PRAISE	FOR	CB	SAMET

Four-time	award	winning	author

“…	women	engagingly	contend	with	otherwordly	entities	and	real-world

danger,	 while	 also	 grappling	 with	 that	 most	 mysterious	 phenomena:	 the human	 heart.	 Samet’s	 prose	 vacillates	 skillfully	 between	 various

registers,	expressing	sensuality,	suspense,	and	humor,	as	needed.

A	collection	of	well-executed	…	tales	of	love	and	ghosts.”

—	KIRKUS	REVIEW	(ON	ROMANCING	THE	SPIRIT	SERIES,	BOOKS	1-

6)

“Heartwarming	 stand	 alone	 novellas,	 each	 with	 their	 own	 supernatural twist.	From	Egypt	to	a	small	town,	old	love	rekindled	to	new	loves	and

loves	 that	 last	 the	 centuries.	 Each	 book	 perfect	 to	 cuddle	 up	 with	 on	 a chilly	day	and	escape	into	romance	that	never	dies.”

—	AUTHOR	H.M.	GOODEN	(ON	ROMANCING	THE	SPIRIT	SERIES,

BOOKS	1-6)





SADIE’S	SPIRIT

ROMANCING	THE	SPIRIT	SERIES

CB	SAMET





CONTENTS

Untitled

Chapter	1

Chapter	2

Chapter	3

Chapter	4

Chapter	5

Chapter	6

Chapter	7

Chapter	8

Chapter	9

Dear	Reader

Also	by	CB	SAMET:

Excerpt	from	Willow’s	Windfall





Sadie’s	Spirit

a	Novella

Romancing	the	Spirit	Series

CB	SAMET





Text	©	2018	CB	Samet

All	rights	reserved.	No	portion	of	this	book	may	be	reproduced	in	any	form	without	permission	from	the publisher,	except	as	permitted	by	U.S.	copyright	law.	For	permissions,	contact:

cbsamet@cbsamet.com

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	any	actual	persons,	living	or	dead,	events,	or locales	is	entirely	coincidental.

Cover	Design	by:	Creative	Parmita

Print	ISBN:	978-1-950942-08-4





To	Shea,	a	remarkable	friend,	mother,	and	physician





1

A person	can	only	die	once,	and	Sadie	had	met	her	quota	for	the	day.

Nevertheless,	 she	 screamed	 in	 terror	 when	 the	 headlights	 of	 the

eighteen-wheeler	 blinded	 her.	 It	 drove	 straight	 through	 her	 without slowing.

After	 the	 truck	 passed,	 Sadie	 ran	 her	 palms	 over	 her	 body.	 Apparently,	 she could	touch	herself	even	if	objects	couldn’t	touch	her.	She	walked	back	into	the woods	towards	her	unmoving	body.

She	hadn’t	expected	her	own	death	to	happen	so	quickly,	or	when	she	was	so

young.	She’d	been	in	the	prime	of	her	life.	She	had	certainly	never	believed	she would	 stand,	 as	 a	 ghost,	 over	 her	 corpse	 as	 it	 lay	 crumpled	 beneath	 her	 on	 a moist	 bed	 of	 golden	 and	 auburn	 leaves.	 As	 she	 continued	 to	 stare	 in	 disbelief, she	began	to	drift	away	from	her	body.

She	floated	up	toward	the	starlit	sky.

Am	I	heaven	bound?	If	such	a	thing	existed,	will	it	be	somewhere	in	the	sky?

Somewhere	celestial?

Above	 the	 tree	 line,	 the	 setting	 sun	 shone	 in	 brilliant	 pinks	 and	 oranges.

When	she	looked	down	at	her	body	again,	she	saw	her	hooded	attacker	standing over	her.	She	couldn’t	see	his	face	under	the	hoodie	he	wore.	He	appeared	to	be robbing	 her,	 rummaging	 through	 her	 over-the-shoulder	 sack	 and	 checking	 the

pockets	 of	 her	 olive	 hiking	 pants.	 She	 felt	 violated,	 even	 though	 she	 was	 no longer	inside	her	body.

The	 sight	 stunned	 her.	 As	 a	 critical	 care	 physician,	 she	 had	 seen	 many corpses.	The	mortality	rate	of	patients	in	the	intensive	care	unit	was	over	thirty percent.	Death	was	part	of	life;	no	one	reached	the	end	of	the	road	alive.	But	she had	wanted	to	achieve	so	much	more	in	life,	and	thirty-two	was	too	young.	Her career	had	been	in	its	infancy,	and	was	beginning	to	blossom.

Now	what?	Wander	as	a	ghost	forever,	or	is	there	a	better	place	to	go?

As	 Sadie	 floated	 higher,	 a	 bout	 of	 nausea	 struck	 her.	 Her	 fear	 of	 heights threw	her	into	a	panic.	Her	irrational	phobia	had	made	no	sense	in	life,	and	made even	less	sense	in	death.

She	hyperventilated,	if	indeed	it	were	possible	for	a	ghost	to	do	so.	Flailing her	arms	and	legs,	she	tried	to	swim	through	the	air;	to	descend.	Glimpses	of	a distant	 memory	 bombarded	 her:	 a	 small	 swinging	 box	 high	 in	 the	 air	 on	 a	 hot summer’s	day.	As	she	and	her	mom	rocked	in	the	Ferris	wheel,	Sadie	clutched the	safety	bar	with	a	white-knuckled	grip.	Due	to	an	equipment	failure,	they	had been	stuck	at	the	peak	of	the	wheel;	trapped	in	a	box	suspended	more	than	two hundred	feet	up	in	the	air.

As	Sadie	eased	her	spirit	back	down	to	earth,	her	panic	slowly	subsided.	Her feet	 made	 contact	 with	 the	 paved	 road.	 Solid.	 Secure.	 She	 understood	 what	 it truly	meant	to	be	grounded.

She	 looked	 around	 at	 her	 surroundings	 as	 dusk	 fell.	 The	 forest	 was	 gone, replaced	by	a	suburban	landscape.	The	street	and	houses	looked	familiar.

Mom’s	house!

Her	mom	lived	two	hours	south	of	the	trail	Sadie	had	been	hiking	along.	She ran	to	the	front	porch,	taking	the	steps	two	at	a	time,	and	lunged	at	the	doorknob.

But	instead	of	grasping	it,	her	hand	plummeted	through	the	door,	the	momentum carrying	her	stumbling	body	with	it.

She	 straightened	 and	 cleared	 her	 throat.	 “I	 knew	 that	 would	 happen,”	 she said	to	herself.

“Mom!”	she	called.

Can	she	hear	me?

Sadie	darted	left	into	the	living	room.	A	familiar	pale	blue	couch	and	white wicker	 furniture	 sat	 at	 the	 center.	 Empty.	 The	 mantle	 over	 the	 fireplace	 was cluttered	 with	 family	 photos	 of	 Sadie,	 her	 sisters,	 and	 her	 nieces	 and	 nephews.

The	familiar	scene	made	her	nostalgic.	She	hadn’t	been	home	in	over	a	year.

Life	was	work.	And	work	was	at	the	hospital.	She	had	patients	to	see,	grants to	write,	and	papers	to	review.

“Mom!”	She	walked	toward	the	foyer,	then	into	the	kitchen.	“Mom!”

Sadie	 heard	 voices	 from	 the	 back	 of	 the	 house,	 so	 she	 ran	 into	 the	 dining room.

Her	mom,	Leila	Crawford,	was	seated	at	the	table	wearing	a	cream-colored

silk	jumpsuit	with	a	string	of	pearls	around	her	neck.	Three	other	women	were seated	around	the	table.

Spades. They	were	playing	spades,	and	were	oblivious	to	her	presence.

“Mom?”	 Sadie’s	 voice	 faltered	 as	 she	 felt	 her	 hope	 fade	 into	 a	 sad,	 hollow pit.

Friday	 night	 was	 card	 night.	 Her	 mom	 always	 gathered	 with	 her	 friends	 on Fridays	for	cards	and	apple	martinis.	They	usually	played	and	drank	until	Susan, her	mother’s	neighbor,	became	tipsy	and	belligerent.

With	 sickening	 dismay,	 Sadie	 realized	 her	 mom	 didn't	 yet	 know	 she	 was dead.	 She	 had	 been	 attacked	 only	 minutes	 earlier.	 Leila	 entertained	 guests, unaware	that	her	daughter's	corpse	lay	cold	and	still	on	the	hiking	trail.

When	will	she	realize	I’m	missing? 	Sadie	wondered.

Tomorrow	 was	 Saturday,	 and	 although	 Sadie	 had	 planned	 to	 go	 to	 the hospital	 to	 work	 on	 her	 research,	 she	 wasn’t	 expected	 to	 be	 there.	 Her	 coworkers	wouldn’t	suspect	anything	until	she	failed	to	turn	up	on	Monday.	Sadie only	called	her	mom	on	a	monthly	basis,	so	Leila	wouldn't	have	reason	to	worry unless	someone	from	the	hospital	called	her.

Sadie	walked	toward	the	table,	moving	right	into	the	middle	of	it.

“Can	anyone	hear	me?”	she	boomed,	hands	on	her	hips.

She	looked	down	warily,	seeing	only	the	top	half	of	her	torso	visible	above the	tabletop.	How	was	she	standing	inside	the	table,	but	still	touching	the	floor?

She	averted	her	eyes	to	the	card	players.

“Did	you	see	that	woman	Fred	brought	to	the	club	last	week?	She	was	half his	age!”	Susan	said.

Sadie’s	mother	nodded	her	head.	“He	brings	a	different	girl	every	week.	I’m not	sure	who	he’s	trying	to	impress.	We	all	find	it	atrocious.”

Susan	 made	 a	 sound	 of	 disgust.	 She	 looked	 across	 the	 table	 at	 Leila,	 her regular	 card	 partner.	 “We	 never	 win	 at	 Spades.	 Why	 do	 we	 play	 this	 wretched game?”

“You	rush	through	it	without	thinking,”	Leila	replied.	“You	need	to	strategize more.	You’re	like	my	Sadie,	slipping	through	life	in	haste.	Enjoying	nothing	and burning	her	candles	at	both	ends.”

Molly,	 a	 blond	 woman	 in	 a	 pink	 cardigan,	 snorted.	 “Susan’s	 drinking	 the vodka	bottle	at	both	ends.	Wasn’t	that	the	fourth	martini	you	just	drained?”

Susan	 stuck	 her	 tongue	 out	 at	 her	 friend.	 “Is	 that	 all?	 I’d	 better	 get	 myself another.”

Sadie	 stomped	 her	 feet	 on	 the	 ground	 like	 a	 belligerent	 toddler,	 but	 no	 one appeared	startled.	As	she	became	still,	she	saw	the	faintest	quiver	of	green	liquid in	the	martini	glasses.

Molly	stared	at	it.	“Did	someone	bump	the	table?”

“Wasn’t	me,”	Leila	replied.

“No,	certainly	not,”	said	Susan.

Oh,	for	heaven’s	sake.

Sadie	 was	 making	 no	 progress	 at	 all.	 She	 walked	 away	 from	 their

meaningless	 babble	 to	 think.	 She	 needed	 to	 find	 someone	 who	 could	 see,	 hear, and	help	her.

Asher	Brenner.

The	name	popped	into	the	forefront	of	her	mind	so	quickly	that	there	was	no stopping	it.

He	could	help.

Would	he	help?

He	was	going	to	be	furious	with	her.

adie	stood	outside	her	mother’s	house	as	dusk	became	darkness.	She	didn’t	know Swhere	Asher	was	these	days.	How	could	she	track	someone	down

without	the	use	of	a	computer	or	smart	phone?

A	 flush	 of	 warmth	 rippled	 through	 her	 as	 buried	 memories

resurfaced.

“If	you	want	to	feel	close	to	someone	you’ve	lost,	say	their	name	with	your right	palm	over	your	heart,”	Asher	had	said.

He	 had	 told	 her	 this	 as	 a	 way	 of	 easing	 emotional	 distress	 when	 she	 was missing	her	grandmother.	At	the	time,	her	affection	for	him	had	appreciated	the sentiment,	but	her	rational	mind	had	known	that	dead	meant	dead.	No	scientific evidence	 existed	 to	 support	 the	 notion	 that	 someone	 who	 was	 dead	 could	 feel love	beyond	the	grave	or	transmit	any	feeling	back	to	the	living.

Now	 that	 she	 had	 absolute	 proof	 ghosts	 existed,	 she	 figured	 Asher	 perhaps hadn’t	been	as	off-base	as	she	had	thought.

Sadie	 placed	 her	 right	 hand	 over	 her	 heart—or	 at	 least	 where	 her	 heart should	have	been	if	she	were	not	a	ghost—and	recited	his	name.

She	blinked	as	the	world	around	her	contracted	and	expanded.	As	it	did,	her surroundings	 blurred	 like	 rain	 on	 a	 windowpane	 as	 they	 transformed.	 At	 least she	wasn’t	floating	again.

When	 the	 watercolor	 painting	 around	 her	 solidified,	 she	 found	 herself standing	on	a	street	in	what	appeared	to	be	a	rural	setting.

“What	 the	 hell?”	 Sadie	 stiffened,	 listening	 to	 her	 surroundings	 and	 hoping she	wouldn’t	get	dragged	into	the	bowels	of	the	earth	as	a	result	of	her	outburst.

Were	ghosts	allowed	to	swear?	The	only	other	sound	was	the	hum	of	electricity emitting	from	a	neon	sign	over	a	convenience	store	across	the	street.

She	turned	around	to	look	at	the	large	structure	on	her	side	of	the	street.	A broad,	two-garage	fire	station	sprawled	before	her.	It	was	a	rectangular,	red-brick building	 with	 white	 doors.	 The	 overhead	 sign	 read:	 “White	 County	 Fire Services.”

“So	this	is	where	Asher	ended	up.”

Sadie	 walked	 cautiously	 towards	 the	 building,	 which	 was	 bathed	 in	 bright white	 floodlights.	 She	 walked	 around	 to	 the	 side	 of	 the	 building	 and	 peered

through	a	large	window	which	revealed	an	exercise	room.	Two	men	dressed	in navy	 cargo	 pants	 and	 white	 T-shirts	 were	 lifting	 weights.	 Another	 man	 was running	on	the	treadmill.

Asher.

Her	heart	kicked	a	notch	faster,	and	she	was	too	mesmerized	to	ponder	how,

as	a	ghost,	she	could	feel	her	heart	pounding.

He	was	shirtless,	his	skin	glistening.

Memories	of	the	many	close	encounters	she	had	enjoyed	with	those	muscles

rose	to	the	forefront	of	her	mind.	His	dark	hair	was	still	short,	but	he	had	shaved his	goatee.	Smooth,	tanned	skin	surrounded	a	pair	of	full	lips.

How	could	she—as	a	ghost—have	hormones?

The	flushing	and	arousal	she	felt	would	have	been	precipitated	by	endocrine glands	in	life,	and	that	simply	wasn’t	possible.	She	needed	a	cold	shower.

As	 she	 contemplated	 never	 being	 with	 him	 again,	 her	 mouth	 felt	 dry	 and	 a strange	 longing	 filled	 her	 chest,	 squeezing	 it	 the	 way	 a	 pressure	 bag	 corseted intravenous	fluids.

Why	did	I	ever	end	the	relationship?

Oh,	right.	For	the	very	reason	I’m	seeking	his	help	now.

Asher	 adjusted	 one	 of	 his	 earbuds	 before	 swiping	 a	 towel	 across	 his forehead.	 When	 he	 looked	 out	 of	 the	 window,	 his	 eyes	 opened	 wide.	 His	 gate faltered,	and	he	stumbled	off	the	back	of	the	treadmill	and	out	of	sight.

He	saw	me!

A sher	Brenner	cursed	as	he	snatched	a	bag	of	peas	out	of	the	freezer

and	held	it	up	to	his	jaw.	What	the	hell	was	Sadie	Crawford	doing	at

his	 fire	 station?	 She	 had	 no	 business	 arriving	 unannounced	 at	 his place	of	employment.	Fortunately,	he	was	off	duty,	so	he	could	dismiss	her	and then	go	home.

He	found	his	locker	and	irritably	tugged	on	a	T-shirt.	He	inspected	his	jaw, which	 he	 had	 smacked	 against	 the	 treadmill	 after	 losing	 his	 balance.	 The reddened	skin	was	already	beginning	to	swell.	He	put	the	bag	of	peas	back	up	to

his	face.

Sadie	 had	 left	 him.	 She	 had	 ended	 the	 relationship.	 He	 considered	 the	 last time	 he	 had	 seen	 her.	 Had	 it	 really	 been	 almost	 three	 years?	 She	 called	 a	 year ago	to	leave	some	sappy	message	about	how	she	hoped	he	was	doing	well	and	to call	her	if	he	wanted.	He	considered	it	absurd	and	hadn’t	bothered	calling	back.

He	hadn’t	been	prepared	to	show	that	kind	of	weakness.

She	hadn’t	wanted	what	he	had	to	offer	three	years	ago.	Why	would	time	and

space	have	changed	that?	Nope.	He	hadn’t	called	her	back	and	generally	refused to	acknowledge	the	many	times	he	had	thought	about	calling	her	back.	What	was the	point?	He	was	the	same	man	today	as	he	had	been	when	she	rejected	him.

Had	she	changed,	or	simply	changed	her	mind?

Forget	 it.	 She	 had	 lost	 her	 chance.	 He	 needed	 to	 get	 rid	 of	 her	 before	 his resolve	dissolved.

She	had	broken	his	heart	once.	Never	again.





2

Sadie	paced	around	outside,	hoping	Asher	would	come	out	to	see	her.	She

noticed	that	she	had	no	shadow	as	she	moved	under	the	different	lights.

Hopefully,	if	she	kept	still	when	he	arrived,	he	wouldn’t	notice	the	lack

of	 shadow,	 unless	 he	 could	 already	 tell	 somehow	 that	 she	 was	 a	 ghost.	 In	 her own	eyes	she	appeared	solid,	but	she	didn’t	know	how	he	would	perceive	her.

Five	minutes	felt	like	five	hours.

Asher	emerged	wearing	sweat	pants	and	a	Braves	T-shirt.	Was	that	a	bag	of

frozen	peas	held	to	his	jaw?

He	glowered	at	her.	“What	are	you	doing	here,	Sadie?”

She	was	too	thrilled	he	could	see	her	to	be	hurt	by	his	irritable	greeting.	“I need	a	favor.”

His	 eyes	 narrowed	 as	 he	 appraised	 her	 appearance,	 then	 his	 gaze	 wandered around	the	fire	station	parking	lot.	“How	did	you	get	here?”

“I	was	dropped	off.”

Not	strictly	a	lie.

His	brow	furrowed.	“How	did	you	find	me?”

I	followed	my	heart.

She	placed	her	hands	on	her	hips	and	mimicked	a	normal	conversation.	“‘Hi,

Sadie,	nice	to	see	you.’	‘Nice	to	see	you,	too,	Asher.’	‘How	have	you	been?’”

Dead,	she	added	inwardly.

Asher	began	to	walk	away	from	her.

She	walked	after	him.	“I	really	do	need	your	help.”

He	stopped	a	few	steps	away	from	his	silver	truck	and	pulled	the	bag	of	peas away	from	his	face.	A	red	lump	marked	one	side	of	his	jaw.

She	grimaced.	“Sorry	about	that.”

“You	can’t	just	show	up	here	like	a	ghost	from	my	past	and	ask	for	help.”

Sadie	choked	down	a	short,	hysterical	laugh;	the	only	thing	keeping	her	from having	a	breakdown	at	the	irony	of	his	words.

She	regained	her	self-control	and	took	a	step	closer.	“I’m	sorry.	I'm	sorry	for everything.	I	can’t	express	in	words	how	sorry	I	am,	but	I	really	need	your	help.”

She	 was	 about	 to	 take	 another	 step	 closer,	 but	 his	 eyes	 flashed	 with	 anger, halting	her	in	her	tracks.

She	lowered	her	eyes.	This	was	a	mistake.	He	might	have	a	girlfriend	or	even a	wife	for	all	she	knew.	The	ex-girlfriend	was	never	a	welcome	sight.	Well,	his new	special	someone	couldn’t	feel	threatened	by	a	ghost.

Except	 that	 Asher	 hadn’t	 yet	 realized	 what	 she	 was.	 Since	 she	 hadn’t determined	whether	that	was	to	her	advantage	or	not,	she	wasn’t	quite	ready	to tell	him.	She	wasn’t	sure	if	he	was	more	likely	or	less	likely	to	help	her	once	he knew	the	truth.

Asher	stomped	to	his	truck,	yanked	open	the	driver	side	door,	and	tossed	the bag	of	peas	inside	the	cab.

Panic	 flashed	 through	 Sadie’s	 mind.	 If	 she	 let	 him	 leave,	 she	 might	 never discover	 why	 she	 was	 a	 ghost.	 She	 might	 be	 doomed	 to	 walk	 the	 earth	 unseen forever,	though	that	didn’t	sound	devastatingly	catastrophic	to	an	introvert.

Still,	 the	 fact	 that	 she	 was	 a	 ghost	 suggested	 some	 unfinished	 business	 had spilled	over	from	her	life.	She	suspected	she	already	knew	what	it	was.

“Please,	Asher,	hear	me	out	at	least.”

His	jaw	kicked.	“I’m	listening.”

“Not	here.”	She	suspected	he	might	prefer	not	having	to	explain	later	to	his fellow	firefighters	why	he	was	talking	to	himself	in	the	parking	lot.

“Fine.	Get	in.”

Sadie	 gave	 a	 small,	 excited	 skip	 and	 walked	 around	 to	 the	 passenger	 side.

She	stared	at	the	door. Well,	crap,	she	thought.	She	couldn’t	open	the	truck	door.

Could	 she?	 She	 had	 gone	 through	 her	 mother’s	 front	 door	 and	 table,	 but	 had managed	 to	 climb	 her	 steps	 into	 her	 house.	 What	 dictated	 when	 she	 could	 and couldn’t	 contact	 matter?	 Perhaps	 there	 was	 an	 influence	 of	 will	 and concentration.	Or	was	it	inner	belief?

She	 started	 to	 reach	 for	 the	 door	 handle,	 but	 hesitated.	 If	 she	 messed	 it	 up and	her	hand	traveled	through	the	door,	her	secret	would	be	revealed.

From	the	opposite	side	of	the	truck,	Asher	sighed.	He	walked	around	to	the

passenger	door	and	opened	it.	“Now	you	want	chivalry?”

She	looked	up	at	the	seat.	If	she	could	step	up	porch	steps,	surely	she	could sit	in	a	car	seat.

Believe,	she	implored	herself.

She	steeled	her	resolve,	stepped	into	the	truck,	and	sat.

Asher	closed	the	door.	He	climbed	into	the	driver’s	seat,	started	the	engine, and	pulled	out	of	the	parking	lot.

He	glanced	over	at	Sadie.	“You	okay?	You	look	pale.”	His	tone	had	finally

softened.

