“Stop, go back,” Jackson said.

“Sir?” Smith said.

“Go back—there were two officers in that car, and they didn’t look right,” Jackson said.

Even Jake, next to him in the backseat of the car, looked at him as if he was losing it.

“Smith, go back, please.”

“They’re probably just on break.”

“Please,” Jackson said firmly.

With a sigh, Smith did as he was asked. He parked the police car and Jackson hopped out. He walked toward the car.

Both occupants were slumped over.

Dead.

The driver was a police officer.

The passenger was not.

Angela woke with her head pounding. For a moment, she was lost—completely lost. Disoriented, and in pain.

Then she remembered clearly what had happened. She was in Regina Holloway’s bedroom, on the floor. The pain of rug burns on her flesh told her that she’d been dragged there.

Something was touching her foot. Whitney’s body, she realized.

“It’s time,” she heard.

She looked up. Grable Haines was grinning down at her, a gun in his hand. “Ghost busters, busted! Cool. The legend of this house is going to grow and grow.”

She stared at him, knowing that he wasn’t alone when she heard the giggle behind him. It was Lisa Drummond, of course.

“Be careful. The ghosts will get you,” Lisa said.

He laughed again. “I’ve got the gun. Ghosts don’t get guns, I don’t think.”

“You’d be surprised at how powerful they can be,” Angela said.

“Make her shut up, Grable,” Lisa said.

He ignored Lisa.

Angela shook her head. “The senator is an amazing actor. I believed he was horrified by the images the projector put out. But he ordered the projector,” she said.

“Right. Well, Lisa ordered the projector. But, yes, the sainted Senator Holloway knew. He wanted his wife to think that she was meeting her son. He thought that she would die happily that way. He never saw the images we created,” Grable said.

“Everyone in this was a liar,” Angela said. “And you should know this—I think the senator actually brought us in, knowing what would finally come out and planning on getting rid of DuPre and all of you, through us.”

“Oh, no,” Grable said. “You don’t understand politics. The senator will come out of all this just fine—after you’re dead, of course. And we’ll be just fine as well.”

“Shut up, she doesn’t need to know any of this!” Lisa said. “Everything will fall on Martin DuPre, and they’ll think street thugs got hold of Blake and that cop. And everything went just perfectly, so let’s just finish it.”

“The senator will get you—just as he got DuPre,” Angela said.

“We know what we’re doing,” Lisa insisted. “Oh, yes, we’ll be just fine.”

“No, you won’t. Don’t you see—the senator really has to clean house. And speaking of which, that leads to one more question—you obviously slept with everyone,” Angela said to Lisa. “Which one are you really trying to be with?”

“Obviously, I’m going to be the next Mrs. Holloway,” Lisa said with disgust. She didn’t seem to mind explaining things to Angela, as long as she was the one doing the talking. “And once you’re dead, taken by the ghosts, it will be clean and clear. Martin DuPre went insane. He was responsible for everything. And Blake is dead now, too. So we’ve survived, horrified and grieving.”

“Why are you back here to kill us? That makes no sense,” Angela said.

Lisa smiled. “I’m not a dumb blonde. I know all about Jackson Crow—and the members of his last team! They died. And now, he’s lost so many people on this new team. His word will be worthless. Nothing he says against the senator will mean anything—because DuPre was the killer.”

“They’ll know we died after DuPre,” Angela said.

Lisa shook her head. “Time of death is never that specific.”

“Yes, it can be,” Angela said.

“Get up!” Grable said. “The ghosts will be blamed for anything that doesn’t fall on DuPre.”

“Oh, please! You can’t believe that! This may be New Orleans, and people love their stories and their legends, but they’ll never blame it all on ghosts!”

“Don’t kid yourself—when men can’t find an explanation, they look to legend all the time, and to superstition!” Grable said. “You’re just trying to waste time. And you’re not going to do it anymore.”

“You really are an idiot. Don’t you see—you just told me. Holloway did want his wife dead. You carried it out for him. If he’s really cleaning house now, he’s going to have to get rid of the both of you, too. Lisa, you are never going to be Mrs. Holloway.”

“You don’t know anything!” Lisa told her. “Men love me. He loves me.”

“Like he loved his wife,” Angela said.

“Get up!” Grable ordered again.

