Im OKAY, You're Dead

The Lotus Circle Publication

www.thelotuscircle.com

I’m Okay, You’re Dead ISBN # 9781419911309 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I’m Okay, You’re Dead Copyright© 2007 Cheryl Dragon Edited by Jaynie Ritchie. Cover art by Syneca. Electronic book Publication: April 2007

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Jasmine-Jade Enterprises., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

I’M OKAY, YOU’RE DEAD Cheryl Dragon

Dedication For Ann Kansky Oblon We might not be able to see you but we know you’re keeping an eye on us

Acknowledgements Special Thanks to: My crit partners on this book: Joanna, Ang, Barb & Shawnna. My clever fellow writer who came up with the title: Samantha Hunter. And my editor who showed patience and good humor at every turn: Jaynie Ritchie.

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Aftershock: Cott Corporation America’s Most Wanted: STF Production Inc Avia: American Sporting Goods Corporation Barbie: Mattel, Inc. Buffy: Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation Cadillac Eldorado: General Motors Corporation Camaro: General Motors Corporation Casper: Harvey Entertainment, Inc. Chanel: Chanel, Inc. Corporation Charlie’s Angels: Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc. Chevy: General Motors Corporation Diet Coke: Coca-Cola Company Disney World: Disney Enterprises, Inc. Dr. Pepper: Dr. Pepper Company

Ford: Ford Motor Company Fossil: Fossil, Inc. Glock: Glock, Inc. Google: Google Inc. HBO: Home Box Office, Inc. Heinz 57: H.J. Heinz Company Hello Kitty: Sanrio Company, Ltd Honda: Honda Giken Kogyo Kabushiki Kaisha (Honda Motor Co. Ltd) Hooters Air: HI Limited Partnership & Hooters Enterprises LLC Hoover: The Hoover Company Ipod: Apple Computer, Inc. Jabba the Hutt: Lucas Licensing Ltd. Corporation Jeep: DaimlerChrysler Corporation Kel-Tec .380: Kel-Tec CNC Industries Inc. Law & Order: Universatl TV Distribution Holdings LLC Legally Blonde: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc. Macy’s: Macy’s Department Stores, Inc. Mary Kay: Mary Kay Cosmetics, Inc. Mini Cooper: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengeselischaft Pepto Bismol: Proctor & Gamble Company Playgirl: Playgirl Key Club Inc. Polaroid: Polaroid Corporation Rambo: StudioCanal Image Rolls Royce: Rolls-Royce Motor Cards Limited Scooby-Doo: Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc. Star Trek: Paramount Pictures Corporation Starbucks: Starbucks U.S. Brands, LLC Taser: Taser International, Inc. The Addams Family: Paramount Pictures Corp Tinkerbell: Disney Enterprises, Inc. Vogue: Advance Magazine Publishers, Inc. VW Bug: Volkswagon Aktiengesellschaft White Sox: Chicago White Sox, Ltd. Xena: Studios USA Television Distribution LLC Yahoo: Yahoo! Inc. Corporation

Cheryl Dragon

Chapter One I was supposed to get into the third cab. There was no earthly reason for me to follow my sixth sense. I was only in New Orleans for a job interview. This wasn’t the time to get sidetracked because of psychic visions. Unfortunately, this instinct wasn’t going away. If I argued with the voices in my head, I really would be crazy. The third cab it was. As I got in, nothing immediately hit me. The middle-aged black woman behind the wheel put the car in gear and swerved away from the curb. A gold and orange rosary rocked from the rearview mirror. “Where to?” Her Cajun accent was so thick I had to concentrate on the question. “Chateau Hotel please.” She turned the car sharply and a voodoo doll slid out from behind my head and stared at me with little pins sticking out of its eyes. “Rosaries and voodoo dolls?” The driver laughed deeply. “First time in New Orleans?” “That obvious?” I studied the inside of the cab for a clue as to why I was supposed to be here. The picture of a pretty young girl on the visor caught my eye like she could see right through me. She was why. Slowly, a gray outline of the picture superimposed over the face and then crumbled into ashes. My blood ran cold. That girl wouldn’t last twenty-four hours. I closed my eyes and rubbed the image away, pretending to have an itch. “Is that your daughter?” I took a deep breath. “Granddaughter. I’m Cecelia, she’s Little Cel, named after me.” The woman oozed pride. “She’s adorable. Has she been sick lately?” I couldn’t see how she’d die. All I got was that she’d be left alone and attacked by some stranger. I hated the feeling of knowing but not knowing enough. “No, she’s naturally skinny. Eats like a bottomless pit though. Why?” “Keep an eye on her, okay?” Death premonitions were the worst. Death premonitions about children, I’d just discovered, topped regular ones hands down. “What do you mean?” She looked over her shoulder at me while stopped at a red light.

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“I know you’ll probably think I’m crazy, but she’s in danger. You can’t leave her alone.” “She’s only eight, she’s never alone.” Cecelia blew out her tension. “Good. Just please don’t leave her alone. There’s someone dangerous in her neighborhood out to kill if given the chance.” People didn’t always believe me. At least I tried. “You don’t want to go to the hotel.” A voice next to me interrupted my mental gymnastics trying to get more on the possible future murder. Ghosts showed up wherever I went. After twenty-six years, I was used to it. Talking to the ghost in front of the cabbie might just get me taken to a mental institution but I looked over to gauge what I was dealing with. The semitransparent woman looked to be in her eighties but oddly familiar. Like someone I’d dreamt of. Suddenly her appearance changed to that of a thirty-something woman, but the same woman. The scariest part was the similarities of her to me. I scooted closer to the door as I categorized her features. Thick wavy brown hair and piercing green eyes. Medium frame and pale skin. The resemblance went deeper. “Who are you?” “You okay back there, sugar?” Cecelia asked. “Yeah, just a ghost. Nothing to worry about.” I smiled. Cecelia paused and then nodded. The ghost smiled. “I’m glad you’re not afraid of your own grandmother. We need to go to 1300 Carmen Court.” “My grandmother? You don’t look anything like Grammy.” Mom’s mom died when I was in college. “No, we’ve never met. I’m Elinor Oscar. Your father never visited. You, however, came at just the right time.” “I have an interview at Tulane University. The reason I came is to teach psychology. It’s nice to meet you, I’ve always been curious about you.” I’d never met her or even seen her picture. “Dad said you were insane. Of course they thought my seeing ghosts and parts of the future were crazy too.” “You’re not crazy, Deanna. No more than I was. Being a psychic medium has its drawbacks but you don’t have a choice.” “You too?” I shifted to face her. “Me too. You’re my family You don’t stay at a hotel. 1300 Carmen Court.” She folded her hands neatly in her lap and looked at the driver. I’d forgotten all about Cecelia while talking with my ghost Gran. “Can we go to 1300 Carmen Court instead, please?” I took a deep breath and knew that my job interview wouldn’t be the highlight of my trip to New Orleans. “It’s your dime.” Cel spun the wheel and made a U-turn like a pro.

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Would I ever have a normal life?

***** When the cab stopped, I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Is this Tara?” The cab driver laughed at me. “Antebellum, mid-eighteen hundreds so it’s as close as you’ll get in these parts, Miss Scarlett. This is the historic Garden District. So you’re an Oscar?” “Yes.” My last name had never gotten this sort of recognition. “So you’ve really got the gift?” “Yes.” It was the first time I’d admitted it and not worried about the reaction. “I’ll make sure my Little Cel is safe. Oscars tend to be right about these things.” She looked back at the picture. “Good.” I dug through my purse and handed over the fare. “Thanks.” I exited the cab and headed up the long walkway to the door. Pressing the doorbell, I looked back to ask Gran exactly who would be there but she was gone. Ghosts and spirits had the worst timing and very bad manners. The large front door creaked open and I turned to find a short Latino drag queen in white shorts, a flower-print blouse and a blonde wig. “Yes,” she said. “Hi, I’m Deanna Oscar. Elinor Oscar asked me to come by.” Now whether I got a door slammed in my face or laughed at all depended on who this queen was. This trip was definitely not going as planned! “You know she’s dead, right?” A long gel nail gestured in the air. “Yes. She said I should stay here while I’m in New Orleans. I’m her granddaughter.” “I recognize the name. The lawyer has been trying to locate you for weeks. Elinor said you’d show up. Of course we all assumed it’d be before she kicked off. Come in.” She opened the door wider. I walked past her and set my suitcase aside. “A lawyer was looking for me? I never got any messages.” That was my parents doing, no doubt. “Don’t worry, I’ll call the lawyer and Greg and we can have the will reading today.” “Will reading?” This was happening way too fast. “I’m sorry. Who are you?” “Ivy Delacroix. I used to work for Elinor. She needed someone to look after her health conditions. I’ve been looking after the estate until you could be located.” Ivy led the way back past a massive curving staircase and into a large kitchen. “I’m sorry. My father is back in Chicago. Don’t we need him for the will reading?” I looked around the large kitchen. Parts were antique while the appliances were top-ofthe-line stainless steel. Plus lots of crucifixes and Mary statues. This house was worth a fortune. Dad would have to decide what to do with it. 8

