"I told you I was a rock star," Taylor beamed happily after they had finally gathered their bags and were heading to the airport shuttle.
"Actually, I think it was Maddy you told," Flack pointed out. "And I distinctly remember a half hour up there where you were acting like the plane was going to crash."
"Taylor’s terrified of flying," Riley told Chase, unable to stop from rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, I gathered from the screaming," Chase agreed.
"Hey!" Taylor objected. "I was not screaming."
Riley pulled a face. "You kinda were."
Taylor looked over at Flack who just shrugged at her. "Et tu, Brute?" she asked him, batting her eyelashes. He just laughed. "Fine," Taylor mock-sulked. "See if I care."
Riley and Chase shot to the back of the shuttle bus as soon as it arrived, leaving Flack and Taylor to make sure their cases got onboard safely. By the time they got on to find their own seats, they were sitting midway down the bus.
"I really hope your father got us separate rooms for those kids at the Crowne Plaza," Flack muttered. They could hear the two teenagers babbling excitedly at the back of the bus.
"I thought teenagers were supposed to be easier than children," Taylor muttered back.
Flack looked at her incredulously. “Seriously?"
Taylor frowned, thinking about what she said, and shook her head. "Yeah, I take that back."
"Actually, I think it was Maddy you told," Flack pointed out. "And I distinctly remember a half hour up there where you were acting like the plane was going to crash."
"Taylor’s terrified of flying," Riley told Chase, unable to stop from rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, I gathered from the screaming," Chase agreed.
"Hey!" Taylor objected. "I was not screaming."
Riley pulled a face. "You kinda were."
Taylor looked over at Flack who just shrugged at her. "Et tu, Brute?" she asked him, batting her eyelashes. He just laughed. "Fine," Taylor mock-sulked. "See if I care."
Riley and Chase shot to the back of the shuttle bus as soon as it arrived, leaving Flack and Taylor to make sure their cases got onboard safely. By the time they got on to find their own seats, they were sitting midway down the bus.
"I really hope your father got us separate rooms for those kids at the Crowne Plaza," Flack muttered. They could hear the two teenagers babbling excitedly at the back of the bus.
"I thought teenagers were supposed to be easier than children," Taylor muttered back.
Flack looked at her incredulously. “Seriously?"
Taylor frowned, thinking about what she said, and shook her head. "Yeah, I take that back."
* * *
It took the best part of two hours get there – they had arrived in the middle of rush hour traffic, and on top of that, the shuttle had to make several other indirect stops before they arrived at the hotel. As such, Taylor was less than impressed when the harassed looking check-in girl handed them swipe cards to one room.
The room was nice. It was free, and paid for by the Navy, so Taylor could hardly complain. However, there were only two double beds. Taylor looked at Flack and pulled a face. He gave a sigh. "I’ll head back downstairs," he told her.
Taylor dragged the cases into the room and made her way to the window, ignoring Riley and Chase who were now arguing over what they wanted to watch on the television. They had been given a room on the top floor which looked out over the river. In the distance she could see one of the naval vessels docked.
It was a good half hour before Flack managed to return and he shook his head as soon as he entered the room. "They’re booked up. The poor check-in girl looked like she was going to cry at one point."
"Those two are not sharing a bed," Taylor told him.
Flack joined her side and shook his head again. "The good news is that that sofa is actually a sofa bed.
Taylor let out a small sigh of relief before turning her attention to the teenagers sprawled over the couch, having finally settled on watching something on the Discovery Channel. "Right, we have three hours before we meet my father. I’m having a shower. I suggest you think about doing the same." She turned to Flack and lowered her voice. "Want to join me?"
"Yeah," Flack nodded. "But I probably shouldn’t."
"This has my mother written all over it," Taylor muttered, moving back to the bed and pulling her suitcase onto it. Finding the dress she was looking for, she grabbed her bath things and headed for the shower.
The room was nice. It was free, and paid for by the Navy, so Taylor could hardly complain. However, there were only two double beds. Taylor looked at Flack and pulled a face. He gave a sigh. "I’ll head back downstairs," he told her.
Taylor dragged the cases into the room and made her way to the window, ignoring Riley and Chase who were now arguing over what they wanted to watch on the television. They had been given a room on the top floor which looked out over the river. In the distance she could see one of the naval vessels docked.
