When the Dead Speak by Bailey Bradford (books to read to improve english txt) 📕

immediate reply, then he added, “I guess I’ll have to sit here till you do have something to say. I’m not an idiot, Laine. And…” Zeke sat up straight, looking a little flustered, his gaze darting around the dull gray walls of the room before finally settling back on Laine. “Brendon’s not the only one worried, okay? He didn’t even have to bribe me.” Zeke seemed as mortified at the admission as Laine felt.

Shit, he must look pretty bad if even Zeke was worried. But what could he say? Laine was scared that if he said one thing, admitted to one problem, everything would come tumbling out—and his pride could not survive that. But, he rationalized, there was something he could admit to Zeke. He owed the man, didn’t he?

Laine sat up straight and lifted his chin. “I’m sorry. I should have done more to keep you safe. This”—Laine gestured with his hand at Zeke’s cane—“shouldn’t have happened. I made a mistake by not putting Eva in jail for making threats against you and Brendon.” That was one weight off his shoulders, but it didn’t take the guilt away.

“You think that would have stopped her? Seriously?” Zeke slapped the desktop. “You don’t think she would have posted bail and been back out on the street immediately? Or that her freaking holy husband wouldn’t have tried to kill me anyway? Because he was in that car, too, Laine, don’t you forget that.”

“How could I?” Laine wanted to shout, to strike out and hit something, but there was no reason for that something to be the man in front of him. Laine struggled to keep his voice low, calm. “If I’d have done my job right, they’d both have been in jail.”

“Bullshit. That’s bullshit and you know it. If, if, if! If I’d filed charges on any of the numerous occasions Eva had threatened me or assaulted me. If your predecessor, Sheriff Rawlins, had been a half-assed decent sheriff! You don’t get to carry that by yourself, you don’t. So tell me, why are you wallowing in it, Laine? Or are you?” Zeke narrowed his eyes and Laine would have sworn those eyes could see into his soul. “What’s really eating at you?”

Laine wouldn’t answer, couldn’t. Besides, wasn’t that bit he’d shared enough? He knew Zeke was right to an extent, but it was Laine’s job to take care of everyone, keep the people of McKinton safe, and he’d failed spectacularly where Zeke was concerned. Whether or not he’d screwed up by not tossing Eva in jail, he’d failed to keep Zeke from harm.

It wasn’t the first time he’d let someone down. At least this time, he’d been aware of the problem and someone he cared about—though he thought that might just be stretching it—hadn’t died regardless. A slight ruffling of his hair had Laine closing his eyes in defeat. What was it with him drawing the dead now? Was it even happening, or was he just fucking losing it, bit by bit? If it was real… But if it wasn’t, that was surely worse, right? His hair was carded again, a soft caress. It firmed a lump of rigid fear in his belly even as he almost enjoyed the otherworldly—or imaginary—touch. Words slipped out, pushed up by a need to know what, exactly, was reality. “Zeke, can’t you tell your mama that now isn’t the best time?”

Silence cloaked the room for minutes. That’s it, I’m hallucinating or something, and now, Zeke knows I’m losing it. Christ. And I’m still feeling imaginary fingers in my hair… That’s it, I am fucked. It took several deep breaths before Laine finally had the nerve to open his eyes. Zeke had gone pale as the proverbial ghost, and was staring at Laine with startled eyes.

“I don’t know who that is, Laine.” Zeke shook his head and Laine didn’t miss the fine trembling in Zeke’s hands as he reached for Laine’s hands on the desk. “But I swear to you, that isn’t my mama’s spirit playing with your hair.”

“Shit.” Irritation warred with relief. After all, if Zeke saw it, too, then Laine wasn’t making it up. Relief was stomped down quickly as those ghostly fingers tugged smartly. Laine had had about enough of this. He stood and grabbed his Stetson, pushing it down on his head. It didn’t surprise him in the least when his hat was batted to the ground, his hair once again carded by whatever determined spirit had decided to show up.

Zeke, on the other hand, looked like he was on the verge of a meltdown. He was reaching blindly for his cane, his gaze never wavering from Laine’s head. Laine stooped down, picked up his hat and hurried to Zeke’s side before the man could hurt himself trying to get up.

“Cut it out already.” Laine wasn’t sure if he meant the grabby ghost or Zeke, who had knocked his cane to the floor and was trying to get up and, no doubt, out of the office immediately. Laine reached for the cane and handed it to Zeke, placing his arm around Zeke’s waist and making sure the man had a steady grasp on the cane before Laine let go. He kept close to Zeke as they skirted around another chair and made their way out of the office.

Doreen was on the phone, chatting away to some friend or relative, and waved to them as they left the building. Laine was grateful for that bit of luck. Neither he nor Zeke was fit to hold a conversation with Doreen just yet. They stepped out into the hot Texas day and just stood there, letting the sun chase away the spooked feeling. Well, Laine wasn’t so spooked any more. It was sad to say that he was kind of getting immune to being creeped out by ghosts, or spirits, whatever they were called. At least now he knew it was all real. He found himself actually grinning as he glanced over and saw Zeke’s