Read Online Ghost Layer (The Ghost Seer Series Book 2) by Robin D. Owens - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robin D. Owens
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too.
“Let me help you with that.” He started forward. Stopped after one step when his left foot dragged along the floor, cringed. He’d forgotten. Despair surged through him. How long would it be before he wouldn’t forget his disability?
“It’s all right,” Clare said cheerfully and he couldn’t tell whether she’d seen his emotional pain. “The box is papier-mâché.” She looked at it, and her mouth turned down. “I don’t like the pattern.”
Now he noticed the tiny dancing skeletons in various colors on a black background. His lips twitched. “Something you inherited from your great-aunt Sandra?”
“Yes.” She looked at the thing with distaste. “And my brother
knew
I didn’t want it. But the thing is, he didn’t want it either.”
“And he packed up your great-aunt Sandra’s house.”
“Yes. And here it is,” Clare said.
“I’m sure J. Dawson will approve of it.”
She frowned at him. “You’re just saying that to be polite.”
“Yeah, but the box is appropriate.” He jiggled the bones in his own hands.
Clare flinched at the clacking sound. “That’s just icky.” She pulled out the little latch at the front of the box. “Brace yourself, Great-Aunt Sandra kept incense in it.”
As Clare opened the rounded top, heavy, pungent smells assaulted his nose. “You think we should put J. Dawson in here?” Zach asked. “Won’t his bones pick up residue or oil?”
Clare hesitated. “We’ll wrap him up first.” She put the box on the bed, hustled to a closet, and pulled out a velvet shawl of vibrant purple.
“I’m guessing that’s from your great-aunt Sandra, too,” Zach said. When it got nearer, his body tightened . . . Clare used the same scent . . . he liked that scent, mysterious, intriguing, and his dick sure remembered kissing her, making love to her, when all she wore was that fragrance.
“Yes,” Clare said, tucking the cloth inside and arranging it. She slid a glance at him. “Do you think this will hold a full skeleton?”
Zach grimaced as he recalled autopsies he’d witnessed. “Nope. But hopefully
we
won’t be getting all of the bones. Let Laurentine arrange for his own box.”
“All right.” She gestured for him to put the phalanges in the box.
“Great,” he said, then stuck the bones in it and put it on the floor near his side of the bed. “You want me to take the rose and the poem, too?”
“For sure!”
He reached down, but the moment he touched the rose, it fell apart, the same with the paper.
Clare literally growled and crossed her arms tightly again. “Why are the bones strong and solid and not the rose and paper?” She stomped in place, one foot, then the other. A pang went through Zach at the thought he’d never be able to do that.
“Bones
are
denser. Surely there are still mummy bones around, right?”
“But the paper?”
“Dunno.”
“Rules. There seem to be no rules to this stuff!” She glared at him. “Or I can’t find any easily in Great-Aunt Sandra’s journals.”
“Clare,” he soothed.
She blinked at him and dropped her arms, breathed deeply enough he caught a hit of cleavage of her full breasts. “Let the questions go for now. We’ll sleep on everything,” he said.
Her head tilted. “You’re the peace officer, the investigator—can you put problems out of your head that easily?”
His lips formed into a half smile. “I’ve learned, and sleeping on problems can bring solutions.” He held out his hands to her.
Laughing and shaking her head, she said, “Go wash up. I’ll take care of the sheets.”
He wasn’t quite sure whether she’d throw them away or not. Her frugality no doubt battled the ick factor.
“I have pizza and beer downstairs. Come down when you’re ready.”
“Great.” He walked to the master bath and scrubbed up. While he did, she stripped the bed and put the contaminated sheets in the hamper, took others from a closet that would fit the bed she’d installed when he
“Let me help you with that.” He started forward. Stopped after one step when his left foot dragged along the floor, cringed. He’d forgotten. Despair surged through him. How long would it be before he wouldn’t forget his disability?
“It’s all right,” Clare said cheerfully and he couldn’t tell whether she’d seen his emotional pain. “The box is papier-mâché.” She looked at it, and her mouth turned down. “I don’t like the pattern.”
Now he noticed the tiny dancing skeletons in various colors on a black background. His lips twitched. “Something you inherited from your great-aunt Sandra?”
“Yes.” She looked at the thing with distaste. “And my brother
knew
I didn’t want it. But the thing is, he didn’t want it either.”
“And he packed up your great-aunt Sandra’s house.”
“Yes. And here it is,” Clare said.
“I’m sure J. Dawson will approve of it.”
She frowned at him. “You’re just saying that to be polite.”
“Yeah, but the box is appropriate.” He jiggled the bones in his own hands.
Clare flinched at the clacking sound. “That’s just icky.” She pulled out the little latch at the front of the box. “Brace yourself, Great-Aunt Sandra kept incense in it.”
As Clare opened the rounded top, heavy, pungent smells assaulted his nose. “You think we should put J. Dawson in here?” Zach asked. “Won’t his bones pick up residue or oil?”
Clare hesitated. “We’ll wrap him up first.” She put the box on the bed, hustled to a closet, and pulled out a velvet shawl of vibrant purple.
“I’m guessing that’s from your great-aunt Sandra, too,” Zach said. When it got nearer, his body tightened . . . Clare used the same scent . . . he liked that scent, mysterious, intriguing, and his dick sure remembered kissing her, making love to her, when all she wore was that fragrance.
“Yes,” Clare said, tucking the cloth inside and arranging it. She slid a glance at him. “Do you think this will hold a full skeleton?”
Zach grimaced as he recalled autopsies he’d witnessed. “Nope. But hopefully
we
won’t be getting all of the bones. Let Laurentine arrange for his own box.”
“All right.” She gestured for him to put the phalanges in the box.
“Great,” he said, then stuck the bones in it and put it on the floor near his side of the bed. “You want me to take the rose and the poem, too?”
“For sure!”
He reached down, but the moment he touched the rose, it fell apart, the same with the paper.
Clare literally growled and crossed her arms tightly again. “Why are the bones strong and solid and not the rose and paper?” She stomped in place, one foot, then the other. A pang went through Zach at the thought he’d never be able to do that.
“Bones
are
denser. Surely there are still mummy bones around, right?”
“But the paper?”
“Dunno.”
“Rules. There seem to be no rules to this stuff!” She glared at him. “Or I can’t find any easily in Great-Aunt Sandra’s journals.”
“Clare,” he soothed.
She blinked at him and dropped her arms, breathed deeply enough he caught a hit of cleavage of her full breasts. “Let the questions go for now. We’ll sleep on everything,” he said.
Her head tilted. “You’re the peace officer, the investigator—can you put problems out of your head that easily?”
His lips formed into a half smile. “I’ve learned, and sleeping on problems can bring solutions.” He held out his hands to her.
Laughing and shaking her head, she said, “Go wash up. I’ll take care of the sheets.”
He wasn’t quite sure whether she’d throw them away or not. Her frugality no doubt battled the ick factor.
“I have pizza and beer downstairs. Come down when you’re ready.”
“Great.” He walked to the master bath and scrubbed up. While he did, she stripped the bed and put the contaminated sheets in the hamper, took others from a closet that would fit the bed she’d installed when he
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