It was a good half hour before Flack managed to return and he shook his head as soon as he entered the room. "They’re booked up. The poor check-in girl looked like she was going to cry at one point."
"Those two are not sharing a bed," Taylor told him.
Flack joined her side and shook his head again. "The good news is that that sofa is actually a sofa bed.
Taylor let out a small sigh of relief before turning her attention to the teenagers sprawled over the couch, having finally settled on watching something on the Discovery Channel. "Right, we have three hours before we meet my father. I’m having a shower. I suggest you think about doing the same." She turned to Flack and lowered her voice. "Want to join me?"
"Yeah," Flack nodded. "But I probably shouldn’t."
"This has my mother written all over it," Taylor muttered, moving back to the bed and pulling her suitcase onto it. Finding the dress she was looking for, she grabbed her bath things and headed for the shower.
* * *
Her father had told them to meet at the Hard Rock Café in Hollywood. He had already made the reservations, so when they arrived all they had to do was follow the hostess through the restaurant to a table by the guitar that had once belonged to Dave Navarro of Jane’s Addiction. Taylor was so fascinated by the memorabilia on the wall that she didn’t see her mother until it was too late.
"Oh, crap," she blurted out.
"Taylor Nicole Turner!" her mother chided her. "You will not use that language."
Taylor ignored her, giving her father a hug. "Hi Dad," Taylor whispered softly. "I’ve missed you."
"You look beautiful," he told her, stepping back. He looked over her shoulder at the small crowd behind her. "And these would be Riley and Chase?"
Her father seemed to take to the teenagers straight away, but her mother sat there, barely speaking. Taylor ignored her, focusing on the meal in front of them. She knew her mother, and knew it wasn’t personal. As far as Nicolette was concerned, Taylor should have been married to Flack before kids were thought of, and even then, she knew that she would have preferred adoption to fostering. It was just the way she was, and Taylor was anxious for a nice meal that she didn’t want to say anything to ruin it.
It wasn’t until her father had paid for the bill that he produced another surprise for them. "I know you can’t stay long," he told the teenagers. "And I know you kids are only going to be able to stand one day of ships and sailors."
Flack looked at Taylor who shrugged back at him. She had no idea what he was about to say.
"If you would be so kind to join me at the docks tomorrow, so Taylor and Don can have a day to themselves, I will let you have these." From the top pocket of his jacket he pulled out four tickets for Universal Studios.
Riley and Chase were speechless.
"Dad, we can’t accept them," Taylor hissed at him. "You’ve already bought the plane tickets out here."
"Do you want to be responsible for disappointing those two?" he whispered back at her, a subtle nod of the head at Riley and Chase who were babbling excitedly to Flack.
"No," Taylor admitted. "But you can’t keep spending money on us."
Her father just smiled.
They finished up and said goodbye to her parents, her mother remaining unnaturally quiet, and decided that they would grab a bus to see the stars on Hollywood Boulevard. Taylor, who had been to Los Angeles numerous times before she had moved to New York, and Flack , who was only interested in the occasional star, held back, walking hand in hand, as Riley and Chase stormed off ahead to see how many famous people they could find.
"What do you want to do tomorrow?" Flack asked her.
"I don’t care," Taylor replied. "I lived in San Diego. It was easy to get to LA when I wanted so I’ve seen the sights. This one is all on you."
"Let’s see what the weather is like then," Flack told her.
Taylor burst out laughing. "It’s California. It will be warm and dry." She was about to launch into a very long grumble about the lack of seasons there, but she stopped when she spotted someone walk out of a bar a few buildings ahead of them. "Is that Cory?" she asked Flack.
Flack looked over at the back of the auburn haired woman Taylor was pointing at and frowned. "Who?"
"Cory Reid. The FBI agent." She glanced up at Flack and shrugged. "Ex-FBI agent. She quit."
"I doubt it," Flack told her, shortly.
Taylor’s eyes narrowed. There was something in the way he responded to that, which had her doubting him. "And why’s that?"
Flack shrugged, his face relaxing. "Why would she be in LA?"
"Other people do vacation here," Taylor pointed out. Cory disappeared into another bar.
"It’s not Cory," Flack told her firmly.