“Yeah.	This	is	just	taking	a	lot	out	of	me.”	She	was	referring	to	the	need	to focus	on	her	extracorporeal	self	maintaining	the	illusion	of	contact	with	matter, but	Asher	was	free	to	form	whatever	conclusion	that	suited	him	from	her	words.

“I’m	sorry	for	snapping.”

“And	growling.”	She	raised	a	hand	to	her	temple	and	closed	her	eyes.

“You	 wanna	 tell	 me	 what’s	 so	 important	 you	 tracked	 me	 down	 to	 my	 new town	and	new	job?”

“When	we’re	done	moving.”

He	started	to	roll	down	the	window.	“You	need	fresh	air?”

“No!”	The	last	thing	she	needed	was	to	figure	out	how	to	make	her	hair	wave in	the	breeze.

His	finger	stopped	pressing	the	button,	and	he	closed	it	back	up.	“Oh-kay,”

he	said,	his	voice	skeptical.	“You	were	never	carsick	before.”

She	nodded.	“True.”

He	made	a	series	of	turns.	“Are	you	sick?”

Sadie	knew	from	his	tone	that	he	meant	something	chronic	or	fatal.

“Something	like	that.”

“Are	you	pregnant?”

She	coughed	out	a	no.

Asher	parked	the	car,	and	Sadie	realized	they	had	pulled	onto	the	driveway

of	 a	 mountain	 cabin.	 A	 single	 porch	 light	 shone	 into	 the	 darkness.	 She	 saw	 a quaint	 log	 cabin	 with	 expansive	 windows	 overlooking	 the	 mountainside	 and imagined	how	beautiful	it	would	look	in	the	snow.	There	was	a	neat	stack	of	logs was	outside	the	cabin	between	the	shed	and	the	garage.

“You	live	here?”

Asher	turned	in	his	seat,	his	angry	amber	eyes	flaring.	Tiger	eyes.	“What	are you	 doing	 here,	 Sadie?	 Did	 you	 come	 to	 tell	 me	 you’re	 dying	 of	 cancer?	 We haven’t	spoken	in	three	years.”

She	clenched	her	fists.	“That’s	because	you	shut	me	out!”

“You	left	first.	And	you	only	called	because	of	the	incident.”

“You	never	called	back.”

“I	didn’t	want	your	pity.	I	still	don’t.”

“I	was	calling	to	offer	help,	not	out	of	pity.”

He	snorted.

“I’m	sorry	my	unannounced	arrival	infuriates	you,	and	I’m	a	burden	on	the

life	you’ve	built,	but	I	had	no	other	option.”	Sadie	hadn’t	come	to	pick	a	fight, and	 this	 wasn’t	 a	 good	 start	 to	 her	 plans	 for	 recruiting	 his	 help.	 She	 felt	 torn between	wanting	to	apologize	and	feeling	the	need	to	defend	herself	against	his fury.

“So	I’m	a	last	resort	now?”	His	icy	voice	chilled	her.

“You	made	yourself	a	last	resort!”	As	she	shouted	and	the	frustration	poured out	of	her,	the	truck	vibrated.

Stunned	into	silence,	Sadie	held	her	breath	until	the	vehicle	stopped	shaking.

With	a	curious	expression	on	his	face,	Asher	turned	and	looked	through	the

back	 window,	 as	 though	 something	 external	 to	 the	 truck	 had	 caused	 the vibration.	He	got	out	of	the	truck	and	walked	toward	the	front	door	of	his	cabin,

quickly	unlocking	it.

He	looked	back	at	Sadie.	“Are	you	coming?”

She	was	still	hurt	by	his	tone	and	anger,	but	she	was	also	afraid	to	expend	the energy	 needed	 in	 an	 attempt	 to	 open	 the	 door.	 Gripping	 with	 her	 hand	 and yanking	 was	 more	 complicated	 that	 walking	 and	 sitting.	 Perhaps	 when	 he	 had his	back	to	her,	she	could	just	ooze	through	the	door.

“Oh,	for	crying	out	loud.”	He	walked	back	over	to	the	truck	and	yanked	open her	door.

She	slid	her	feet	to	the	ground.

After	he	turned	back	around	and	shut	the	door	with	an	exasperated	sigh,	she followed	him	quietly	into	the	cabin.

Asher’s	home	was	a	beautiful	three-story	structure	of	stunning	red	and	blond Douglas	 fir.	 The	 third	 floor	 was	 a	 loft.	 He	 had	 a	 large	 fireplace	 and	 a	 broad leather	couch	that	made	her	want	to	snuggle	up	close	to	him	in	front	of	a	roaring fire,	which	was	absurd	since	he	obviously	hated	her.

When	 she	 looked	 up,	 he	 was	 staring	 down	 at	 her.	 The	 gentle	 expression	 he had	briefly	worn	earlier	transformed	back	to	irritation.

Yep,	hates	me.

“I’m	going	to	shower.	Help	yourself	to	anything	you	want	for	dinner.	We’ll

talk	when	I	get	back.”

She	nodded	and	watched	him	leave.

Showers.

They	had	shared	some	of	the	most	amazing	showers	together.	Skin	on	skin;

his	rough	hands	running	over	her	body.	She	loved	the	ever-present	hint	of	smoky fragrance	he	had	brought	home	from	work.

They	 had	 been	 sublime	 together,	 but	 she	 had	 ruined	 the	 relationship.

Rational,	 pragmatic	 Sadie	 had	 disbelieved	 the	 skills	 he	 claimed	 to	 possess beyond	the	physical	realm.

She	wandered	around	the	cabin,	inspecting	his	personal	space.	He	had	a	few

family	photos,	but	no	pictures	of	other	women.	The	living	room	was	decorated with	paintings	of	the	Appalachian	Trail.	She	recognized	them	as	places	she	loved to	hike.	Hiking.	The	last	thing	she	had	done	before	she	died.

At	least	that	much	about	my	death	seems	fitting.

Sadie	 took	 two	 steps	 down	 into	 the	 entertainment	 room,	 which	 contained	 a large	 television	 and	 two	 cup-holding	 recliners.	 She	 imagined	 the	 two	 of	 them lounging	and	drinking	beers.	Go	Falcons.

At	 first	 glance,	 the	 cabin	 was	 perfect,	 but	 on	 reflection	 something	 was missing.	 It	 needed	 a	 feminine	 touch:	 a	 peace	 lily	 in	 that	 corner,	 candles	 on	 the shelf	there,	and	decorative	figurines	over	the	mantle.

Their	 relationship	 had	 ended	 because	 of	 her	 narrow-mindedness.	 During their	 time	 apart,	 she	 often	 wondered	 how	 to	 mend	 things	 between	 them	 but hadn’t	known	where	to	start.	His	ghosts	had	still	stood	between	them.	Literally.

Feeling	 lonely,	 she	 had	 buried	 herself	 in	 work.	 As	 her	 mother	 put	 it,	 she	 had burned	her	candle	at	both	ends.	Now,	the	candle	had	been	snuffed	out.	She	had to	face	up	to	her	past	and	her	mistake	in	leaving	Asher.

She	knew	that	coming	to	him	for	help	was	unfair.	The	guilt	she	felt	formed	a hard	lump	in	her	stomach.

Sadie	 walked	 out	 of	 the	 room,	 through	 the	 living	 room,	 and	 down	 the	 hall.

The	shower	was	still	running.	She	wandered	into	Asher’s	bedroom.	Perhaps	she shouldn’t	 have,	 but	 being	 a	 ghost	 seemed	 to	 strip	 her	 of	 certain	 courteous behaviors,	like	respecting	personal	boundaries.	The	room	had	wood	panels	with forest	 green	 curtains	 and	 matching	 bed	 linen.	 She	 ran	 a	 hand	 along	 the	 fabric, imagining	the	smooth,	cool	feel	of	the	sheets	and	wondering	what	thread	count they	were.

“What	are	you	doing?”

He	was	angry	again.	She	didn’t	remember	him	being	angry	all	the	time.

She	turned	around	slowly.

“Are	 you	 crying?”	 He	 had	 a	 towel	 wrapped	 around	 his	 waist	 and	 nothing more.

Sadie	 turned	 back	 round	 and	 looked	 out	 the	 window.	 She	 could	 faintly	 see pine	trees	standing	tall	and	rigidly	straight	in	the	darkness.

She	heard	him	rummaging	through	his	drawers,	then	dressing.

“You	want	to	tell	me	what	game	you’re	playing	here,	Sadie?”

When	she	turned	back,	he	was	wearing	blue	jeans	and	a	navy	T-shirt.

“No	games,	Asher.	I	need	help.”

“In	my	bedroom?”

She	 started	 to	 laugh,	 but	 realized	 he	 was	 still	 fuming.	 She	 walked	 past	 him into	the	living	room,	and	he	followed.

“Better?”

He	crossed	his	arms,	waiting	for	an	explanation.

“I	came	to	you	for	help	because	I’m	a	ghost.”

He	let	out	a	bitter	laugh.	“Joke’s	on	me,	is	it?”

She	knew	this	would	be	difficult.	“I’m	telling	the	truth.”

“You	need	to	get	the	hell	out	of	my	house.”

His	words	felt	like	daggers,	but	she	stood	her	ground—as	best	as	any	ghost

could.

“I—”

“You	 left	 me	 because	 of	 my	 superstitious	 ‘mumbo-jumbo,’	 remember?	 You left	because	you	didn’t	believe—”

“I	was	wrong.”

He	 blinked	 at	 her	 before	 shaking	 his	 head	 in	 disbelief.	 He	 dragged	 a	 hand through	his	damp,	dark	hair.	“It	doesn’t	work	like	this,	anyway.”

“You	told	me.	Voices.	Flashes	of	images.	Sometimes	dreams.”

He	sat	on	the	couch	looking	miserably	tortured.	“Why	are	you	doing	this?”

Sadie	 knelt	 at	 his	 feet,	 looked	 into	 his	 eyes,	 and	 laid	 her	 hand	 on	 his.	 Her hand	 sank	 into	 his	 flesh.	 Heat,	 radiant	 and	 energizing	 as	 a	 warm	 summer	 sun, coursed	through	her	absent	veins.	For	a	moment,	she	bathed	in	this	unexpected bliss.

Asher	recoiled	in	shock,	a	mortified	expression	on	his	face.

She	shrank	away	from	him,	crossing	her	legs	as	she	sat	on	the	floor	and	tried to	look	unthreatening.

“You’re	a	ghost!”

“I’m	 a	 ghost.	 I’m	 sorry	 for	 having	 doubted	 you.	 And	 I’m	 sorry	 for	 putting you	 through	 this.	 I	 know	 you	 gave	 up	 helping	 ghosts,	 and	 I	 know	 you	 want nothing	to	do	with	me.”

His	 dark	 lashes	 flickered,	 and	 she	 suspected	 her	 words	 had	 caused	 his

demons	to	resurface.	“What	happened	to	you?”

“I	 don’t	 know.	 I	 guess	 that’s	 why	 I’m	 still	 here.	 Maybe	 I’m	 supposed	 to figure	that	out.”	She	looked	down	at	the	plush	rug	on	the	floor.	Lifting	her	hand in	 and	 out	 of	 it,	 she	 watched	 the	 fibers	 as	 they	 remained	 unmoved.	 When	 she focused	on	moving	them,	they	swayed	and	bent	slightly.

He	stood.	“I	can’t	help	you.	You	need	to	move	on.”

She	gaped	at	him.	“But	you’re	the	only	one	who	 can	help	me.”

“Didn’t	you	read	about	my	failed	case?	Isn’t	that	why	you	finally	called	me that	 first	 time?	 Yes?	 Then	 you’ll	 recall	 that	 I	 couldn’t	 help	 that	 child.	 She	 was dead	by	the	time	they	found	her.”

Sadie	 remembered	 the	 headlines:	 “Police	 Psychic	 Finds	 Corpse”	 and

“Psychic	Fraud	Fails.”

“But	I’m	already	dead.”

He	didn’t	seem	to	find	that	reassuring.

“Do	this	for	me,	Asher.	I	promise	I’ll	never	bother	you	again.”

He	shifted	his	position	on	the	couch	and	placed	his	head	in	his	hands.	“I’m sorry	for	whatever	happened	to	you.”

Sadie	 waited	 in	 silence	 for	 the	 ‘but’;	 for	 another	 round	 of	 rejection	 laced with	acrimony	and	resentment.

“Tell	me	how	it	happened,”	he	said.





3

Sadie	recalled	the	events	from	just	a	few	hours	ago.	“I	was	hiking	in	the

mountains	earlier	today.”

“Raven	Cliff	Falls	Trail	or	Tallulah	Gorge?”	Asher	asked.

She	 smiled	 in	 response	 to	 the	 fact	 that	 he	 remembered	 her	 favorite	 paths.

“Tallulah	Gorge.	Someone	told	me	to	stop.	I	turned	around	look	to	him	and	he punched	 me	 in	 the	 jaw.	 I	 fell	 to	 the	 ground,	 then	 he	 hit	 me	 on	 the	 head	 with something	hard.	Next	thing	I	knew,	I	was	looking	down	at	my	dead	body.”

“What	did	he	look	like?”

“Heavy	brown	beard.	Dark	eyes.	He	wore	a	hoodie.”

“Age?”

“Twenties	or	thirties.”

“Build?”

“Five	eight,	maybe	two	hundred	pounds.”

“What	else	did	you	see?”

“He	was	robbing	me.”

Asher	swallowed.	“Nothing	sexual?”

“No.”

“Describe	the	theft.”

“I	 carry	 a	 small	 over-the-shoulder	 sack	 for	 my	 water	 and	 wallet	 when	 I

hike.”	She	fidgeted	with	the	hem	of	her	sleeve.

“I	remember.”

“He	took	the	bag	and	frisked	my	body.”

“Then	what?	He	left?”

“Yes.	 No.”	 She	 frowned.	 “He	 moved	 my	 body	 off	 the	 path.”	 Sadie

remembered	his	mechanical	motions—as	routine	and	dispassionate	as	someone

changing	a	tire.

Asher	was	shaking	his	head.	“That’s	not	a	mugging,	Sadie.”

“I	just	explained	what	happened,”	she	protested.

“Yeah,	you	described	someone	who	intentionally	killed	you,	frisked	you	for

ID,	and	hid	the	body.	You	were	murdered.”

“You're	saying	someone	intentionally	targeted	me?”

“No	 one	 robs	 hikers	 to	 find	 an	 abundance	 of	 cash.	 You’re	 not	 describing	 a crime	of	passion,	or	a	serial	killer	or	rapist.”

He	 lowered	 his	 voice.	 “Can	 you	 think	 of	 any	 reason	 you	 might	 be—might have	been—a	target?”

“Do	I	know	anyone	who’d	want	to	kill	me?	No.”

“An	angry	patient?”

“I	work	in	the	ICU.	Mortality	rate	for	the	critical	care	populations	is	always high.	I	don't	recall	any	angry	families,	but	it’s	not	impossible.”

“Angry	colleagues?”

“No.”

“Frustrations	at	work?“

“Always.”

Asher	arched	an	eyebrow.

“My	mentor,	Louie,	and	I	are—were—part	of	a	drug	study.	A	new	drug	for

septic	shock.”

“Why	do	you	say	 were?”

“The	 drug’s	 faulty.	 It’s	 not	 effective	 and	 might	 drops	 platelet	 counts,	 if anything.	The	pharmaceutical	company	will	probably	have	to	withdraw	it.”

Asher	continued	his	investigation.	“Angry	boyfriend?”

Sadie	gave	him	a	wry	grin.	“Only	you.”

Asher	sighed.	“I’m	not	angry.	Okay,	I	guess	I	 was	angry.	I	don’t	know	what	I am	now.”

“Resentful?”

“Sure.”

“There	 hasn't	 been	 anyone	 since	 you.	 A	 few	 dates,	 but	 nothing	 more.”	 She wanted	to	shift	closer	to	him,	but	was	afraid	he	would	glare	at	her	again.

“Same	here.”

“I	died	still	in	love	with	you.”

“Sadie.”	His	voice	cracked.

She	averted	her	gaze,	stood	up,	and	paced	the	living	room.	“So,	murder.	Now I’m	even	more	pissed	off.	Is	that	why	I’m	still	here?	Because	I	need	to	solve	my own	murder?”

“Or	let	the	police	handle	it.”

She	 looked	 daggers	 at	 him.	 “They	 don’t	 even	 know	 I’m	 dead	 yet.	 By	 the time	they	find	my	body,	the	trail	might	have	gone	cold.”

“What	trail?”

“I	don’t	know.	You	tell	me.	You’re	the	one	who	worked	with	the	police	for	a year.”

“Which	ended	in	flaming	disaster.”

“Perhaps.	But	you	closed	other	cases	before	the	one	that	fell	apart.	You	can help	me.”

“Yes.	 I	 can	 help	 by	 leading	 the	 police	 to	 your	 body	 so	 they	 can	 start	 the investigation.”

Sadie	 put	 her	 hands	 on	 her	 hips.	 “As	 much	 as	 I’d	 like	 my	 body	 found—

because	 the	 thought	 of	 becoming	 scavenger	 food	 sickens	 me—how	 do	 you explain	 yourself	 when	 you	 show	 up	 at	 the	 police	 station	 knowing	 where	 my corpse	is?”

He	sat	silently,	pondering	her	words.

“You'll	 be	 the	 prime	 suspect,”	 she	 continued.	 “Other	 than	 turning	 your	 life inside	out,	there’ll	be	no	investigation.”

Heavens!	What	am	I	getting	him	into?

“Okay,	point	made.”	He	stood.



“Where	are	you	going?”

“To	pack.	I’ll	need	to	make	a	few	calls	to	get	my	shifts	covered	for	the	next few	 days.	 We’ll	 start	 our	 investigation	 the	 same	 way	 the	 police	 would	 if	 they were	 investigating.	 Where	 are	 you	 living	 these	 days?	 I	 mean,	 where	 was	 your last	place	of	residence?”

She	told	him	the	address.

“You	riding	with	me?”

She	shook	her	head.	“Making	constant	contact	with	matter	drains	me,	though

I	 think	 I’m	 getting	 better	 at	 it	 the	 longer	 I’m	 a	 ghost.	 I’ll	 go	 on	 ahead	 and	 see you	when	you	arrive.”

Sadie	dissolved	into	her	rental	home,	on	a	mission.	Someone	had

intentionally	 murdered	 her.	 Her	 blood	 felt	 like	 it	 was	 boiling.

Premeditated	murder.	Despite	being	a	physician	and	researcher,	she	had

been	snuffed	out	faster	than	someone	could	say	the	longest	medical	term	in	the English	language—pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis—or	at	least

stare	at	if	before	losing	interest.	She	was	going	to	find	her	killer,	and …

She	looked	around	her	living	room.	The	place	had	been	ransacked.	A	trail	of icy	 fear	 ran	 down	 her	 spine.	 Despite	 being	 a	 ghost,	 the	 sight	 of	 her	 scattered belongings	 frightened	 her.	 She	 took	 a	 quick	 inventory.	 Medical	 textbooks	 and novels	were	strewn	across	the	floor.	Her	shelves	were	bare,	photos	of	family	and friends	 having	 been	 carelessly	 knocked	 to	 the	 floor.	 Drawers	 were	 either	 half-open	or	dumped	out	onto	the	floor.

She	stepped	through	the	television	screen	that	lay	face	down	on	the	carpet,	as she	made	her	way	toward	the	kitchen.	The	cupboards	there	had	been	decimated, with	plates	and	glasses	littering	the	countertop	and	floor.	Pieces	of	the	vase	she had	 kept	 on	 the	 windowsill	 were	 now	 scattered	 over	 the	 countertop	 and	 in	 the sink.	The	hand-picked	daisies	that	had	been	perfectly	arranged	in	it	lay	limp	on

the	countertop.

My	daisies.

Like	 her	 life,	 they	 had	 been	 left	 to	 wilt	 and	 die,	 having	 been	 brutally disrupted	from	their	previously	peaceful	existence.

Sadie	felt	outraged	and	destitute.	Her	stomach	clenched	at	the	injustice	of	it all.	 She	 couldn't	 explain	 why	 her	 emotions	 spiked	 at	 the	 sight	 of	 inanimate objects,	 while	 her	 own	 death	 had	 been	 less	 disturbing.	 Perhaps	 the	 utter desecration	of	her	home	had	simply	accentuated	the	reality	of	her	situation.

She	 walked	 into	 her	 bedroom.	 Shredded.	 Every	 drawer,	 even	 those

containing	her	lingerie,	had	been	relieved	of	their	contents.	Her	pillows	were	in pieces.	 Her	 quilt—the	 daisy	 embroidered	 quilt	 given	 by	 her	 grandmother—had been	ripped	apart.

Ash	she	stood	in	the	center	of	the	room,	shaking	with	fear	and	fury,	the	items in	 the	 room	 began	 to	 lightly	 bounce	 like	 they	 were	 puppets	 on	 a	 string.	 Frigid anger	cocooned	around	her	until	there	was	nothing	but	blinding	white	light,	as	if she	were	standing	in	the	center	of	a	blizzard.

A sher	drove	south	toward	Sadie’s	house	in	North	Fulton,	following	the

directions	 on	 his	 phone	 app.	 She	 had	 apparently	 moved	 out	 of	 her apartment	and	into	a	house	since	he	had	last	seen	her.

He	tried	to	focus	on	what	she	told	him	about	the	death	rather	than	dwelling on	the	death	itself.	Someone	had	killed	Sadie.	His	Sadie.	Except	she	hadn’t	been his;	not	for	a	long	time.	If	they	had	still	been	together,	she	might	still	be	alive	as they	 had	 usually	 hiked	 together.	 Showing	 up	 as	 a	 ghost	 and	 recruiting	 his	 help almost	made	him	furious	enough	to	want	to	kill	her	himself	...	or	maybe	just	to pin	her	against	his	car	and	kiss	her.

He	scrubbed	a	hand	over	his	face .

If	she	hadn’t	pushed	him	away—

If	he	had	taken	her	back	when	she	called—

His	phone	rang.	“Hi,	Sanchez.”

“Brenner,	hey.	I	wanted	to	check	on	you.	You	left	the	station	in	a	hurry.	You

okay?”

“Yeah,	fine,”	he	lied.

“You	 were	 mumbling	 about	 a	 woman	 when	 you	 took	 my	 peas	 out	 of	 the freezer.”

“Was	I?”

“And	you	were	white	as	a	ghost.”

“Ha!	Imagine	that.”

“Sorry,	Brenner.	I	didn’t	mean	anything	by	that.”

Juan	Sanchez	knew	the	truth.	In	fact,	everyone	within	a	hundred-mile	radius of	Asher	knew	about	the	psychic	police	detective’s	debacle.	Well,	they	knew	the media	 version	 at	 least.	 To	 the	 world,	 Asher	 Brenner	 was	 a	 fraud.	 Only	 Asher knew	 the	 truth,	 but	 now	 Sadie	 understood.	 The	 one	 person	 he	 had	 shared	 his secrets	 with—his	 soulmate	 who	 was	 supposed	 to	 believe	 in	 him	 fully—finally did,	only	she	was	dead.

“I’m	not	that	sensitive,	Sanchez.”