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“The lawyer has all the terms of the will. Let him worry about it. Sit down, relax, and I’ll get you some tea. There’s a picture of Elinor and her ashes are in an urn in the main parlor.” I needed more caffeine to get through this change of plans. Having just met Gran, I wasn’t ready to pay respects to her remains yet. “Do you have any coffee?” I sat at the large wooden table. Ivy set a mug of steaming coffee in front of me. As I sipped the coffee, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. There was a rocking chair in the corner and a gray figure of a young woman dressed in a maid’s uniform slowing rocking in it. Another ghost. I could feel a lot of them throughout the house but this is the first one I’d seen inside. “Hi,” I said. The maid kept her eyes down but moved to put a bowl of sugar and spoon on the table. “Thanks. I’m Deanna.” I did my best to treat ghosts and spirits like people but you never knew a nice one from a troublemaker right away. They all wanted attention and respect. Ghosts were stuck or chose to stay here—much easier for me to see because they were still here. I could always tell them from the spirits who had crossed over to the Other Side and came back to visit. Spirits were more faded and with a pure light that seemed to come from inside them. “You can see her?” Ivy asked. “Of course. Does she talk?” “I don’t know. I don’t have those powers. Her name is Missy and she likes that rocking chair. She thinks she’s still a maid here which means there’s no need to clean.” I felt my feet twitch. There were lots more ghosts here. Lots of energy and not all good. A larger concentration of evil than I’d ever felt. “How many ghosts are here?” “Enough. The dangerous ghosts Elinor kept in the attic. Don’t go up there. We don’t want to have to put them back without Elinor’s help.” “What’s in the basement?” My feet tingled more. “No basements at this sea level. You might be feeling the main floor storeroom under the stairs. The haunted objects are in there. Jumpy creatures.” Ivy opened her purse on the counter and pulled out a compact. Haunted objects? I shook it off. “So the house is loaded with this stuff? What did Gran do with a houseful of ghosts and objects?” “Tried to get them to go where they belong. Get to the Other Side and stop haunting the living. Not all want to go.” Ivy smiled. “So you’re the Yankee granddaughter from Chicago with all the gnarly powers?” “Trade ya,” I offered.

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“Right. You think being a drag queen is easy? I’ve been working on my act for years. No big break yet.” “I don’t think it’s easy. Of course I can’t sing to save my life. I just can’t imagine anything worse than seeing a little girl’s death as I’m riding in a cab on the way from the airport. There’s not enough info to stop it either. Sometimes I just want an off switch for the powers. Blend in and be average.” “You won’t get that here. Everyone knew about Elinor. And lots of people came to her for help. It was her life. Now that you’re here, they’ll be coming for you.” “Great. That’ll help me land that teaching job. I work to get two PhDs and I’ll never get to use them except on the formerly living. I’m never going to be normal.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Who wants that?” “You can take off the drag and just be a gay guy who blends in whenever you want. I’d just like to have that option.” “I can see that. But you’re not wearing a sign. On the plus side, around here being psychic isn’t going to shock anyone. Lots of people claim to be. Oscars have a reputation for extreme accuracy though. People will believe you.” She took a deep breath. “Let me show you to the master bedroom and we can get you unpacked.” “Thanks.” I wished I could focus on the house or Gran. But the image of Little Cel wouldn’t go away. Whoever was after her wasn’t going to give up. Her death felt inevitable. I hated feeling helpless. It wouldn’t last though. I got the first premonition for a reason. I’d get something more eventually and be on the heels of a killer. It was a habit. My visions weren’t normally murder but I had to get involved. I’d gotten into trouble for it plenty. I couldn’t not help. Hopefully the key info came in time for Little Cel.

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Chapter Two Ivy went back downstairs to wait for the guests but I had the urge to keep busy. I always got antsy when I had an unsettling vision. A mini-tour around the second floor was a good distraction. The door at the opposite end of the long hallway called to me with strong energy. I tried the door and it was locked. Letting go, I heard a click. Who was playing games? I played along and tried the door again. This time it opened. It was a library. The most amazing one I could ever dream up. Built-in cherry wood shelves, packed with books, lined the walls from floor to ceiling. There was even a spiral staircase leading down. A library that spanned two floors? In a private home? There were definite positives to this house. “Awesome.” I closed the door behind me and went further. There were stuffed cozy-looking velvet chairs and larger leather ones. Reading lamps and carved desks were scattered near the chairs and elegant candleholders sat in corners. The candles were all white and clearly not just for show. Natural light seemed to be Gran’s preference. The traditional long library ladders towered along the walls on every side. Ancient leather covers looked down on me and the smell of dust was inescapable. A huge brick fireplace took up a large part of the far wall. I could envision a roaring fire making this room even better. It was the most welcoming room in the house. Except I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t disturbed except for the fact that I couldn’t see who was with me. “Who’s there?” My voice echoed and I felt stupid for half a second. I heard a rattle and looked up. None of the windows were open so it wasn’t the wind. One of the ladders rattled again and I took three hasty steps back, just in case whoever it was didn’t want me here and planned to dump a ladder on me to prove it. “I’m Deanna Oscar. Are you one of the friendly residents?” How to speak politically correct to a ghost wasn’t exactly in any of my psych courses. When I encountered ghosts they usually had a lot to say. Then again I could usually see them. I was way out of my league here if this one turned out to be an attic escapee. I watched, but the ladder remained still. Just when I decided they’d left, I heard the sound of fingers snapping twice right behind my right ear. I kept still, fighting the desire to bolt. Seeing ghosts was weird, ones I couldn’t see were even weirder.

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But I didn’t feel evil or fear. “Okay. I’ll take that as a yes. If we’re going to communicate this way we need a system. You could always just show yourself and talk to me though. I’m used to it.” The lack of response told me that wasn’t going to happen. A shy ghost? Odd, but ghosts were people too. Or at least they had been. “So let’s say two snaps for yes and silence for no. Does that work for you?” Two snaps sounded and I knew we had an agreement. It was almost like young child therapy. Small steps to trust. Let them lead and get on their level. “Do you have a name?” I asked. Two snaps sounded and I wondered how I’d get a name from snaps. If the ghost would only talk. It’d be nice to get some questions answered. I felt the ghost move away and heard the ladder rattle again. Looking up, I saw one book fly out of the bookcase and toward me. Had I pushed too far? Would my obituary read Deanna Oscar PhD, born Chicago, Illinois, aged twenty-six years, died in a freak accident buried beneath her grandmother’s mysteriously toppled library? Instead of attacking me, the book sailed to a nearby table and opened. I approached, not wanting to offend the library ghost. The book was a bible, a very old bible with gold-tipped edges. The rare book collection alone here would pay off all my student loans. Not that any of it was mine or I’d ever sell it. The bible was in Latin and opened to a hand-painted picture of an ark full of animals. My Latin was remedial but I recognized the story of Noah and the ark. “Noah? Your name is Noah?” Two snaps confirmed it. The success was exhilarating. I was still curious why he was so shy. It was too early to press for that sort of revelation though. “Nice to meet you, Noah. Is there anything special in the library I should see?” I eased into a nearby chair and the smell of rosewater wrapped around me. Two snaps sounded and another book flew off a high shelf and landed on the table next to me. “Thank you.” I picked up the book while Noah put the bible away. It was weird, things flying around, but to be able to acknowledge what I saw and not hide it felt freeing. The book in my hands was a handwritten journal by Gran. “Spirits, Hauntings and Humans by Elinor Oscar. Guess I should read this?” The two snaps were closer now and a candle blinked into ignition on the table next to me. “Thanks, Noah, but I can’t stay right now. I have a few more questions for Ivy. But I’ll be back.” I wanted to stay but knew I’d get lost in my own world between books and ghosts. I’d gotten into a ton of trouble being a daydreamer in school and had the ruler marks to prove it.

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Walking down the staircase, a figure in the parlor caught my eye but I headed for the kitchen. I found Ivy applying another layer of lipstick. “How long did you work for Gran?” Ivy turned. “Just over a year. She needed someone to look in on her. Do the shopping and errands and help her. She needed more as she got weaker.” “You’re not afraid of this place?” I asked. “My mother practiced voodoo. Descended from a long line. Nothing surprises me.” “That’s good. Who’s the guy in the parlor?” “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

***** Ivy and I stood in the doorway of the main parlor. The man didn’t get up. He was on some sort of kneeler in front of Gran’s picture and urn of ashes. “What’s he doing?” I asked. “Praying.” Ivy dipped a finger in a holy water dispenser screwed to the wall and crossed herself. The number of crucifixes in the house was excessive. I followed her in. “You know she’s fine,” I informed our devout guest. Slowly the man turned and got up. Not bad to look at, tall and lean. But I got a familiarly weird vibe from him. “Deanna Oscar, my cousin Greg Delacroix. He’s very religious. Studied history and theology.” “Hence all the praying. I see. Well, pray for a troubled soul, Father. Gran is fine. Talked to her today.” “Elinor was a great woman. It was an honor to help her.” Greg was oddly calm. “Help her?” “Greg helped out with her crime-solving, ghost-busting stuff,” Ivy filled in. “Got it.” I saw Missy enter with my coffee. I took the mug. “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” “So, you do see them?” Greg exhaled loudly. “You don’t?” I sipped my coffee. Greg gave a curt negative head jerk to my question. “What good were you? Hard to bust ‘em or help ‘em if you can’t see ‘em.” “I was the muscle. Plus I’ve a great deal of experience with exorcisms.” “You mean like possessions?” I stifled a laugh. “Exactly.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s easy to cure what doesn’t exist.”