Taylor wasn’t paying any attention. She was distracted by the ghost that was following the ex-FBI agent. He was currently standing outside the bar, watching through the window, a troubled frown on his face. Almost like he was worried about the woman he was following. Taylor stared at him. Judging from Cory’s behavior, there was probably a very good chance she didn’t know she was being followed. The ghost looked up, catching her stare, and then disappeared.
"Who are you?" Taylor muttered.
"A stranger who has the same hair colour as Cory," Flack told her.
Taylor didn’t bother to correct him. Instead, she turned her attention to where they were. They had wandered down the street for long enough to arrive at the Chinese Theatre, and Riley and Chase were busy comparing their handprints to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s.
They spent another hour playing at tourist before finally deciding to grab a cab back to the hotel. As the waited by the side of the road to hail one down, Taylor’s attention was again caught by the auburn haired woman leaving the bar. It was definitely Cory.
Seconds later, another woman came out of the bar, chasing after her, shouting something Taylor couldn’t hear over the noise of the street. They were arguing now. The woman looked scared, but she wasn’t so afraid that her hands weren’t flying around as she argued with the ex FBI agent. She couldn’t see Cory’s face anymore – her back was to her – but her posture didn’t seem angry. Concerned, maybe?
The two paused in their argument momentarily as a group of people passed them, and then, when they had gone, the two continued, although their movements had become smaller.
When the ghost reappeared, Taylor knew for a fact that Cory couldn’t see him. There was no way she would ignore him – not with the panicked, helpless expression on his face as he tried desperately to tell her something.
"What on earth…?" Taylor asked, taking a step in their direction.
Suddenly, Flack was yelling "GET DOWN!" shoving her behind a parked car. Taylor slammed onto the ground, only just putting her hands out in time to catch herself. Then, all she was conscious of was gun fire, glass exploding, and screams.
There was a squeal of tires and a roar of an engine. For a second, the street was silent, and then the screaming started up again.
Taylor sat up, looking around, desperately for Riley and Chase, spotting them a few yards up the street, cowering behind another parked car, eyes wide. Conscious of the fact Flack was already dialing 911, she scrambled over to them. "Are you alright?" she asked them, grabbing at Riley’s shoulders so she could check her over. "You’re bleeding," she cried in alarm.
Riley shook her head, slightly dazed. "It’s not me," she told her.
Taylor looked at her hands. "But there’s blood," she told her, holding her palms up. She went to check Riley over again, but Chase’s warm hands were on her wrist.
"I think it’s your blood," he told her.
Taylor glanced back at the palms of her hands. It took a moment, and she realized that Chase was right. She sank back down heavily on the pavement and let out a deep breath. "Thank God," she muttered. She jumped as Flack placed a hand on her shoulder, crouching down next to them.
"Is everyone alright?" he asked them.
Riley and Chase nodded.
"Tay," he murmured in her ear. "A minute?"
Taylor nodded, allowing him to help her to her feet.
"Your hands?" he muttered, frowning at the grazes.
"They don’t hurt," Taylor told him. "I was more worried about Riley and Chase. What happened?"
"Drive by shooting," Flack told her, nodding his head across the street.
Taylor’s eyes widened. "Cory!" She whirled around. The woman Cory had been arguing with was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Cory, thankfully, was alright, crouched down next to her, trying to stop the blood. "Oh my God," she muttered.
Flack sighed. "Call your father."
Taylor looked at him, frowning. "Dad?"
Flack nodded. "You sound like you saw something that might help the LAPD," he admitted. "And if we’re going to be spending hours giving statements, you should ask your father to take the kids back to the hotel and stay with them."
"Oh, crap," she blurted out.
"Taylor Nicole Turner!" her mother chided her. "You will not use that language."
Taylor ignored her, giving her father a hug. "Hi Dad," Taylor whispered softly. "I’ve missed you."
"You look beautiful," he told her, stepping back. He looked over her shoulder at the small crowd behind her. "And these would be Riley and Chase?"
Her father seemed to take to the teenagers straight away, but her mother sat there, barely speaking. Taylor ignored her, focusing on the meal in front of them. She knew her mother, and knew it wasn’t personal. As far as Nicolette was concerned, Taylor should have been married to Flack before kids were thought of, and even then, she knew that she would have preferred adoption to fostering. It was just the way she was, and Taylor was anxious for a nice meal that she didn’t want to say anything to ruin it.