Fortunately,	 the	 small	 town	 of	 Helen,	 Georgia,	 didn’t	 give	 a	 rat’s	 ass	 if	 he was	a	psychic	fraud	so	long	as	he	put	out	their	fires	and	drove	their	meat	wagon.

His	buddies	at	the	fire	station	occasionally	cracked	jokes	about	his	“sixth	sense,”

asking	him	to	read	their	fortune,	but	no	one	dished	out	any	judgments	once	they got	to	know	him.

Sanchez,	a	cheerfully	rotund	man	in	his	forties,	was	different.	His	Mexican mother	had	instilled	mystical	beliefs	in	him	about	the	dead.	Sanchez	seemed	to sense	when	Asher	was	channeling	contact	from	the	other	side.

During	a	fire	at	a	family	home,	the	ghost	of	the	father	had	led	Asher	to	the closet	 where	 his	 daughter	 was	 hiding,	 still	 alive.	 Sanchez	 had	 cornered	 Asher about	the	“miracle.”	Asher	had	tried	to	downplay	it	as	a	hunch,	but	had	finally admitted	 to	 it	 being	 a	 strong	 pull	 and	 a	 whisper	 that	 had	 led	 him	 to	 save	 the child.	Sanchez	respected	him	rather	than	belittled	him.

“So	you’re	okay?”	Sanchez	asked	again.

“Yeah.”

“Liar.”

“I	need	to	help	out	a	friend.	I'll	be	back	in	a	few	days	for	my	next	shift.”



“Fine,	don’t	tell	me. Al	mal	tiempo,	buena	cara. ”

“Thanks,	man.”

A lejandro	Martinez	sat	in	his	car,	staring	at	Dr.	Crawford’s	house	as

interior	lights	flickered	inexplicably.

Moments	 later,	 a	 man	 Alejandro	 didn’t	 recognize	 used	 the	 back

entrance	to	enter	the	house	he	had	recently	ransacked.

Alejandro	 was	 still	 parked	 nearby	 because	 he	 was	 waiting	 for	 instructions from	the	man	who	had	hired	him, El	Jefe.	His	orders	had	been	clear:	once	Ledo, Alejandro’s	 partner,	 gave	 the	 confirmation	 that	 the	 physician	 wasn’t	 home, Alejandro	would	search	her	place	for	a	computer	or	disc	drive.

An	 hour	 of	 turning	 the	 place	 inside	 out	 had	 yielded	 nothing. El	 Jefe	 had already	searched	her	office,	while	Ledo	had	searched	her	car—the	dead	woman’s car.

Que	Dios	descanse	su	alma	en	paz	eternal.

God	rest	her	soul.

As	 far	 as	 Alejandro	 could	 tell,	 the	 only	 crime	 she	 had	 been	 guilty	 of	 was being	a	good	doctor.	He	had	seen	glowing	letters	of	praise	from	patients	in	one of	her	decorative	collection	boxes.	He	was	comforted	by	the	fact	that	her	death wasn’t	 on	 his	 conscience,	 since	 Ledo	 had	 done	 the	 killing.	 Alejandro	 kept	 to thieving	only.	In	this	instance,	he	hadn’t	yet	accomplished	his	goal	and	couldn’t get	paid	until	he	did	so.

The	 arrival	 of	 the	 unknown	 man	 had	 instantly	 made	 the	 job	 more

complicated.	 Alejandro	 looked	 down	 at	 the	 newspaper	 clippings	 in	 his	 lap.

Having	stolen	them	out	of	sheer	fascination	over	their	headlines,	he	scrutinized them	more	closely.

He	couldn’t	believe	his	eyes.	The	mystery	man	matched	the	pictures	from	the newspaper	 clippings.	 According	 to	 the	 articles,	 Asher	 Brenner	 was	 a	 psychic

consultant	with	the	Atlanta	police	department.

The	hair	on	 Alejandro’s	neck	stood	 on	end.	This	 psychic	detective	entering Dr.	Crawford’s	home	was	no	coincidence.	Had	she	recruited	him	somehow?	So

soon	after	her	death?

Que	Dios	apiade	de	mi.

May	God	have	mercy	on	us	all.

He	kissed	the	pendant	around	his	neck	to	ease	his	angst	at	the	thought	of	the physician’s	 ghost	 soliciting	 help	 from	 a	 psychic.	 Alejandro	 was	 sure	 that	 Saint Anthony	of	Padua—the	saint	of	lost	and	stolen	articles—would	hear	his	prayer.

If	 Ledo	 were	 with	 him,	 he	 would	 be	 scolding	 Alejandro	 for	 his	 ridiculous superstitions.	If	Alejandro’s	great-aunt	was	still	alive,	she	would	be	telling	him	it was	a	sign	from	God,	and	that	he	had	better	cut	and	run	while	he	still	could.	He liked	his	great-aunt	better	than	Ledo,	whose	soul	was	as	black	as	his	beard,	but he	had	an	obligation	to	finish	the	job.

He	called	 El	Jefe.

“What?”

“There’s	a	new	development,”	Alejandro	replied.

“I’m	listening.”

“A	 man	 arrived	 at	 her	 house.	 He	 went	 in	 the	 back.	 He	 hasn’t	 called	 the police.”

“He’s	alone?”

“Sí,	señor.”

“Did	he	see	you?”

“No,”	Alejandro	answered.

“Who	is	he?”

“Perhaps	a	brother	or	a	boyfriend.	Mid-thirties.	Brown	hair.”

Alejandro	wasn’t	ready	to	divulge	the	man’s	identity.	Information	and	secrets held	value.

A	quien	le	cuentes	tus	secretos,	a	él	renuncias	a	tu	libertad.

He	 liked	 this	 old	 Spanish	 proverb:	 “To	 whom	 you	 tell	 your	 secrets,	 to	 him you	resign	your	liberty.”

“She	has	neither	a	brother	nor	a	boyfriend.”

“What	do	you	want	me	to	do?”

“I	 wanted	 you	 to	 find	 her	 computer.	 Since	 you	 failed	 at	 that,	 I	 want	 you	 to follow	him.	See	what	he	does	and	keep	me	updated.”

The	man	disconnected	the	call.

Maleducado.

The	 boss	 didn’t	 need	 to	 be	 so	 rude;	 however,	 Alejandro	 had	 observed	 that those	dictating	the	crimes	for	others	to	commit	often	lacked	courteous	behavior.

Alejandro	 watched	 the	 house	 with	 a	 mixture	 of	 anticipation	 and	 dread.	 He desperately	wanted	to	know	if	his	theory	about	how	Asher	Brenner	had	come	to arrive	at	the	physician’s	home	was	correct.

He	looked	down	at	the	article	in	his	hand.	The	headline	screamed:	“Psychic

Detective	Solves	Buck	Farm	Murder.”

Asher	had	been	a	firefighter,	then	a	paramedic	in	downtown	Atlanta.	Then	he had	diverged	from	his	career	path	for	a	year	to	become	a	psychic	detective.	After a	failed	case	and	public	disgrace,	he	had	moved	to	a	remote	town	in	northwest Georgia.	 Now	 he	 was	 back	 in	 Atlanta	 poking	 around	 a	 dead	 woman’s	 home.

Alejandro	wanted	to	know	why,	but	he	had	a	feeling	he	wouldn’t	like	the	answer.





4

“Sadie,”	a	soft	voice	called	out	to	her.

She	continued	to	shake.

“Sadie?”	Asher’s	voice	was	close	behind	her.

Warmth	radiated	down	her	arms.	Asher’s	warmth.

She	 blinked	 and	 her	 bedroom	 came	 into	 focus.	 The	 walls	 and	 furniture shimmied.	Her	belongings	hovered	an	inch	off	the	floor.

“Release	your	anger,”	Asher	gently	commanded.

As	quickly	as	flicking	on	a	light	switch,	everything	fell	back	to	the	floor.

“I	can	feel	you	touching	me.”

She	turned	around	to	see	his	face.	He	had	a	firm	jaw,	and	thick	brown	hair

framed	 his	 rich	 golden-brown	 tiger	 eyes.	 They	 were	 filled	 with	 compassion rather	than	anger.

“I	can	feel	you,	too.”	He	kept	his	hands	next	to	her	arms.	“You	feel	like	raw energy.	It's	amazing.	I’ve	never	felt	anything	like	you.”

She	 gave	 him	 a	 lopsided	 grin.	 “I	 bet	 you	 say	 that	 to	 all	 the	 lady	 ghosts	 in your	life.”

Asher	 chuckled.	 “Well,	 perhaps	 if	 they	 were	 all	 as	 beautiful	 as	 you	 I wouldn’t	 have	 quit	 the	 consulting	 job.”	 He	 dropped	 his	 hands	 to	 his	 sides	 and took	 a	 step	 back	 from	 her.	 “Truthfully,	 though,	 I’ve	 only	 ever	 seen	 wisps	 of

spirits	and	heard	voices	of	the	dead.	You’re	so	vibrant.”

“Do	 you	 think	 that’s	 because	 I’m	 so	 fresh?”	 Sadie	 frowned,	 trying	 to	 mask the	way	her	cheeks	flushed	in	response	to	his	compliment.	“Or	maybe	because	of our	relationship?”

“I	don’t	know.”

His	gaze	wandered	around	her	bedroom.

“This	is	more	action	than	my	bed	has	seen	in	a	long	time,”	she	said.

Asher	didn’t	laugh.

He	 placed	 his	 hands	 on	 his	 hips	 and	 scrutinized	 the	 crime	 scene.	 She imagined	him	in	his	firefighter	garb,	looking	dismally	around	her	room	the	way he	 might	 look	 at	 a	 fully	 involved	 building,	 fire	 blazing	 from	 the	 windows	 and roof.	Nothing	salvageable	here.

“What	were	they	looking	for?”	he	asked.

“I	don't	know.”

“What’s	missing?”

Asher	followed	her	from	room	to	room	as	she	took	a	mental	inventory.

“Nothing,”	she	said.

He	slipped	on	a	pair	of	vinyl	gloves	and	picked	up	a	cracked	photo	frame.	He stared	at	the	picture.

Sadie	 knew	 the	 photo	 well	 without	 seeing	 it.	 They	 had	 taken	 a	 five-day hiking	 and	 camping	 trip	 through	 the	 redwood	 forest.	 They	 had	 stood	 close together	in	the	picture,	dwarfed	by	an	enormous	redwood.

She	 thought	 back	 to	 the	 hike.	 She	 had	 felt	 small	 yet	 exhilarated	 among	 the giant	trees.	She	and	Asher	weaved	through	the	old	forest,	over	woodlands,	and crossing	streams.	An	afternoon	rainstorm	struck	abruptly,	and	they	scrambled	to make	shelter.	The	crisp	smell	of	rain	in	the	forest	enveloped	them.	Warm	inside the	tent	and	out	of	their	wet	clothes,	they	made	love.	Fervent,	passionate	kisses.

Skin	and	friction	and	ecstasy.

“You	kept	this?”	he	asked	dryly.

“I	kept	everything,	Asher.	You’re	the	one	thing	I	gave	up.	I	let	you	go,	and	I never	should	have.”

“Sadie—”

“Anyway,”	 she	 turned	 away	 from	 him	 and	 cleared	 her	 throat,	 “we	 have	 a murderer	to	catch.	You’re	here	to	help	me	with	that,	not	to	walk	down	memory lane.	When	this	is	over,	I'll	be	gone—celestial	dust,	or	whatever	comes	next.	We have	nothing	to	gain	from	memories	and	might-have-beens.”

He	 straightened	 as	 his	 expression	 hardened.	 “I	 don’t	 see	 a	 computer.	 Don’t you	have	a	laptop?”

She	nodded.	“Yes,	but	it	has	patient-sensitive	information	on	it,	so	it’s	locked up	at	work.”

He	 began	 walking	 through	 the	 house	 again,	 taking	 care	 to	 treat	 it	 like	 the crime	scene	it	was	and	not	to	displace	or	disturb	anything.

She	watched	him	move,	silently	and	predatorily.	She	looked	at	the	gloves	he wore.	 With	 a	 twinge	 of	 guilt,	 she	 thought	 again	 of	 the	 danger	 she	 was	 putting him	 in	 by	 involving	 him.	 When	 her	 body	 was	 found	 and	 an	 investigation	 got underway,	fingerprints	or	 fibers	gathered	while	 he	was	helping	 her	could	make him	a	suspect.

He	stopped,	standing	in	her	small	kitchen.	“No	room	was	left	unscathed.”

“Even	the	bathroom.”	She	shook	her	head.	“Is	nothing	sacred?”

Once	 again,	 she	 failed	 to	 lighten	 the	 mood	 and	 elicit	 a	 humorous	 reaction from	him.

Sadie	recalled	how	the	back	of	the	toilet	unit	had	been	removed.	What	would she	possibly	have	stored	in	the	toilet	reservoir?

“My	point	is	that	I	don’t	think	they	found	what	they	were	looking	for,”	Asher explained.	“If	they	had,	they	would	have	stopped	sooner,	so	that	only	one	or	two rooms	were	demolished.”

She	frowned.	“Is	that	good	news	or	bad	news?”

He	shook	his	head.	“Walk	with	me.”

She	followed	him	out	through	the	back	door,	which	she	noticed	was	broken.

The	 window	 was	 smashed,	 which	 had	 enabled	 the	 intruder	 to	 unlock	 the	 door merely	by	reaching	inside.

I	should	have	had	a	security	system.

They	walked	over	to	his	truck.	He	opened	the	driver’s	door,	so	she	climbed

in	and	scooted	into	the	passenger	seat.



“You’ll	be	okay	riding	in	the	car?”

“I’ll	manage.”

He	 started	 the	 engine,	 and	 they	 left	 her	 wrecked	 house	 behind	 them.	 Her scattered	belongings	were	no	longer	hers.	She	had	considered	herself	too	young to	make	a	will.

Mom	will	know	how	best	to	divide	things.

Heavens!

It	dawned	on	Sadie	that	she	didn’t	want	to	be	around	when	her	mom	got	the

news.	 She	 would	 be	 consumed	 with	 heartbreak	 and	 devastation,	 and	 Sadie wouldn’t	 be	 able	 to	 comfort	 her.	 The	 fact	 that	 she	 hadn’t	 made	 much	 time	 for family	 over	 the	 past	 few	 years	 wouldn’t	 provide	 any	 comfort	 either.	 She	 had missed	birthdays	and	holidays	because	there	was	always	a	shift	to	help	cover	or paperwork	 to	 catch	 up	 on.	 Truthfully,	 she	 could,	 and	 should,	 have	 made	 more time.	 Would	 they	 miss	 her	 more	 or	 less	 since	 she	 had	 chosen	 to	 isolate	 herself and	use	work	as	a	barrier	between	herself	and	the	people	who	cared	about	her?

“W here	are	we	going?”	Sadie	asked,	staring	at	the	blackness

around	 the	 vehicle.	 She	 could	 barely	 discern	 the	 trees	 as

they	sped	down	the	highway.

Sadie	hadn’t	been	out	in	rural	Georgia	at	night	since	she	had	stopped	dating Asher.	 She	 had	 forgotten	 how	 all-encompassing	 the	 darkness	 could	 be	 without city	lights.	She	looked	up	and	could	just	make	out	Orion	and	the	Big	Dipper.

“We	need	to	brainstorm,	and	I	need	food,”	Asher	said.

Sadie	wasn’t	hungry	or	cold	or	in	pain;	even	sitting	in	only	an	itch	of	fabric didn’t	bother	her.

As	 he	 drove,	 he	 began	 talking.	 “So,	 assuming	 they	 didn’t	 find	 what	 they were	 after,	 we	 have	 the	 opportunity	 to	 get	 ahead	 of	 them	 or	 catch	 them	 in	 the act.”

“If	we	can	figure	out	what	they	were	looking	for.”

“Yes,	we'll	get	to	that.	First,	we	need	to	acknowledge	what	we’ve	learned	so far—”

“That	he	is	a	sadistic	murderer?”

“No,	quite	the	opposite.	Whoever’s	behind	your	murder	sent	someone	else	to

kill	you.	They	either	don’t	want	to	get	their	hands	dirty,	or	they’re	incapable	of committing	 the	 act	 themselves,	 or	 they	 need	 to	 ensure	 anonymity.	 Or	 any combination	of	the	above.	What?	Why	do	you	look	so	surprised?”

“You’re	good	at	this.”

“I	spent	a	year	as	a	psychic	detective.	We	closed	eight	active	cases	and	four cold	cases.”

She	 was	 already	 aware	 of	 his	 success	 rate,	 having	 saved	 every	 newspaper clipping	she	had	found	relating	to	his	work.	She	also	knew	his	thirteenth	case—

the	one	he	hadn’t	mentioned—had	ended	in	ruin.

“Would	you	ever	do	it	again?”

“No.”

“Are	you	still	a	paramedic?”

“Once	a	paramedic,	always	a	paramedic.	But	I	do	like	to	rotate	jobs	between local	EMS	and	the	county	fire	department.”

Sadie	 remembered	 how	 he	 looked	 in	 uniform.	 She	 remembered	 his

appearance	when	he	had	brought	sick	patients	into	her	ICU	from	other	hospitals.

He	 had	 intentionally	 shaken	 her	 left	 hand	 as	 he	 introduced	 himself,	 subtly turning	it	over	to	look	for	a	ring.

“When	is	your	shift	over?”	he	had	asked.

“Seven	a.m.”

“Can	I	pick	you	up	for	coffee?”

From	that	morning	onward,	they	had	coordinated	their	time	off	together	for

beach	 trips,	 hiking	 excursions,	 and	 ski	 vacations.	 Every	 adventure	 began	 with excitement	and	ended	in	toe-curling,	panting,	orgasmic	intimacy.	She	loved	his energy	and	his	enjoyment	of	wood	crafts.	He	spent	most	of	his	downtime	at	the fire	station	whittling	wooden	figurines	of	bears	or	horses.

“Sadie,	are	you	okay?”

She	 looked	 over	 at	 Asher	 and	 noticed	 the	 car	 had	 stopped	 outside	 a	 diner.

Below	a	purple	awning,	a	red	neon	sign	glowed	with	the	word	‘OPEN.’

“You	were	glowing,”	he	said.

“I	was?	Oh,	must	be	some	weird	ghost	thing.”

He	stared	at	her.

“Shall	 we?”	 She	 disappeared,	 then	 reappeared	 outside	 his	 car	 on	 the	 driver side.

He	startled,	composed	himself,	and	opened	his	door.	“No,	that’s	not	creepy	at all.”

“Bring	your	earbuds.”

“What?”

“Your	earbuds.	You	can	pretend	you’re	talking	on	the	phone	so	no	one	thinks you’re	crazy.”

Asher	turned	and	dug	around	inside	his	gym	bag,	pulling	out	white	earbuds

and	slipping	them	into	his	ears.	He	plugged	the	other	end	into	his	phone.

They	walked	into	the	diner,	and	he	headed	toward	a	booth	in	the	back	corner, far	from	any	other	patrons.	When	the	waiter	arrived,	Asher	ordered	water	and	a cheeseburger	without	looking	at	the	menu.

Sadie	watched	the	waiter	walk	away	to	place	Asher’s	order.

Asher	 leaned	 across	 the	 table	 and	 looked	 her	 in	 the	 eyes.	 “Let's	 start	 with your	 last	 months	 of	 activity.	 Every	 human	 contact	 you’ve	 had:	 in	 person,	 by phone,	on	email,	and	via	social	media.”

Slowly,	 Sadie	 delved	 into	 the	 weeks	 before	 her	 death.	 Since	 she	 had	 been granted	research	funding,	only	half	her	time	had	been	spent	in	providing	direct patient	 care.	 She	 had	 lost	 patients	 in	 the	 ICU,	 but	 there	 were	 no	 irate	 family members	 as	 far	 as	 she	 knew.	 She	 could	 recall	 various	 interactions	 with colleagues,	 but	 nothing	 that	 was	 less	 than	 amicable.	 She	 had	 been	 too	 busy	 to spend	time	butting	heads	with	people	she	didn’t	like.	She	mostly	avoided	them.

She	 talked	 about	 her	 personal	 time.	 She’d	 had	 a	 long	 phone	 conversation with	her	mom	one	evening,	but	nothing	out	of	the	ordinary.	“She’s	on	me	about finding	another	boyfriend,	and	how,	at	this	rate,	I’m	never	going	to	give	her	any grandchildren.”	 Sadie	 squirmed	 in	 her	 seat.	 “For	 a	 year	 after	 we	 broke	 up	 she

demanded	I	fix	things	and	get	you	back.”

“We	didn’t	break	up.	You	 left	me.”

“Fine.”	Sadie	continued	with	her	recounting	of	the	past	month,	half	wishing she	had	a	tale	of	some	sordid	encounter	with	a	man	so	Asher	wouldn’t	have	the satisfaction	of	knowing	she	had	been	alone	all	this	time.

Sadie’s	 two	 sisters	 lived	 in	 Florida	 with	 their	 families.	 They	 spoke	 once	 a month,	mostly	about	her	nieces	and	nephews.	She	thought	of	all	the	family	she would	 never	 see	 again.	 She	 would	 never	 get	 to	 bounce	 little	 Beth	 on	 her	 knee again.

She	finally	got	to	talking	about	her	last	week,	and	a	sense	of	emptiness	filled her.	 The	 week	 leading	 up	 to	 her	 death	 had	 been	 spent	 analyzing	 research	 data and	 talking	 to	 colleagues	 about	 a	 national	 study.	 Her	 life	 sounded	 amazingly dull.

What	does	any	of	it	matter	now?

“Why	did	you	stop	talking?”

Sadie	gave	a	long	exhalation.	”Just	.	.	.”	She	shook	her	head.	“Never	mind.”

She	didn’t	need	him	reiterating	that	she	had	created	her	own	loneliness.	All	she could	see	was	a	sudden	death	preceded	by	an	unfulfilling	life.

“I	crunched	research	numbers	over	the	weekend.	We’re	six	months	into	the

trial,	so	it’s	standard	to	evaluate	the	data.	Monday	afternoon	I	reached	out	to	Ben Holland	in	Portland,	and	Yoshi	Fuki	in	St.	Louis.”

“Who	are	they?”

“They’re	principal	investigators	at	their	respective	sites,	so	they	have	access to	their	institutional	data.”

“But	you’re	a	co-investigator	and	not	the	principal	investigator?”

“For	 a	 study	 this	 big,	 the	 principal	 investigator	 needs	 to	 have	 stacked	 up years	 of	 study	 experience.	 Louie	 Lebeau	 is	 my	 PI,	 and	 the	 main	 PI	 over	 the entire	 study.	 We	 both	 knew	 I’d	 be	 doing	 the	 lion’s	 share	 of	 the	 legwork	 at	 our university.	This	was	supposed	to	be	the	big	breakthrough	study	I’d	get	my	name on,	but	it’s	a	dud.”	She	had	worked	hard	to	ensure	that	her	hospital	had	become one	of	the	top	accruing	sites	for	the	study.

“What	about	your	relationship	with	Louie?”