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“You don’t believe in it?” “Nope.” I walked the length of the huge parlor with large windows and solid velvet-covered furniture. Not quite my style but it worked in the house. “You wouldn’t last a week in this house.” Greg folded his arms and gave me a smug smile. “Sure, I would. I believe in a lot of things and I’ve seen evil at work. I just don’t believe something can take over a human body. I did twelve years of Catholic school, Father. I’ve had my share of theology and church history.” “The church has believed for centuries.” “But it doesn’t add up. Possession without your permission violates the concept of free will. On the flip side, if only the willing could be possessed, every depressed attention-hungry teenage loser would be demonically enhanced. I really don’t think either is a solid argument.” “Then how do you explain the behaviors? The church requires a great deal of proof before it gets involved.” Greg moved closer. “There are plenty of psychological reasons for so called possessed behaviors. They’re symptoms. Bipolar, dissociative personality disorder and even simple delusions. People can want to believe it and convince themselves.” “She’s a shrink,” Ivy supplied. “I gathered. You have the gift and a lot of book knowledge but that’s not enough. You can’t handle this place. Don’t try.” Greg stared me in the eye. I stared back with a smile. “I could. But I came here for a teaching job, not an inheritance. I’m not even sure I’ll end up with either. Don’t know what’s in the will. Gran just paid me a visit and pointed me here.” The debate with Greg was fun. To talk about this stuff and not get looks that said I was crazy. But something outside caught my attention. Someone was watching the house. “Excuse me a minute.” I set my mug down and headed for the front door. It wasn’t an evil feeling but someone was definitely watching the house. Opening the door, I saw an ideally groomed front garden and clear walk. Not a soul—living or dead. There were statues on the veranda. Looked like Gran had all the saints lining the house. I went to the closest one and wiped off the dust. This house needed all the protection it could get. As I turned to head in the house, I saw movement at the front gate. A woman in a light pink blouse, white linen skirt and white spike-heeled strappy sandals was walking up the path carrying a large basket. “Good morning,” she called. “Hi.” I nodded. “I’m Mrs. Lance Weathers of the historic Garden District Weathers. Next door. Please call me Mary Lou. I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” She made it up the steps without losing eye contact or the smallest hint of an ankle wobble. 14

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In those shoes, I’d have fallen on my ass if I didn’t watch where I was going. This would be my first encounter with a real Southern belle. I braced myself. “Thanks, I’m Dr. Deanna Oscar.” “I know. I’m so sorry about your grandmother. A very nice lady.” She gave me a sympathetic look and immediately shifted back to a smile. “This is for you. I do hope you plan to stay. We need more young blood around here.” I looked at Mrs. Weathers up close. The only way to describe her was Elle Woods from Legally Blonde at about age thirty. Perfectly made-up, polished and not a hint of cattiness about her. “Thanks. I’m not sure about my plans, but it’s nice to know Gran will be missed.” The basket was filled with wine, cheese, crackers and a large assortment of muffins. “This is very nice of you.” “Don’t give it a thought. And I won’t keep you by asking a million rude questions. I’m sure you’re a busy woman. If you ever want the best cup of tea on Carmen Court, and all the truth and rumors about this place, you just walk on down.” She waved and headed back down the path. “Thank you.” I awkwardly balanced the basket she’d carried with grace and fumbled for the door.

***** “A Mary Lou encounter already—chica pobre,” Ivy teased. “The Weathers are old money and New Orleans’ high-society members. Mary Lou’s father was middle class but her mother’s family is old socialite stock. Mary Lou was a deb. And a beauty pageant winner. That’s all she needed to get into the right family by marriage.” The three of us sat around the kitchen table with the basket in the middle. “She said she wanted me to stay. I fit into her plans where?” I asked. “Old money. Elinor is the direct descendent of some very wealthy plantation owners. Lot of imports and exports. The house has been passed down to the eldest daughter generation after generation. You’re not pure Cajun blood by now, of course, but the family line is there.” Ivy sorted through the basket. “I see.” I really didn’t. Blood didn’t mean much in Chicago unless you were related to Oprah or the mayor. Money I understood but my parents didn’t have much of that anyway. “You’ve got the blood and you’ll have the money soon enough. You’ll be the belle of the ball.” Greg laughed. “Sure, romping around Tara in jeans and a t-shirt.” I wasn’t sure how to take the money comment. It felt like everyone knew something I didn’t. “When’s this lawyer coming?” “Any time.” Ivy shrugged. “Are you named in the will too?” I asked. 15

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Ivy nodded. “Don’t know what for. She paid me well enough. I certainly don’t expect anything from my clients.” The doorbell rang and I started to get up. “Sit. I’ll get it,” Ivy insisted. “Might be another nosy neighbor. Safer this way.” “Thanks.” I eased back down but felt a knot in my stomach. The will thing sounded official. “It’s the lawyer,” Ivy announced. A bald and very round man entered the kitchen. “Dr. Oscar? Just as pretty as your grandmother.” He reached out a sweaty hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Louie.” I shook his hand and then subtly wiped my palm on my jeans. “You too. How do you like our city?” “I haven’t seen much of it. Thought I might do some sightseeing once the business was done.” I had no intention of touring a town with a killer on the loose. There were bigger problems to deal with but I wasn’t going to advertise. “Good idea. Lovely day today.” He hugged his briefcase. “Shall we go over the provisions of the will?” “Sure. Let’s go into the living room.” I got up and the others followed. For some reason it felt right to discuss this in the same room with Gran’s ashes. I sat in the large overstuffed chair that felt like a throne at one end of the room. Ivy and the lawyer settled on the large couch while Greg seemed content to stand, ignoring the chair in front of him. “Now Mrs. Oscar was the sole owner of this house and a very impressive portfolio. Lots of good real estate, plus some stocks for fun. Or so she said. The income from rentals and leases, not to mention the dividends, should keep you quite comfortable, Dr. Oscar. Your grandmother left you no debts.” “Me? What about my father?” “Your parents were not named in the will.” “My brothers?” “I’m sorry, no.” “But Ivy and Greg are?” I didn’t quite get why my brothers were left out. Why just one? “Mrs. Oscar did leave to both Ivy and Greg a small token of gratitude. One hundred thousand dollars each.” Mr. Louie wiped his head with a hanky and looked as though he’d prefer if we put out the candles on Gran’s shrine but made no comment. “That’s very nice.” “That’s too much!” Ivy sounded more happy than upset. “So you don’t object?” Greg asked me.

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“Why would I object? It’s her money and she can do what she wants with it.” I looked at the lawyer. “Is that it? Just the three of us?” “She left a few provisions for local charities. Here’s a list. The gardens around the house are maintained by a service she preferred. The current contract is effective for the next five years. A necessary cost in the area, but if you wanted to change services that would be your decision. There are no other commitments on the funds. This is the net value of the estate and portfolio.” Mr. Louie handed me a piece of paper. “Good.” I slipped the piece of paper with the value in my pocket without looking and reviewed the list of charities. This was all happening too fast. “What do I need to do?” “At this point, nothing. I’ll see to it that the checks are cut and all the paperwork is transferred to your name. If you have any plans to sell or make changes I’d be happy to help.” The sentence hung in the room like a ghost everyone could see. Three pairs of eyes were on me and didn’t seem to be blinking. “I have no intention of selling at this time. Finalize the estate and that’ll be enough for me.” “Wonderful,” Mr. Louis sighed. Greg and Ivy both looked slightly surprised. “Thanks for coming out. Do I need to sign anything?” It seemed too easy. “No, not now.” Mr. Louie got to his feet. “I do have another appointment across town. I’ll be going, if you’ll excuse me.” “Of course.” I walked him to the door with Greg and Ivy not far behind. “I’ll let you know how to reach me if I have to leave town.” “A pleasure, Dr. Oscar.” He nodded with his whole torso, somewhere between a bow and some lesser form of acknowledgement. “I’ll be in touch soon.” Once the door closed, I pulled the other piece of paper out of my pocket. I was now worth two hundred million dollars? For all my psychic abilities, I never saw that coming. Ivy and Greg stood there smiling at me. “A lot of money.” Greg hooked a thumb in his jeans pocket. “It’s crazy.” Reality was sinking in. “It’s how she solved crimes, found missing children and never took a penny from anyone,” Ivy added. “You’ll need the income if you do it her way.” “I think I need a nap. This is all way too sudden and I think the jet-lag is kicking in.” I needed to be alone. “Sure. We’ll get out of your way.” Ivy steered Greg out the door. Peace and quiet finally—just me and a houseful of ghosts and possessed objects. It was all mine.