It wasn’t until her father had paid for the bill that he produced another surprise for them. "I know you can’t stay long," he told the teenagers. "And I know you kids are only going to be able to stand one day of ships and sailors."
Flack looked at Taylor who shrugged back at him. She had no idea what he was about to say.
"If you would be so kind to join me at the docks tomorrow, so Taylor and Don can have a day to themselves, I will let you have these." From the top pocket of his jacket he pulled out four tickets for Universal Studios.
Riley and Chase were speechless.
"Dad, we can’t accept them," Taylor hissed at him. "You’ve already bought the plane tickets out here."
"Do you want to be responsible for disappointing those two?" he whispered back at her, a subtle nod of the head at Riley and Chase who were babbling excitedly to Flack.
"No," Taylor admitted. "But you can’t keep spending money on us."
Her father just smiled.
They finished up and said goodbye to her parents, her mother remaining unnaturally quiet, and decided that they would grab a bus to see the stars on Hollywood Boulevard. Taylor, who had been to Los Angeles numerous times before she had moved to New York, and Flack , who was only interested in the occasional star, held back, walking hand in hand, as Riley and Chase stormed off ahead to see how many famous people they could find.
"What do you want to do tomorrow?" Flack asked her.
"I don’t care," Taylor replied. "I lived in San Diego. It was easy to get to LA when I wanted so I’ve seen the sights. This one is all on you."
"Let’s see what the weather is like then," Flack told her.
Taylor burst out laughing. "It’s California. It will be warm and dry." She was about to launch into a very long grumble about the lack of seasons there, but she stopped when she spotted someone walk out of a bar a few buildings ahead of them. "Is that Cory?" she asked Flack.
Flack looked over at the back of the auburn haired woman Taylor was pointing at and frowned. "Who?"
"Cory Reid. The FBI agent." She glanced up at Flack and shrugged. "Ex-FBI agent. She quit."
"I doubt it," Flack told her, shortly.
Taylor’s eyes narrowed. There was something in the way he responded to that, which had her doubting him. "And why’s that?"
Flack shrugged, his face relaxing. "Why would she be in LA?"
"Other people do vacation here," Taylor pointed out. Cory disappeared into another bar.
"It’s not Cory," Flack told her firmly.
Taylor wasn’t paying any attention. She was distracted by the ghost that was following the ex-FBI agent. He was currently standing outside the bar, watching through the window, a troubled frown on his face. Almost like he was worried about the woman he was following. Taylor stared at him. Judging from Cory’s behavior, there was probably a very good chance she didn’t know she was being followed. The ghost looked up, catching her stare, and then disappeared.
"Who are you?" Taylor muttered.
"A stranger who has the same hair colour as Cory," Flack told her.
Taylor didn’t bother to correct him. Instead, she turned her attention to where they were. They had wandered down the street for long enough to arrive at the Chinese Theatre, and Riley and Chase were busy comparing their handprints to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s.
They spent another hour playing at tourist before finally deciding to grab a cab back to the hotel. As the waited by the side of the road to hail one down, Taylor’s attention was again caught by the auburn haired woman leaving the bar. It was definitely Cory.
Seconds later, another woman came out of the bar, chasing after her, shouting something Taylor couldn’t hear over the noise of the street. They were arguing now. The woman looked scared, but she wasn’t so afraid that her hands weren’t flying around as she argued with the ex FBI agent. She couldn’t see Cory’s face anymore – her back was to her – but her posture didn’t seem angry. Concerned, maybe?
The two paused in their argument momentarily as a group of people passed them, and then, when they had gone, the two continued, although their movements had become smaller.
When the ghost reappeared, Taylor knew for a fact that Cory couldn’t see him. There was no way she would ignore him – not with the panicked, helpless expression on his face as he tried desperately to tell her something.
"What on earth…?" Taylor asked, taking a step in their direction.
Suddenly, Flack was yelling "GET DOWN!" shoving her behind a parked car. Taylor slammed onto the ground, only just putting her hands out in time to catch herself. Then, all she was conscious of was gun fire, glass exploding, and screams.
There was a squeal of tires and a roar of an engine. For a second, the street was silent, and then the screaming started up again.