Sadie	 shrugged.	 “Professor	 Lebeau?	 Great	 guy,	 very	 personable.	 He	 hand-picked	me	for	this	project.	I	was	the	right	type	of	hard	worker	in	the	right	place at	the	right	time.”

“What’s	his	relationship	with	other	people	like?”

“He’s	well	respected,	nationally	known.	I	think	he’s	had	a	few	assistants	quit because	 they	 didn’t	 pull	 their	 weight.	 His	 wife’s	 a	 cardiologist.	 His	 kids	 are grown	and	in	college.”

Asher	leaned	back	and	crossed	his	arms.	“Back	to	Monday.	You	talked	to	the

investigators	at	other	sites.	Were	those	just	routine	discussions	about	the	study?”

“No,	I	called	to	see	if	they	had	recorded	similarly	disappointing	results.”

Asher’s	 cheeseburger	 arrived.	 He	 added	 ketchup	 and	 started	 eating.	 After taking	several	bites,	he	continued.	“You	said	you	thought	your	study	was	a	dud.”

“The	 whole	 point	 of	 TIE-55	 is	 to	 reduce	 mortality	 in	 patients	 with	 septic shock.	 From	 the	 data	 I	 had,	 it	 didn’t	 meet	 expectations.	 The	 only	 difference	 I found	was	a	drop	in	platelet	count.”

“How	does	it	work?”

Sadie	 hesitated.	 She	 had	 signed	 a	 confidentiality	 agreement	 prohibiting	 her from	 discussing	 details	 of	 the	 study	 drug	 until	 after	 the	 results	 were	 published .

Did	 that	 still	 apply	 if	 she	 were	 dead?	 Surely	 a	 murder	 investigation	 trumped	 a confidentiality	agreement.

“During	 septic	 shock,	 when	 the	 body	 is	 mounting	 a	 response	 to	 infection, heat	shock	proteins	are	activated.	These	proteins	facilitate	the	immune	response, but	 also	 contribute	 to	 a	 large-scale	 inflammatory	 response	 that	 dilates	 blood vessels	and	decreases	organ	perfusion.”

Asher	nodded.	“Therefore	causing	organ	failure	during	septic	shock.”

“Exactly.	TIE-55	inhibits	heat	shock	protein,	thereby	suppressing	the	body’s overwhelming	reaction	to	infection	and	the	resulting	organ	failure.”

He	 swallowed	 a	 French	 fry.	 “You	 said	 this	 is	 a	 national	 study.	 How	 many sites?”

“Twenty-two.”

“And	 they	 all	 have	 a	 control	 arm	 and	 a	 study	 arm?”	 Asher	 had	 enough knowledge	from	his	medical	background	as	a	paramedic	and	spending	time	with

her	to	know	how	randomized	trials	worked.

Sadie	nodded.

“So	 why	 would	 you	 be	 disappointed	 by	 the	 results	 of	 a	 single	 site	 that doesn’t	even	represent	a	tenth	of	the	entire	group?”

She	narrowed	her	eyes	at	him.	“Is	this	part	of	your	investigation,	Detective Brenner,	or	do	you	just	want	to	belittle	me?”

He	 replied	 by	 taking	 the	 last	 bite	 of	 his	 burger	 and	 chewing	 slowly	 and deliberately.

Sadie	ran	a	hand	through	her	hair.	“I	was	a	young	investigator	waiting	for	a successful	 study.	 A	 well-funded	 industry	 study	 could	 have	 paved	 the	 way	 for other	research.	I	was	eager	and	green.	And	now	I’m	 nothing.”

She	clenched	her	fists.

The	salt	shaker	abruptly	fell	over,	spilling	its	white	particles	onto	the	table.





5

Sadie	watched	as	Asher	leaned	back	calmly	during	her	outburst.	He

always	 had	 the	 gift	 of	 remaining	 maddeningly	 serene	 when	 she	 was

upset.

He	raised	his	hands.	“Okay,	Sadie.	Don’t.	Don't	cry.”

She	wiped	her	eyes	with	her	sleeve.

Stupid	ghost	tears.

“I’m	sorry.”	The	apology	came	out	like	a	sob.	She	looked	around	the	diner.

“At	least	no	one	else	can	see	me.”

“So	what	it	if	they	could.	I’ve	never	once	been	embarrassed	to	be	seen	with you,	whether	you	were	crying,	yelling,	or	calm.”

She	nodded,	sniffed,	and	pulled	herself	together.	“Keep	going.”

“So	 you	 talked	 to	 Ben	 and	 Yoshi,	 the	 investigators	 at	 the	 other	 sites.	 Did anything	come	out	of	those	conversations?”

“Their	 results	 were	 much	 the	 same.	 They	 agreed	 to	 send	 their	 de-identified data	so	I	could	lump	ours	with	theirs	and	analyze	it.”

“Doesn’t	somebody	have	the	full	data	set?”

“Only	 the	 pharmaceutical	 company	 has	 the	 complete	 set.	 Each	 site	 uploads data	to	their	platform.”	She	slouched	in	her	seat.	“I	just	wanted	to	run	a	little	side analysis.”

“Yes,	green	and	eager.	I	remember.”	His	gaze	darted	over	to	the	salt	shaker lying	on	its	side,	then	back	to	Sadie.

He	took	a	sip	of	water.	“So,	that’s	everything	that	happened	on	Monday?”

“Yep.”

“Tuesday?”

“I	spent	the	day	doing	grant	work	in	my	office.	Louie	dropped	by,	and	I	told him	about	the	disappointing	preliminary	study	results.”

“What	was	his	response?”

“Like	a	good	mentor,	he	gave	me	encouragement.	He	said	what	you	did,	only

in	a	nicer	way.	We’re	one	site	of	many,	and	the	study	has	another	six	months	to prove	the	drug’s	efficacy.”

“Wednesday?”

“An	M	and	M	meeting,	followed	by	data	crunching	for	four	hours.	When	I

couldn’t	stare	at	a	computer	any	longer,	I	went	for	a	hike.”

“M	and	M?”	he	asked.

“Morbidity	 and	 mortality.	 We	 reviewed	 a	 case	 where	 a	 patient	 died	 from	 a procedural	complication.”

He	crossed	his	arms.	“And	you	didn’t	think	this	was	a	noteworthy	part	of	our murder	investigation?”

Her	brow	furrowed	in	concentration.	“The	patient	had	a	central	line	placed.

The	 procedure	 was	 complicated	 by	 bleeding	 and	 a	 pneumothorax.”	 These complications	were	known	risks	of	the	procedure.	“The	patient	was	experiencing multi-organ	 failure	 with	 end-stage	 liver	 disease.	 The	 complication	 was	 tragic, but	there	was	no	negligence	or	malpractice	involved.”

“No	one	was	upset	about	the	investigation?”

“Involved	persons	often	don’t	know	we’re	reviewing	the	case.	They	usually

never	know	unless	we	find	something	that	needs	to	be	addressed.”

He	 gave	 her	 a	 speculative	 stare	 that	 conveyed	 the	 sense	 that	 he	 remained unconvinced	by	her	willingness	to	dismiss	the	significance	of	the	meeting.

“After	 the	 M	 and	 M	 meeting,	 you	 said	 you	 were	 data	 crunching.	 Data crunching	on	the	TIE-55	study	again?”

“Yes.	Mostly	combining	Ben’s	data	with	mine.”



“Your	afternoon	hike	was	to	the	same	place	you	died,	or	somewhere	else?”

“Different	trail.”

“Who	knows	you	like	to	hike?”

“Everyone.”

“Who	knows	 where	you	like	to	hike?”

“Everyone.	I	post	my	hikes	on	social	media	all	the	time.	It	would	be	easy	to work	out	my	patterns.”

“Did	you	meet	anyone	or	talk	to	anyone	on	Wednesday’s	hike?”

“No.”

“Let’s	move	on	to	Thursday.”

“One	of	the	ICU	docs,	Lori,	was	out	with	a	sick	child,	so	I	covered	her	shift on	Thursday.	And	before	you	ask,	there	were	no	angry	patient	encounters	that	I recall.”

“Friday?”

“I	 got	 Yoshi’s	 data	 set	 late	 Thursday,	 so	 I	 stayed	 to	 merge	 the	 data.	 Friday morning	 I	 finished	 all	 of	 my	 patient	 notes	 from	 the	 day	 before.	 Then	 I	 went hiking.	I	needed	exercise.	I	planned	to	come	in	to	the	office	on	Saturday	to	make up	the	hours.	But	I	died.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes,	okay.”

“Now	what?”	She	was	ready	for	the	next	part	of	their	investigation.

Asher	stood,	pulled	out	his	wallet,	and	dropped	some	cash	onto	the	table.

Sadie	stood	with	determination.

“Now	I’m	going	to	the	bathroom,”	he	replied.

She	took	her	seat	again	and	blew	a	strand	of	hair	out	of	her	face.

sher	emerged	from	the	restroom	to	find	an	empty	booth	where	he	and	Sadie	had

been	sitting.	Sadie	was	gone.	His	heart	skipped	a	beat	as	his	mouth	became	dry.

A He	exited	the	diner	and	scanned	the	parking	lot.	He	saw	her

sitting	 in	 the	 passenger	 seat	 of	 his	 truck.	 He	 sucked	 in	 a	 breath	 in relief.	What	if	her	spirit	vanished?	She	would	be	lost	to	him.	Forever.

Sadie	smiled	and	waved.

Asher	grinned	and	shook	his	head.	The	irony	of	her	waiting	in	the	car	wasn’t lost	 on	 him.	 How	 many	 hours	 had	 he	 spent	 waiting	 on	 her	 when	 they	 were dating?	Her	“quick”	errands	at	the	store	and	her	“quick”	runs	to	the	restroom	had never	been	expedient.

He	walked	over	to	the	truck.	If	he	had	it	all	to	do	over	again,	he	would	have been	more	patient,	but	he	would	never	have	the	opportunity	now.

He	climbed	into	his	truck	and	started	the	engine.

“Now	what?”	she	asked.

Now	we	 kiss.	 We	make	 out	 in	my	 truck	 like	 we	used	 to	 do.	I	 touch	 you	and caress	you	until	you	squirm,	begging	for	more.

Asher	pursed	his	lips.	“We	need	to	go	through	your	computer.	That’s	the	next thing	the	police	would	do	to	track	the	killer.”

“It’s	locked	in	my	office.	It’s	midnight,	so	there	isn’t	even	anyone	who	could let	 you	 in;	 not	 that	 anyone	 would.	 You	 don’t	 have	 security	 clearance	 for	 my office	floor.	But	I	have	remote	access.”

“Okay,	so	where	can	we	get	computer	access	at	midnight?”

“Don’t	you	have	a	computer?”

“It’s	a	two-hour	drive	back	to	my	place,	and	I’m	not	using	my	computer	to

access	your	workstation.	That	would	tie	me	to	your	murder	in	a	millisecond.”

“The	university	library.”

“Done.”	 He	 put	 the	 truck	 in	 drive	 and	 headed	 for	 downtown	 Atlanta.	 “Are you	gonna	be	okay	for	the	drive?”

“I’m	getting	the	hang	of	me	and	matter.	I	might	even	venture	to	try	opening	a door	in	the	near	future.”

Her	tone	was	jovial,	but	he	suspected	she	was	masking	a	desire	for	emotional release,	 which	 would	 naturally	 be	 to	 cry	 and	 scream	 about	 her	 situation.	 For now,	 feigning	 acceptance	 was	 more	 productive.	 If	 she	 could	 lift	 objects	 and

knock	over	salt	shakers	when	she	was	trying	to	control	herself,	what	would	she be	capable	of	if	her	emotions	were	unleashed?

From	the	corner	of	his	eye,	he	could	see	Sadie	fidgeting	with	her	hands.	He instinctively	reached	out	to	hold	one	in	his,	but	stopped	himself.	He	clenched	his fist	and	brought	it	back	to	the	wheel.

She	turned	her	head	away	from	him	to	look	out	the	window.	Was	she	angry

with	him	for	never	returning	her	call?	Did	she	resent	the	fact	that	he	was	alive , and	she	wasn’t?

Asher	 wished	 he	 could	 fix	 her	 situation.	 He	 hated	 feeling	 impotent	 in	 the wake	 of	 her	 death.	 All	 he	 could	 do	 was	 offer	 to	 help	 solve	 her	 murder,	 which might	very	well	result	in	her	ghost	disappearing	forever.

Under	Sadie's	direction,	he	parked	in	the	visitor	bay.	He	donned	his	leather jacket	and	walked	toward	the	library.

The	 parking	 lot	 was	 sparsely	 populated	 but	 well	 lit.	 He	 suspected	 cameras would	 be	 hanging	 near	 the	 lighting.	 When	 an	 investigation	 got	 underway,	 the police	 would	 be	 able	 to	 track	 the	 IP	 address	 of	 the	 remote	 login	 to	 the	 library, and	the	library	cameras	would	identify	him.	The	alternative	to	avoid	becoming	a suspect	was	to	not	help	Sadie.	But	he	was	committed	to	helping	Sadie.

“Hey,	look!	I	can	keep	up	with	your	long	strides.”

Asher	 looked	 at	 her	 as	 she	 glided	 along	 beside	 him.	 He	 had	 always	 had	 to slow	his	normal	stride	for	her.	Tonight,	on	a	mission,	he	walked	at	a	swift	pace.

He	slowed	his	gait.

“What?”	she	asked.

“It’s	creepy.	Can	you	walk	normally?”

Sadie	sighed,	but	began	walking	rather	than	floating.	“I	thought	my	behavior was	more	ghostlike.”

“I	wouldn't	know.”

Sadie	arched	an	eyebrow.

He	smirked.	“Until	you,	all	the	spirits	I’ve	encountered	have	been	glimpses and	whispers	and	sensations.”

“What	kind	of	sensations?”	She	batted	her	eyelashes	at	him.

He	noticed	how	his	breath	condensed	in	the	cool	night	air,	while	hers	did	not.



“Not	 those	kind	of	sensations.	For	instance,	I	could	be	walking	in	the	woods on	 a	 cold	 day,	 and	 following	 a	 trail	 of	 warmth	 would	 lead	 me	 to	 the	 victim’s body.	 Or	 I’d	 be	 inside	 an	 empty,	 non-ventilated	 building	 and	 a	 breeze	 only	 I could	 feel	 would	 take	 me	 to	 an	 empty	 elevator	 shaft	 where	 the	 victims	 fell.

Looking	solid	and	alive,	you,	Sadie,	are	an	anomaly.”

“Excellent.”

He	gave	her	a	sidelong	glance.

“I’ve	never	been	accused	of	being	normal,	so	there’s	no	sense	starting	now.”

Asher	grinned.

Sadie	talked	Asher	through	signing	in	to	her	remote	desktop	on	the	library

computer.

“I’m	going	to	open	various	files,”	he	explained.	“I	want	you	to	see	if

anything	looks	out	of	place.”

She	leaned	over	his	shoulder	and	focused.

They	 combed	 through	 her	 files:	 PowerPoint	 presentations,	 journal	 articles, various	letters,	research	folders,	documents,	and	policies.

Here	 was	 her	 life.	 All	 her	 information	 in	 a	 stored	 file.	 Flat	 little	 icons	 that represented	 endless	 hours	 of	 work.	 Her	 two-dimensional	 life.	 The	 data	 was arranged	 in	 neat	 rows.	 The	 papers	 had	 perfect	 margins	 and	 had	 been	 tediously edited.	Asher	had	made	her	life	three-dimensional.	He	had	brought	color,	depth, and	passion	into	it.

“This	 is	 the	 morbidity	 and	 mortality	 file?”	 Asher	 asked,	 interrupting	 her wandering	thoughts.	“Whoa,”	he	said	as	he	opened	it.	“There	are	eighteen	files in	here.”	Her	turned	his	head	to	look	at	her.

Their	faces	were	close,	their	lips	almost	touching.

“Yeah,	I’m	on	the	committee.	We	go	through	all	deaths.”	She	leaned	back	as

she	stood	over	him.	“Why	are	you	looking	at	me	like	that?”

“You’re	 on	 a	 committee	 that	 investigates	 death.	 Anyone	 you	 investigated could	be	a	suspect.”

Sadie	 bit	 her	 lip.	 She	 stared	 at	 the	 open	 file,	 trying	 to	 recall	 if	 anyone	 had been	angry	about	the	committee’s	findings.	Morbidity	and	mortality	committees were	standard	in	every	hospital.	Surely,	all	personnel	on	the	committee	weren’t targets	because	of	their	role.	Her	eyes	roamed	the	computer	screen.

“Wait.	My	TIE-55	folder	has	been	moved.	It’s	always	at	the	top	right	of	the screen.”

The	folder	icon	was	showing	at	the	bottom	left.

Asher	opened	the	file.

As	he	did	so,	Sadie’s	breath	hitched.	“The	merged	data	file	is	missing.	That’s where	 Ben	 and	 Yoshi’s	 data	 is,	 and	 the	 spreadsheet	 where	 I	 merged	 them	 with mine.	It	was	all	there.”

“I	believe	you.	Who	might	be	after	the	data?”

“It’s	 de-identified,	 so	 no	 one	 can	 link	 the	 patient	 to	 a	 particular	 data	 set.

There’s	no	information	about	the	drug	itself;	only	which	subjects	received	it	and which	didn’t.	Anyone	who	was	after	my	spreadsheet	would	have	had	to	want	the data	for	what	it	is—information	on	drug	efficacy.”

“Which	 you	 said	 demonstrated	 that	 the	 drug	 wasn’t	 delivering	 any	 miracle cures.”

“That’s	right.	Who	would	want	a	data	set	about	a	drug	that	doesn’t	work?”

“And	who	would	be	willing	to	kill	for	it?”

Sadie	 took	 a	 step	 back	 and	 wrapped	 her	 arms	 around	 her	 torso.	 “I’ve	 no idea.”

“You	said	something	about	adverse	events	.	.	.	”

“Platelet	counts	seemed	to	drop,	but	then	they	usually	drop	in	patients	with septic	 shock.	 Also,	 heparin	 is	 commonly	 given	 to	 patients	 in	 the	 hospital	 to prevent	 blood	 clots	 and	 has	 a	 little	 less	 than	 one	 percent	 incidence	 of	 causing platelets	to	drop.	A	bigger	data	set	with	multivariate	analysis	would	be	needed	to confirm	whether	a	significant	difference	in	platelet	counts	was	recorded.”

“Let’s	finish	our	search	of	your	computer.	If	nothing	else	is	missing—”

“We	have	the	smoking	gun?”

His	brow	furrowed.	“We	have	smoke,	but	no	gun.	To	get	the	gun	we	need	the data	set,	and	we	need	to	figure	out	what’s	hiding	in	those	results.”

She	nodded.	“Hopefully	they	didn’t	find	my	laptop.”

Asher	swiveled	in	his	chair	to	look	at	her	face	on.

“I	 back	 my	 desktop	 up	 to	 my	 laptop	 every	 night,”	 she	 continued.	 “I	 didn’t take	it	home	Friday	because	I	knew	I	was	coming	back	Saturday.	Well,	I	thought I	was	coming	back	Saturday.”	Her	voice	trailed	off.

“You	back	up	your	data	nightly?”

“Yes.	Why	do	you	look	so	surprised?	I’m	not	an	amateur.	I	don’t	want	to	lose my	work	in	a	hard-drive	crash.”

“How	do	we	get	your	laptop	out	of	your	office?”

She	stared	at	the	floor.	“I	have	an	idea,	let	me	try	it	out.	I’ll	be	right	back.”

“Wait,	wait.	Let’s	do	this	methodically.	Finish	the	computer	search	first,	and then	break	into	your	office.”





6

A n	hour	later,	Sadie	was	standing	outside	the	external	door	of	her

hospital	 department	 offices.	 She	 could	 walk	 through	 the	 door	 but

Asher	 couldn’t.	 Even	 though	 she	 could	 waltz	 undetected	 into	 her

office,	she	couldn’t	then	carry	her	laptop	out	with	her.	She	needed	to	determine	if she	could	help	Asher	get	inside.	She	looked	at	the	key	card	reader.	Surely	if	she could	knock	over	a	salt	shaker,	she	could	jiggle	a	little	electricity	in	her	favor.

“Here	goes	nothing,”	she	mumbled	to	herself.	She	extended	her	fingers	into

the	mounted	black	box	and	a	tingling	sensation	spread	up	her	arm.	She	wriggled her	 fingers	 until— voila! —the	 red	 indicator	 button	 switched	 to	 green.	 A mechanical	click	was	emitted	and	the	door	was	unlocked.

Excitement	rose	within	her.	She	would	be	able	to	get	Asher	inside!

She	transported	herself	back	to	Asher	in	the	hospital’s	visitor	parking	lot.	He was	 resting	 in	 the	 driver	 seat	 with	 his	 head	 back	 and	 eyes	 closed.	 She remembered	glancing	at	the	clock	in	the	library	when	they	left.	It	had	been	two a.m.	 She	 needed	 to	 let	 Asher	 get	 some	 sleep,	 but	 first	 they	 needed	 to	 grab	 the laptop.

She	 leaned	 through	 the	 driver	 side	 door,	 moving	 her	 face	 close	 to	 Asher’s.

She	could	have	kissed	those	soft,	succulent	lips	or	run	a	hand	through	his	dark hair.	Only	she	couldn’t.

“Asher,”	she	said	softly.

He	jumped.	“What?”	He	stared	at	her	body,	which	was	still	leaning	through

the	solid	door.	“Okay,	okay.	Stop	that.”

“Too	creepy?”	She	grinned,	pulling	her	torso	outside	the	vehicle.

“Yes.”

He	exited	the	truck,	and	they	walked	through	the	parking	deck	together.

“I	don’t	suppose	you	can	do	anything	about	all	these	cameras	catching	me	on video?”

“Oh	yeah,	I	think	so.”	If	she	could	manipulate	an	electronic	lock,	she	ought to	be	able	to	obscure	a	camera	feed.

She	led	him	through	doorways	and	down	hallways	as	she	floated	above	him,

interfering	with	each	ceiling	camera	along	the	way.	They	reached	the	outer	door that	led	to	her	department’s	offices.

She	 raised	 and	 lowered	 her	 eyebrows	 at	 him	 as	 she	 wiggled	 her	 ghostly fingers	in	the	electronic	lock.

When	the	door	clicked,	he	opened	it.

Sadie	sashayed	through	the	doorway.

“You’re	 enjoying	 this	 way	 too	 much.	 My	 bank	 account	 doesn’t	 feel	 safe anymore.”

She	looked	over	her	shoulder	and	winked.	“I	got	skills.”

“I	 already	 knew	 that.”	 His	 tone	 was	 playful,	 and	 he	 wasn't	 scowling	 for	 a change.

She	kept	walking,	trying	not	to	enjoy	this	moment	of	levity	too	much.

When	 they	 reached	 her	 office,	 Sadie	 walked	 through	 the	 locked	 door	 and depressed	the	handle	from	the	inside	to	let	him	into	her	office.

He	walked	around	her.

“It’s	in	the	drawer	under	the	desk.”

The	room	was	dark	except	for	the	faint	light	spilling	in	from	the	hallway.	She felt	like	her	heart	beat	nervously,	fearful	of	Asher	of	getting	caught.

