Nathan’s face. He’s seems perfect, at peace. Tears ran down her cheeks, unchecked. He’s so beautiful.

  Sara nodded. “It’s him.”

  “Thank you, Miss Wise.” The detective motioned to the EMT. The younger man zipped up the bag and pushed the gurney away. “And this man?” He pointed to the body on the gurney behind Nathan’s.

  “That’s the man who followed me from San Francisco last night.” She lay back on her own gurney and folded her arms over her eyes. “Who is he?” She heard the jiggle of rubber wheels on gravel as that gurney too was pushed out of her sight.

  “We’re still working on that. Tell me what happened this morning, once he showed up at your house.”

  I need to get this over with as quick as I can. “He followed Dalton into the house, this man who called himself Mark. He flipped the dead bolt behind him. I tried to stop him, because I knew there was something wrong, but Dalton didn’t understand at first and she wouldn’t get out of the way. I dialed 9-1-1 on my phone and tossed it into the kitchen so he couldn’t take it from me and hang up.”

  “We received the call,” the detective said.

  “Mark grabbed Dalton and held a knife to her neck. He cut her, I think it was just to frighten me, but he meant to kill her. I know he did. He planned to kill me too. I tried to talk to him, tried to buy us some time. That’s when I saw Nathan come up behind him. He got the knife away and knocked him to the floor.

  “I pulled Dalton from beneath the two of them and told her to run. When the man…” Her voice faltered. Go numb, Sara. You are a block of ice. Your heart is frozen. “When the man stabbed Nathan, I grabbed the fire poker and I hit him. I hit him twice. The first time I caught him in the face; the second time I hit him in the throat. He killed Nathan, but I killed him.”

  “Think hard. Had you ever seen this man before last night?”

  Eyes still closed, Sara shook her head. “Never.”

  “How’d he get your wallet?”

  “I must have dropped it out of my purse when I was getting my phone. I tried to call someone for help when I got off the bus in Vallejo, but the battery was dead.” Sara opened her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows. “Who is he, detective? Who is he really?”

  Detective Flannery patted her shoulder. She knew he was trying to comfort her. “Let’s get you checked out first and then we’ll talk.”

  There’s your answer. “What about Nathan? He doesn’t have any family.”

  The detective sighed. “We’ll talk about that too. You need to go now.”

  Two EMTs pushed her toward the back of an open ambulance. “Detective Flannery,” Sara called out. “I know one more thing about Nathan de Manua.”

  The detective turned around. “What’s that?”

  “He’s Jewish. He, the body, he would want to be buried quickly.” And he shouldn’t have an autopsy, but I guess since he’s been dead for over five hundred years, it doesn’t matter. I guess nothing matters.

  “Sara,” Dalton yelled, jogging toward her car. “I’m coming with you. I’ll follow the ambulance.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sara lay on a narrow bed in the Emergency Room of her local hospital. If someone said, stick out your arm, she stuck out her arm. If someone asked for her insurance number, she gave them the number. When Dalton asked her if she wanted anything to drink, Sara dutifully nodded her head. She had no idea what Dalton brought her. When she sipped, the beverage had no taste.

  Maybe it’s incorporeal, like Nathan. No, never, not like Nathan. He was never incorporeal like that. He had substance from the
moment he appeared in my shower.

  “Dalton, I want to go home.” Sara turned to look at her friend. “I want to go home. Tell them.”

  Dalton has a funny expression on her face. She seems worried about something. Oh yeah, me and two dead guys and almost getting her throat slit. Guess that’s more than enough to worry her.

  “You can’t go home, honey.” Dalton rubbed her arm. “It’s a, it’s a crime scene. The police won’t let you back in.”

  “I don’t care. I want to go home. I want to take a shower in my own shower. Where are my clothes?” Sara kicked the blanket off and sat on the edge of the bed. There’s something stuck to my arm. She raised her arm to get a better view. It’s an IV. When did they start an IV?

  “Miss Wise, your friend is right. You can’t go home.” Detective Flannery stepped into the cubicle. “If you make a list, I’ll have one of my men get whatever you need.”

  I need Nathan. “I don’t need anything. I just want to go home.”

  The detective rocked back and forth in squeaky shoes. “I know this is difficult for you. I wish there was some way to make it easier, but to be honest, there isn’t. It’ll only be for a few days.”

  “A few days?”

  “Yes, we should be finished with our work in a few days.” Sara saw him exchange glances with Dalton.

  Dalton patted her knee. “Sara, I’m going to step out with the detective. I think he has more questions for me. Will you be okay?”

  Sara nodded.

  As the detective and Dalton exited the cubicle, the ER doctor slid past them. “Miss Wise? How are you feeling?”

  “Like I want to go home,” said Sara.

  He gave her a nod of sympathy. “Sorry, can’t help you with that, but I do have the results of your tests. I know why you passed out, and it wasn’t just because of the, uh, because of your experience this morning.”

  Sara scooted back a little on the narrow bed and ordered herself to pay attention. “Tests? You did tests?”

  The doctor blinked a few times. He sat down at the foot of the bed. When he spoke, Sara heard sympathy in his voice, despite the strained look on his face. “Yes, don’t you remember? We started an IV and we drew some blood. You signed the consents when the EMTs brought you in.”