Dead and Kicking Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Praise for the Mysteries of Wendy Roberts

  Devil May Ride

  “An excellent, fast-paced read. Wendy Roberts does a wonderful job of mixing humor and danger together. Take one decomp-cleaning, ghost-whispering ex-teacher, toss in an ex-cop possible boyfriend, add in a devil-worshipping gang of bikers, stolen money, and we have one fantastically funny story. . . . I got caught up in the story from the very first page and couldn’t put it down . . . highly, highly recommend this story.”

  —ParaNormal Romance

  “A fun read . . . a well-told tale by talented author Wendy Roberts that will have you looking for her other books.”

  —Reader to Reader Reviews

  The Remains of the Dead

  “The dark suspense is lightened with witty banter and a breezy writing style that keeps the pages turning.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Allison Brennan

  “Fast-paced mystery with a paranormal twist. Ms. Roberts delivers tight, crisp dialogue, an exciting plot, and true-to-life characters. If you like CSI, Medium, or Ghost Whisperer, you’ll absolutely love The Remains of the Dead.”

  —MyShelf.com

  “Roberts has a unique gift: She makes talking to the dead as natural as talking to your neighbor over a cup of coffee. Sadie Novak, who cleans up crime scenes for a living, is a charming new heroine with a great deal of heart. . . . Here’s hoping she comes back soon.”

  —Romantic Times

  “A fantastic debut! The Remains of the Dead is hip, clever, and fun. Don’t miss this engaging story.”

  —National bestselling author Brenda Novak

  “A well-told mystery, a healthy dose of the paranormal, and a taste of potential romance will keep you guessing through the twists and turns. The Remains of the Dead leaves readers eager to discover where the next visit with Sadie and her friends will lead.”

  —Darque Reviews

  “The Remains of the Dead is a clever, humorous take on a fascinating occupation—a fast-paced, one-sitting read. A wonderfully flawed main character and unexpected story twists will keep you turning pages long into the night!”

  —Stephanie Bond, author of the Body Movers series

  “Wendy Roberts has created an incredibly unique amateur sleuth and a twist at the end of the book that I never saw coming.”

  —Jana DeLeon, author of Trouble in Mudbug

  “A fascinating, edgy series with a neat paranormal twist! A unique mystery with a great protagonist and an interesting cast of characters.”

  —Colleen Gleason, author of The Bleeding Dusk

  Also by Wendy Roberts

  The Remains of the Dead Devil May Ride

  OBSIDIAN

  Published by New American Library, a division of

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, December 2009

  Copyright © Wendy Roberts, 2009

  All rights reserved

  eISBN : 978-1-101-15190-7

  OBSIDIAN and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For my friend Tracey Warkentin. Thanks for always being in my corner.

  I owe much gratitude to the greatest editor in the world, Kristen Weber. Big hugs also to Becky Vinter for catching my errors and to Miriam Kriss for her help.

  My trauma clean research is made easier by the expertise of Theresa Borst of Bio Clean Inc.

  1

  The cemetery smelled of freshly mowed grass. Today Sadie would’ve preferred the pungent stench of body decomposition. She shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and skipped her gaze over the cluster of family and friends to glance upward at the gunmetal sky. She looked anywhere but just ahead of her, at the casket that rested on straps, waiting to be lowered into the gaping hole beneath.

  The priest’s voice droned on about how the human body was merely a shell.

  Tell me about it, Sadie thought, swallowing a thick lump of emotion.

  If anyone knew souls weren’t attached to their bodies, it was Sadie. She lived that truth nearly every day. While Scene- 2-Clean, her trauma clean company, mopped up the physical mess of death, Sadie dealt with the spirits that needed help to move on to the next dimension.

  In the back of her mind Sadie thought her firsthand knowledge of spirits and the ethereal dimension should give her comfort at the funeral of a loved one. It didn’t. Tears threatened but she bit them back.

  Sadie let out a small, sorrowful sigh, and Zack’s hand found hers. She tensed at first, then relaxed and linked her fingers with his, offering him a grateful smile before turning her gaze to the crowd. Her sister, Dawn, balanced her one-year-old son on her hip and leaned into the embrace of her husband, John. When Dawn’s eyes met Sadie’s, the pain there was so raw that Sadie had to look away.