He	felt	around	for	the	drawer	with	gloved	hands	since	it	wasn’t	visible	in	the dim	light.	He	pulled	the	drawer	out	and	gingerly	lifted	the	computer	as	though	it were	made	of	porcelain.



“Oh,	and	the	charger.	In	the	drawer	over	there.”

Asher	fetched	it.

They	 quickly	 made	 their	 way	 back	 to	 the	 parking	 deck	 the	 same	 way	 they had	come	in,	with	Sadie	blocking	the	cameras	streams	as	Asher	moved	through the	corridors.

A sher	rubbed	his	eyes	and	blinked	at	the	dashboard.	It	was	three	a.m.

“Let’s	find	a	motel.	You	need	some	rest,”	Sadie	said.

He	nodded.

Within	fifteen	minutes,	he	had	checked	in,	paid	cash,	and	entered	the	motel room.

He	appraised	the	small	space.	The	bathroom	was	barely	large	enough	to	turn

around	in,	much	less	change	his	clothes.

He	 felt	 bone-tired.	 The	 stress	 of	 seeing	 Sadie	 and	 wanting	 to	 help	 her, combined	 with	 worry	 about	 her	 situation	 and	 fear	 for	 his	 own	 implication	 had taken	a	toll	on	him.	He	couldn’t	think	clearly,	which	was	evidenced	by	the	fact that	he	desired	nothing	more	than	to	curl	up	on	the	bed	with	Sadie	in	his	arms.

He	recalled	the	many	opportunities	he’d	had	to	watch	Sadie	in	her	element	as a	 physician	 treating	 patients.	 Her	 ICU	 had	 always	 been	 overflowing	 with	 the sickest	 patients:	 those	 suffering	 from	 pneumonia,	 multi-organ	 failure,	 bleeding disorders,	 anaphylactic	 shock,	 flu,	 respiratory	 failure,	 and	 septic	 shock	 from overwhelming	infections.

She	was	a	decisive	physician,	and	was	respected	by	the	nursing	staff.	He	had glimpsed	 her	 having	 compassionate	 discussions	 with	 patients’	 families.	 He	 had watched	her	skillfully	performing	critical	intubations.

She	had	given	every	ounce	of	her	energy	to	patient	care	during	her	ten-hour



shifts,	continually	arriving	home	exhausted.	While	they	were	dating,	they	never planned	 activities	 after	 one	 of	 her	 shifts	 because	 they	 both	 knew	 she	 would	 be too	tired.	For	this	reason,	he	had	liked	the	addition	of	research	to	her	schedule.

Less	time	spent	in	the	intensive	care	unit	meant	a	change	of	pace	for	Sadie	and reduced	the	likelihood	of	her	suffering	career	burnout.

He	dropped	an	overnight	bag	onto	the	chair.

“I’ll	let	you	sleep.	What	time	do	you	want	me	back	to	wake	you?”

“Eight.	Thanks.”	He	slipped	off	his	shoes.

She	stuck	her	thumbs	into	her	waistband.	“Too	bad	I	can’t	bring	you	coffee.”

She	was	glowing	again,	and	looked	truly	radiant.	Her	dark	hair	hung	in	loose curls,	her	full	lips	slightly	parted.

He	stepped	towards	her,	itching	to	grab	and	kiss	her.

“Promise	me	you'll	come	back.	Eight	a.m.”

“I	promise.”

“I	wish—”

She	vanished	before	he	had	a	chance	to	finish	his	sentence.

I	wish	things	were	different.	I	wish	you	were	alive.

Asher	stood	staring	at	the	empty	space	where	she	had	stood.	The	room	felt

cold	without	her.	He	crawled	under	the	covers,	and	he	fell	asleep	as	soon	as	his eyes	closed.

Sadie	returned	to	the	woods.	She	hated	the	thought	of	her	body	lying

alone	in	the	cold	autumn	air.	Perhaps	she	could	sit	near	herself	and	keep

her	body	company.	It	was	a	ridiculous	notion,	but	she	walked	along	the

trail	looking	for	her	corpse.

The	 darkness	 around	 her	 seemed	 terribly	 dense.	 She	 had	 no	 flashlight,	 and

there	was	barely	a	sliver	of	moon	to	light	her	way.	She	didn’t	find	her	body,	so she	 supposed	 the	 killer	 must	 have	 hidden	 it	 well.	 She	 realized	 she	 had	 left	 the scene	 of	 the	 crime	 too	 soon	 the	 day	 before,	 and	 as	 a	 result	 she	 didn’t	 know precisely	 where	 her	 cadaver	 had	 been	 left	 to	 rot.	 She	 placed	 her	 hand	 on	 her heart,	 trying	 to	 use	 the	 same	 trick	 she	 had	 used	 to	 find	 Asher,	 but	 she	 wasn’t pulled	to	the	location	of	her	cold,	lonely	body.

Downtrodden,	 she	 half-climbed,	 half-floated	 to	 the	 peak	 overlooking	 the forest.	She	sat	there	quietly,	staring	at	the	horizon	and	waiting	for	sunrise.

As	the	sun	broke	in	the	distance,	she	was	dazzled	by	its	brilliance.	She	sat	in awe	of	the	orange	and	white	light.	When	was	the	last	time	she	had	taken	the	time to	 do	 nothing?	 Sadie	 couldn’t	 recall	 the	 last	 time	 she	 had	 enjoyed	 a	 sunrise,	 a sunset,	or	an	ocean	view	without	sensing	the	seconds	ticking	round	into	minutes; without	 wondering	 what	 time	 it	 was	 and	 thinking	 about	 the	 long	 to-do	 list waiting	for	her	at	work.	She	had	spend	years	of	her	life	making	every	detail	fit into	a	fixed	time	limit.

She	hadn’t	undertaken	any	slow	leisure	activities	since	dating	Asher.	Before him,	 her	 life	 had	 been	 filled	 with	 the	 same	 hectic	 days	 measuring accomplishments:	 medical	 school	 exams,	 residency	 rotations,	 board	 tests,	 and fellowship	certification.

She	 had	 planned	 to	 slow	 down	 her	 life,	 but	 the	 deadlines	 and	 goals	 and publications	had	been	never-ending.	Asher	had	helped	bring	balance	to	her	life until	she	snuffed	out	their	relationship.

They	had	been	dating	for	a	year	before	he	trusted	her	with	his	secret.

They	 had	 picnicked	 near	 a	 waterfall	 at	 Raven	 Cliff	 Falls.	 They	 finished eating	 and	 were	 soaking	 up	 the	 sun,	 lying	 on	 a	 rock	 with	 their	 heads	 close together	and	their	bodies	stretching	away	from	each	other.

“Sometimes	 when	 I	 see	 you	 turning	 the	 ring	 on	 your	 finger,	 I	 think	 you're missing	your	grandmother,”	Asher	had	said.

Sadie	smiled	softly.	“I	do	miss	her.	She	raised	me	more	than	my	own	mother

did.”

“Because	of	your	mom’s	work?”

“My	 mother	 was	 career-oriented	 when	 I	 was	 growing	 up.	 I	 don't	 think	 she

ever	possessed	nurturing	traits.”

“Your	 grandmother	 would	 perhaps	 have	 suggested	 that	 she	 didn’t	 try	 hard enough.”

Sadie	turned	to	look	at	him	in	an	attempt	to	make	sense	of	his	oddly	familiar comment.	“She	probably	would	have.	She	said	on	more	than	one	occasion	that

Mom	should	spend	less	time	at	work	and	more	time	with	me.”

“There	are	thousands	of	jobs	out	there,	but	only	one	Sadie	Crawford.”

She	sat	up.	“Okay.	That’s	exactly	what	my	grandmother	said.	How	did	you

know	that?”

Asher	 sat	 up	 and	 scooted	 close	 to	 her	 on	 the	 rock.	 He	 pulled	 her	 into	 an embrace,	so	that	her	back	was	against	his	chest.	He	kissed	her	neck.	“Would	it help	to	know	your	grandmother	watches	over	you	and	that	she’s	proud	of	you?”

Sadie	 answered	 with	 hesitation.	 “Such	 a	 thing	 could	 be	 assumed	 but	 never known.”

“I	 can	 hear	 ghosts,	 Sadie.	 Sometimes	 I	 see	 wisps	 of	 them	 or	 feel	 their presence.	 It	 began	 when	 I	 was	 thirty.	 All	 the	 men	 in	 my	 family	 receive	 this unusual	gift	at	the	age	of	thirty.	Some	of	them	managed	it	well,	going	into	law enforcement	 or	 medicine	 or	 counseling.	 Some	 struggle	 so	 much	 with	 the intrusion	and	the	darkness	that	they	eventually	commit	suicide.”

Sadie	 turned	 around	 in	 his	 arms,	 troubled	 by	 his	 words.	 She	 remembered Asher	telling	her	his	father	had	committed	suicide	at	the	age	of	forty-two.

“My	 mother	 prepared	 everything	 for	 me	 on	 my	 thirtieth	 birthday.	 She	 gave me	 the	 news,	 provided	 a	 list	 of	 coping	 mechanisms,	 and	 took	 me	 through	 our ancestry:	the	good,	the	bad,	and	the	tragic.	She	had	only	fully	understood	it	after my	father’s	death.	She’s	been	really	supportive,	trying	to	prevent	me	from	going through	what	my	father	went	through.”

“And	you	think	my	grandmother	talks	to	you?”

“These	are	not	hallucinations.”

“Have	you	talked	to	a	professional?”

His	eyes	had	filled	with	disappointment	and	rejection.	“You	mean	a	shrink?

No.”	He	moved	away	from	her	and	stood.	“Do	you	know	why?	Because	I’d	be

getting	the	same	look	of	pity	and	misunderstanding	you’re	giving	me.	You’re	not

actually	 listening	 to	 me.	 You’re	 wondering	 what	 antipsychotic	 would	 help suppress	the	ghosts	I	hear	without	destroying	my	personality.”

“I	 am	listening.	I’m	just	worried.”

“I’m	telling	you	about	a	gift,	and	you’re	looking	at	me	like	I’m	a	leper.”

She	started	to	protest,	but	he	continued	to	talk.

“The	 fire	 department	 got	 called	 on	 a	 missing	 child.	 Because	 that	 child’s grandfather	communicated	with	me,	I	found	her	in	an	old	deer	stand	deep	in	the woods.	 She	 had	 climbed	 up	 the	 ladder,	 and	 when	 she	 looked	 down	 she	 was afraid	 of	 falling.	 Frozen	 with	 fear,	 she	 couldn't	 climb	 back	 down.	 If	 we	 hadn’t found	 her,	 she	 would	 have	 died	 of	 hypothermia.	 After	 three	 years	 of	 learning how	 to	 use	 my	 ability,	 I’m	 saving	 lives.	 With	 added	 experience,	 I	 can	 do	 even more.”

Remembering	the	hurt	she	had	seen	in	his	eyes	that	night	crushed	Sadie.	She should	have	sat	back	down	on	those	rocks	and	listened	to	him.	She	should	have let	him	explain	everything.	She	loved	him,	but	instead	of	listening	to	him	as	he calmly	 spoke	 of	 his	 gift,	 she	 had	 been	 busy	 considering	 the	 ramifications	 of	 a long-term	relationship	with	someone	who	clearly	had	a	mental	health	issue.	She knew	from	her	medical	training	that	caregiver	burnout	was	common.

She	 remembered	 the	 pleading	 look	 in	 his	 eyes	 when	 she	 had	 pushed	 him away.	 Although	 she	 hadn’t	 verbally	 rejected	 Asher	 and	 his	 gift,	 her	 body language	was	unmistakably	withdrawn.

He	 packed	 the	 picnic	 supplies	 away,	 furiously	 shoving	 them	 into	 the backpack.

“Asher—”

“Don’t	bother.	You’ve	given	me	your	answer.”

They	didn't	speak	on	the	ride	back	down	the	mountain,	and	he	dropped	Sadie

at	her	apartment	without	a	word.	She	felt	as	though	a	fault	line	had	ripped	open between	them,	and	molten	lava	was	separating	him	from	her.	She	was	convinced that	trying	to	bridge	the	gap	would	only	end	up	getting	her	scorched.



A sher	sat	up	in	bed,	blinking	at	his	surroundings.	Sunlight	illuminated

the	 edges	 of	 the	 drawn	 curtains.	 His	 overnight	 bag	 lay	 in	 the	 only chair	in	the	room	and	Sadie's	laptop	was	stowed	next	to	his	bag.	He

was	alone.

“Sadie?”

She	sat	up	from	her	prone	position	on	the	floor.	“Morning,	sunshine.”

Asher	 grunted	 to	 mask	 his	 relief.	 He	 threw	 off	 the	 covers,	 walked	 into	 the bathroom,	and	shut	the	door.

When	 he	 first	 woke	 and	 hadn’t	 seen	 her,	 he	 feared	 she	 had	 moved	 on.	 Her spirit	could	vanish	at	any	moment,	perhaps	forever.	He	selfishly	wanted	to	keep her	here	for	himself.	She	finally	believed	in	his	abilities.	He	knew	that	it	was	too late,	although	she	didn’t	look	like	a	fragile,	fading	apparition.	More	than	once	he had	been	forced	to	remind	himself	that	she	wasn’t	solid.	She	wasn’t	alive.

He	emerged	from	the	bathroom.

“I	knew	you'd	be	grumpy	if	I	didn't	bring	you	coffee,”	she	said.

Caffeine	cravings	weren’t	the	reason	he	for	his	foul	mood,	but	Asher	didn’t correct	her.	He	grabbed	his	overnight	bag	and	returned	to	the	bathroom.	After	he quickly	dressed,	he	returned	to	the	main	room.

Sadie	stood	looking	out	the	window.	She	was	the	most	vibrant	object	in	the

room,	yet	she	didn’t	even	cast	a	shadow	on	the	floor.

“I’m	 off	 to	 find	 coffee,”	 he	 said.	 Without	 making	 eye	 contact,	 he	 turned	 to leave	the	motel	room.

“Wait,”	she	said.

He	paused.

“Can	 you	 open	 the	 laptop	 and	 turn	 it	 on?	 I	 think	 I	 might	 be	 able	 to	 press computer	keys.”

He	pursed	his	lips.	“I	don’t	like	the	idea	of	you	draining	all	your	energy.	You

get	pale	and	translucent	when	you	touch	objects.”

Except	me,	he	thought.	When	they	touched,	she	somehow	seemed	to	become more	substantial.

“Please.”

“Fine.”	He	opened	the	laptop	and	plugged	it	into	the	wall.	“I'll	be	back	in	ten minutes.	Try	not	to	destroy	anything.”

She	stuck	her	tongue	out	at	him,	forcing	him	to	crack	a	grin.

Then	he	left,	closing	the	door	behind	him.





7

A lejandro	watched	as	Asher	Brenner	hopped	into	his	truck	and	drove

away	from	the	motel.	The	man	had	left	empty-handed,	which	meant

the	 computer	 was	 still	 in	 the	 hotel	 room.	 Alejandro	 had	 trailed	 him from	the	twenty-four	hour	diner	to	the	library	to	the	hospital	to	the	motel.	When the	 fireman	 had	 returned	 to	 his	 truck	 after	 going	 into	 the	 hospital,	 he	 had	 been carrying	 the	 physician’s	 laptop.	 More	 worrisomely,	 the	 man	 had	 also	 been talking	 to	 himself,	 or	 talking	 to	 someone	 unseen.	 Soon	 after	 Asher	 entered	 the motel	room,	the	lights	had	clicked	off.

Alejandro	didn’t	possess	enough	brute	strength	to	take	on	the	broad-shoulder firefighter,	who	looked	like	he	could	bench-press	two	hundred	and	fifty	pounds.

Instead,	he	had	waited,	as	any	good	thief	would,	for	opportunity.	Now	that	Asher had	left	the	premises,	his	chance	had	arrived.

“Quien	quiera	peces,	que	moje	el	culo.” He	needed	to	catch	a	fish,	so	it	was time	to	get	his	ass	wet.

He	 pulled	 his	 hoodie	 up	 over	 his	 head	 and	 took	 long	 strides	 through	 the parking	lot.	He	wasn’t	an	amateur	thief,	yet	his	conscience	was	nagging	at	him for	stealing	from	a	dead	woman.	Why?	It	wasn’t	as	though	it	could	be	of	any	use to	her.	Alejandro	rarely	had	regrets	about	the	property	he	stole	as	he	knew	that people	 with	 money	 always	 had	 insurance.	 Food	 on	 his	 table	 was	 no	 great



sacrifice	for	the	wealthy.

He	hadn’t	always	been	a	thief.	When	the	woman	who	raised	him,	his	great-

aunt,	 had	 fallen	 ill,	 his	 work	 scrubbing	 dishes	 at	 restaurants	 had	 proved insufficient	to	cover	the	diabetic	medications,	glucometer	test	strips,	and	doctors’

visits	for	an	illegal	immigrant.	He	turned	to	theft	and	applied	himself	diligently, taking	 care	 to	 never	 get	 caught.	 He	 never	 told	 his	 great-aunt	 about	 his indiscretions,	 yet	 his	 shady	 work	 meant	 that	 she	 lived	 much	 longer	 than	 she might	have	without	the	money	to	buy	better	healthcare.	His	means	of	generating income	had	stuck	after	his	great-aunt’s	death,	though	he	was	convinced	that	she turned	in	her	grave	every	time	he	committed	a	crime.

Alejandro	peered	in	through	the	motel	room	window.	It	was	empty,	and	the

computer	was	lying	on	a	tiny	table	like	a	prized	golden	egg	with	no	defending goose.

What	good	fortune.

He	got	to	work	picking	the	lock,	and	the	door	clicked	open.

He	listened	for	a	moment.	After	looking	to	his	left	and	right	and	noting	that there	was	no	one	around,	he	entered	the	room.	He	saw	a	small	luggage	bag	on the	chair	and	the	computer	within	easy	reach	on	the	desk.	But	as	he	reached	for it,	the	top	slammed	shut.

“Mierda! ”	Alejandro	jerked	back	and	froze	in	bewilderment.

The	desk	lamplight	began	to	vacillate	between	dim	and	bright.

The	hair	on	Alejandro’s	neck	stood	on	end.	Holding	his	breath,	he	tentatively reached	 for	 the	 computer	 again.	 The	 light	 bulb	 shattered,	 spraying	 tiny	 glass particles	 all	 over	 him.	 He	 felt	 the	 room	 temperature	 plummet.	 He	 swore	 again, this	time	backing	away	toward	the	door.

His	 palms	 grew	 sweaty	 despite	 the	 cold.	 He	 had	 been	 right	 about	 the physician’s	 ghost.	 He	 just	 didn’t	 know	 if	 she	 was	 willing	 to	 let	 him	 out	 of	 the room	alive.

sher	pushed	the	key	into	the	lock	and	turned	it.

A “Look	out!”	Sadie	cried	as	the	door	opened.

A	 fist	 came	 flying	 at	 Asher’s	 face.	 He	 dodged,	 but	 not	 soon

enough.	 Pain	 exploded	 through	 his	 jaw	 and	 blurred	 his	 vision	 for	 a second.

A	man	in	a	hoodie	came	at	him	again.	Asher	chucked	his	half-cup	of	coffee

in	the	man’s	face,	causing	the	intruder	to	stumble	backward.	The	man	ducked	his head	and	plowed	into	Asher’s	midsection	in	an	attempt	to	tackle	him	as	he	might a	quarterback.	He	managed	to	push	Asher	back	several	steps,	right	out	onto	the motel	sidewalk,	before	Asher	grabbed	him	by	his	pant	waist	and	flung	him	aside.

The	 assailant	 rolled,	 sprung	 to	 his	 feet	 and	 dashed	 toward	 his	 blue	 Ford Escort.	He	dove	into	the	driver’s	seat	and	started	the	engine.

Furious	and	wanting	to	finish	the	fight,	Asher	ran	after	him,	but	the	man	was already	 advancing	 out	 of	 his	 parking	 space.	 Asher	 sprinted	 alongside	 the	 car, smashing	his	fist	against	the	driver	side	window.	The	glass	cracked.	In	a	flurry	of squealing	rubber,	the	driver	accelerated	away	from	him.

Asher	slowed	to	a	jog	before	stopping	to	catch	his	breath.

Sadie.

He	ran	back	to	the	motel	room.	“Sadie!”

“Relax,	fireman.	He	can’t	hurt	me.”

He	looked	around	the	room,	noting	that	the	computer	was	still	on	the	desk.

Shattered	glass	from	the	light	bulb	littered	the	desk	and	floor.

He	arched	an	eyebrow.	“Is	this	your	handiwork?”

She	grinned.	“I	stopped	him	from	taking	it.”

“You	did	great.	He	didn’t	have	a	beard,	so	I’m	guessing	that’s	not	the	guy.”

“No,	not	the	guy.”

“I	bet	he	knows	the	killer,	though.	I	would	have	liked	to	have	the	opportunity to	chat	with	him	about	that	for	a	few	minutes.”

“Sorry	about	your	coffee.”

He	looked	over	his	shoulder	at	the	empty	cup	and	the	liquid	soaking	into	the carpet.	“At	least	I	got	half	of	it	down	me	on	the	way	back.	I’m	functional.”

“You	need	peas	again.”

“Beg	pardon?”

“Your	jaw’s	swelling.	You	need	another	bag	of	frozen	peas.”

“It’s	 not	 so	 bad.”	 He	 closed	 the	 door	 and	 secured	 the	 top	 bolt.	 Then	 he picked	up	the	coffee	cup	and	tossed	it	into	the	trash.

“Did	 you	 make	 any	 progress	 on	 the	 computer?”	 Using	 a	 hand	 towel,	 he swept	the	glass	off	the	desk	and	into	a	small	trash	basin.

“I	finished	merging	the	data	sets.	Now	I	just	have	to	do	the	calculations.”

He	sat	down	in	front	of	the	computer	and	opened	it.	“What	can	I	do?”

Asher	 tried	 to	 follow	 her	 directions,	 but	 he	 didn’t	 know	 half	 the	 statistical analysis	terms	she	was	using	to	describe	the	software	functions.	She	resorted	to pointing	and	saying,	“Click	here,”	and	“Now	click	here.”

After	a	pause,	Sadie	said,	“This	is	gonna	take	forever.	Let	me	do	it.”	She	sat on	his	lap	and	began	typing.

He	 tried	 to	 sit	 back	 to	 give	 her	 the	 front	 of	 the	 chair,	 but	 when	 he	 looked down	 he	 saw	 that	 she	 was	 mostly	 sitting	 in	 rather	 than	 on	 him.	 Heat	 spread through	his	thighs	and	groin	where	his	body	met	with	her	spirit.

“Sadie,”	he	said,	his	voice	strained.

“What?”	She	stopped	typing	and	turned	to	face	him.	She	looked	down	at	his

growing	erection.	“Oh.”

“Stand	up.	I’ll	give	you	the	chair.”

She	stood.

Asher	stumbled	out	of	the	chair	and	backed	up,	bumping	into	the	bed.

She	slid	close	to	him,	almost	touching.	“I	can	help	with	that.”