Angela staggered to her feet. She could see that Whitney and Will were alive, thank God, but they weren’t going to help her. They were still unconscious. Maybe it was best that way.

Standing was painful. Time. She had to play for more time, get them arguing, explaining again and again. Lisa liked to prove she was smart. She didn’t want to be a dumb blonde. “You’re crazy. You really are. Did Martin DuPre really kill the missing girls? Or did you? Was DuPre being set up and framed for everything? I’d say you could have done it, easily. Maybe DuPre was really the one being set up.”

“Set up? The little bastard was going to ruin everything. He wanted to be the real messiah. He thought he was God.”

“But did he kill the girls?”

“Get out on the balcony,” Grable said.

“Wait. I’m going to die. I want the truth.”

“All right,” Lisa said, pushing past him. “You want it all? Regina Holloway went nuts with grief. The senator was desperate. First, Martin got him a girl, pretending in the dark that David Holloway was the ‘bishop.’ Then Martin took her himself. And then…well, Martin was the one who killed the girl. He got the bright idea to bring her here, and she started screaming, and he could hear that Regina Holloway was coming in the house—home early from some function or the other. He killed the girl to shut her up, stuffed the body down in the basement for the night, but then had to come back to actually get rid of the corpse. It wasn’t so hard. In his mind, he’d become like a god, so he didn’t owe anything to Holloway or anyone. He did it a second time—got carried away with one of the girls—when the little bitch got bitchy. Holloway needed to get rid of his wife anyway. So I talked him into a bit of a scheme that would just rid him of her. He ordered the projector, but he said that the house was creepy.”

“Where did Blake fall into it all?” Angela demanded.

“Oh, well, he was the fool, you see. He fell for Lisa, and he believed everything that she said to him. He was set up to kill Martin DuPre,” Haines explained.

“And both the girls are buried in the wall, right?” Angela asked.

“Weirdest damn thing,” Grable said, grinning. “It was like someone showed me where to bury those bodies! But, you know, someone did show me.” He started to laugh. “There’s some old bones back there, so…hey, this is a murder house. Has been, always will be.”

“You’re crazy. Do you think that Jackson Crow is going to come back and let all this rest? Do you think that he won’t tear apart the whole damn place? He’ll find the bodies—and you’ll be all who’s left!”

“DuPre will be blamed.”

She shook her head. “The projector,” she said.

Grable’s fingers twitched at the trigger of the gun. “Get out,” he told her. “Get out.”

“Sure.”

“You go first,” Lisa said, laughing. “Your ghost can wait for your little friends!”

“Stop it!” Grable said, angry. “Wait! The projector? What are you talking about?”

“We traced it,” Angela told him. “The police will know that Senator Holloway—or someone in his office—bought the projector. You see, actually, I’m thinking that the senator didn’t really know about it. Sure, his wife was making his life hell. But he didn’t want anything like what happened to her happening. Let’s think—I bet he also had ordered Martin DuPre bring women from the Church of Christ Arisen to meet with him, and that might have been why the first one had to die. And why the senator had to pay blackmail. Not his loan to you, Grable. But blackmail. Blackmail, because you figured out that DuPre was getting him a young girl. But what does that really matter now?”

“Oh, you are an ass! The senator knew about the projector. He knew,” Lisa said, pushing forward. “He knew! He had to get rid of his wife, for his polecat future. Come on, think about it, Angela. He was a desperate man. But what he wanted was me. At the beginning, it was just an affair. And, at the beginning, he did just want the organizations infiltrated. The church was a group that splintered off from the Aryans. The Aryans didn’t care enough about God—they were all about color and race! Holloway just wanted to find something that would bring them down at first, but he was always a dog. He loved listening to DuPre talk about what was going on. He loved women. But his wife was a worthless, sopping pile of tears all the time. I wasn’t the first woman with whom he had an affair, but now, I’ll keep him happy.”

“But he used the women Martin DuPre cajoled into his sect. He slept with them. He pretended to be a bishop. He doesn’t love you, and I just don’t believe that the two of you can’t see that he’s going to have to kill you, too.” She turned from Lisa to stare at Grable.

“Grable—you were seen at the casino the day that Regina Holloway died.” She turned back to look at Lisa. “So, you were the one who ran the projector and killed Regina Holloway. She didn’t just plummet over the balcony with fear—so you pushed her.”