 
The priest wrapped up his monotone oration by offering solace to the bereaved, and people began to walk back to their cars. A knot of clouds overhead threatened to turn the warm August day into a soaker. Some mourners paused to comment softly in Sadie’s ear as they embraced her, but their words of comfort dropped like stones at her feet.

  For Sadie, the event was like walking through a surreal emotional fog. She couldn’t wait to leave the cemetery, but then, once they arrived at her mom’s house, the emotional cloud was even more suffocating. Mourners came for the wake, and a couple of hours of small talk sandwiched between murmured repetitions of “so sorry for your loss” made Sadie seek out quiet corners to escape. When the crowd thinned to just family, Zack tracked down Sadie as she sipped coffee alone in the kitchen.

  “Your mom’s asking where you are. Why don’t you come into the living room with everyone else?” Zack asked. His dark eyes were soft with sympathy and understanding.

  “Okay. . . . Um, I just need to use the washroom first,” Sadie replied.

  She walked quickly down the hall and wondered how long she could successfully stay hidden in the main bathroom before someone came looking for her. She’d held her emotions together for days. It was a constant battle not to fall apart but she just didn’t want to let the wall down. Not yet.

  Sadie used the toilet, flushed, and walked to the sink to splash cold water on her face. She glanced up at her reflection in the mirror, took in the dark circles under her eyes, and then ran damp fingers through her short cropped hair. She’d recently changed her blond highlights to red and was still getting used to the color.

  “I liked your hair better before.” The deep male voice spoke up quietly from behind her.

  Sadie squeaked in surprise and whirled to face the man.

  “Wh-what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I know,” he said, holding up a hand. “You’re a grown woman. I shouldn’t be sneaking up on you in the bathroom. It’s unseemly.”

  “It’s not that. . . .” Sadie shook her head slowly from side to side and tried to come up with an easy way to say what needed to be said. “Dad, you shouldn’t be here. You can’t be here. You’re dead.”

  Her father tossed back his head and laughed with a throaty guffaw that reminded Sadie of childhood Christmas mornings and Sunday picnics. Tears burned her eyes but she blinked them away.

  “It’s true, Dad. You’re dead. Gone. We just put you to rest at Memorial Cemetery.”

  “I didn’t raise you to be a fibber, young lady.” His voice was a harsh, reprimanding growl.

  Sadie sat down on the toilet seat and blew out an uneasy breath. “You had a heart attack watching Leno.”

  “I always knew Jay’s monologue would kill me,” he said with a snort.

  At Sadie’s deadpan face, he took a step forward and reached for her. His hand dropped straight through Sadie’s shoulder but he didn’t appear to notice. Sadie shivered with the revulsion that always coursed through her body when spirits attempted to physically touch her.

  “Have you had a hit to the head? A fever?” he asked.

  Sadie looked up into her father’s gray eyes and shook her head.

  “No, Dad.” She locked eyes with him. “I’m serious.”

  “That’s ridiculous! How can I be dead? If I was dead, we wouldn’t be able to have this conversation.”

  “So you’d think,” she commented drily. At his confused look she took a deep breath and blurted out her usual spiel. “I can see and talk to the dead . . . those who haven’t gone over. It’s a little gift I adopted after Brian died. I see a lot of spirits in the trauma clean business. I try to help them.”

  “You’ve been hanging out with that weird psychic friend of yours too much. I always told you if you hang out with dogs, you’ll catch fleas.” He shook an angry finger in her face.

  “This has nothing to do with Maeva.”

  “Then you’ve been working too long cleaning up crime scenes. What kind of job is that for a young woman anyway? Who on earth has ever heard of a pretty young thing like you mopping up people’s bodily fluids after they’ve been left to rot and—”

  “Stop,” Sadie pleaded quietly. She pinched her eyes shut, and a fat tear squeezed beneath her lashes and traced a wet trail down her cheek. “Please. Just stop. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

  “You need to talk to someone. A shrink. A counselor. Someone. Guess we should’ve gotten you some help after your brother killed himself but—”

  “This isn’t about Brian. This is about you!” Sadie raised her voice. “You’re dead! Haven’t you wondered why you haven’t been able to talk to anyone for days, not even Mom? All the people who have been in the house for the last few hours were here for your wake.”