Taylor sat up, looking around, desperately for Riley and Chase, spotting them a few yards up the street, cowering behind another parked car, eyes wide. Conscious of the fact Flack was already dialing 911, she scrambled over to them. "Are you alright?" she asked them, grabbing at Riley’s shoulders so she could check her over. "You’re bleeding," she cried in alarm.
Riley shook her head, slightly dazed. "It’s not me," she told her.
Taylor looked at her hands. "But there’s blood," she told her, holding her palms up. She went to check Riley over again, but Chase’s warm hands were on her wrist.
"I think it’s your blood," he told her.
Taylor glanced back at the palms of her hands. It took a moment, and she realized that Chase was right. She sank back down heavily on the pavement and let out a deep breath. "Thank God," she muttered. She jumped as Flack placed a hand on her shoulder, crouching down next to them.
"Is everyone alright?" he asked them.
Riley and Chase nodded.
"Tay," he murmured in her ear. "A minute?"
Taylor nodded, allowing him to help her to her feet.
"Your hands?" he muttered, frowning at the grazes.
"They don’t hurt," Taylor told him. "I was more worried about Riley and Chase. What happened?"
"Drive by shooting," Flack told her, nodding his head across the street.
Taylor’s eyes widened. "Cory!" She whirled around. The woman Cory had been arguing with was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Cory, thankfully, was alright, crouched down next to her, trying to stop the blood. "Oh my God," she muttered.
Flack sighed. "Call your father."
Taylor looked at him, frowning. "Dad?"
Flack nodded. "You sound like you saw something that might help the LAPD," he admitted. "And if we’re going to be spending hours giving statements, you should ask your father to take the kids back to the hotel and stay with them."
* * *
Her father told them he was taking the kids back to the USS Nimitz. Although the supercarrier’s homeport was NAS North Island in San Diego, an exception had been made to dock her in Los Angeles for Fleet Week so crew could visit their families, but also so the public could have a look and view the vessel and the planes she homed. Taylor was fairly certain that her father was breaking several regulations by having the children sleep on the ship, but she was thankful – it meant that they would be safe.
It wasn’t the LAPD that took their statement, but rather, a couple of FBI agents. Agent Sinclair and Betancourt weren’t particularly forthcoming with information, even when Flack mentioned he was an NYPD homicide detective. All they would say was that it was “probably gang related”.
By the time they made it back to the hotel room, it was late. Taylor was exhausted. She sank onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
"I need a beer," Flack told her. "There’s a liquor store across the way. You want something too?"
"Wine," Taylor muttered. "Lots of wine."
He disappeared, leaving Taylor alone.
For all of five minutes.
The second the temperature dipped and the goose bumps appeared, she knew she wasn’t alone. She turned her head, expecting to see Maddy, but sat up suddenly when she saw it was the man who had been following Cory.
Her eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"James. James Hogan."
She eyed him warily, drinking in his appearance. He wasn’t wearing white. So he wasn’t likely to be an LA equivalent of Maddy or Aiden, or even Speed. He also didn’t show any visible signs of cause of death, so unless he was poisoned, he wasn’t there to get her to solve her death. He also knew his name. Which led her to one conclusion.
"You know you’re dead."
"You know I’m dead," he countered.
Taylor arched an eyebrow. "Is that not why you’re here?"
"You can see me, and you can understand me?" he asked her.
“Sadly," she sighed. “So, James Hogan, how can I help you?"
James walked over to the couch, settling down into it, his long legs stretched onto the coffee table as he eyed her thoughtfully. "I have been dead five years and you’re the first person who can see me."
"Yes," she said, nodding patiently. "It’s a gift. I think."
He stared at her for a moment longer, watching her carefully. "Would you help me?"
Taylor stared back, unblinking. "You’re the first person to ask me that," she said finally.
"Is that a yes?"
"It’s a yes, with conditions," she told him. "We’re working on a very small time frame here. I’m in LA for two and a half more days, and on Saturday I have to spend the day with Riley and Chase. And if they are around, you can’t be. They don’t know I can see ghosts, and I am not letting this weekend get even crazier for them."
James nodded. "That seems fair."
Taylor crossed her legs underneath her and cocked her head. "Exactly what kind of help do you need?"
"I can’t stay here much longer," he sighed. "I think she almost knows that I’m here, that she can sense me, and I need her to move on. I want her to be happy. She deserves it."