He	swallowed.

“I	 want	 to	 help	 with	 that.”	 Her	 voice	 was	 breathless,	 and	 she	 was	 glowing again.	She	looked	angelic	in	the	soft,	yellow	light.

He	tried	to	back	away	further,	but	instead	fell	helplessly	backward	onto	the bed.

Sadie	 crawled	 onto	 the	 bed	 over	 him,	 her	 hair	 spilling	 forward.	 She	 kissed his	 aching	 jaw,	 filling	 the	 spot	 with	 a	 warm,	 tingling	 sensation.	 Her	 hands stroked	 his	 hair,	 warming	 his	 scalp	 even	 if	 his	 hair	 barely	 moved.	 She	 seemed more	 solid	 with	 each	 touch.	 Her	 body	 brushed	 against	 his,	 sending	 heat	 and



arousal	 coursing	 through	 his	 veins.	 Her	 gaze	 roamed	 his	 body	 as	 she	 glowed brighter,	like	liquid	honey	in	the	sun.	The	sensation	she	gave	him	was	sublime, like	warm	silk	draped	over	his	body.

“Sadie,”	he	rasped.

She	paused,	staring	at	him	with	her	beautiful	brown	eyes	and	a	smile	on	her full	lips.

“We	need	to	finish	the	investigation.	The	intruder	could	come	back	armed	or with	backup,	or	both.”

She	moved	off	his	body	and	lay	next	to	him	on	the	bed,	her	eyes	filled	with	a mixture	of	adoration	and	longing.

He	didn’t	have	words	for	the	yearning	he	felt	for	her.	He	wished	he	could	at least	hold	her	to	convey	his	feelings.

A lejandro	kissed	the	pendant	around	his	neck	before	tucking	it	back

into	his	shirt.	He	drove	furiously	until	he	reached	his	cousin’s	house.

Fallen	 yellow,	 orange,	 and	 red	 leaves	 had	 covered	 the	 lawn	 with	 a thick	blanket.	It	was	toward	the	end	of	October;	close	to	 Día	de	los	Muertos.

That	would	explain	the	ghost	in	the	hotel	room.	The	doctor’s	ghost.	It	had	to be.

He	shuddered	at	the	thought.	Her	anger	had	chilled	the	room,	and	she	knew

his	 face	 now.	 What	 if	 she	 thought	 he	 was	 the	 killer?	 Would	 Dr.	 Crawford’s apparition	come	after	him?

He	let	the	car	idle	on	his	cousin’s	driveway	while	he	called	Ledo.

“You	get	the	computer, hombre?”

“No.”

“Why	not?	You’ve	been	on	stakeout	out	all	night.”

“The	dude’s	a	firefighter.	He	could	bench-press	me.”	Alejandro	recalled	the way	 Asher	 had	 tossed	 him	 aside	 like	 a	 sack	 of	 beans.	 His	 punch	 had	 barely

stunned	the	gringo.	Fortunately,	the	coffee	had	only	been	warm,	not	scalding.

“I	gave	you	a	gun	a	week	ago.”

Good	thieves	didn’t	use	guns.	“I’m	not	killing	anyone.”

“You	don’t	have	to	kill	anyone.	You	just	need	to	get	the	damn	computer. El Jefe’s	on	my	ass	about	it.”

Never	pull	a	gun	unless	you	intend	to	use	it.

Alejandro’s	older	brother	had	taught	him	the	rules	of	gun	handling,	right	up until	he	had	died	in	a	gunfight.

“‘ El	hilo	siempre	se	rompe	por	lo	más	delgado.’” Ledo	half-mumbled,	half-growled	the	words.

“Are	you	calling	me	the	weakest	link, pendejo?”

“I’m	calling	you	weak.	We	need	to	finish	this	job	so	we	can	get	the	rest	of the	money.”

The	 moment	 Dr.	 Crawford’s	 ghost	 entered	 the	 playing	 field,	 money	 had become	less	important	to	Alejandro.

“The	doctor’s	 espíritu	is	protecting	the	computer.”

Ledo	snorted.	“Not	this	nonsense	again.	Have	you	gone	 loco?”

“She	moved	things.	She	stopped	me	from	stealing	the	computer.”

“Qué	pasó?	What	are	you	telling	me,	Alejandro?	You	quitting?”

“I’m	not	taking	on	a	ghost	and	a	firefighter.”

“Fine,	I’ll	keep	your	cut.	What’s	this	big	boy’s	name?”

“No	lo	sé,”	Alejandro	lied.	It	was	his	secret	to	keep.

Ledo	hung	up	the	phone.

“Árbol	que	nace	torcido,	jamás	su	tronco	endereza,” Alejandro	said	aloud	to himself.	His	great-aunt	had	often	used	this	phrase,	which	translated	as, “ A	tree that	is	born	twisted	never	grows	straight.”

Perhaps	Dr.	Crawford	would	see	Ledo	when	he	went	to	finish	the	job.	With

luck,	she	would	focus	her	revenge	on	Ledo	and	forget	all	about	him.

Alejandro	 climbed	 out	 of	 the	 car.	 He	 felt	 tired	 and	 miserable	 after	 the stakeout	and	the	fight.

He	knocked	on	the	door.

“Alejandro!”	His	cousin	greeted	him	warmly.

“Anita,”	he	replied,	partly	relieved	to	see	a	friendly	face,	partly	dreading	her response	when	he	told	her	what	had	happened.

She	wore	her	hair	in	a	chaotic	updo	akin	to	the	haphazard	nest	of	a	groove-

billed	ani.	Her	Atlanta	Braves	T-shirt	was	two	sizes	too	small	and	threatened	to tear	as	it	stretched	across	a	generous	pair	of	breasts.

They	 had	 grown	 up	 in	 the	 same	 neighborhood,	 and	 Anita	 had	 known	 his great-aunt.	He	was	confident	that	she	would	know	what	to	do.

Anita	opened	the	door	and	ushered	him	inside.	“The	kids	are	at	their	father’s this	weekend,	but	I	have	to	go	to	work	in	an	hour.”

He	took	a	seat	on	her	couch.

“What’s	 wrong?”	 She	 sat	 across	 from	 him	 and	 tapped	 her	 hand	 on	 her	 leg impatiently.	 Her	 fingernails	 were	 decorated	 for	 Halloween:	 long	 black	 acrylics with	white	skulls.

“I	think	I	offended	a	ghost.”

Her	eyes	opened	wide.	“What	happened?”

He	 knew	 she,	 of	 all	 people,	 would	 understand.	 He	 explained	 the	 job, detailing	Ledo’s	role	in	the	murder	and	his	role	in	the	attempted	robbery.

“Ah, mi	Dios.”	She	made	the	sign	of	the	cross	and	briefly	bowed	her	head.

Seconds	passed	in	silence	before	she	abruptly	stood.	“You	need	to	fix	this.”

Her	voice	was	stern.

“Có mo?”

“I	 told	 you	 thieving	 was	 bad.	 I	 told	 you	 not	 to	 get	 mixed	 up	 with	 that murderer	Ledo.	I	told	you—”

“Sí,	sí.	Can	you	get	to	the	part	about	how	I	fix	this?”

“Her	body	needs	to	be	laid	to	rest.	Ledo	left	her	out	there	like	an	animal	to rot	 alone.	 She	 needs	 a	 proper	 burial	 and	 prayers	 so	 she	 can	 move	 on	 from	 the spirit	world.”

Alejandro	considered	Anita’s	words.	She	was	right.

Anita	clicked	her	hideous	nails	against	the	back	of	her	wooden	rocking	chair.

“Do	you	know	where	the	body	is?”

He	sighed.	“Sí.	Ledo	loves	to	brag	about	the	details	of	his	successes.”

“So	 why	 are	 you	 still	 sitting	 here? Vamanos.	 The	 longer	 you	 wait,	 the

stronger	she’ll	grow	as	we	near	 Día	de	los	Muertos.”

He	reluctantly	stood.	“Are	you	coming	with	me?”

She	 contorted	 her	 face,	 demonstrating	 how	 absurd	 she	 considered	 question.

“No.	 I	 have	 a	 legitimate	 job,	 and	 I	 have	 children	 to	 care	 for.	 I’m	 not	 getting involved	in	your	mess.”

He	nodded.

“You	need	to	eat	first,	though.	I’ll	make	you	a	 mollete	and	some	coffee.	Then you	can	go	fix	this.”





8

Sadie	worked	on	the	computer	while	Asher	quickly	showered.	Patterns

began	to	emerge	as	she	analyzed	the	data	from	all	three	institutions.

“Find	anything?”	He	sat	on	the	edge	of	the	bed	fully	dressed,	putting

his	shoes	back	on.

“Asher,	 this	 is	 bad.	 There’s	 a	 significant	 discrepancy	 between	 the	 platelet count	drop	in	those	that	received	TIE-55	compared	with	those	that	received	the placebo.	The	difference	can’t	be	attributed	to	other	drugs	or	septic	shock	itself.

Even	worse,	there’s	a	mortality	difference.”

“Meaning	the	drug	may	actually	be	killing	people?”

“I	think	so.	If	that’s	true,	my	murder	could	have	been	a	ploy	to	ensure	that this	information	was	never	uncovered.”

“Do	you	have	your	analysis	saved?”

“Yeah.”	 She	 continued	 typing	 away	 on	 the	 computer.	 “I	 specifically	 told Louie	 what	 I	 was	 doing	 before	 I	 died.	 His	 life	 could	 also	 be	 in	 danger.	 I’m emailing	him	the	analysis	and	telling	him	to	be	careful	without	telling	him	I’m emailing	him	from	beyond	the	grave.”

Even	though	my	body	isn’t	in	a	grave.

“I	copied	the	principal	investigators	at	the	other	sites	on	the	email.”

“All	these	postmortem	emails	will	be	difficult	for	the	police	to	explain.”



“What	else	am	I	supposed	to	do?”

“I’m	not	criticizing.	It	was	just	an	observation.”

She	finished	typing	and	turned	to	look	at	him.	“Now	what?”

“We	 need	 to	 tip	 the	 police	 off	 about	 the	 murder	 investigation	 without implicating	me.”

She	grinned	at	him.

“What?”

“You	 practically	 solved	 a	 murder	 case	 in—”	 she	 looked	 at	 a	 nonexistent watch	on	her	wrist	“—twenty	hours.”

“Don’t	flatter	me.	It’s	not	solved	yet.	We	have	the	how	and	the	why	but	not the	who.”

“Right.	 Or	 the	 who	 behind	 the	 who	 since	 we’re	 sure	 burly-bearded	 Hoodie Man	Number	One,	who	murdered	me,	is	just	the	hired	help.”

“And	scrawny	Hoodie	Man	Number	Two	is	still	dangerous	and	at	large.”

“I’m	 not	 sure	 who	 scared	 him	 more—me	 with	 my	 ghostly	 shenanigans	 or you	tossing	him	around	like	a	fire	hose.”

“On	that	note,	let’s	get	out	of	here	before	he	comes	back	with	his	buddies.”

A lejandro	parked	in	the	visitor	parking	lot	at	Tallulah	Gorge	and

walked	the	half-mile	to	the	location	Ledo	had	described.

The	 trail	 was	 well	 worn,	 with	 woods	 spanning	 both	 sides

comprised	of	tall	maple	and	oak	trees.	The	trees	were	covered	in	brilliant	auburn leaves.	The	midday	sun	shone	through,	lighting	a	bed	of	bright	leaves;	the	first	to have	fallen	this	autumn.

He	thought	of	his	great-aunt	and	how	much	she	enjoyed	the	fall	in	Georgia.

She	 had	 made	 the	 best	 smoky	 braised	 Mexican	 pumpkin	 with	 mouthwatering pork	shoulder,	chipotle	chilies,	tomatillos,	and	swiss	chard.	After	seasoning	in	a skillet,	 she	 poured	 the	 mixture	 over	 pumpkin	 cubes	 and	 baked	 the	 concoction



into	a	scrumptious,	simmering	meal.

His	stomach	growled.	He	was	supposed	to	be	finding	a	body,	not	thinking	of

bygone	Thanksgiving	dinners	with	family.

He	rummaged	around	for	half	an	hour	without	finding	anything,	then	pulled

out	his	phone.	“Hey	Ledo.”

“Why	are	you	calling	me, hombre?”

“I	can’t	find	the	body.”

“Why	are	you	looking	for	the	body?”	he	asked,	the	words	emanating	like	a

growl.

“She’s	gonna	haunt	us	if	we	don’t	give	her	a	proper	burial.”

“Are	you	 loco?	If	you	get	arrested	and	rat	me	out,	I’ll	kill	you.”

“I’m	not	gonna	get	arrested	because	there’s	no	body.”

“Maybe	a	wildcat	carried	it	into	a	tree.”

“Now	 who’s	 loco,	 pendejo?	 I	 can	 see	 the	 trees.	 There	 are	 no	 bodies	 in	 the trees.”

“If	there’s	no	body,	that	means	.	.	.”

“Mierda! ”	Alejandro	hung	up	the	phone.

The	blood	rushed	to	his	head,	his	heart	pounding	like	a	jackhammer.	Maybe

someone	had	found	the	body	and	taken	it	to	the	morgue.	Or	maybe	Dr.	Crawford was	still	alive.

The	car	ride	to	Asher’s	cabin	was	somber.

“Do	you	think	I’ll	disappear	when	the	killer’s	found?”	Sadie	asked.

“I	hope	not.”	He	didn’t	like	where	the	conversation	was	heading.

“Maybe	 I	 could	 do	 something	 to	 earn	 visitation.	 That’s	 not	 fair	 to	 you, though.”

If	she	never	left,	he	would	never	have	the	pain	of	letting	her	go	again.

“I	probably	didn’t	go	to	church	enough,”	she	continued.	“I	should	have	done

more	charity	work.”	She	tucked	a	strand	of	hair	behind	her	ear.

“You	were	a	phenomenal	doctor.	You	saved	lives,	Sadie.	Not	every	ghost	can

claim	that.	You	helped	families	in	times	of	despair.	One	of	the	reasons	I	fell	in love	with	you	was	all	that	compassion	packaged	in	that	gorgeous	body.”

She	gave	a	faint	grin	but	seemed	too	preoccupied	to	register	the	compliment.

“What	if	I	don’t	go	to	heaven?”

He	 glanced	 at	 her.	 She	 was	 fidgeting	 with	 her	 finger	 where	 her

grandmother’s	ring	should	have	been.

“You	want	my	take	on	religion?”	he	asked.

“Yeah.”

“There	 is	 no	 hell.	 I	 don’t	 know	 if	 heaven	 is	 merely	 reincarnation	 or	 some celestial	reprieve	where	people	eat	bonbons	all	day,	but	I	believe	a	loving	God who	 is	 omniscient	 and	 sees	 all	 the	 suffering	 people	 go	 through	 wouldn’t	 send anyone	to	hell.”

“What	about	Hoodie	Man	Number	One?”

“I’d	like	to	kill	him,	but	God	would	know	what	events	in	his	life	led	him	to become	the	killer	he	is.	God	would	understand	even	if	the	rest	of	us	don’t.”

“I	like	your	concept.”

Asher	was	silent	for	a	moment,	as	if	trying	to	make	an	important	decision.	“I want	to	tell	you	about	my	thirteenth	case.	I	haven’t	told	anyone	else.”

“The	child	who	died?”

“The	child	who	was	already	dead.	A	mother	and	child	were	believed	to	have

been	abducted.	The	mother’s	body	was	found,	so	I	was	consulted	to	channel	her to	find	the	child.

“She	 came	 to	 me	 in	 whispers.	 Tormented	 whispers,	 begging	 me	 to	 find	 the child.	She	took	me	and	the	police	department	on	a	three-day	wild	goose	chase.

When	she	finally	led	us	to	the	child,	she’d	been	dead	for	five	days.”	He	paused.

“I’ll	never	forget	the	way	the	woman’s	spirit	cackled	in	response	to	my	horror.

She	 had	 killed	 her	 own	 daughter	 before	 killing	 herself.	 The	 investigation discovered	she	had	exhibited	psychotic	tendencies	in	the	past.”

“But	why	did	they	blame	her	death	on	you?	You	didn’t	do	anything	wrong.”

“I	 walked	 straight	 into	 her	 trap.	 There	 was	 so	 much	 media	 hype	 about



finding	the	girl	alive	that	her	death	had	to	be	pinned	on	someone.	They	pinned	it on	the	ghost	whisperer.”

“I’m	so	sorry.”

“I	 was	 done	 after	 that	 case	 anyway;	 with	 or	 without	 others	 knowing	 my failure.	I	was	determined	never	to	be	manipulated	by	a	ghost	again.”

“Then	you	moved	to	the	mountains.”

“I	moved	to	the	mountains.	I	took	anti-delirium	sedatives	for	a	few	months	to help	me	tune	out	the	spirits.	Now	I	have	control	over	when	I	let	them	in	and	shut them	out.	Once	all	the	excitement	over	the	case	had	died	down,	I	found	a	quiet little	county	that	needed	a	fireman.”

“Why	can’t	I	see	other	ghosts	given	that	I	am	one?”

Asher	wondered	if	she	wanted	to	see	her	grandmother.	“I’ve	never	seen	two

at	a	time.	Maybe	you	all	exist	on	different	planes.”

“Thanks	for	not	shutting	me	out.”	She	set	a	hand	on	his	leg.

He	 felt	 the	 warmth	 of	 her	 touch.	 When	 he	 glanced	 over,	 he	 saw	 a	 tear	 fall from	her	left	eye.	It	landed	on	her	leg	and	then	faded.

“I	wish	I	had	been	supportive	of	your	gift.	I’m	sorry	I	didn’t	believe	you.”

He	gave	an	acknowledging	bob	of	his	head.

L edo	paced	around	his	house	waiting	for	 El	Jefe	 to	answer	the	phone.

This	 was	 supposed	 to	 be	 a	 simple	 job:	 he	 had	 to	 kill	 the	 doctor, Alejandro	would	steal	the	computer,	and	they	would	both	go	home	ten

grand	richer.	It	seemed	now	that	she	might	not	be	dead	after	all.	As	far	as	Ledo was	 concerned,	 the	 dead	 didn’t	 walk	 away	 from	 their	 graves,	 no	 matter	 how shallow.	Alejandro	wasn’t	only	backing	out	of	his	contract	to	complete	the	theft; he	was	actively	trying	to	find	the	doctor’s	body.

“What	is	it?” El	Jefe	barked.

Ledo	rubbed	the	back	of	his	neck.	“Alejandro	failed	to	get	the	computer	and



now	he’s	turned	on	us.	He	went	to	find	Dr.	Crawford’s	body	in	the	woods,	but	it was	missing.”

“Missing?”	The	voice	was	cold	and	hard.

“Missing,	 as	 in	 maybe	 she	 isn’t	 dead.”	 Ledo	 had	 checked	 the	 news	 online.

There	had	been	no	mention	of	a	body	found	in	Tallulah	Gorge,	so	the	only	other explanation	was	that	she	was	alive.

“She	isn’t	dead.	I	received	an	email	from	her	an	hour	ago,	so	I	already	know you	 failed.	 She’s	 not	 only	 alive;	 she’s	 also	 in	 possession	 of	 the	 computer	 your buddy	failed	to	steal.”

Ledo	swore.

“I’ve	spent	the	last	half-hour	discretely	tracking	her	down.	None	of	her	coworkers	or	her	mother	know	she’s	missing.	Since	you	struck	her	hard	enough	to think	she	was	dead,	I	guessed	she	might	be	at	a	hospital.”

Ledo	held	his	breath.

“There’s	no	Crawford	anywhere,	but	there	was	an	unidentified	woman	who

arrived	 with	 a	 head	 injury	 and	 hypothermia	 last	 night.	 Do	 you	 have	 a	 pen	 and paper	so	you	can	jot	down	the	address	and	finish	what	you	started?”

“Sí, señor.”

A lejandro	assessed	the	small,	one-story	fire	station	as	he	pulled	into	the parking	 lot.	 He	 left	 his	 car,	 walked	 toward	 the	 front	 door,	 and

knocked.

He	pulled	out	his	necklace	and	kissed	the	saint	for	good	luck.

A	 Hispanic	 man	 ten	 years	 older	 than	 Alejandro	 opened	 the	 door.	 He	 was wider	than	Brenner	and	would	have	been	more	than	capable	of	tossing	Alejandro around	if	he	wanted	to.

“I’d	like	to	get	in	touch	with	Asher	Brenner.”

“Who’s	asking?”	The	man,	whose	nametag	read	‘Sanchez,’	crossed	his	arms

and	leaned	against	the	door	frame.

“My	name	is	Alejandro	Martinez.	This	is	where	he	works, si?”

“Perhaps.	What’s	the	nature	of	your	business	with	Brenner?”

“I	think	someone	he	knows	is	in	danger.”

Sanchez	 cocked	 his	 head	 to	 one	 side.	 “You’re	 obviously	 not	 a	 reporter.	 If someone’s	in	danger,	go	to	the	police.	Better	yet,	come	inside,	and	I’ll	call	them for	you.”

“No!	I	mean,	I	think	if	I	just	speak	with	him,	we	can	resolve	this.”

“You	know,	you’re	not	the	first	person	to	come	here	looking	for	his	help	with spiritual	matters.”

“What?”

“He	 doesn’t	 do	 psychic	 investigations	 anymore,	 and	 he	 doesn’t	 do	 tarot cards,	so	you	need	to	find	someone	else	to	meet	your	needs.”

“No,	we	need	to	find	Dr.	Sadie	Crawford.	She’s	in	danger.”

The	big	firefighter	moved	abruptly,	dragging	Alejandro	inside	the	fire	station and	along	the	corridor	to	the	kitchen.

“Sit,”	he	said.

Alejandro	sat.

“What	do	you	know	about	Sadie?”

Alejandro	 hoped	 the	 fastest	 way	 to	 get	 Sanchez’s	 help	 would	 be	 to	 tell	 the truth,	 or	 at	 least	 most	 of	 the	 truth.	 He	 couldn’t	 admit	 that	 his	 motive	 to	 help involved	ridding	himself	of	the	possibility	of	a	ghost	stalking	him	in	the	future.

“An	ex-colleague	of	mine	was	hired	to	kill	Dr.	Crawford,	and	he	thought	he	had.

I	went	to	find	her	body	to	perform	the	last	burial	rites,	but	it	wasn’t	where	he’d left	it.	I	did	an	Internet	search	and	she’s	not	currently	reported	missing	or	dead.”

“You	didn’t	call	the	police?”

“I	don’t	have	any	proof.”

“Where	was	she	assaulted?”

Alejandro	described	the	location	on	the	Tallulah	Gorge	trail.

Sanchez	 pulled	 out	 his	 phone	 and	 began	 typing	 with	 his	 thumbs.	 “The nearest	hospital	is	Habersham	Medical	Center.”	He	pressed	a	button	and	raised the	 phone	 to	 his	 ear.	 “This	 is	 Juan	 Sanchez	 from	 the	 White	 County	 Fire

Department.	I	need	to	know	if	you’ve	had	any	Jane	Does	in	the	last	twenty-four hours.	Yes,	I’ll	hold.”





