"No probs."
The connection went dead, but I left my end open. Who knew, I might need to send an urgent SOS when I got to the blonde's house. And, as Jack often reminded me, I couldn't do that if the voice section of the corn-unit was shut down.
The onboard unit beeped to indicate incoming files. I opened them, then alternated between watching the road and my quarry and reading the files.
Mary Jamieson was thirty-four and lived on one of the newer housing estates currently being built over in Derrimutt, on Melbourne's western edge. She was also, according to the file, very married, and the pic we had of her husband bore little resemblance to the man she'd kissed at the club.
So, adultery was the connection between all the woman. But why would the shadow care? What did it matter to him if these women cheated on their spouses? Even if he'd been betrayed in his own life, why come back from the grave to destroy the lives of complete strangers?
Was he reliving the moment through these other men? Why would even a spirit put himself through that?
"Benson, you still there?"
There was several seconds of silence, then Benson's warm voice caressed my eardrums. "Still here."
"Would you be able to put in an acquisition order for the security tapes at the Mirror Image nightclub? I need the recordings for the main room between" - I hesitated and glanced at the clock - "eleven-thirty and twelve."
Mary and her date had obviously been there longer than that, but I just needed enough of an image to identify him. And the less tape the club had to hand over, the happier they'd be.
"That could take several hours. Private enterprises tend not to be helpful about handing over security tapes."
"Do whatever it takes. I need to know who Mary Jamieson was at that club with tonight."
"I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks again, Benson."
He signed off a second time, and I followed Mary onto the freeway, heading past the city and into the western suburbs. She actually didn't live all that far from me, and part of me ached with the thought of going home and catching some sleep. But that wasn't an option. Not now, and probably not in the near future.
She zigzagged through several streets, entering the Brimbank Gardens Estate and winding through several more streets before she finally stopped. I pulled to a halt several doors down and switched off the lights as she got out of the car. Her house was a pretty little two story painted in muted pastel colors.
She dug in her bag as she approached the door, but if she was looking for house keys it didn't matter, because the door opened. A solidly built man in his mid-thirties stood there. Even from where I sat, it was easy to see he was far from happy.
She didn't say a word, just pressed a hand to his chest and thrust him back before stepping through the door and slamming it closed.
I grabbed my badge from the secure compartment under the seat then climbed out of the car and ran for the house. They were shouting at each other, their words shrill, their voices rilled with anger. I leapt over the side gate, heard the skitter of nails on concrete, and swung around to see a big black Lab running at me.
A threatening rumble rolled up my throat. The Lab stopped, his expression one of confusion as he sniffed the air. Then his head and tail dropped, and he hunkered down. Recognition of a superior.
I gave him a pat as I passed, following the voices to the back of the house. Two windows had the shades drawn, but the third didn't. I stopped and peered in.
They were in the kitchen. She was putting on the kettle, and he was yelling and gesticulating wildly behind her. He had some sort of accent, and was talking so damn loud and fast I could only understand half of what he was saying. Not that I needed to when the underlying message was clear.
Hubby knew where she'd been and what she'd been doing - even if not who.
My gaze went back to the woman. The creeping sense of evil no longer seemed to hover over her, but it was here, somewhere. Its darkness stained the night - a floating, nebulous feeling of death and destruction that sent chills skating across my body.
If this thing was a soul, then it was a hungry one.
And Mary Jamieson was about to become its next victim. red at the finger pointed so firmly in my direction, then at the wide, violet eyes. There was no fear in those eyes, only a matter-of-factness that chilled me.
Whatever it was she was seeing, she believed it.
"Where do you see death, Risa?" Dia asked, her voice as matter-of-fact as her daughter's. Like seeing these sort of things was an everyday occurrence. And perhaps for the two of them, it was.
"Here." The little girl patted her left shoulder.
A chill ran through me. I clenched my fingers and resisted the urge to say anything.