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Chapter Three Locking myself in the bedroom, I curled up in the warm sheets and read Gran’s book until I fell asleep with a white candle still flickering on the nightstand. Sleep didn’t exactly leave me in peace. My dreams were vivid and odd. Weirdest of all, I wasn’t alone. Gran was along. I should’ve known she’d be back. We were moving. I looked down and my feet didn’t touch the floor. I hoped I’d remember this in the morning. My clothes were the same. I’d fallen asleep in my jeans and sweater. Gran had me by the hand and in the distance I saw my grandfather. Gran’s ex-husband. Why are we going to see him? My mouth hadn’t moved but I felt like I’d communicated my thoughts. You need to hear this. Deanna, he isn’t a bad person. Gran’s voice was in my head. Grandfather was already in front of us. He was smiling at me. He never smiled at me. “Hi.” It was as polite as I could be. He’d never been nice to me when he was alive. He favored my two younger brothers who didn’t see things. “I’m sorry,” he said. I frowned and looked to Gran. “I don’t understand.” This had to be a dream or I’d have fainted by now. “People don’t realize how their behaviors affect others in life all the time. They do the best they can most of the time but people hurt each other without meaning to. There was a lot your grandfather didn’t understand.” Gran nudged me forward. “I really am sorry. I neglected you. I had no idea about all of this.” He reached out and I edged back. I didn’t trust this. It was a dream. A strange dream. He’d never say anything like that. He never admitted he was wrong in life. “That’s not my grandfather,” I insisted. “Deanna, how can you think that?” Gran shook her head. “This is a weird dream. Or you want me to be nice to Greg so you’re getting the one man who was mean to me and is dead to appear to apologize.” It was a stretch but the whole thing was twisted. “I can’t do that. It’s not magic or a trick. You need to hear this from him.” Gran remained calm while I began tensing up looking for an out. “No, he’d never do that. You want me to feel better so I’ll stay or trust Greg or whatever you want from me but it won’t work with him.” I folded my arms. In that moment Grandfather blinked out of my sight.

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“Why should you trust me?” Gran nodded. “You never knew me. I wouldn’t deceive you, Deanna. You’ll come to trust me.” “If you wanted me to believe he was sorry why didn’t you bring him in the beginning? When I was awake?” I asked. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you. And I didn’t know Greg would be so bad with women. I guess I should’ve known.” Gran shook her head. “Your grandfather wanted to prove to you he was here, with me. You can travel over when you’re awake but that takes more mental discipline.” “Over?” I asked. Finally I looked around. We weren’t in the house anymore. Definitely not in New Orleans. It was a large white dome-shaped room. “This is Heaven?” “Not exactly. Close though.” “Great. We’re in the waiting room to Heaven.” I suddenly felt odd. Like I was being watched. Judgment day preview? Panic started to set in. I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t dead yet. “Can we go back now?” “Greg isn’t one of the bad ones either.” Gran led me toward the door but I didn’t feel like it was the exit. “You need to give him a chance. He’s been a good friend to me.” “I never said he was evil. I just don’t like him telling me what to do. That’s all men ever want to do with me. Who is he to say I can’t handle the house?” I was growing annoyed. “He told you what?” Gran looked surprised. “I guess you aren’t watching everything.” I smiled. “He doesn’t think I can handle it. Arrogant man thinks I’m in over my head.” “He wanted me to retire and move out but I thought it was because of my health.” I stuck close to Gran as we paced or more accurately, I paced and she floated around the dome room. “I don’t see why he cares what I do. It’s not like I’ve asked for his help to begin with.” Gran stopped and held my arm. I suddenly realized here I could feel her touch. “He has seen the sort of things I did. This isn’t just ego, Deanna. Greg knows he’ll never be as powerful as you are but he’s aware of what you’ll be asked to do.” “That isn’t ego? He thinks I’m strong so get rid of me? He can’t even see ghosts.” “Deanna, this is not about competition. To be that young again. Believe me, this is more about the fact that he can’t help you enough.” “I don’t need his help.” “We all need help, dear. You’re smart, strong and very stubborn but that doesn’t mean you know New Orleans or this house better than he does at the moment. Just like Ivy. You’ll manage fine without them, I know. But it would be nice if you were willing

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to accept help from Ivy and Greg. If only he was not so high-handed about things but it’s hard for people to change.” “I listened to him babble for a while, Gran. Enough was enough. Hopefully he won’t come back. And as far as Grandpa, tell him to go haunt my brothers for a while. I’m not in a forgiving mood. Especially not when there’s a little girl out there in danger. There are bigger issues.” “You can’t change some things, Deanna. What will be will be. All you can do is try to help. I want you to get in touch with a group.” “A group? Gran, I’m not in need of therapy.” I was the shrink in the family. “No, not that. The Lotus Circle is full of women like you. ESP, medium—all sorts of powers. They can help you. They can sympathize in a way Greg and Ivy never can. The way your parents never can. The Circle has been around for centuries.” As great as it sounded to meet others who understood, I needed to save little girls before I could spend time on a support group. “That’s great but how does it help me solve the case?” “Not everything is about this case. Some of it is about you. Your well-being is important to me.” I paused—she was truly concerned. “That’s really sweet of you, Gran. But I’m fine. I can get through this on my own. Once I’m past this case and catch this guy, I’ll be able to network in that Lotus Circle. Find my balance here. Get my stuff here. My mental state can take a little abuse. This girl will die if I don’t do something.” “You can’t stop everything.” I had had enough. I wanted to go back. To wake up. Only I didn’t know exactly how. Being out of my body wasn’t normal for me. I didn’t know how to get back. What if I went the wrong way and couldn’t get home? I wasn’t ready to end up dead. But I wasn’t comfortable here anymore. I wanted to wake up. I wanted to ask Gran how to get back. Too late…

***** I gasped and sat up straight in bed. My muscles screamed. It felt just like I’d had a bad dream and hadn’t moved in eight solid hours. Like those dreams that startled you awake and left you feeling like you hadn’t slept a wink. All my life, I’d had more than my share of them. Now I knew why. This time I was bottom-line relieved to have made it back to the land of the living. It was one thing to dream I was in Heaven. It was quite another to almost completely believe that I really was. It was terrifying not to know how to get back. There should be a manual for this stuff. At least now I knew I could wake myself up without danger. Out of body felt weird. I liked my body, more or less. More now than ever. 20

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I didn’t even look at the clock as I got out of bed. Leaving a trail of clothes on the floor as I headed for the bathroom, I laughed at myself. Tiny dorm room or big fancy house, I was still a slob. I stood under the hot water until my muscles relaxed and I could move. The routine kicked in—shampoo, body wash and the rest. I felt a lot better. Toweling off, I left the steamy bathroom and realized my mind was already searching for a vision of Little Cel. I got nothing but the death vision again and again. No sense of her among the living. She was dead already. I was too late to stop it. My warning failed. My heart was pounding as I dug out a pair of faded blue jeans and spare black vneck t-shirt I always threw in when I traveled. I found a clean pair of underwear, socks and a bra. I yanked the shirt and jeans on over the underwear and pulled my hair into a ponytail. Hopefully I wouldn’t scare anyone. Makeup would have to wait. I dashed downstairs and found Missy waiting for me with a mug of coffee. “Thanks but I have to go.” “Where?” Her soft voice cut through the silence. I stopped at the sudden change in her. “So you do talk. Good. Did she have a car?” “What’s wrong?” Missy set the mug down and retrieved my black boots I’d worn yesterday. “It’d take too long to explain. I have to go now. The car?” I shoved my feet in the boots. “Mrs. Oscar had an old Jeep. She didn’t drive it for years but Greg took it out once in a while. The keys are in that drawer, miss.” She pointed to the small corner drawer near the back door. I pulled open the drawer and dug through receipts and papers to find a set of car keys. “Thanks, Missy. Bye.” I ran out the back door and found the old Jeep Wrangler in a small shed-like garage. Not what I’d expect for a rich old lady. It was missing its soft top and had a huge dent in the driver’s side door. The Jeep must’ve seen a lot of action. I hopped in and tried the engine. It roared to life and I breathed easier. Transportation problem solved. I threw it in gear and stepped on the gas. I had no idea where Little Cel lived but she was dead now and I had to do something. Time to trust the gift to get me to the crime scene. It was clear in my mind. Then I’d have to find the killer before he struck again. I had to stop it.

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Chapter Four Maps were pointless for me. I found the place on instinct. The police were already there. This little girl had been alive only yesterday. Fate had put me in that cab with that girl’s picture for a reason. I walked up to the small but well-maintained ranch home where Little Cel had been murdered in her bed. “Can I help you?” A middle-aged man with a potbelly and badge on his belt stepped in my way. “I need to get inside.” I stopped short of running into him. “No way, lady. This is a crime scene.” My brain triggered back to reality. This cop had no idea who I was. “Sorry, I’m here to help.” “You the new coroner?” “No, I’m a psychologist. But I saw the murder.” “As a witness?” He reached for his cuffs. “No, I saw it in a vision.” I knew I sounded crazy and flustered. “I’m a psychic.” “Lady, I don’t have time for a psychic or a psychologist. I got a missing little girl’s body.” “And I can help you find who did it.” “Show me some ID now.” The cop wasn’t buying it. I dug my wallet out of my purse and handed over my driver’s license. “I know I sound frazzled but I’m serious.” He studied the license. “Chicago? Deanna Oscar. Oscar? Really?” “Yes.” I had an opening. “Elinor Oscar was my grandmother.” “That changes things a bit. Miss Elinor was a dear friend of my mother’s. Neighbors for years.” I looked at his badge. Lt. Weathers. “You’re a Weathers? I met Mary Lou yesterday. She’s really nice. I inherited Elinor’s house.” He tipped his hat to me. “Matt Weathers. My sister-in-law mentioned Elinor’s kin had arrived. Didn’t expect to meet you here. And you’ve got the skills?” “Absolutely. I just want to help.” He handed me back my license. “You’re really a shrink too?” “Yes. Clinical and forensic psychology. A PhD in each. You can check it out.” The cop held up a hand. “Forget it. Any granddaughter of Elinor’s doesn’t need a PhD to do what she did. Let’s get one thing straight though, Doc. You don’t solve cases,