9

Sanchez	pulled	out	his	phone	to	call	Asher	as	he	drove	to	the	hospital	with Alejandro.	 He	 would	 have	 to	 arrange	 cover	 for	 the	 rest	 of	 his	 twenty-four-hour	shift	at	the	station,	but	his	friend	was	in	need.

“Hey,	Sanchez.	Slow	shift?”

“Brenner,	I’m	on	my	way	to	Habersham	Medical	Center	where	there’s	a	Jane

Doe	unconscious	in	observation.	I’ve	got	a	man	with	me	who	thinks	it	might	be Sadie.”

“Sadie?”

Sanchez	 waited	 for	 Brenner	 to	 say	 something	 more	 substantial.	 When	 he didn’t,	 Sanchez	 added,	 “Sadie	 Crawford.	 Your	 ex-girlfriend	 from	 three	 years ago,	right?”

Brenner	had	confided	in	Sanchez	about	the	woman	who	had	broken	his	heart

on	more	than	one	occasion	after	a	few	beers.

“That’s	right.”

“Can	you	get	to	the	hospital?”

“I	just	got	to	my	cabin.	I’m	hopping	back	in	my	truck	now.”

“Okay.”

“Sanchez,	listen	to	me.	If	she’s	still	alive,	her	life	is	in	danger.	Please,	please get	there,	and	get	some	police	protection	on	her.”



“What	do	you	mean	 if	she’s	still	alive?	I	just	told	you	she’s	alive.”	Sanchez pursed	his	lips.	What	did	Asher	know	about	Sadie’s	predicament	that	he	didn’t?

“We	need	to	see	if	it’s	her.	I’ll	text	you	a	picture	of	her.	It’s	three	years	old, but	it’ll	help	you	identify	if	she	and	this	Jane	Doe	are	one	and	the	same.”

“Okay.”

“Sanchez?”

“Yeah.”

“Who’s	with	you	claiming	Sadie’s	in	the	hospital?”

“Says	his	name’s	Alejandro	Martinez.”

“I	 don’t	 know	 anyone	 by	 that	 name.	 Watch	 your	 back	 and	 keep	 him	 away from	Sadie.”

Sanchez	 glanced	 over	 at	 Alejandro	 in	 the	 passenger	 seat.	 “Okay,	 but	 what aren’t	you	telling	me?	I	feel	like	there’s	more	going	on	here	than	just	Sadie	being assaulted.”

“There’s	a	hell	of	a	lot	more,	and	I’ll	explain	it	all	to	you	when	I	get	there.”

“Does	this	relate	to	your	sixth	sense	in	some	way?”

Asher	was	silent	a	moment	before	answering.	“Yes,	it	does.”

“I’ll	text	you	when	we	get	there.”

“Thanks.”

Sanchez	 disconnected	 the	 call	 and	 turned	 his	 stony	 gaze	 on	 Alejandro.

“You’re	 going	 to	 explain	 in	 exquisite	 detail	 exactly	 how	 you’re	 involved	 in Sadie’s	assault. Sin	mentiras. ”

A sher	glanced	at	Sadie	as	he	sped	down	Highway	17.	“You	okay?”

“I	might	still	be	alive.”	She	scooted	closer	to	him	on	the	seat,	her

eyes	wide	and	hopeful.

God,	I	hope	so,	he	thought.

Asher	 didn’t	 want	 to	 give	 her	 false	 hope,	 but	 her	 being	 alive	 might	 explain

why	 her	 ghost	 was	 so	 vastly	 different	 from	 anything	 he	 had	 experienced previously.	He	had	tried	to	flatter	himself	by	imagining	their	love	had	somehow made	her	a	more	vibrant	spirit,	but	perhaps	that	was	simply	because	she	wasn’t truly	dead.

His	mind	raced	with	all	the	promises	he	would	fulfill	if	she	were	still	alive.

“If	you	are,	we	need	to	keep	you	that	way.”

She	smiled	at	him.	“Some	doctor	I	am.	I	didn’t	even	know	I	wasn’t	dead.”

Asher	 chuckled.	 “It	 wasn’t	 as	 though	 you	 could	 simply	 check	 your	 own pulse.	If	I	turned	into	a	ghost,	I	would	have	come	to	the	same	conclusion	as	you.

”

Might	 he	 be	 holding	 her	 in	 his	 arms	 by	 the	 evening?	 He	 stifled	 his excitement.	There	was	too	much	danger	and	uncertainty	surrounding	them.	Even if	she	were	alive,	what	condition	would	she	be	in?	She	said	she	had	been	struck on	the	head.	She	might	have	internal	bleeding,	or	be	in	a	coma,	or	have	amnesia.

Blows	to	the	head	could	also	cause	neck	injuries.	What	if	she	was	paralyzed?

Sadie	 sat	 uncharacteristically	 quietly	 beside	 him.	 He	 suspected	 she	 was churning	through	similar	thoughts.

“What	if	I	wake	up	and	don’t	remember	any	of	this?”

“As	long	as	you	wake	up	that’s	all	that	matters.	Besides,	you	sent	the	email warning	everyone.	There’s	proof	of	what	your	spirit	did.”

“I’m	more	worried	about	not	remembering	our	time	together.	I	want	us	to	get back	together,	but—”

“We’ll	get	back	together	whether	you	remember	the	last	twenty-four	hours	or not,”	he	assured	her.

Her	face	lit	up	into	a	smile.

If	 she	 didn’t	 remember	 their	 extracorporeal	 encounter,	 he	 would	 be	 patient enough	to	win	her	back	regardless.

“I’ll	come	back	to	you.	I’ve	been	wanting	to	ever	since	we	separated,	but	I didn’t	know	how.	I	didn’t	think	you	wanted	me.”	Her	mouth	quirked.	“If	all	else fails,	show	me	your	cabin	and	I’ll	come	back	to	you!”

“You	like	it?”

“It’s	 gorgeous.	 As	 soon	 as	 I	 saw	 that	 fireplace	 I	 wanted	 to	 curl	 up	 in	 your



arms	in	front	of	the	flames.”

“It’s	a	long	commute	to	your	work,	especially	in	Atlanta	during	rush	hour.”

“I	 can’t	 say	 my	 work	 is	 all	 that	 appealing	 at	 the	 moment.	 The	 epiphany	 of how	much	of	a	workaholic	I’ve	become,	combined	with	nearly	being	murdered,

has	 resulted	 in	 a	 new	 perspective.	 I	 need	 to	 cut	 back	 on	 work.	 Besides,	 the commute	 would	 be	 worth	 it	 if	 I	 was	 with	 you.”	 She	 winked	 at	 him.	 “And	 you live	near	Helen.	Helen’s	magical,	especially	at	Christmastime.”

Asher	began	to	wonder	if	they	would	get	to	spend	Christmas	together.

L edo	parked	his	car	and	walked	toward	Habersham	Medical	Center.	He

straightened	his	stolen	scrubs	and	adjusted	the	gun	under	his	jacket.	He

hoped	 he	 wouldn’t	 need	 the	 gun.	 Guns	 were	 loud,	 which	 made	 them

less	 than	 ideal	 for	 covert	 killings.	 When	 he	 had	 attacked	 Dr.	 Crawford	 on	 the hiking	trail,	he	had	specifically	chosen	a	blunt,	sturdy	flashlight.	There	had	been no	noise.	Had	he	chosen	a	bullet	to	the	back	of	the	head,	he	wouldn’t	be	in	this predicament.

No	dead	body,	no	payday.

Well,	he	had	a	gun	now.

He	 made	 his	 way	 down	 the	 hall. El	 Jefe	 had	 claimed	 to	 be	 a	 concerned family	member	looking	 for	a	missing	 person,	and	had	 successfully	managed	to acquire	the	relevant	room	number.

The	door	to	the	doctor’s	hospital	room	was	ajar.	He	slipped	inside.

She	 was	 lying	 peacefully	 with	 her	 eyes	 closed.	 A	 perfect	 target.	 He	 could smother	 her	 and	 be	 out	 of	 the	 room	 within	 three	 minutes.	 The	 wall	 monitor displayed	 her	 heart	 rate.	 This	 time	 he	 would	 be	 able	 to	 see	 for	 certain	 that	 she was	dead.

He	crept	closer,	his	eyes	locked	on	his	unsuspecting	victim.

Alejandro	lunged	out	from	behind	a	curtain,	punching	Ledo	in	the	jaw.	Ledo



stumbled	back,	swearing.	He	reached	for	his	gun.	A	large	man	in	a	navy	uniform approached	Ledo	from	the	side.	The	man	grabbed	his	wrist	and	twisted	it.	Ledo screamed	 in	 agony	 as	 he	 felt	 the	 crunch	 of	 snapping	 bones.	 His	 gun	 fell	 to	 the floor.

A sher	felt	alarmed	when	he	looked	over	at	Sadie	in	the	passenger	seat.

“Sadie,	you’re	fading.”

“I	don’t	feel	good.”

Her	apparition	had	become	transparent.

“No,	no,	no.	Stay	with	me.”

He	reached	out	to	grab	her	hand.	The	sensation	of	heat	that	normally	ignited in	response	to	her	lightest	touch	was	barely	warm.	He	took	a	sharp	turn	into	the hospital	parking	lot	and	brought	the	car	to	a	sudden	stop.

“Oh	God,	Sadie.	Don’t	leave	me.”	He	held	both	of	her	translucent	hands	in

his.

She	looked	down	at	herself	in	shock.	“I	don’t	think	I	have	any	control	over this.”

“Sadie	.	.	.”	His	mouth	turned	dry.	Was	this	the	end?	He	didn’t	feel	ready	for the	end.

She	 stared	 out	 through	 the	 windshield	 with	 furrowed	 eyebrows.	 “Asher, that’s	Louie.	My	project	mentor,	Louie	Lebeau.	How	does	he	know	I’m	here?”

Asher	 saw	 a	 man	 in	 gray	 slacks	 and	 a	 wool	 coat	 getting	 out	 of	 his	 car.	 He smoothed	his	hair	down	and	started	to	walk	toward	the	hospital.

Sadie	faded	and	then	vanished,	like	ash	in	water.

He	slammed	his	fist	down	on	the	steering	wheel	and	hollered	in	frustration.

He	wiped	away	the	moisture	around	his	eyes	and	took	several	deep	breaths.	He needed	to	focus	and	get	to	the	living	Sadie	as	soon	as	possible.

He	 left	 the	 car	 and	 jogged	 to	 catch	 up	 with	 Dr.	 Lebeau.	 As	 Asher

approached,	he	noticed	various	dark	figures	hovering	around	the	man.	The	forms exuded	anger,	with	harsh	whispers	and	the	sound	of	gnashing	teeth.

Troubled	spirits.

The	combination	of	Dr.	Lebeau	knowing	that	Sadie	was	in	the	hospital	when

her	identity	wasn’t	yet	known	and	the	darkness	surrounding	him	made	him	the prime	 suspect.	 As	 Asher	 watched	 him	 stroll	 toward	 the	 hospital,	 he	 grew increasingly	certain	that	this	was	the	man	who	had	signed	Sadie’s	death	warrant.

“Excuse	me!”	Asher	called.

The	physician	startled	and	turned	to	face	him.

“Dr.	Lebeau?”

“Do	I	know	you?”

Asher	 reared	 a	 fist	 back	 and	 unleashed	 a	 punch	 to	 Louie’s	 face.	 The	 man crumpled	onto	the	pavement.

“No,	 you	 don’t	 know	 me.”	 Asher	 hauled	 the	 doctor	 up	 by	 his	 coat.	 Blood was	 pouring	 out	 of	 Louie’s	 nose	 and	 down	 his	 blue	 tie.	 The	 thin	 blond	 hair	 he had	brushed	over	his	receding	hair	line	was	disheveled.	“But	I	know	you.	I	know you	hired	a	hitman	to	kill	Sadie.”

“What?	You’re	out	of	your	mind.”	He	raised	a	hand	to	his	face	to	pinch	his

nose	and	stop	the	bleeding.	“I’ll	have	you	arrested	for	this.”

“You	 had	 her	 attacked	 on	 the	 Tallulah	 Gorge	 trail.	 You	 had	 her	 home searched.	Have	you	come	to	finish	the	job?	You	didn’t	want	her	to	find	out	that TIE-55	was	killing	people,	did	you?	Well,	she	did.”

Louie’s	face	paled.	“You	don’t	know	that,”	he	stammered,	but	his	words	held no	conviction.

“The	 team	 of	 researchers	 knows.	 And	 your	 hired	 hitman	 is	 about	 to	 turn against	you.”

Sanchez	had	texted	Asher	confirmation	that	Jane	Doe	was	in	fact	Sadie,	and

had	told	him	that	they	had	prevented	another	attack	on	her	life.

“Who	are	you?”	Louie	asked.

adie	could	no	longer	see	herself,	but	she	could	still	see	her	surroundings.	Asher

was	 roughing	 up	 Louie.	 He	 had	 the	 scheming	 physician	 pinned	 against	 a	 car, Swith	his	coat	collar	bunched	up	in	his	fist.	Louie’s	nose	looked	broken,

and	 the	 blood	 was	 staining	 his	 shirt.	 Asher’s	 face	 was	 flushed	 and twisted	in	fury.

Louie	 shoved	 his	 right	 fist	 into	 Asher’s	 abdomen.	 The	 motion	 didn’t	 look powerful	 enough	 to	 have	 an	 impact	 on	 Asher,	 but	 he	 suddenly	 released	 the doctor	and	fell	back	onto	the	asphalt.

Asher!

Sadie	no	longer	had	a	voice.	She	drifted	closer	to	the	scene	of	the	fight.

Louie	put	the	Taser	back	in	his	coat	pocket,	while	Asher	lay	unconscious	on the	ground.	The	doctor	looked	down	at	his	victim,	his	face	contorted	into	a	sneer.

With	 a	 hateful	 expression	 on	 his	 face,	 and	 the	 blood	 congealing	 around	 his mouth	and	nose,	he	looked	like	the	devil.

He	 loosened	 his	 tie	 and	 took	 it	 off.	 “Sadie	 should	 have	 stopped	 poking	 her nose	into	the	data.	She	was	about	to	cost	me	millions.	I	invested	heavily	in	this drug,	and	they	would	have	closed	the	study	early	if	she’d	blabbed	about	what	the combined	data	showed.”

Sadie	realized	Louie	must	have	done	his	own	analysis,	except	he	would	have

had	access	to	data	from	all	the	sites.	She	burned	with	outrage	at	his	selfish	greed.

Louie	 shivered	 and	 his	 breath	 condensed	 as	 he	 exhaled.	 He	 looked	 around the	empty	parking	lot	as	he	began	to	wrap	each	end	of	his	tie	around	his	hands.

He	bent	down	and	wrapped	the	tie	around	Asher’s	neck.

No! Sadie	panicked.

Louie	started	to	strangle	Asher.

She	looked	around	the	parking	lot,	but	no	one	was	in	sight.

Sadie	 dove	 at	 Louie,	 feeling	 her	 apparition	 enter	 his	 body.	 Instead	 of	 the warmth	she	had	felt	when	she	came	into	contact	with	Asher,	she	felt	nothing	but a	void	inside	her	research	mentor.	A	void	and	vital	organs.

Using	every	ounce	of	her	will,	she	squeezed	her	spirit	around	Louie’s	heart.

She	 heard	 him	 gasp	 as	 he	 fell	 back,	 clutching	 his	 chest.	 He	 released	 the	 noose around	Asher’s	neck	as	he	lost	consciousness.

As	she	floated	back	to	Asher’s	side,	she	stared	intently	at	his	torso.	She	saw

that	 his	 chest	 was	 rising	 and	 falling	 with	 each	 breath.	 Relief	 poured	 over	 her even	as	she	faded	into	the	cool	fall	breeze.

I	love	you,	Asher.

A sher	gasped	and	choked	as	he	sat	up	in	the	parking	lot.	His	neck	felt

hot	 and	 raw.	 He	 looked	 over	 to	 see	 Dr.	 Lebeau	 unconscious	 on	 the ground,	his	tie	still	wrapped	around	one	hand.	His	skin	was	pale	and

waxy.	Asher	held	two	fingers	at	the	man’s	neck.	He	still	had	a	pulse.

As	Asher	rose	clumsily	to	his	feet,	he	rubbed	at	his	raw	throat.	Sadie.	He	had to	 get	 to	 Sadie.	 He	 dashed	 inside	 the	 hospital,	 found	 the	 visitor	 check-in	 and explained	who	he	was	there	to	see.	Sanchez	had	texted	him	the	room	number.

As	 he	 approached	 Sadie’s	 hospital	 room,	 police	 and	 nurses	 were	 flocking into	and	away	from	the	room.	His	throat	constricted.	Was	she	okay?	What	if	her spirit	had	vanished	because	she	was	truly	dead?	The	mystery	of	her	murder	had been	solved.	Perhaps	there	was	no	reason	for	her	to	remain	among	the	living.

“Brenner!”	Sanchez	called,	waving	him	into	the	room.

Asher	pushed	through	the	crowd,	but	was	halted	by	a	police	officer.

Sanchez	stepped	in	beside	him.	“It’s	okay.	He’s	a	friend	of	hers,	and	he’s	also with	White	County	Fire	Department.”

“Thanks,	 Sanchez.”	 Asher	 shook	 hands	 with	 his	 partner	 before	 turning toward	 the	 policeman.	 “Officer,	 there’s	 a	 man	 outside	 in	 the	 parking	 lot,	 early fifties,	 receding	 hair	 line,	 wool	 coat.	 His	 name	 is	 Dr.	 Lebeau,	 and	 you	 you’ll want	 to	 hold	 him	 for	 questioning	 involving	 the	 attempted	 murder	 of	 Dr.

Crawford.”

The	policeman	nodded.	“Don’t	go	anywhere.	We’ll	need	to	question	you	as

well.”

The	officer	stepped	aside	and	began	to	speak	into	his	radio	about	the	man	in the	parking	lot.

Asher	entered	Sadie’s	room	with	slow,	deliberate	steps,	as	though	walking	on rafters	above	a	raging	fire.

Sanchez	 spoke.	 “Some	 hikers	 found	 her	 and	 brought	 her	 to	 the	 hospital.



Other	than	some	contusions	and	a	concussion,	her	injuries	aren’t	too	serious.	But she	hasn’t	woken	up	since	she	arrived	at	the	hospital.”

Asher	nodded	in	response	to	his	friend’s	words.	His	heart	stopped	for	a	brief moment	 as	 he	 fell	 into	 the	 chair	 beside	 Sadie’s	 bed.	 He	 hesitated	 before clutching	her	hand.

Warm.	Solid.	Sadie.

He	 kissed	 her	 fingers.	 “Sadie,	 you’re	 alive.”	 He	 stroked	 her	 dark	 chocolate hair.	“Sadie,	come	back	to	me.”	He	leaned	over	and	kissed	her	forehead.

Her	lashes	fluttered,	and	then	she	opened	her	eyes.

Asher	stroked	a	hand	over	her	bruised	jaw.	They	had	matching	injuries.

She	turned	her	head	and	looked	up	at	him.	He	watched	as	her	eyes	focused

and	 a	 smile	 slowly	 spread	 across	 her	 lips.	 Seeing	 her	 alive	 and	 happy	 set	 his world	aglow.	Warmth	radiated	through	him.

“Asher.”	The	word	was	emitted	through	a	sigh	of	contentment.

“Hey	you.”

She	 squirmed	 in	 the	 bed	 and	 gripped	 his	 hand	 tighter.	 “I	 had	 the	 most amazing	dream	about	us.”

He	smiled.	“Me	too.”

Reaching	up,	she	touched	his	neck.	“You’re	okay!”

“I’m	okay.”	He	raised	his	fingers	to	the	bruise	on	her	jaw	once	again.

“Do	I	need	a	bag	of	frozen	peas?”	she	asked.

He	chuckled.	“Yeah,	you	do.	But	you	still	look	gorgeous	to	me.”

He	held	her	gaze.	He	could	see	in	her	eyes	that	she	remembered	her	time	as

an	apparition.	She	remembered	everything.

everal	 days	 later,	 Sadie	 and	 Asher	 were	 snuggled	 up	 under	 a	 blanket	 on	 his couch.	 The	 roaring	 fire	 heated	 the	 living	 room	 of	 his	 cabin.	 She	 busied	 herself watching	the	mesmerizing	dancing	flames.

“No	ghosts	this	Halloween?”

S “No	ghosts,”	he	confirmed.

“Just	you	and	me?”	Sadie	relished	the	feel	of	Asher’s	arms	wrapped

around	her.

“You,	me,	and	a	bottle	of	Shiraz.”	He	nuzzled	her	neck.

The	parties	who	had	conspired	to	kill	her	were	no	longer	a	threat.	Ledo	was behind	 bars.	 Dr.	 Lebeau	 had	 suffered	 a	 heart	 attack	 in	 the	 parking	 lot	 and	 was still	 in	 recovery.	 After	 his	 hospital	 stay,	 he	 would	 go	 straight	 to	 jail.	 She	 had	 a list	of	testimonies,	lawyers	and	depositions	to	endure,	but	for	now	life	was	bliss.

She	was	alive.

In	 keeping	 with	 the	 self-discovery	 from	 her	 time	 as	 a	 ghost,	 Sadie	 had already	lightened	her	work	schedule.	She	had	visited	her	mom	and	made	plans	to spend	the	upcoming	holidays	with	her.

She	had	asked	Asher	about	his	plans	to	return	to	psychic	detective	work,	but he	 seemed	 content	 to	 save	 lives	 as	 a	 firefighter	 and	 paramedic	 rather	 than helping	the	police	hunt	for	corpses.

She	 got	 to	 meet	 Asher’s	 coworker	 and	 friend,	 Juan	 Sanchez,	 who	 had protected	 her	 from	 the	 hired	 killer.	 She	 also	 met	 Alejandro,	 against	 whom	 she agreed	 not	 to	 press	 charges	 for	 destroying	 her	 home,	 since	 he	 had	 also	 helped save	 her	 life.	 She	 did	 make	 him	 agree	 to	 do	 one	 hundred	 hours	 of	 community service.

Asher’s	hands	began	exploring	her	body	under	the	blanket.	She	leaned	into

him,	and	he	nipped	at	her	ear.

“Frisky?”

“We	 never	 finished	 what	 you	 started	 in	 the	 motel	 room.”	 He	 unclipped	 her bra.

“I	thought	we	did.”

“No.	We	had	wild,	frenzied,	make-up	sex	when	you	got	out	of	the	hospital—

which	was	phenomenal—but	we	haven’t	made	love	yet.”

“Oh.”

His	fingertips	stroked	her	arm.	He	titled	his	head	down	and	kissed	her,	richly and	deeply	and	slowly.



She	closed	her	eyes	and	melted	into	him.

<<THE	END>>





DEAR	READER

If	you	enjoyed	this	book	and	want	to	know	about	future	releases	by	CB	Samet	you	can	CLICK	HERE	 to sign	 up	 for	 my	 mailing	 list!	 I	 promise	 I	 won't	 spam	 you.	 I	 only	 send	 an	 email	 when	 I	 have	 a	 new	 book released,	giveaways,	or	special	discounts.	And	I'll	never	sell	your	information.	You	can	also	unsubscribe	at any	time.

