Cope’s face paled. He looked like he was going to throw up. Bolting from the table, Cope ran toward the bathroom. Seconds later, Jude could hear his husband getting sick. “I’m so sorry.” Jude looked back and forth between Sofia and Dante. “In all the years we’ve been together, this has never happened.”
“Do you think Cope saw something?” Sofia asked, sounding scared and hopeful in equal measure.
“I’m not sure. I’ll go check on him.” Jude was worried about Cope. Ten was famous for tossing his cookies when he was in the presence of overwhelming pain and suffering. Jude had been telling the truth when he said nothing like this had ever happened to Cope before.
Unless Jude missed his guess, Cope had seen something. Possibly more of the vision he’d had of Frankie and the gun coming up to aim at her head. What if he’d seen the killer? Or Frankie’s last moments? Heading for the bathroom, he hoped Cope would be able to tell him what had just happened and together, they could figure out a way to tell the Conti’s without adding further heartbreak.
8
Cope
Cope knelt in front of the Conti’s toilet, afraid he was going to get sick again. He’d projectile vomited so hard that what was left of his scrambled eggs had crashed into the bowl and splattered up at him. More than anything Cope wanted to wash the regurgitated egg off his skin, but was afraid to move from the floor. The cold tiles felt heavenly against his hot face.
A soft knock solved Cope’s most imminent worry, that he’d been forgotten and left on the floor to die alone. “Jude?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” Jude opened the door and shut himself inside the small room. He went to the sink and wet a washcloth, which he used to gently clean up Cope. “Are you okay to stand up?”
“I’m not sure. I think I’m safer here for the moment.” What Cope wanted to do was run out of the house and not look back, but knew that was the last thing he could do.
“What the hell happened back there?” Jude asked, cupping Cope’s face in his hands. “Did you have more of your vision?”
Cope shook his head. “No, it was worse.”
“What could possibly be worse than seeing Frankie’s last moments on Earth?”
“I saw her spirit, Jude.” Cope felt his stomach threaten to rebel again. He took several deep breaths through his mouth, hoping to calm the rising storm.
“You see ghosts all the time. What was different about seeing Frankie?”
“She was sitting like this in the chair across from her father.” Cope crossed his arms over his chest, like a corpse in a coffin. “Frankie’s hands were bound at the wrists in a figure eight. She was fighting against the duct tape with all the strength she had. More tape was secured over her mouth. Jude, I could hear her muffled screams for help.”
“Jesus.” Jude gulped for air. “I can understand why you bolted from the room. Was that all you saw?” Jude sounded as if he were afraid there was much more to come.
“Yeah. Frankie couldn’t speak to me. Spirits are no longer bound by what ailed them in life. Blind spirits can see, the deaf can hear. It shouldn’t have mattered that she couldn’t speak with her physical body, she should have been able to speak to me through telepathy.” Tears streamed down Cope’s face. “Frankie was terrified, Jude. I’ve never seen fear like that in another person’s eyes before. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on her face.” Cope dashed his hands against his eyes. He tried to stand and faltered. Jude grabbed his shoulders to help steady him.
“I’ve got you.” Jude wrapped his arms around Cope. “I hate to ask, but if we walk back into the living room, will she still be there?”
“I don’t know.” Cope shivered against Jude’s shoulder. “I’m almost afraid to find out. On the one hand, Frankie’s parents deserve to know what I saw. It’s going to break them all over again. On the other hand, it’s possible Frankie is gone or there’s more she has to show me.”
“Let’s find out, okay?” Jude held Cope tighter. “I promise we’ll get you out of here as soon as we can, but what do we do about Frankie? Is there any way we can get her to appear to you at the shop or at our house?”
“I can try.” Cope took a deep breath and steeled his spine. He needed to be strong for Dante and Sofia. God knew they’d been through enough. He pulled away from Jude and washed his face in the sink before cupping water in his hands to rinse out his mouth. “Okay, I’m ready. I don’t know how steady on my feet I’m going to be.”
“I’ve got you, babe. I promise.”
Nodding, Cope opened the bathroom door and walked back into the living room, which was dead silent. All eyes were on Cope as he resumed his seat.
“Are you okay?” Sofia asked. “Can I get you some tea or ginger ale?”
“Thank you, but I’m okay. I’m so sorry for what happened a few minutes ago.” Cope’s eyes moved between Frankie’s parents. He could feel their grief as if it were as tangible as the glossy magazines on the coffee table. What he was about to tell them was only going to intensify their pain.
“Did you see our daughter?” Dante asked. He was holding Sofia’s hand in what looked like a death grip.
“I did,” Cope confirmed. “She appeared in the chair across from you.” He pointed. “She isn’t there now.” It was a minor relief for Cope not to have to see Frankie restrained and terrified, but he knew that any information he could get from her could be the clue that would lead to her killer.
“Was she hurt?” Sofia asked. Tears cascaded down her face. The grief-stricken mother didn’t bother to wipe them away.
“Sort of. Frankie’s hands were bound in duct tape in front of her.” Cope held up arms to demonstrate, like he’d done for Judeearlier. “The tape was wound around her hands, so she wasn’t able to free herself. Her mouth was duct taped shut.”