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we do. You can help with clues, locations, tips and so on. But you don’t get into any dangerous situations and you surely don’t go off and chase criminals by yourself. Got it?” “No problem. I’m not interested in paperwork or shootouts. I just want to help.” I headed back to the bedrooms. I knew it was the one on the left even before I saw police tape on the door. “Don’t touch anything,” Matt instructed from the hall. “No kidding. Like I’ve never been on a crime scene before. You learn that much watching Law & Order.” I walked in and kept my hands to myself. The little room done in frilly white lace was turned upside down but not by the killer. Fingerprint dust was everywhere. The one part of the room that remained more or less undisturbed was the bed. The blanket was pulled back but the sheets were soaked with blood. I scanned the room. The window. That was how he got in. Ground level, no fancy locks. The cops would know that much, but that was the only piece I saw clearly so far. I tried to focus on the room. For the first time I tried to use my gift for something specific. I saw the little girl sleeping in her bed cuddled up with a doll. “So, how’d she die?” Greg asked. When had he arrived? “What are you doing here?” “I stopped by your house and found you gone. I went next door and Mary Lou said Matt went out on a murder early. I figured there was a connection. Elinor did this all the time.” “I don’t need you here.” “Can’t hurt.” Greg exchanged nods with Matt. “Any idea how she died, De?” “Damn, we don’t need her for that. Half the girl’s blood is right there. Cut her like it was a slaughter.” Matt flipped through a notebook. “No. That’s what he wants you to think.” I walked around the other side of the bed. “You mean she’s not dead?” The cop perked up. “No, she’s dead,” I assured him. “The killer wanted to make sure we knew she was dead. She didn’t die of the stab wounds.” “Why would he want us to know that? If we thought it was a runaway or a miscommunication between family members, he’d have more time to escape.” The cop looked less and less impressed with me every moment. “I don’t know. It’s like he wants to be caught. Or to play with you. He broke her neck. That’s how she died. Quick and while she slept. Like he didn’t want her to suffer. The blood came later.” I tuned into the killer but didn’t get very far. “But not a drop of blood on the carpet, the window, or outside anywhere. This is a weird one.” The cop took off his hat and scratched his head.

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“He rolled her up in a red sleeping bag. Then he stuffed it all into a garbage bag.” I shivered as I saw the girl in the darkness. “How do you know that?” That was his stupidest question yet. “I just know. Isn’t that why I’m here?” “Who did it?” he pressed. “I don’t know that yet. But he’s got her in the back of a truck driving her around for now.” “Did he know the victim?” Greg asked. At least his questions made sense. They were pointed but not unrealistically demanding. “No, but he’s been stalking Little Cel. He waited until she was home alone. Then he struck.” “What kind of people leave an eight-year-old home alone?” Greg sounded disgusted. Matt cleared his throat. “House belongs to the grandmother who was at work. She pulled an extra shift out with her cab. The mother was supposed to be home watching the daughter but she wasn’t. She’s got a record for drugs. We’re trying to locate her now. Got the grandmother at the station for a statement. She came home and found this. The mother has a boyfriend who’d been staying here off and on, according to the neighbors. You’re sure she was killed by a man?” “Yes, and it wasn’t the boyfriend.” “Got the name of a suspect?” the cop asked. “No. This isn’t a science. I don’t understand it, either. I can’t see the killer’s face. What I get of his thoughts is erratic.” “Got a location on the body?” Matt wanted to see if I’d change my story. “No. I told you, he’s driving now.” “A description of the vehicle?” He wasn’t giving up. I closed my eyes and tried to pull out like a movie. I saw the garbage bag with yellow drawstring handles flapping in the wind. Then the white side of the pickup bed came into view. I pulled farther back. “White, late Eighties Chevy pickup. Not plated.” I opened my eyes and shrugged. “That’s all.” “Where’s he at?” the cop asked. “I can see water in the distance. No street signs. He’s not on a main road or expressway. I’m sorry, I don’t know this area at all. Once he stops, I’ll have a better shot but we could be chasing him all day.” “Could be anywhere.” The cop scratched a note on the truck’s description. “We’ll put this on the wire, see what we get. No plates doesn’t mean much but it narrows it down. I’ll run it and see if anything was stolen.” Something drew me to the head of the twin bed. I kept seeing a squarish little cloth doll in a white-and–pale-blue-checkered dress. I wasn’t sure why. It was the same doll

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the girl slept with. What did it mean? I looked all around the bed but couldn’t find it. I knelt down to look under the bed. “What’s wrong?” Greg bent down to look too. “Did anyone find a doll out of place in the room?” I looked at Matt. “Near the bed maybe?” Matt looked at the cop guarding the door who shook his head. “Why?” Matt came closer. “I don’t know. It feels like it should be here. She kept it always on her bed. Slept with it.” I touched the edge of the bed. There was a sudden jolt and the room went black. Some minutes later I was sitting, or rather slumping, on the faded brown couch in the front room of the little ranch house with Matt and Greg looking very concerned at me. “What happened?” I tried to sit up. “You passed out.” Greg handed me a bottle of water. “I didn’t.” It really felt like I didn’t but what did I know? “You’re lucky he caught you. Told you not to touch anything.” Matt stalked off but couldn’t go far in the crowded house. “The doll.” I rubbed my forehead. “What happened?” Greg watched me like a hawk. I pressed my fingers against my eyes. They felt ready to explode. “I’m not sure. The doll should be there. I don’t know why it isn’t. I don’t feel like I fainted exactly.” “How would you know, you’ve never done it before.” Greg put a hand on my shoulder just in case I tried to stand. “But it wasn’t like being lightheaded. It was more like an overload.” Like grabbing live wires. “Overload? Of?” “Information maybe. Or the girl’s pain. I can’t see her ghost, yet. I thought she might be here.” I sipped the water and let my brain recover. “I think you’ve had enough for now. I’ll drive you back.” “I know I can get more. I’ll leave when I’m ready. I have the Jeep.” I didn’t want to give up. “Not now,” Greg countered. “So get it then.” Matt called over his shoulder. “Get me a body and the killer to go with it. Or go read palms.” “Nice meeting you too.” Sarcasm was another skill of mine. I slowly stood very ready to leave. “I guess it takes time. I’m going home.” “You’ll get it. Things just have to settle down for you.” Greg didn’t sound the least bit annoyed.

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“I hope so. I’ve never tried tracking a murderer before.” I fished in my pocket for the keys. Having Greg there was oddly comforting. He’d been through this with Gran. It was a relief not to feel pressured by the entire room for answers. “Can you tell if this is a one-time murderer?” Greg asked. “He’s not done.” I couldn’t see another victim yet. However, I knew the killer’s work wasn’t over. He followed me out to the Jeep. “You did good in there.” “Except for the overload.” I climbed behind the wheel. I hadn’t exactly done a fabulous job of helping. No name. No address. “No, you did good. Elinor hated crime scenes. It shook her up to go. But you shouldn’t be driving.” I started the car. “I’m fine. I don’t get the killer though. Why is he driving around? He had the cover of night to get somewhere safe to dump the body and he’s just driving.” “Heading for state line?” “No, he doesn’t know where he’s going. He’s driving in circles. It’s almost like he wants to get caught but isn’t brave enough to turn himself in. It doesn’t make any sense.” “He’ll stop eventually. He can’t keep a body in a truck. Not in the summer heat of New Orleans. The smell will get attention from someone.” “Think they believed me?” I hated feeling insecure but this wasn’t a lecture on Freud—this was psychic stuff. Greg looked over at me. “You gave them info you couldn’t possibly have known otherwise—like the name of the girl, the fact that she was alone. Plus you gave them stuff they can verify when they find her—like cause of death and vehicle description. If they find a pickup matching that description and can find some trace of her you’ll be proven. They’ll know they’re on the right track. You’ll win them over.” “At least I didn’t see any press there today.” That was all I needed! All my job prospects would go down the drain if they could Google me and find references to a psychic detective. That’d be the nicest thing they’d call me. “You’re not big news yet. Elinor had a pretty good success rate. Once they get wind of the connection and get something they can test you on, you’ll hear from them.” “Great.” I rolled my eyes and put the car in gear. “See ya around.” On instinct, I drove home and parked the car. Greg was behind me but I was too tired to care. I trudged up the steps, and into the house. I felt drained and thus far of no real use. I couldn’t do this. Wander around New Orleans just seeing what I could see. It’d be too frustrating. “You okay?” he asked.