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Keep	reading	for	an	excerpt	from	the	next	book	in	the	Romancing	the	Spirit	Series.

Thank	you	for	reading,

CB	Samet





ALSO	BY	CB	SAMET:

Paranormal	Romance	Novellas

Romancing	the	Spirit	Series:

Sadie’s	Sprit

Willow’s	Windfall

Cassie’s	Chase

Phoebe’s	Pharaoh

Vanessa’s	Valentine

Autumn’s	Angel

Carol’s	Christmas

Allison’s	Alibi

Gracelynn’s	Genie

Romantic	Suspense	Novels

The	Rider	File	Series:

Meridian	File

Masters	File

McMillan	File

Maltisse	File	(coming	2019)

Epic	Fantasy

The	Avant	Champion	Series:

The	Avant	Champion:	Rising

The	Avant	Champion:	Honor



Malakai:	An	Avant	Champion	origin	of	Malos	prequel	(novelette)

The	Avant	Champion:	Ashes

Brothers’	Bond	(novelette)

The	Avant	Champion:	Conquest

Thriller	Series

The	Dr.	Whyte	Adventures

Black	Gold

Whyte	Knight

Gray	Horizon





EXCERPT	FROM	WILLOW’S	WINDFALL

Mark	dropped	his	overnight	bag	down	in	the	foyer	of	the	large,	dark	house.	The keys	in	his	hand	jostled	as	he	set	them	down	on	the	dusty	entrance	table.

A	breeze	passed	through	the	foyer,	chilling	him.	The	air	conditioning	wasn't on,	 and	 the	 windows	 were	 closed.	 Where	 could	 a	 breeze	 come	 from?	 Local rumors	called	this	house	haunted.

Ridiculous.	There	was	no	such	thing	as	a	haunted	house.

After	standing	in	this	house	for	all	of	sixty	seconds,	Mark	decided	he	hated it.	 Who	 was	 he	 kidding?	 He	 hated	 it	 as	 soon	 as	 he’d	 discovered	 that	 his investment	 partner	 had	 bought	 this	 hundred-and-fifty-year-old	 house

immediately	prior	to	taking	off	with	their	shared	company’s	funds. All	of	them.

Mark	 hadn’t	 always	 hated	 the	 house.	 In	 fact,	 it	 had	 once	 been	 love	 at	 first sight	when	he’d	originally	seen	pictures	of	the	broad	windows	and	steepled	roof.

Two	stories	of	sturdy,	aged	wood	was	topped	by	a	quaint,	windowed	attic.	Mark had	thought	all	she	needed	was	a	little	TLC	and	elbow	grease	to	be	returned	to her	former	glory.	However,	six	months	had	passed	since	seeing	pictures	of	this house	for	the	first	time,	and	now	it	just	reminded	him	of	everything	he’d	lost.

Mark	had	seen	dollar	signs	when	he’d	envisioned	fixing	this	place	up,	but	he hadn’t	been	able	to	get	contractors	to	commit	to	the	work.	They’d	claimed	that

‘strange	 activity’	 occurred	 there,	 and	 locals	 from	 the	 nearby	 coastal	 town	 had



talked	of	the	presence	of	ghosts.

Mark	had	tried	to	resell	the	home,	but	nobody	was	interested	in	buying	a	run-down	house	rumored	to	be	haunted.

He	 had	 other	 properties,	 of	 course,	 but	 because	 his	 partner	 had	 cleaned	 out their	 bank	 accounts,	 Mark	 needed	 to	 sell	 this	 place	 quickly	 to	 cover	 the mortgages	 on	 all	 his	 other	 holdings. Everything	 depended	 on	 the	 sale	 of	 this house.

Mark	 had	 even	 gone	 so	 far	 as	 to	 hire	 ‘ghost-busters’	 –	 so	 he	 could	 at	 least claim	 the	 house	 had	 been	 ‘cleansed’.	 They’d	 all	 been	 charlatans,	 though—a waste	of	money.

The	 wood-flooring	 creaked—even	 though	 Mark	 hadn’t	 moved.	 He	 felt	 a nervous	 thrill,	 and	 glanced	 around	 at	 the	 dust,	 the	 tarp-covered	 furniture,	 the planks	 of	 fresh	 wood,	 and	 the	 unopened	 cans	 of	 paint.	 The	 last	 contractor	 had left	in	a	hurry.

Mark	 wasn’t	 so	 easily	 spooked,	 though.	 He	 spoke	 irritably	 into	 the	 empty house,	 “Ghosts	 or	 no	 ghosts,	 I	 need	 you	 in	 shape	 to	 sell	 within	 the	 next	 six months.”	 Mark	 had	 about	 six	 months	 worth	 of	 liquid	 assets	 in	 his	 personal account—and	nothing	more.	His	only	hope	was	to	turn	a	quick	profit	from	this house	through	his	own	blood,	sweat,	and	tears.

Willow	arranged	the	diabetic	test	strips	carefully	on	the	counter	and	checked	the prefilled	syringe	of	insulin.	How	did	such	tiny	supplies	cost	so	much?	How	had the	cost	of	insulin	risen	four-hundred-percent	since	its	discovery?	And	how	was someone	older,	with	poor	eyesight,	even	supposed	to	read	these	tiny	numbers	on the	syringe?

“Willow?”

Willow	 looked	 at	 her	 phone	 on	 the	 counter.	 Right.	 Erika	 was	 on

speakerphone.

“No.	I’m	not	coming	to	the	hospital.	I	hate	that	place."	Willow	shuddered.

“I	really	need	you,”	Erika	pleaded.

Erika	was	a	geriatrician	Willow	had	first	met	when	her	diabetic	grandmother had	 been	 admitted	 with	 hypoglycemia.	 Dr.	 Erika	 Patel	 had	 been	 exceptionally kind	 and	 patient	 with	 Willow’s	 grandmother.	 Willow	 berated	 herself	 for	 her grandmother	 ending	 up	 requiring	 hospitalization.	 The	 woman	 had	 diabetic retinopathy	 and	 couldn’t	 be	 trusted	 to	 give	 herself	 the	 right	 amount	 of	 insulin.

That	had	been	a	lesson	learned.

Willow	thought	back	to	the	day	that	had	happened—when	Dr.	Patel	had	placed	a hand	on	Willow’s	 shoulder	as	she’d	 sat	beside	her	 grandmother,	and	promised:

“She’ll	be	okay.	We’ll	have	her	fixed	up	and	out	of	the	hospital	in	a	few	days.”

Willow	nodded	numbly.

She	remembered	how	Dr.	Patel	had	cocked	her	head	to	one	side.	“You	seem

worried.	Perhaps	disproportionately	to	the	situation.”

Willow	shifted	her	weight	in	the	hospital	chair.	“I	hate	hospitals.”

“Did	you	have	a	bad	experience?”

Willow	sighed.	“There	are	depressed	spirits	here.”

“Oh.”

Willow	 waited	 for	 the	 physician	 to	 brush	 off	 her	 statement,	 or	 assume Willow	referring	to	the	sick,	but	still-living	patients.	Instead,	Dr.	Patel	pulled	up a	chair	and	sat	down	to	listen.

Willow	blinked	at	her.

Dr.	 Patel	 had	 crossed	 her	 legs	 and	 leaned	 forward.	 “Sometimes,	 I	 get	 this prickling	 feeling	 on	 the	 back	 of	 my	 neck.	 My	 great	 aunt	 back	 in	 India	 told	 me that	the	sensation	was	me	feeling	spirits.”

The	 room	 had	 suddenly	 grown	 quiet	 for	 a	 moment,	 with	 only	 the	 sound	 of Willow’s	 grandmother	 snoring	 in	 the	 bed.	 The	 sawing	 noise	 reminded	 Willow that	she	still	needed	to	schedule	her	grandmother’s	sleep	study.	She	didn’t	have the	two	grand	out-of-pocket	that	the	sleep	center	required,	though.

For	 whatever	 reason	 on	 that	 particular	 day,	 Willow	 had	 felt	 like	 trusting those	 puppy	 dog,	 brown	 eyes	 of	 Erika	 Patel.	 “Hospitals	 are	 filled	 with	 spirits.

They’re	 the	 worst	 places	 for	 people	 to	 die.	 Their	 spirits	 struggle	 to	 figure	 out



how	to	move	on	from	a	place	so	foreign	from	their	home.”

“The	best	place	to	die	is	home?”	Dr.	Patel	had	asked.

“Yes.”	Willow	answered	slowly,	surprised	by	the	woman’s	ready	acceptance

of	the	supernatural.

The	physician	had	nodded	as	if	she’d	suspected	as	much.

Willow	 had	 continued:	 “Their	 lingering	 brings	 the	 entire	 ambience	 down.

Their	presence	perpetuates	depression	here.”

Dr.	 Patel	 frowned.	 “The	 elderly	 already	 have	 depression.	 I	 hate	 to	 think spirits	are	making	it	worse.”

“They	do.”

“What	can	I	do?	Can	anything	be	done	to	…	help	them	move	on?”

Willow	eyed	the	doctor,	who’d	given	her	a	disarmingly-friendly	smile.

That	 night,	 Willow	 had	 returned	 to	 the	 hospital	 with	 candles,	 and	 incense, and	 incantations.	 She’d	 performed	 the	 ritual	 to	 help	 the	 spirits	 cross	 into	 the ethereal	 realm	 –	 all	 while	 a	 fascinated	 Dr.	 Patel	 had	 watched.	 After	 that	 night, the	women	had	become	friends,	and	Dr.	Patel	had	become	‘Erika’.

“Willow?”	 Back	 in	 the	 present,	 Erika’s	 voice	 through	 the	 speakerphone	 pulled Willow	from	her	memories.	“Each	time	after	you	work	your	magic,	my	recovery rate	increases	and	my	depression	rates	decrease	across	the	ward.	If	you	come,	I promise	I	won’t	bother	you	again—at	least	not	for	another	six	months.”

“It’s	not	magic.”

“It	is	to	me	and	my	patients.	I’ll	pay	you.	You	never	let	me	pay	you.”

“I’m	not	taking	money	to	help	lost	souls.”

“So,	you’ll	do	it?”

“I’ll	do	it.”

“Tonight?”

Willow	rubbed	her	temple.	“Midnight.”

“I’ll	badge	you	in.”

As	 Willow	 parked	 her	 car,	 she	 gaped	 at	 the	 beauty	 of	 the	 old	 house.	 The	 sun filtered	through	the	leaves	rustling	in	the	cool,	March	breeze	–	casting	dancing shadows	 across	 the	 house.	 The	 shingles	 looked	 new,	 but	 the	 gutters	 were	 the original	 copper.	 One	 of	 the	 large	 windows	 jutted	 out	 to	 create	 a	 sitting	 area,	 in what	 appeared	 to	 be	 a	 library.	 To	 make	 it	 even	 more	 appealing,	 majestic	 oak trees	surrounded	the	house,	enveloping	it	in	an	aura	of	tranquility.

Willow	 stretched	 after	 the	 two-hour	 car	 ride,	 before	 walking	 up	 the	 porch steps.

The	door	swung	open,	revealing	a	tall	man	dressed	in	a	navy	suit	who	stood

expectantly	 in	 the	 doorway.	 He	 had	 sandy	 blond	 hair,	 hazel	 eyes,	 and	 tanned skin.	His	square,	cleanly-shaven	jaw	looked	tense.	“You’re	late.”

Willow	 looked	 at	 her	 watch.	 Two	 minutes	 late,	 and	 that	 was	 only	 because she’d	been	ogling	his	house	and	the	premises	while	standing	in	the	driveway.

Now,	 instead,	 she	 caught	 herself	 ogling	 this	 stranger,	 and	 his	 broad, triangular	physique.

“I’m	not	late.”

“Business	courtesy	dictates	arrival	fifteen	minutes	before	a	meeting	time.”

Willow	 wanted	 to	 tell	 him	 where	 he	 could	 shove	 his	 business	 courtesy,	 but she	needed	this	job	and	needed	the	money.	Besides,	the	gentleman	seemed	to	be in	 a	 hurry.	 Perhaps	 he	 had	 somewhere	 important	 he	 needed	 to	 be,	 and	 the urgency	had	made	him	rude.

“I’ll	remember	that	for	any	of	our	future	meetings.”	Willow	extended	a	hand.

“Willow	Nightingale.”

The	 stranger	 shook	 her	 hand	 briefly,	 his	 grip	 warm	 and	 solid.	 “Mark Stryker.”

“Tell	me	about	your	ghost	problem.”

Mark	stepped	aside	and	gestured	with	his	arm	for	Willow	to	step	inside	the

house.

As	 she	 entered,	 her	 gaze	 roamed	 the	 interior	 and	 the	 evidence	 of	 ongoing renovations:	 Half-painted	 walls,	 stripped	 railings	 ready	 for	 staining,	 and	 stacks of	new	wood	planks.

“I	don’t	have	a	ghost	problem,”	Mark	said.

Willow	felt	a	jolt	of	alarm.	Had	she	been	lured	to	a	man’s	house	under	false pretenses?	She	reached	for	the	phone	in	her	pocket	and	pulled	it	out.	“Sorry,	I’ll make	 it	 quick.”	 She	 pretended	 to	 answer	 the	 phone	 and	 talk	 to	 her	 friend.

“Erika?	Hi!	Yeah,	sorry	–	I	can’t	talk	right	now.	I’m	at	that	old	house:	The	one we	looked	at	online…	Yes,	okay…	I’ll	call	you	later.	Bye-bye.”	She	stuffed	the phone	back	into	her	pocket.

Mark’s	lips	quirked.	“Did	you	just	fake	a	phone	call?”

“No.”	Damn!	Her	voice	had	probably	been	infused	with	too	much	cheer.

“You	 did.	You	realized	you’re	miles	from	civilization,	alone	with	a	stranger, so	you	faked	a	call.”

“Did	not!”

Mark	smiled.	“I’m	in	real	estate.	You	can’t	bullshit	a	bullshitter.	And	you’re a	bad	liar.”

Willow	tried	not	to	stare	at	Mark’s	infuriatingly	dazzling	smile.

He	took	a	nonthreatening	step	back	and	nodded	toward	her.	“Go	ahead.	Call

or	text	whomever	you	need	to	in	order	to	feel	at	ease.	I’ll	wait.”

Willow	 retrieved	 her	 phone	 again	 and	 texted	 Erika	 that	 she	 was	 on	 a	 job.

Then	she	sent	the	address	of	Mark’s	house,	adding	that	she’d	call	Erika	later.

Willow	 finally	 pocketed	 her	 phone	 again.	 “Thanks.”	 She	 looked	 up	 at	 the handsome	 stranger.	 “Now,	 do	 you	 or	 do	 you	 not	 have	 a	 ghost	 problem?”	 If	 he didn’t	have	a	problem,	why	had	he	called	her?

“I	don’t	believe	in	ghosts.”	Mark	crossed	his	arms.	“But,	as	I	seem	to	be	in the	 minority	 in	 these	 parts,	 I	 need	 someone	 with	 a	 reputation	 for	 dealing	 with ghosts	to	declare	this	place	cleansed.”

“Cleansed?”

“Ghost-free.”

Willow	 walked	 through	 the	 house	 with	 Mark	 on	 her	 heels.	 “I’ll	 see	 what	 I can	do,”	she	promised.

“You’re	the	fifth	person	I’ve	called.	Two	were	a	waste	of	money.	Two	were

unavailable.	 Asher	 Brenner	 was	 the	 fourth	 one,	 and	 the	 one	 who	 seemed	 to	 be the	most	reputable,	but	he	only	does	missing	persons.	He	gave	me	your	name.”

Willow	 nodded.	 She’d	 met	 Asher	 when	 they	 crossed	 paths	 on	 a	 previous

case.	 After	 they’d	 compared	 notes,	 she’d	 known	 Asher	 was	 the	 real	 thing—a fellow	medium.

“You	don’t	advertise,”	Mark	added.

“I	don’t,”	Willow	agreed.	She	knew	that	if	she	advertised	her	services,	she’d be	 bombarded	 with	 people	 wanting	 séances	 to	 connect	 them	 with	 dead	 family members,	 and	 Willow	 performed	 no	 such	 rituals.	 She	 preferred	 to	 keep	 her activity	low-key,	and	simply	help	the	occasional	spirit	move	on	from	the	living world.

“It	must	make	finding	business	tough.”

“You	found	me.”	Willow	walked	through	the	gutted	kitchen,	with	its	missing cabinet	doors,	and	then	the	dining	room	with	the	sheets	over	the	table	and	chairs.

The	 lounge	 had	 a	 beautiful	 brick	 fireplace	 and	 led	 into	 the	 library.	 There,	 old books	covered	in	cobwebs	filled	half	the	shelves.	Willow	looked	at	the	seat	by the	window.	She	could	envision	spend	hours	relaxing	in	such	a	place.	She	could sit,	and	write,	and	stare	into	the	woods	for	inspiration.

Mark	 watched	 the	 fascination	 on	 Willow’s	 face	 as	 she	 explored	 his	 house.	 Her green	eyes	were	wide	with	wonder,	and	her	cheeks	flushed.	She	didn’t	look	like a	 psychic—not	 with	 her	 blue	 jeans,	 pink	 blouse,	 purple	 scarf,	 and	 worn	 boots.

She	was	a	few	years	younger	than	him—late	twenties,	perhaps.	She	looked	good enough	 to	 eat,	 but	 Mark	 wasn’t	 about	 to	 hit	 on	 a	 woman	 who	 claimed	 to	 see ghosts.

Willow	touched	the	spine	of	one	of	the	books,	and	her	lips	parted	slightly.

He	 looked	 away	 and	 shoved	 his	 hands	 in	 his	 pockets.	 “Don’t	 you	 have	 a ghost-Geiger	counter	or	something?”

She	arched	a	dark	eyebrow	at	him.	“I	 am	the	Geiger.”

“Well?”

“Nothing	yet.”

“Before	you	go	too	far,	we	should	discuss	payment.”

Willow	turned	toward	him.	“You	agreed	to	my	price	on	the	phone.	I	agreed

to	no	payment	until	the	job	is	done.	Fortunately	for	you,	I’m	desperate	enough	to accept	your	terms.”

“Ghost	hunting	doesn’t	pay	the	bills?”	Mark	asked.

“Hardly.	And	this	isn’t	hunting.”

“Ghost	 whispering?”

“I	don’t	whisper.”

“What	do	you	call	it	then?”

“Sensing.”

“Ghost	 sensing.”	 Mark	 shook	 his	 head.	 “Doesn’t	 have	 the	 same	 allure	 as ghost	whisperer.”

Willow	started	up	the	stairs,	and	he	followed.

“So,	 what	 does	 pay	 the	 bills?”	 Mark	 suspected	 she	 had	 some	 other	 type	 of employment,	 since	 her	 performance	 seemed	 rather	 bland	 as	 far	 as	 ‘ ghost sensing’	 went.	 Willow	 was	 too	 normal—not	 enough	 pizazz	 or	 dramatic	 flare.

The	 first	 crew	 he’d	 hired	 had	 brought	 all	 sorts	 of	 equipment	 and	 cameras,	 and even	planned	to	camp	overnight.	They	didn’t	last	the	whole	night,	though.

The	second	hire	had	been	a	woman	in	her	sixties	with	long	gray	hair,	dressed in	robes.	She’d	thrown	holy	water	around	the	house.

“I’m	a	freelance	writer,”	Willow	explained.

Mark	chuckled.

“That’s	funny?”	Willow	turned	to	look	at	him,	as	they	stood	halfway	up	the

stairs.

“Does	that	make	you	a	 ghost	writer?”

“Cute.”	 Her	 eyes	 stayed	 sharp,	 but	 the	 slight	 smile	 betrayed	 Willow’s amusement.	She	continued	climbing	the	stairs.

“Have	 you	sensed	anything?”	she	asked.

“Anything	 paranormal,	 you	 mean?”	 Mark	 stared	 at	 the	 back	 of	 Willow’s head,	so	as	not	to	watch	the	way	her	hips	moved	hypnotically	with	each	step.

“Yes.	Anything	unusual?”

“Creaks,	moans,	and	doors	opening	and	closing.	Things	I	can’t	explain	away

based	 on	 the	 outside	 temperature,	 barometric	 pressure,	 or	 the	 tilt	 of	 the	 house.

But	absolutely	nothing	suggests	there	are	 ghosts	here,	that’s	for	sure.”

“But	other	people	have	seen	something?”

“So	they	say.”

Willow	stopped	so	abruptly	at	the	top	of	the	stairs	that	Mark	almost	ran	into her.	 This	 close	 to	 her,	 he	 breathed	 in	 and	 realized	 Willow	 smelled	 like	 cherry blossoms.	As	she	turned,	he	stepped	backward	to	give	her	space.

“The	attic,”	Willow	demanded.

“Right	 this	 way.”	 Mark	 stepped	 around	 her	 and	 led	 Willow	 to	 one	 of	 the bedrooms.	He’d	been	doing	his	own	repairs	to	the	house	for	a	month	now,	and by	 now	 knew	 every	 nook	 and	 cranny.	 He’d	 even	 gotten	 to	 know	 the	 spiders	 in the	crawl	space	 intimately.

As	for	the	attic,	it	was	cluttered	but	harmless	enough.

Mark	 opened	 the	 attic	 door,	 and	 Willow	 stepped	 inside	 without	 hesitation.

Light	 from	 the	 window	 on	 the	 opposite	 wall	 gave	 her	 a	 white,	 angelic	 glow.

Mark	didn’t	believe	in	ghosts,	but	he	might	just	start	to	believe	in	angels.

Ridiculous. 	 What	 type	 of	 mentally	 unstable	 woman	 has	 a	 part-time	 gig inspecting	haunted	houses?

Mark	checked	his	watch.	“Are	you	going	to	be	okay	on	your	own?	I’ve	got

to	head	into	Wilmington	for	a	meeting.”	He	recalled	the	white-faced,	wide-eyed looks	 of	 his	 contractors	 when	 they’d	 quit.	 Maybe	 he	 shouldn’t	 leave	 Willow alone.

“I	 wouldn’t	 be	 much	 of	 a	 medium	 if	 I	 ran	 and	 hid	 from	 every	 ghost	 I encountered!	Besides,	you	have	only	one	ghost,	and	his	name	is	Henry.”

Mark	looked	around	the	room—from	the	old	chests	to	the	broken	and	dusty

furniture.	He	cleared	his	throat.	“And	Henry	is	here	now?”

“He	 is.	 He	 says	 hello,	 and	 not	 to	 take	 the	 bridge	 back	 home	 until	 after	 six pm.”

“Oh-kay.”	Mark	backed	out	of	the	attic,	leaving	the	door	open.

Yeah.

He	could	leave	her	here	for	a	few	hours,	and	she’d	be	no	worse	for	wear.

<<END	SAMPLE>>

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Document Outline


Praise for CB Samet

Title Page

Contents

Untitled

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Dear Reader

Also by CB SAMET:

Excerpt from Willow’s Windfall