"You don’t see a light?" Taylor asked him thoughtfully.
"I can’t go until I know she’s going to be alright."
"Is this related to the shooting earlier?"
James frowned. "The shooting is only part of it. Cory is more than capable of looking after herself with that."
"I’m a little confused," Taylor admitted.
“She blames herself for you getting shot."
Taylor blinked. "You know about that?"
"You think I’ve been dead five years and not been with the woman I love for that time?" he asked her. "Of course I know about it."
"Then you should know it wasn’t her fault," Taylor pointed out. "I’m the person who got in too deep with my research. And Felix Bohr is the person who shot me. Not Cory."
"I know that," James agreed. "And I think that, deep down, Cory knows that too. But she blames herself, because she was the one who carried out Bohr’s background checks. The demotion she got before she quit only confirmed that in her mind."
"I’m still not sure I understand," she told him.
James sighed patiently. "I want you to tell her that it wasn’t her fault."
The door opened behind them and Flack walked in, pulling out a bottle of wine. "They didn’t have the greatest selection of wine," he said. He stopped and looked at Taylor. "There’s a ghost in here, isn’t there." It wasn’t a question.
Taylor nodded. "And you know this, how?"
"It’s either that, or you’re having a conversation with an empty couch." He sighed and sat the alcohol onto the table. "I guess we’re headed to the FBI."
"It’s not the FBI we have to go see," Taylor told him. "And you don’t have-"
“Shut up," Flack said, rolling his eyes. "I’m not having you wandering around this city by yourself. Who do we need to speak to?"
"Cory," Taylor told him with a smile. "I knew it was her. It shou-"
"Not a chance," Flack said, cutting her off again.
Taylor stared blankly at him. "Not a chance?"
"You are not going anywhere near her," he confirmed. "I don’t care what some stupid ghost is telling you."
"Why?" James growled, getting to his feet.
"Yeah, why?" Taylor asked, looking at Flack.
Flack scowled. "Because she is dangerous and you are not getting dragged into whatever gang related mess she has gotten herself into."
James was striding over to Flack, straight through the coffee table, his fists clenched. With her eyes wide, Taylor leapt to her feet and got between the two of them, holding her hands up to stop James. He walked straight through her. "Oh!" Taylor gasped.
"What?" Flack demanded. "What is the ghost doing?"
Taylor whirled around. The “ghost” was inches away from Flack’s face. "Keep up talking crap about my fiancé and I will kick your ass." James growled.
Taylor darted over, shivering uncomfortably as she got between the two men, accidentally, passing through James. “Stop it. Both of you. We are not doing this."
She turned to Flack. "Look, Don, it has nothing to do with the shooting. James, her fiancé, just wants to say goodbye."
Flack stared at her for a very long time. "Fine," he told her, finally. "Let’s go."
Taylor pulled a face. "Don, it’s late. She’s not-"
“She’s at the FBI," James told her.
"We’re doing this tonight because we are not wasting tomorrow chasing after Cory Reid," Flack told her at the same time.
"Fine," Taylor conceded wearily. "Let’s get this over and done with."
It wasn’t the LAPD that took their statement, but rather, a couple of FBI agents. Agent Sinclair and Betancourt weren’t particularly forthcoming with information, even when Flack mentioned he was an NYPD homicide detective. All they would say was that it was “probably gang related”.
By the time they made it back to the hotel room, it was late. Taylor was exhausted. She sank onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
"I need a beer," Flack told her. "There’s a liquor store across the way. You want something too?"
"Wine," Taylor muttered. "Lots of wine."
He disappeared, leaving Taylor alone.
For all of five minutes.
The second the temperature dipped and the goose bumps appeared, she knew she wasn’t alone. She turned her head, expecting to see Maddy, but sat up suddenly when she saw it was the man who had been following Cory.
Her eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"James. James Hogan."
She eyed him warily, drinking in his appearance. He wasn’t wearing white. So he wasn’t likely to be an LA equivalent of Maddy or Aiden, or even Speed. He also didn’t show any visible signs of cause of death, so unless he was poisoned, he wasn’t there to get her to solve her death. He also knew his name. Which led her to one conclusion.
"You know you’re dead."
"You know I’m dead," he countered.