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I walked into the shrine room and sunk onto the couch. The candles and Gran’s picture were soothing. “I guess. Just tired.” I glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “It’s almost noon already?” “And you haven’t eaten more than a muffin. That’s what’s wrong.” Greg grabbed me by the arm. Stronger than I thought, he pulled me off the couch. “What are you doing? Stop it.” I was too tired to really fight. “You need to eat.” Once in the kitchen, Greg pulled out some of the biscuits from this morning. I sat down too drained to argue. “You put gravy near my food and I’ll puke.” That wasn’t a joke. “Don’t worry.” He put three biscuits in the microwave, pulled out a container of margarine from the fridge, and set it and a knife on the table near me. Seconds later, there were warm biscuits in front of me. “Bland as bland can be, Yank. It’ll help.” “Fancy lunch.” I sliced open a biscuit, smothered it with margarine and started to eat. I did feel better but wasn’t about to admit it. “Tonight you can try crawdads. Come Monday you’ll get your first red beans and rice. We’ll make you a Cajun girl yet.” He pulled a Diet Coke out of the fridge. “I assume this is okay by Chicago standards.” “Yes, thank you.” I didn’t bother with a glass, popping the top and drinking from the can. Caffeine and the cool liquid both helped. My brain started to catch up. “Why Monday for beans and rice?” “Everyone has red beans and rice on Monday. That’s just the way it is.” He looked confused at the question but seemed to shake it off. “Don’t worry. Tonight, I’ll take you out for some excellent seafood. Very low-key, don’t worry. I’ll invite Ivy so it isn’t weird or a date or anything. You just need to get some real food in you. Not to mention, your mind on something else for a bit.” I wanted to argue but it sounded good. “It’s never been like this before.” “Like what?” He sat down across from me. “Exhausting. I overloaded! What’s wrong with me? Then again I’ve never deliberately tried anything like that before. It’s always just showed up. Then I did the best I could with what it was. I never went looking for more.” “Never?” Greg seemed surprised. I went to work on the second biscuit. “Once you’ve had a death premonition come true, you don’t go looking for more. It’s like a nightmare. You know something—but you can’t do anything about it. You try to tell people, but no one listens or they think you’re crazy. You don’t know what or how these things will happen. Or, if you do, you don’t know exactly when. Never enough information to make anyone really believe.” “You knew about this girl before this morning, didn’t you?” he asked. “Actually, yes.” Guilt hit me hard. I should’ve done more. “You saw it?” he asked.

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“Yesterday. But I didn’t know how or who.” “When?” “Cab ride here. Her grandmother was the driver. I really couldn’t see how she’d die. Could’ve been a fall, or a car accident, or a disease they didn’t know she had. What do you say when you know but you don’t know?” I dropped the biscuit and put my face in my hands, forcing myself not to cry. “I warned her to keep an eye on the girl. They shouldn’t have left her alone. She was so young.” “You did all you could. Elinor wasn’t always right either. She couldn’t see everything.” His voice sounded soothing as I fought self-doubt and guilt. “Did she faint a lot?” I asked. “She learned to pace herself better. Especially not to touch things she wasn’t sure of. She didn’t do this very often. Only the hard cases. You’ll get there. If you stay,” he added. “I don’t know what to do.” “What do you want to do?” “I’m good at teaching. The students liked me. It was comfortable.” “Well, there’s nothing stopping you. You can go back to ignoring the gift. Being normal. Tulane is very close by. I work there.” “Not until I stop this guy.” I bit into the last biscuit. “I’ve got to help.” “That’s the cops’ job. If you get more information that’s great. If not you just stay here. Get to know Ivy and Mary Lou. Get to know Elinor. Enjoy New Orleans. Take some time to decide what you really want to do. A murder isn’t the best first case to test yourself on, psychic detective-wise.” The warning in his voice was clear. “I can’t think of a better reason to test myself.” I wiped my hand on my jeans. “When’s dinner?” He laughed. “I’ll pick you up about seven. Take it easy. You’re putting out a lot of energy doing this. I’ve got to run but I’ll be back.” “Thanks.” I didn’t get up from the table when he left. I felt like I had a double dose of gravity still working on me. I took a deep breath and finally stood. I needed to connect. To get in touch with this Lotus Circle and see what they did. And I really needed coffee.

***** My excellent sense of direction led me to the closest Internet café. I ordered an iced coffee with a double shot. Then I settled in at a corner table and logged into my webbased email account. A few friends had sent messages wondering if I had fallen off the face of the earth. I sent quick replies to them that I was in fact alive in the Big Easy. My old life felt unbelievably distant at the moment. The scary part was I didn’t miss it.

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As I sucked down my icy flavored caffeine, I searched the web for The Lotus Circle. I found what looked to be the right home page and read on the basics. Words like support and help jumped out at me. There was a general email link. On impulse, I clicked it and sent a simple question to The Lotus Circle. How do you deal with a family that doesn’t support your gift?

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Chapter Five I returned home at five p.m. and did the shower and makeup thing. Missy had laid out a dress from my luggage. She must’ve overheard my dinner plans. I vetoed the dress. Instead I went with a white and gray pinstriped blouse and gray pants to match. Missy walked in and frowned. “I thought the dress was for going out?” “It’s not a date,” I informed her. Then I began to wonder, now that my energy was back, why wasn’t it? Not that Greg was the most charming or fun guy I’d ever met. He was nice to look at. That much I’d admit. “What’s wrong with me?” “Nothing.” Missy hung up the dress reluctantly. “Then why did he tell me so specifically that this isn’t a date?” I stepped into a pair of gray flats and buttoned the cuffs on my blouse. “It’s probably for the best.” Missy handed me some dainty cubic zirconium earrings from my jewelry bag. Before I asked her why, I stopped myself. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I put the earrings in but decided against bracelets or necklaces. It wasn’t a date after all. Maybe he was gay? Not all gay men were, well, Ivy. Plenty were extremely masculine. It made sense. Actually, it was quite polite of him to make it clear it wasn’t a date. Possibly he didn’t want to out himself so early. He’d been completely professional at the crime scene and even when I fainted. His touch had been almost doctor-like. Honesty time, I’d been attracted to him but he probably wasn’t playing for my team. I didn’t get a gay vibe from him. Of course, I’d been pretty overloaded lately, so something that ordinary could get overlooked. Actually it could make tonight fun. See how much flirting he’ll take until he caved and confessed. Why not? Ivy was out and it wasn’t like Greg could claim I’d have a problem with it. “Are you going to keep Ivy on?” Missy asked out of the blue. The abrupt subject change left me at a loss. “I don’t know. I don’t need a caretaker, medically speaking. Why?” “She did this too.” Missy handed me a list of grocery and other items. Duh! Ghosts couldn’t shop. Well, maybe in New Orleans there might be places like that. Missy didn’t seem the type to leave the house though. I needed to do that sort of stuff or I needed someone to do it.

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“I’ll talk to Ivy. I think we should keep her on for errands. She knows the house already.” I stuck the list in my pocket. Missy looked relieved. She left as I did the finishing touches. Makeup, but only clear lip gloss this time. A watch and at the last second a spray of the citrusy perfume I’d been wearing in the interviews. The good stuff was for actual dates and was at home anyway. The clock now read six-thirty and I sat on the blue loveseat trying to find the killer. Nothing. He was eating dinner but hadn’t yet buried the body. I could see him in a very generic diner. I couldn’t see his face. Maybe the book Gran left me would help. I retrieved it from the top drawer of the nightstand. The book had no index or chapter listing so I started flipping slowly, scanning for any hint on how to focus or manipulate the input. But the book seemed mostly to be about dealing with the dead. Finally, toward the very end, I came across a section on the living. The living are much more trouble than the dead, as a group. Their expectations and demands can be less than reasonable. However, they are a part of the world and will likely require some of your time. Death premonitions are just that. You can rarely change the fate. However, premonitions of danger or injury can serve as warnings. When dealing with a criminal mind, you must be careful not to become too involved. Keep your distance and objectivity. I flipped a page or two about self-control and so on. It was a rehash of professional distance really. Then I hit the jackpot. Improving your skills. This is always a major concern. How to improve so you can do more? The only truth I can give is practice. You can never force your way to a deeper level of skill. It takes variety of encounters, time and concentration. Manipulating your gift is dangerous. It is a gift, not a tool. You may not get all the information you need but you get all you are supposed to. Do not censor your gift. Just because it’s confusing doesn’t mean it’s wrong. The Lotus Circle is a part of your heritage. There are notes and diaries in the library that Noah can show you when you’re ready. Only recently did I discover a living connection to The Lotus Circle. My contact was mainly through the computer but I have a few local connections I’ve left for you. Connecting with this group to share information and expand your skills is an excellent way to further your abilities and not feel so alone. Many share the hidden gifts. It is time to share what you know and learn as well. That wasn’t particularly helpful in the short term but probably good advice. There were no answers, so I put the book away. When the doorbell rang, the clock radio on the nightstand read seven on the nose. I went down the stairs not sure what to expect. Behind the door was Greg in the same jeans and polo shirt he had been this morning. Definitely not a date. “Hi. You

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know, I’m feeling a thousand percent better. If you had other plans, I don’t want to drag you away from anything.” “No way. You need to get a real taste of New Orleans and then I’ll show you where Ivy performs. She can’t make dinner but she’ll probably be at the club.” He looked at my outfit. “It can get chilly at night.” Missy was way ahead of Greg on that one and produced a gray long cable knit sweater from the hall closet. “Thanks. Don’t wait up.” We headed out the door. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.” “To what? Ghosts?” He opened the car door for me. A semi-date move that I wrote off as Southern manners or gay boyfriend training. “No, not ghosts, I’m used to that. Servants.” I shuddered. Greg laughed and started the mini-tour of the area. He pointed out houses of interests in the Garden District. Drove by Tulane. Then we were off to the French Quarter. He pulled to the valet stand near the noisy restaurant. The Cajun music could be heard with the car windows up. “A friend’s parents own this place. It’s impossible to get in since the tourists found out about it.” “We can go somewhere else.” I didn’t especially like being crowded. “No, it’s the best food. They keep the locals in the backroom.” Greg took the lead through the front door that had a line of people waiting. He had me by the wrist as we weaved past the hostess and the bar. At the band, Greg paused to nod at someone. “That’s Big Bud on the drums. Best friend since high school,” he yelled in my ear. I could still barely hear him. I waved at Big Bud who lived up to his name. A very large man with a scruffy beard and sunglasses in a dimly lit restaurant. Not quite Jabba the Hutt but the resemblance was eerie. His too tight t-shirt read It’s All Good in the Big Easy. “We’ll talk to him later.” Greg pulled me to the back room where the music still made the floor thump but the overall noise level was more subdued. “Better?” Greg asked. “Much.” I tried not to yell but my ears were still ringing. “Long time no see, Greggy.” A waitress with hourglass curves strolled up and gave Greg a hug. “Got a table for you right here.” She pointed to a small wooden table painted a vibrant purple in the corner. “Thanks. Deanna, this is Big Bud’s mother. Mrs. Frolen.” “Everyone calls me Mama Bud.” She smiled. “Nice to meet you.” “Mama Bud, this is Deanna Oscar. Elinor’s granddaughter.”

