trick.”
“She didtalkto me last night. She knew you didn't believe it. Maybe this was her way of letting you know it was real.”
Howe strode to the telephone. “I'm calling for a forensics team.”
Sam glanced around the room. “It was the screwiest thing. We couldn't have been gone fifteen minutes. I locked the place up tight, but when we came back, it was like this.”
Joe looked toward the kitchen. The spice jars were now arranged in a pyramid, just the way Angela used to stack them. They would fall whenever Joe slammed the front door too hard.
Nikki pointed to the dinette table. “Look.”
Joe leaned over to see that a word had been scratched into the table's glass surface: RAKKAN. It was carved deep, leaving glass splinters scattered across the tablet op.
Sam studied it. “Rakkan? What the hell does that mean?”
Joe pulled Sam and Nikki back. “I don't know, but we shouldn't tamper with it. The evidence team will want a crack at this.” He turned toward Nikki. “Your room?”
She took his hand and led him back to her bedroom. The bed was now pushed against the far wall, opposite where it had been only that morning but precisely where Angela had placed it the day they'd moved out the crib and bought Nikki her first real bed. Nikki had decided to move it the year before to keep the early-morning sun from shining on her face.
Nikki pointed to a watercolor print that she'd painted with her mother. “She moved our rainbow too. I had it on the other wall so that I could see it from my bed.”
“I'm afraid it wasn't her that did this, honey.”
“How do you know?”
She was no longer frightened, he realized. There was something else there.
Hope.
For years he'd refused to believe that Angela's soul could be alive anywhere but in the memories of those who loved her. Nikki was always the believer, the one who insisted that they'd all be together again one day.
He'd seen too many people who felt the same way, who allowed themselves to be duped and conned by the bottom feeders who were all too willing to exploit the survivors'wishful thinking. Only in the past few months had he allowed himself the possibility, however small, that there might be an afterlife.
But it would take more than a few displaced pieces of furniture to convince him.
He gently raised her chin. “Think about it, sweetheart. What's more likely? That a ghost did all this, or that a real live person walked in here and just rearranged things?”
She frowned.”Why would anyone do that?”
“I don't know, honey.”
Howe hung up the phone. “A fingerprint kit is on the way. How many people do you know who are familiar with the way this apartment used to look?”
“Not many,”Joe said.”Sam, for one.”
Sam crossed his arms.”Don't look at me. I'd like to strangle the diseased bastard who did this. I've heard of some sick jokes in my time, but this one's really up there.”
Joe shrugged. “A few friends, but no one who'd do anything like this.” He glanced at the drink coasters, now neatly placed on the coffee table's four corners. “There are too many little details. I can't imagine how anyone could remember some of these things.”
“Photographs?” Howe asked.
“I thought of that. Dad's always been the big photographer in the family, but most of our holidays and special occasions were at his place.”
Sam took Nikki's hand. “Come on, sweetheart. You're staying with me tonight. Your father is going to be busy.”
“Daddy?” she asked.
“You'd better go with him, honey.”
“But I don't
want
to go.”
“We have work to do here. I'll come get you as soon as we're finished, okay?”
She didn't speak for a moment.”What if she comes back and I'm not here?”
He felt as if the wind had been kicked out of him. Shit. Who could be so goddamned cruel? He caressed her cheek.”
I
'
ll
be here, okay?”
She nodded, but he could see that the hope was still alive in her eyes.
Damn. If he did his job right, he was
“She didtalkto me last night. She knew you didn't believe it. Maybe this was her way of letting you know it was real.”
Howe strode to the telephone. “I'm calling for a forensics team.”
Sam glanced around the room. “It was the screwiest thing. We couldn't have been gone fifteen minutes. I locked the place up tight, but when we came back, it was like this.”
Joe looked toward the kitchen. The spice jars were now arranged in a pyramid, just the way Angela used to stack them. They would fall whenever Joe slammed the front door too hard.
Nikki pointed to the dinette table. “Look.”
Joe leaned over to see that a word had been scratched into the table's glass surface: RAKKAN. It was carved deep, leaving glass splinters scattered across the tablet op.
Sam studied it. “Rakkan? What the hell does that mean?”
Joe pulled Sam and Nikki back. “I don't know, but we shouldn't tamper with it. The evidence team will want a crack at this.” He turned toward Nikki. “Your room?”
She took his hand and led him back to her bedroom. The bed was now pushed against the far wall, opposite where it had been only that morning but precisely where Angela had placed it the day they'd moved out the crib and bought Nikki her first real bed. Nikki had decided to move it the year before to keep the early-morning sun from shining on her face.
Nikki pointed to a watercolor print that she'd painted with her mother. “She moved our rainbow too. I had it on the other wall so that I could see it from my bed.”
“I'm afraid it wasn't her that did this, honey.”
“How do you know?”
She was no longer frightened, he realized. There was something else there.
Hope.
For years he'd refused to believe that Angela's soul could be alive anywhere but in the memories of those who loved her. Nikki was always the believer, the one who insisted that they'd all be together again one day.
He'd seen too many people who felt the same way, who allowed themselves to be duped and conned by the bottom feeders who were all too willing to exploit the survivors'wishful thinking. Only in the past few months had he allowed himself the possibility, however small, that there might be an afterlife.
But it would take more than a few displaced pieces of furniture to convince him.
He gently raised her chin. “Think about it, sweetheart. What's more likely? That a ghost did all this, or that a real live person walked in here and just rearranged things?”
She frowned.”Why would anyone do that?”
“I don't know, honey.”
Howe hung up the phone. “A fingerprint kit is on the way. How many people do you know who are familiar with the way this apartment used to look?”
“Not many,”Joe said.”Sam, for one.”
Sam crossed his arms.”Don't look at me. I'd like to strangle the diseased bastard who did this. I've heard of some sick jokes in my time, but this one's really up there.”
Joe shrugged. “A few friends, but no one who'd do anything like this.” He glanced at the drink coasters, now neatly placed on the coffee table's four corners. “There are too many little details. I can't imagine how anyone could remember some of these things.”
“Photographs?” Howe asked.
“I thought of that. Dad's always been the big photographer in the family, but most of our holidays and special occasions were at his place.”
Sam took Nikki's hand. “Come on, sweetheart. You're staying with me tonight. Your father is going to be busy.”
“Daddy?” she asked.
“You'd better go with him, honey.”
“But I don't
want
to go.”
“We have work to do here. I'll come get you as soon as we're finished, okay?”
She didn't speak for a moment.”What if she comes back and I'm not here?”
He felt as if the wind had been kicked out of him. Shit. Who could be so goddamned cruel? He caressed her cheek.”
I
'
ll
be here, okay?”
She nodded, but he could see that the hope was still alive in her eyes.
Damn. If he did his job right, he was
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