  “That’s crazy talk.” He puffed out his cheeks and walked over to the small bathroom sink. “You’re saying I’m a ghost. Well, according to all the old movies I’ve seen, if I was a ghost I wouldn’t be able to see myself in the—”

  His words were abruptly cut short because there was no reflection staring back at him in the mirror. The look on his face was first astonishment, followed quickly by fear. Sorrow knifed painfully through Sadie’s chest.

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “But . . . but how can this be?” he murmured.

  His fingers reached out to touch the mirror and simply passed right through. He looked back over at Sadie and quickly vanished.

  Sadie knew her father’s spirit wasn’t gone for good. There’d been no shimmer. Years of experience told her that when the spirits she met left for the next dimension permanently, their shapes always shimmered around the edges before slowly dissipating. A quick disappearance like this meant he’d only left the room or was no longer visible to Sadie but not gone over for good.

  “You okay in there?” Zack called from the other side of the bathroom door.

  “I’ll be right out,” Sadie replied.

  She heard Zack walk away, then waited a beat to see whether her dad would return.

  “When you’re ready to talk about this, I’ll be around,” Sadie said quietly to the empty room.

  She stepped out of the bathroom and walked down the hall to the living room. She saw Dawn hoisting one-year-old Dylan into her arms while John snagged the diaper bag and various toys off the carpet.

  “You’re leaving?” Sadie asked. “Already?”

  “It’s time for his nap,” Dawn replied.

  “He could nap here,” Sadie offered, waving a hand to indicate the bedrooms down the hall.

  “It’s just easier if he’s in his own bed,” John explained.

  “Maeva and Terry did a great job catering the wake,” Dawn said, shifting Dylan onto her other hip. “They said to say good-bye to you. They were in a hurry because Terry has to cater a wedding in a few hours and Maeva has a séance at her psychic café at four o’clock. She said to let you know that she’ll call you later.”

  “Where’s Mom?” Sadie looked around for her mother.

  “She went to lie down,” Dawn said. “I think she took one of the sedatives the doctor prescribed.”

  At Sadie’s worried look, Dawn added, “She’s going to be fine.”

  “Her husband of forty-eight years just died. I don’t think ‘fine’ is the word that covers it,” Sadie said snarkily.

  “Easy.” Zack placed a warning hand on her arm.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Dawn said reproachfully.

  “You know, Sadie, we’ve been with your mother practically every second since your dad died. As a doctor I can tell you this won’t get better overnight. Of course she’s hurting, but she’ll have to be alone eventually,” John stated softly.

  “I know that but she shouldn’t be alone today,” Sadie insisted. “Not hours after the funeral.”

  “We can stay longer,” Zack said. “We’re not in any rush.”

  But Sadie was in a rush. She didn’t want to deal with the naked grief shimmering in her mom’s red-rimme
d eyes. It too closely mirrored Sadie’s own pain. Also, she didn’t want to deal with her dead father, whose ghost was for some reason camping out in the bathroom.

  “You’ve been avoiding spending one-on-one time with Mom since it happened,” Dawn accused.

  “I have not,” Sadie protested, but at Dawn’s piercing glare she relented. “Okay, maybe I have but—”

  “Look, I get it,” Dawn said huffily. “You miss him. You’re hurting. But we all miss him and we’re all hurting. You don’t have the market cornered on pain.”

  “I never said I did.”

  “Well, then don’t act like it,” Dawn bit out.

  “You two knock it off,” Dad chimed from the hallway. “Your squabbling will wake up your mother.”

  “Shut up,” Sadie hissed.

  “You shut up!” Dawn retorted angrily.

  Sadie was about to defend herself by explaining that she was only talking to their dead father, but she stopped herself.

  “Let’s just go,” John said, taking a now whimpering Dylan from Dawn’s arms and heading for the door with a gentle hand guiding his wife.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Sadie protested lamely, but she didn’t want to follow that up with I was talking to our dead father, who finally decided to come out of the bathroom. John didn’t know about Sadie’s so-called gift and Sadie didn’t want to open that can of rancid worms today of all days.

  It wasn’t until Dawn and her little family had left in a huff that Zack spoke.

  “So your dad’s ghost is here with us, huh?” His square jaw was set in a look of amusement mixed with resignation. He’d long given up pretending Sadie’s talent was anything but real.

  “Yup. He’s here. This day just keeps getting better and better,” Sadie said sarcastically. She eyed her father standing in the corner of the room and her breath caught in her throat. She never thought she’d see him again but this situation wasn’t exactly an answer to a prayer.