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Mama Bud’s eyebrow arched. She looked me over more intently this time. “It’s nice to have more real blood around here. Not that we don’t love the tourists.” She sighed and sashayed off. We sat down and I frowned. “What’s with the Bud thing?” “Big Bud’s father is Bud. Actually named Francis Fester Frolen. Everyone called him Bud. It just sort of stuck and spread to his wife and son. Mama Bud and Big Bud.” “Frank wouldn’t be that bad? Why Fester?” And I thought I was picked on as a kid. “Guess he didn’t like Frank. Bud’s mother was a big fan of the Addams Family show, which got him Fester. Can you blame him for going with Bud?” Greg smiled. “No, I guess not.” I was ready for food. “So no menus back here?” “Don’t need them.” Before I could ask why not, Mama Bud appeared at the table with two beers and set them down. “Food’ll be up in a minute.” I studied the beer for a moment. If this were a date, Greg would be in a shitload of trouble. Boyfriend pet peeve, daring to order for your girlfriend was begging to be dumped. Bad idea. Very bad! However, since I knew little about local food, I rationalized that this was the experience I should have. I might’ve ordered the safest thing. Alcohol, however, wasn’t a good idea if I wanted more input from the killer. Greg noticed I wasn’t drinking. “You don’t like beer?” “It’s not that. Alcohol tends to affect.” I tapped my temple. “I think you deserve a night off. Besides, you don’t have to drink it all. Just take the edge off. It goes better with the food. Mama Bud will bring you something else if you want. One of these days I’ll take you out for oysters.” Greg sipped his beer. I just fingered the large mug for now. Food first, I decided. I really hoped our mystery dinner would be cooked. Oysters? Yuck! “Are you trying to make me lose my appetite? Stop this oyster talk.” “Come on.” “Oysters, raw oysters? I don’t eat anything that isn’t cooked. Nope, not going to happen.” I tapped one of my nails on the table. My argument against raw food was interrupted when I felt a shadow looming over me. I looked up to see Big Bud smiling down on me. I was very grateful this blouse showed zero cleavage. “Now, miss, you’ve gotta try ‘em oysters.” Big Bud pulled up a chair and spilled over the sides without breaking it. He extended a large rough hand. “What’s your name, pretty lady?” “Deanna Oscar.” I shook his hand politely as the Big Bud sized me up.

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He nodded in approval. “Good genes. Too bad your daddy went Yankee on his mama.” Big Bud’s thick fist slammed on the table, rattling our glasses. “Good Cajun boys don’t walk out on their mamas.” “I never said my father was good, Cajun or not. Of course, not everyone wants to deal with the other stuff in the Oscar family gene pool.” “You talk so funny, Miss Deanna, if I didn’t know better I’d swear you weren’t a drop of coonass.” “I’m sorry?” That was a new description. I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or not. I was sitting so he hadn’t even seen my ass. “Cajun slang.” Greg shot a look at Big Bud. “Be nice.” “It’s not an insult, miss. Just because you’re Garden District doesn’t mean you’re not a daughter of the bayou too.” He winked at me. Big Bud was definitely not gay. Too bad. I’d feel much better if he were flirting with Greg. Luckily, the men started talking faster, which meant I had no hope of following a Cajun word. So I took in the atmosphere. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little transparent hand on the table only inches from the wall. Then a pair of brown eyes peered just over the table and little fingers held on to the edge. When she saw me looking at her, her eyes widened. She ducked down under the table like a frightened mouse. I knew those eyes. Little Cel. “Excuse me.” I ducked under the table. The girl sat there hugging her knees and wiggling her bare toes. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve been looking for you.” She didn’t say a word, just stared at me intently. “I know you’re scared but I need your help. You’ll be okay. I promise no one will hurt you ever again. You have to help me.” She shook her head. “My name is Deanna. I know you’re Little Cel. Your grandmother talked about you when I rode in her cab. She had a picture of you.” I had her attention but she moved one of her large braids to her mouth and began chewing on it. “I know your mom and grandma are very sad but you’re going to be fine.” Every instinct was telling me to hug the frightened little girl. Unfortunately my touch would pass straight through her, which made my comforting words feel hollow. “You can help me. Will you help me stop the mean man who did this?” I scooted a bit closer. She shook her head. “You don’t have to see him again. Just tell me who he is. Show me what he looks like. Take me to him. Anything.” She shook her head harder.

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“You don’t want him to hurt anyone else, do you?” This was harder than I thought. Again, she just shook her head at me. “My grandmother is on your side. I know it’s hard. But maybe if you go find her she can help you?” It was the best I could come up with at the moment. Her eyes jumped around as though analyzing the idea. “A loud bar is no place for a little girl. Why don’t you go back to my house? Missy will take care of you. It’ll be okay, I promise.” The girl simply crawled through the wall out of sight. I wasn’t sure if that was a yes or a no to my suggestion, but at least she wasn’t hanging around drunken Cajuns anymore. Ghost or not, she still looked like a scared little girl to me. I slipped back into my chair, which earned me funny looks from both Greg and his friend. “All that time under the table and neither of us are any happier,” Big Bud laughed. “I thought Yankees girls were more forward than that. Take what you want, honey.” Big Bud really didn’t have the best timing. I was trying to solve a murder and help a little dead girl and he was being a horny creep. If he wanted to mess with a Yankee girl, he’d picked the right one to get himself a reaction. Sweet Southern girl I was not.

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Chapter Six On impulse, I glanced down. Big Bud’s fat fell mostly to the sides, revealing his little bud, which was not only little but saluting. I grabbed my full frosty mug of beer and dumped it right in his lap. Yelping, Big Bud jumped up. “Yankee girls are all the same.” “What? Not interested in you?” In my professional opinion—Big Bug needed a massive ego reduction. “What in the hell’s going on back here?” Mama Bud appeared from the back room. “Your son has the manners of a pimp.” I put my hands on my hips. “I had to teach him a lesson.” Mama Bud didn’t look a bit surprised. Setting down two plates of food, she used the empty tray to whack her son in the back of the head. “Get back to work and quit harassing the women or I’ll make you start paying rent.” Big Bud trudged back to the band, looking scolded like the mama’s boy he was proud to be. The women clamoring for more music seemed to cheer him up quickly. “Sorry about him. A mother’s always got one trouble child. He’s a good musician but that life comes with a roving eye and cocky attitude built in their DNA. I’ll get you another beer.” She grabbed the empty mug. “That’d be great, thanks. And a glass of water, please.” I wanted the beer now and the plate of crawdads, faces still attached, didn’t even look so bad. I sampled the rice first. “Delicious.” “What the hell was with the table thing?” Greg hadn’t forgotten. Damn! “What was with Big Bud wanting a blowjob? Yankee girls are all sluts?” I returned. “He’s half drunk and doesn’t exactly attract much attention from beautiful women. He even hit on Ivy once. You took care of yourself. But you were acting really odd. What was going on down there?” He cracked the shell of the crawdad and fished out the meat. I copied the motion. The meat was tender and tasty. My drinks arrived and I downed the glass of ice water. Then I sipped at the beer until I got a little more food in me. Hopefully, I’d see Little Cel later. “I’m waiting.” Greg snapped the head off another little crawdad. I didn’t want to talk about it. How else could I explain going under a table with two men at it? I couldn’t think of a better reason. I was down there too long to have lost an earring or contact. The truth was all I had. “Fine. It was Little Cel.”

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“I don’t understand.” He stopped eating and leaned in closer. “I told you, I’ve been looking for her ghost. She found me. What a little girl is doing here, I’m not sure, but maybe it’s a good sign.” Greg looked under the table but of course saw nothing. “Is she following you?” I gave him a palms-up answer. “I hope that’s it but I don’t know. That’s the first I saw of her. She wouldn’t say a word. Looked terrified, poor thing. I don’t know what to do next.” “So, she was no help then?” “None yet.” I continued to eat and sip the cold beer. “But if I can get her to trust me, she might be able to help. If she saw her killer.” “How are you going to manage that?” “No idea. I’ll ask Gran the next time she shows up. Maybe I can get her to help out a bit. At least with the girl.” I shoveled rice in my mouth in the most unladylike fashion. Which reminded me this was not only not a date, but I was supposed to be charming the truth out of Greg about his preferences. It was worth a shot. “I’m guessing you get a lot more girls than Big Bud over there.” I leaned in and fingered a button on my blouse. “Musicians actually do okay but he’s a bit of a mama’s boy.” Greg shrugged. “Not much of a charmer.” He hadn’t answered the question. “Have you got a girlfriend or not?” I let the button casually fall open. Nothing. He wasn’t looking. “No.” He waved off the idea. “We should get over to the club if we want to see Ivy before she’s under the table.” I took a last swallow of beer and we were off again. Snaking through the crowd, I heard Greg tell Mama Bud to put it on his tab and finally my lungs got fresh air. The pace here made me feel more at home, but no one seemed serious about being in a hurry. Rush didn’t mean pressure, it meant the next good time. Next we were at a drag club a few blocks away. “Greg!” Several of the queens were very happy to see him. “Where’s Ivy?” he asked. A tall black queen dressed in a white sequined gown pointed to the bar. We squeezed our way through the crowd to the long bar manned by boy toys without shirts and queens with beehive wigs. Ivy was at the end nearest the stage. “Hi, Ivy!” I felt more at home here. Odds of getting hit on by overgrown drunken Cajun men—zero.

