“I never thought you were.” I offered Franklin a grateful smile. My quivering had settled, but the uncomfortable taste of Gladys’s guilty soul lingered. “Let’s bring back the next one and see what she has to say.”
I didn’t wait for Franklin to answer. I simply walked to the nearest remains and began. “You might want to start recording again, Loretta.”
“Already on it. Feel free to proceed anytime you’re ready.”
Closing my eyes, I focused on the nearest set of remains. This one was more eager than Gladys had been. “Clarissa Daniella Peyton, I call your soul back to your body.” I’d barely gotten the words out when the bones on the table rattled with the force of Clarissa’s soul’s return.
“Shit.” Dr. Stowe dashed forward, catching a smattering of small bones from Clarissa’s foot as they tumbled from the table.
The bones settled but continued vibrating. I winced. “Just a heads-up. Clarissa’s pissed.”
“You’re damn right I’m pissed!” Clarissa’s rage sang through the air. “And I have every fucking right to be.” She didn’t mince words. That was for certain. “One more week! I had one week left. I’d already defended my thesis. I was going to finally, finally get my doctorate.” Clarissa’s bones rattled again, rolling out of their alignment.
This one was going to give me a headache. Reaching into a pocket, I activated one of Pops’s pain charms. It was always better to get ahead of the pain than chase it.
Franklin’s pinched eyes and obvious frown indicated he hadn’t missed the motion. The quicker we got this done, the quicker I could let Clarissa’s enraged soul go. With that in mind, I said, “Clarissa, I’m Necromancer Boo—”
“Yes, yes. I know,” she answered with a huff. In my mind’s eye, I envisioned Clarissa standing there with her arms crossed, foot tapping. “Have you gutted the asshole that did this to me?”
My mouth slipped open only to quietly close. Thankfully, Franklin took up the verbal reigns. “Not yet. That’s what we’re trying to find out. That’s why we called you back. I’m sorry to say that we found your skeletal remains buried in the same area as five other women.”
“Five! Why in the hell would Clinton murder five other women? I was the one he was hung up on, the one he wouldn’t stop stalking. I told the police! I did every damn thing I was supposed to do and this still happened. Worthless. The lot of them are abso-fucking-lutley worthless.”
I watched Franklin and Loretta share a concerned look. “I’m sorry. Clinton…?”
“Baxter. Christ, what is wrong with you people. There should be a trail of paperwork long enough to cross the Atlantic Ocean and wind up in Spain. I made sure to document and file every fucked-up thing my ex ever did. If you’re telling me you’ve lost or somehow erased all that information, then—”
“We just learned your identity.” I needed to settle Clarissa’s soul before her bones went flying.
“You…what?” That got her attention. “What do you mean?”
I was impressed by how calmly Franklin explained the situation. Clarissa interrupted a few times but seemed to truly lose it when she learned exactly where she’d been found. Or more precisely, what state.
“What do you mean? What is my body doing in Mississippi? I’m from New York. I’ve never even stepped foot in the state. I hate the heat.”
I didn’t tell Clarissa that a dead body didn’t have much opinion on the heat one way or the other. Instead, I focused on the important bits. “New York?” I shared a concerned look with Franklin. I may not be the detective in the group, but even I could see the growing problem.
“Do I sound southern to you?” Clarissa huffed.
“Absolutely not.” No use arguing that point.
Franklin didn’t comment on the fact that having grown up in Chicago, he wasn’t native to the region either. Instead, he asked, “Did this Clinton Baxter have any ties that you know of to the state of Mississippi? Is there any reason he would have brought your body here?”
“God, no.” Clarissa sounded mortified by the mere idea. “Clinton hates the heat more than me. New York is even too hot for him. Clinton wants to move to Maine.” I could hear the eye roll in Clarissa’s words. “As if I would have ever moved there. I’m telling you, the man is delusional.”
I honestly wasn’t certain what to make of Clinton Baxter and decided I’d reserve judgment until we knew more. Besides, there was a fair chance he had nothing to do with Clarissa’s murder. I wasn’t making light of the stalker threat he posed, but pegging Clinton as our murderer was far from a slam dunk.
Franklin quizzed Clarissa more while Loretta threw in a few questions of her own. Clarissa was a volatile soul and often needed to be reeled back in. I wasn’t certain if she’d been this fiery while alive. More often than not, souls retained their living personalities. What I did think was that her anger over her death added a few more logs to her natural fire.
Franklin and I’d worked together on enough cases that I got a feel for when he was winding down. Relief flooded me when Franklin gave me the all-clear to let Clarissa’s soul go. She wasn’t all that willing but left with agentlenudge on my part.
Sagging into Franklin’s firm body, I rubbed my forehead before leaving that heady space and walking toward the desk and an awaiting soda. Popping the top, I took a long drink, draining half the can before setting it back on the tabletop.
“Miss Peyton was a little…” Dr. Stowe seemed to be floundering for the right word.
“Extra,” Loretta supplied, and I nodded in agreement.
“You don’t need me to tell you how angry Clarissa’s soul is.” I picked up the can of soda and finished it off.
