Page 10 of Bad Medicine

It was strange that she’d seenan angel after she’d died. Maybe the angel had been ready to guide her into theafterlife but screwed it up. Anything was possible. “What happened to you?” Iasked, curious.

“I was murdered. The assholewho killed me told me he picked me because I was a bad woman.” She laughed, andthere was something ugly in the sound. “It was his mission to killbadwomen.”

I frowned. “Did you know yourkiller?”

“I’d never seen him before.”

There were things she wasn’ttell me, of course there were, but I didn’t press. Dead people didn’t often keepsecrets. What once mattered to them no longer did and they had no reason to bemysterious. But there was something different about this one.

She seemed to genuinely believeshe hadn’t crossed over because she hadn’t wanted to, but something was keepingher here. Maybe it was simply the fact that her murderer had left her in anunmarked grave and she needed her body to be found, whether she, as her spirit,knew it or not. I’d start there.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Tammy Keyser.”

I adjusted the rear-view mirrorso I could see her. She had messy, dark-blonde hair, big blue eyes underscoredwith black mascara that had seeped down her face like black tears, and tiny,bloody splits on her lips. “Where did he bury your body, Tammy?”

“Will finding my body help yousee into my afterlife?”

“It might,” I lied.

“He put tape over my eyes, so Ididn’t know where I was until I died and climbed out of my body. And that wasweird, but big shock—it doesn’t end when you die, you know?”

“Yeah,” I said. It was shockingto me how much more in tune with the spirits I was now than only a few monthsago. I hadn’t been able to hear them, once upon a time. Now, I could carry oncomplete conversations and they didn’t blink in and out like faulty lightbulbs.It might take a while, but I’d get her sorted.

Which reminded me. I needed totalk to Zach. If he was going through withdrawals, I wanted to make sure hewasn’t going through them alone.

“He buried me in his grandma’sback yard—but from his constant mutterings, I don’t think she’s really hisgrandma. He left me in the trunk while he got a wheelbarrow, then dumped me init and took me in through the back gate wrapped in something stinky and damp.He dug a hole, rolled me into it, and stabbed me to death. Then he shoveleddirt over me and…” Finally, her voice wobbled, and it took her several triesbefore she was able to continue. “The old lady stuck her head out the back doortwice—once to ask him if he wanted a sandwich. He told her yes, that he’d be inas soon as he was finished planting the shrubs. He actually had shrubs, too. Idon’t think she really cared what he was doing there. She just wanted somecompany.”

I was silent for a few moments,contemplating the horror of that situation. “Did she call him by name?” Iasked, finally.

“She called him Robby.”

“Do you have an address?”

“Not an exact address but I canshow you where the house is. It’s in Falton.”

“The Pocket,” I said, curlingmy lip. “Why am I not surprised? Dismal little dump.”

“We’re going to the Pocket?”Joe asked. “Good thing I brought pepper.”

I frowned. “Pepper?”

“If Remy can name his stake, Ican name my machete.”

“So you gave it Max’s lastname?”

He scoffed. “No. It was mychildhood cat’s name.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Seriously,Joe. Put yourself out of your misery and make a move.”

He cracked his knuckles, thencrossed his massive arms. “Not thinking he’s ready for that.”

“Hello,” the ghost in the backseat said. “Murdered woman here?”

“Call Max,” I told Joe. “Let himknow we’ll be late.”

“He has come to expect thatcall,” Joe said, snickering.