Taylor arched an eyebrow. "Is that not why you’re here?"
"You can see me, and you can understand me?" he asked her.
“Sadly," she sighed. “So, James Hogan, how can I help you?"
James walked over to the couch, settling down into it, his long legs stretched onto the coffee table as he eyed her thoughtfully. "I have been dead five years and you’re the first person who can see me."
"Yes," she said, nodding patiently. "It’s a gift. I think."
He stared at her for a moment longer, watching her carefully. "Would you help me?"
Taylor stared back, unblinking. "You’re the first person to ask me that," she said finally.
"Is that a yes?"
"It’s a yes, with conditions," she told him. "We’re working on a very small time frame here. I’m in LA for two and a half more days, and on Saturday I have to spend the day with Riley and Chase. And if they are around, you can’t be. They don’t know I can see ghosts, and I am not letting this weekend get even crazier for them."
James nodded. "That seems fair."
Taylor crossed her legs underneath her and cocked her head. "Exactly what kind of help do you need?"
"I can’t stay here much longer," he sighed. "I think she almost knows that I’m here, that she can sense me, and I need her to move on. I want her to be happy. She deserves it."
"You don’t see a light?" Taylor asked him thoughtfully.
"I can’t go until I know she’s going to be alright."
"Is this related to the shooting earlier?"
James frowned. "The shooting is only part of it. Cory is more than capable of looking after herself with that."
"I’m a little confused," Taylor admitted.
“She blames herself for you getting shot."
Taylor blinked. "You know about that?"
"You think I’ve been dead five years and not been with the woman I love for that time?" he asked her. "Of course I know about it."
"Then you should know it wasn’t her fault," Taylor pointed out. "I’m the person who got in too deep with my research. And Felix Bohr is the person who shot me. Not Cory."
"I know that," James agreed. "And I think that, deep down, Cory knows that too. But she blames herself, because she was the one who carried out Bohr’s background checks. The demotion she got before she quit only confirmed that in her mind."
"I’m still not sure I understand," she told him.
James sighed patiently. "I want you to tell her that it wasn’t her fault."
The door opened behind them and Flack walked in, pulling out a bottle of wine. "They didn’t have the greatest selection of wine," he said. He stopped and looked at Taylor. "There’s a ghost in here, isn’t there." It wasn’t a question.
Taylor nodded. "And you know this, how?"
"It’s either that, or you’re having a conversation with an empty couch." He sighed and sat the alcohol onto the table. "I guess we’re headed to the FBI."
"It’s not the FBI we have to go see," Taylor told him. "And you don’t have-"
“Shut up," Flack said, rolling his eyes. "I’m not having you wandering around this city by yourself. Who do we need to speak to?"
"Cory," Taylor told him with a smile. "I knew it was her. It shou-"
"Not a chance," Flack said, cutting her off again.
Taylor stared blankly at him. "Not a chance?"
"You are not going anywhere near her," he confirmed. "I don’t care what some stupid ghost is telling you."
"Why?" James growled, getting to his feet.
"Yeah, why?" Taylor asked, looking at Flack.
Flack scowled. "Because she is dangerous and you are not getting dragged into whatever gang related mess she has gotten herself into."
James was striding over to Flack, straight through the coffee table, his fists clenched. With her eyes wide, Taylor leapt to her feet and got between the two of them, holding her hands up to stop James. He walked straight through her. "Oh!" Taylor gasped.
"What?" Flack demanded. "What is the ghost doing?"
Taylor whirled around. The “ghost” was inches away from Flack’s face. "Keep up talking crap about my fiancé and I will kick your ass." James growled.
Taylor darted over, shivering uncomfortably as she got between the two men, accidentally, passing through James. “Stop it. Both of you. We are not doing this."
She turned to Flack. "Look, Don, it has nothing to do with the shooting. James, her fiancé, just wants to say goodbye."
Flack stared at her for a very long time. "Fine," he told her, finally. "Let’s go."
Taylor pulled a face. "Don, it’s late. She’s not-"
“She’s at the FBI," James told her.
"We’re doing this tonight because we are not wasting tomorrow chasing after Cory Reid," Flack told her at the same time.
"Fine," Taylor conceded wearily. "Let’s get this over and done with."
Chapter 239 | Contents | Chapter 241 |
Originally posted: 17/01/2011