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out her hand, a sizeable diamond rest on her finger. I
whistled. Paul was a previous boyfriend of Shannon s
I d actually approved of. Strong, sensible, he worked for
the FBI in some capacity I wasn t privy to.
Gone a few months and everybody else s lives move
forward.
"Congratulations, sis. How did Connor take it?"
"As well as expected. He took Paul out for drinks,
threatened him, and now they re friends."
"Oh good, then I don t have to."
She smacked my arm. "You leave Paul alone. I swear
The Hanged Man's Ghost - 109
you and Connor are worse than Da."
I grinned. "Na, Pops wouldn t hurt him. He d just
make sure every cop in the state treated him like hell.
My way is much less nasty. And be nice, I m still
crippled." Walking with a cane. Crippled. Same
difference.
She frowned, we got in the car. "We re having dinner
with the family tonight."
I blinked. "Tonight?" We d had reconciliation of a
sort, my parents and I. I understood their reasons for
lying about Michael; I did. Family pride tended to get in
the way a lot with us. Uncle Charlie was a prime
example of that. Michael had tried to kill me, he'd gone
crazy, and then killed himself. They'd wanted to protect
me. But none of it explained the nagging feeling. The
tidbit the creature had whispered into my ear.
Was Michael dead?
"Yup."
"You want to send me back to the nuthouse?"
She shrugged. "Sorry, Fynn, I didn t have much of a
choice. We ll stop by your place so you can shower and
change, but we have to be there by eight p.m. sharp. You
know Ma."
I did indeed. "This bites. Wait, my place?"
"Connor and I kept the rent up for you." She smiled.
"You ll be back at the job before you know it, and you
can pay me back."
"Thanks, Shannon." That was& a real surprise.
"And, I ll be your date this evening." Reggie grinned.
"We wouldn t throw you to the wolves all alone."
"So nice to have friends." Where s Jack?
***
The Hanged Man's Ghost - 110
The dining room was dominated by the antique
dining table Ma had inherited from Great-Grandma
Patty. The table was dominated by a tureen of stew, a
bowl of roasted potatoes, and several dishes of
vegetables and the apple pie I d been eyeing for the
greater part of the dinner. The walls were papered with a
green stripe and pictures of our family hung in even
intervals on either side of Ma s prized crucifix. She said
it had come all the way from the Vatican.
Whether that was true or not had no bearing on how
my mother felt about the thing. Paul, Shannon s fiancé,
was sitting next to Ma. He was pretty good looking, very
clean cut. He had that Fed look to him, the grey suit and
tasteful blue tie. His nose was straight, a little big, his
hair was dark and neatly cut, and he was the only white
guy in the room with dark eyes.
Fifteen minutes into Ma s famous lamb stew, and I
was sure I would be happier dead. Then I could haunt
random places with Rob, who was trying not to laugh at
my misfortune. He and I had also had something of a
reconciliation during my stay in the nuthouse. I was still
angry but& it was nice to have somebody around that
didn t think I was insane. Even if that person was a
ghost.
Ma was chatting up Paul. I sort of felt sorry for him.
Connor was talking about baseball with Da, and
Shannon was talking to Reggie about a case. Reggie was
running his foot along the inside of my thigh.
I could use a fuck.
I poked at my lamb and did my best not to show on
my face what he was doing. "You know, Fynn, you
should start seeing people," Ma said. "I bet Paul has
some nice friends."
I grimaced. "Or I could put an ad in the classifieds.
The Hanged Man's Ghost - 111
Gay Ex-Cop seeks someone to fuck." It was not until
after the words came out of my mouth that I realized
what I had said. I d never sworn in front of my Ma
before (when not under the influence of strong pain
medication). She had gone pale. Da was pale too, with
rage. I thought Connor was going to jump the table and
throttle me. "Or something."
"Watch your language around your mother," Da
snapped.
"Pops, I m an adult. Adults can say fuck." I stood up.
"This whole dinner was a bad idea. You still think I m
off the reservation and I& well, I m still pissed at you."
I grabbed my coat and cane and left the house. It was
cold outside. My breath fogged in front of my face. It
had been fall, chilly, when I d gone into the hospital. It
was winter now. In full swing. The street lights lit the
street, the shadows made a nightmare of the usually
idyllic spot. I shuddered. Someone put a hand on my
shoulder. I turned, it was Reggie. "It s okay, Fynn. It is."
I was so angry. Angry at my parents. Angry at
Voight. At the creature. At myself. "Half of Chicago
thinks I m a dirty cop, my parents think I m nuts, and
Jessica Yates' killer is still out there because I couldn t
close."
"I know you aren t a dirty cop, Fynn." He kissed me.
"Do you want go back inside or to my place? Either
way, you have to get out of the cold."
I pondered for a long moment. There was no way in
hell I was going back in there.
"Your place." He wrapped his arms around me, and
his chin rested on my shoulder. It was nice being close
in height. Most of the men I dated were smaller than me.
Reggie was different -- in a lot of ways.
"Okay." Reggie led me to his car, settled me into the
The Hanged Man's Ghost - 112
passenger s seat, and drove us to his apartment.
His apartment was nice, a studio split up into kitchen,
living room, dining room, and his bedroom. The floor
was stepped. The living room sank down, his bedroom
had a staircase leading up to it. A bit more private. The
door locked, Reggie turned his attention to me. Which
served my interests just fine.
He kissed me, sliding one hand under my shirt. "You
up to a little comfort?" He whispered into my ear.
"Yeah." I kissed him back.
Let me say this: I don t usually buy into the whole,
one guy is the guy and one is the girl thing. I like an
equal partnership in longish relationships. But whenever
I was with Reggie, I was definitely the submissive one.
It was one of the reasons the relationship hadn t
survived. I didn t like being submissive. But tonight,
tonight was okay. I needed someone to tell me what to
do.
He was just the person to do that.
I let him pull me up the stairs to the bedroom. I let
him lay me down. I let him comfort me. For that night,
the nightmare parade of faces of the dead did not appear.
I simply slept.
***
I woke up to the smell of bacon. My stomach
growled. I scrambled out of the blankets and looked
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