Hungry Ghosts (Eric Carter #3)(78)

Over time she’ll fade, grow gray and staticky like an overused videotape. But that will take too long. For a long time I couldn’t come back here. But I have something I have to do, and I’ve finally pushed aside the cowardice that kept me from doing it.

“Glad you made it,” Vivian says, opening the door for me, a thick manila folder in her hand. Her red hair is cut into a bob and she’s wearing a gray sweater dress with long, black boots. “I was half expecting you’d chickenshit out and not show up.”

“Almost did,” I say, stepping into the foyer. Lucy’s ghost is just outside my consciousness. A building pressure behind my eyes.

“That’s uncharacteristically honest of you,” she says. She closes the door and leads me into the kitchen. The house has been furnished. To sell it, she told me over the phone. If I’d been much longer chances are I’d have had to break my way in.

The image of her in Canter’s Deli the night my parents died flashes in front of my eyes.

“I’m a changed man.”

“I can tell. You’re not looking so green. So it went well?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m . . . cured I guess is the word.”

“And Tabitha?”

“I don’t know.” I’ve been thinking about telling her what happened—she was Tabitha’s friend, after all. At least until she learned she was involved with Santa Muerte. But I decided that would be a bad idea. After today I don’t expect we’ll see each other again.

That’s how it should be.

“You still have the ring,” she says. “Does that mean this isn’t over?”

“I don’t know that, either.”

She looks out the window into the alley, avoiding my eyes. “Where’s the Cadillac?” Lots of questions. I can’t tell if it’s small talk or delaying tactic, and I don’t suppose it matters.

“Broke down pretty much the minute I got back into town. I’ve got it in the shop. Going to cost a fortune to get some of the wards redone. I took a bus.”

“A bus? You know they have this thing called Uber, right? Or taxicabs?”

The last time I was in a cab I found out the driver was a serial killer whose last victim’s ghost was haunting the back seat. I killed the driver in the Santa Monica mountains and hid his car in a ditch.

“I don’t really like cabs. Is that it?” She’s holding the manila folder with a grip tight enough to leave dents.

“Yeah.” She looks at it, then up at me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. Are you sure you want me to? It is mine to deal with.”

She hesitates. Finally hands me the folder. I get the reluctance. It’s Vivian’s final tie to my sister. Once she passes this on there’s nothing left but her memories and grief.

The folder is surprisingly heavy, and when I open it I can see why. Aside from being stuffed full of paperwork there are several sheets of paper with keys taped to them and addresses neatly typed next to each. House keys, safe deposit keys, padlock keys. A couple of them don’t just have addresses, but sigils next to them.

“Some of these are warded?” I ask.

“Couple storage units. A safe deposit box,” she says. “Lucy could never get in. They responded to her but she didn’t have the power to unlock them. Alex and I both tried, but they wouldn’t budge. Maybe you can.”

It sounds like something our parents would do. Lock some secrets up that only family can crack. Probably did it before Lucy was born, or they would have made it so she could get in, too. Must have driven her crazy.

I’m not surprised my parents never told me about these. A secretive bunch, us Carters.

“How many properties are in here?” There’s a lot of paperwork. I actually own a house in upstate New York under a fake name. Haven’t seen it in about six years, but I don’t remember there being this much paperwork. I see my signature forged across everything in Vivian’s neat, tight script. Not sure how I feel about having my real name on official documents.

“Lucy’s house. Your parents’ property in the hills. A couple others scattered around L.A. I haven’t seen all of them, but Lucy had someone check a couple years ago. They were all empty.”

It’s a lot to take in and I’m not going to get through it all standing here. I close the folder.

“Do I need to sign anything?”

“It’s handled. Keys, paperwork. Property taxes are paid up through next year out of your trust fund.”

“My what?”

“Your trust fund. The money your parents left you? It was merged with Lucy’s. Paid the taxes out of it. You did know you inherited money from them, right?”

“I do now.” I had no idea. She doesn’t look surprised.

“Well, details are all in there. I know money isn’t something we worry about, but it’s there if you get sick of magicking ATM machines.”

“Thanks for this. And for everything you did for Lucy. I’m sorry things went the way they did.”

I know that’s not enough, but it’s all I’ve got.

“I’m thinking of leaving L.A.,” she says, not looking at me.

I thought as much. With Alex gone and this last piece of business to complete, there’s not much reason for her to stay. “Good. This is a shitty town. I hope things go better for you wherever you end up.” I don’t ask her where she’s planning to go. I shouldn’t know.