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“Hi, sweetie!” Ivy hugged me hard and then hugged Greg. “I’m so glad you came. I filled in for someone but you missed it. One day I’ll be the headliner. We can still have fun though.” Greg grabbed a couple of stools and I sat next to Ivy. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Greg wrapped in a feather boa. When the boa cleared, a big red lip imprint was on his cheek. “Get a room.” I rolled my eyes. Regular in a gay bar, looks like I was right about Greg. He wasn’t fighting it. He turned bright red while Ivy laughed until she fell off her stool. She jumped right back up but I didn’t like what I was seeing. “We should get her home,” I told Greg. “She’s always like this.” Greg waved it off. “I’ve tried before.” “Have a drink.” Ivy pushed a glass in my hand. At first I wanted to give it back, however I was pretty sure Ivy would down it plus the one she had. I turned back to Greg. “I don’t like this.” “She won’t go home yet. If you want, we can leave.” He got off the stool and motioned for me to follow. Ivy was in a close-up conversation with another queen, so I figured it was safe to leave. I put the drink on the bar and headed for the door. When we were almost outside I heard a scream. “That’s Ivy.” We shoved our way through the crowd to find Ivy in a fistfight with the queen she’d just been talking with. Greg jumped in and pulled Ivy out. “Lip-syncing trash,” Ivy spat over Greg’s shoulder. I grabbed Ivy. “Look out.” Too late. Greg turned and got a fist in the face. Recovering fast, Greg punched back. The queen got up and screamed like a little girl. Apparently, the fight was over. “Let’s go.” I started half walking, half dragging Ivy toward the door with Greg not far behind. “I think you’re banned from that bar.” I tried to cheer up Ivy. “No, it’ll blow over by tomorrow.” Greg grabbed the other side of Ivy. She promptly passed out. Between the two of us, we managed to get her in the backseat. I leaned against the car with a sigh. “That was fun.” “Usually bar hopping with Ivy isn’t that eventful.” He grinned then winced. “If you start out with her, she won’t get as plastered.” “You’ll have a nice shiner.” I could see the beginnings of swelling around his reddish eye. “And that lipstick color is very good on you. Looks expensive to me. Highquality drag queens after you?” “What? Oh that.” He smeared it with the back of his hand. “You’re pretty popular with all the queens.” 38

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“They’re always trying to turn me.” He picked a feather out of his collar and checked for more. “The family loves Ivy but I’m the only one who will go to the clubs with her. See her shows.” “Turn you?” I froze. “You mean you’re not?” Greg’s face went to that stern formation I’d seen the first night. “You thought I was gay?” My eyes hit the ground. Guilty. “Well, you’ve got to admit it all added up pretty clearly.” “How exactly?” He got closer, until my back was against the side of the car. “Complete lack of flirtation. Very professional behavior with me. Kissing drag queens in a gay bar. Oh and the very important, this is not a date disclaimer you gave this afternoon.” I crossed my arms in front of me. “What else could I think?” “I see. So a guy doesn’t hit on you and he’s gay?” “Not automatically. But that first night, I thought there was—I don’t know— chemistry. Maybe it was just annoyance.” I shrugged, trying to ignore his warm body pressing against mine and the hard feel of the car on my back. I was almost pinned but didn’t feel trapped at all. “You were pretty out of line telling me what I can’t handle.” “You must bring it out in me.” He grinned. His hand was on the back of my neck. Not slow by any means, his mouth was on mine in under a second. His mouth was strong. My fingers moved to brace against something and dug into the fabric of his shirt. The washboard abs were evident against my knuckles and I felt a jolt. I kissed him back, straining in my flats to make up for the height difference. It’d been awhile since I’d had a man on my radar. It felt nice. Even better because I hadn’t over-thought or over-planned it. This was an actual surprise. A strange sound from inside the car broke up the fun. We turned to see Ivy attempt to get up, moan, and pass out all over again. “You better get her home.” I pushed him back a bit. Greg opened the car door for me. I slipped in the front while he went around to the driver’s side. Turning on the air conditioner full blast, Greg drove me home. Then took off with Ivy—still out cold. No chance for fun tonight. But my stay wasn’t over. At least I knew where I stood with Greg and had spotted Little Cel.

***** When I walked in the door, my mind switched from Greg to Little Cel. Where was she now? I could feel she wasn’t in the house. Would she talk to me? How do I get her to come back? This wasn’t hide and seek.

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Missy was nowhere to be found so I went upstairs and traded my nice, non-date, clothes for a lavender stretchy t-shirt with purple and sea foam striped super-soft lounge pants. For lack of a better idea, I sat against the mass of pillows on the bed. I took Gran’s book out of the nightstand and flipped around futilely. It might take forever to find an answer in here. “Little Cel, it’d really help if you’d show up and talk to me.” I was talking to an empty room and felt stupid. “Gran, what the hell am I supposed to do now?” I didn’t actually expect an answer. But amazingly enough, I got one. Gran appeared, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Little Cel can’t come around just now. I’m afraid you can’t do much on that front.” “Why? What’s wrong with her?” I was relieved to see Gran and startled at the same time. Had she been watching me at the club? “Little Cel was in the restaurant with me.” “She slipped away from reorientation to see you. She’s back now. It’s more organized than you think, Deanna. Little Cel can’t come back until she’s better acclimated.” “Reorientation? To Heaven? Seriously?” I had a lot to learn but I resisted laughing. “How long? Is that a two-week course or what?” “You’re not funny.” Gran batted a transparent hand through my knee. “It all depends on if she takes to it. Children usually do okay. It’s different for each person.” “Now what?” I raked my fingers through my hair and pulled it up into a ponytail. “They want a body but it’s still moving around. This guy is going to kill again. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing!” I pulled a pillow from behind me and covered my head with it as I flopped facedown onto the covers. “I know. It’s hard. The pressure is unfair. They wouldn’t expect a psychologist to know where a body is buried or who the next victim will be.” Her sympathy only helped a little. “Your reputation precedes me. I want to help. I don’t know how.” No doubt my voice was muffled under the pillow, but I doubted it would affect my communication with Gran. “You know, you’re in too much of a rush. You can’t force things. Deanna, what you need is a visit home.” “My parents? Not a chance. I can’t take them now. I couldn’t leave anyway. Not yet. I might not be able to really help but I can’t walk away from this. I can’t.” My parents weren’t the overly supportive types. Especially Dad with psychic stuff. “I meant home, to the Other Side. You’re too tense to think straight tonight. You’ll sleep better.” “No, no way. I don’t belong there.” I sat up and put the pillow back. She’d just try to get me to talk to Grandpa again. I didn’t need that. “It creeps me out.” “Is that your professional opinion?” Gran made a joke! I liked her more and more. 40

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“You want me to analyze an out-of-body experience? That’s like trying to analyze this.” I tapped my temple. “I’m not dead. Having conscious knowledge of visiting Heaven, or the Other Side or whatever you call it, is seriously screwed up. Last time I was freaked out I might not be able to get back.” “What’s the problem this time?” She wasn’t buying it. “You know you can get back.” “I can’t see him. You bring Grandpa around and I’ll just wake myself up again. I know how.” That was a promise. “He wants to talk to you.” “Very convenient. He wants to be nice now that he’s dead.” I flexed my neck. Talk of Grandpa caused excessive tension. “How’d he get into Heaven anyway? Must be a pretty easy entry requirement.” “Are you mad at him for not treating you well or at me for not being there?” She wasn’t going to take my bait. “Both.” It was the truth, though much less at her than him. Gran was trying to redirect my anger. Luckily, I had enough for everyone. And over the years I’d learned how to control it like an expert. “That’s a lot to carry around. Doesn’t do you much good.” She didn’t look hurt. “I’ll be the judge of that. Who’s the psychologist here anyway? I’m not ready to forgive him—yet.” I tapped my nails on the bed. “You want my professional opinion? Some deep emotions, particularly those triggered in childhood, take time to work through. Just because I’m not ready to hug Grandpa doesn’t mean I’m wrong or not progressing. He earned his time in the doghouse.” “Come if you like. I promise, no Grandpa. You might as well, that crazy killer isn’t going to stop driving until dawn.” She faded. “How dumb can I be?” I instantly realized my mistake. I’d wasted time asking about Heaven’s entrance policy and not asking the right questions. I put the book away and grabbed a pen and paper from the nightstand. I wasn’t sure what I’d remember, or if I could control my body enough to write it down when I was over there. It was worth a try. I curled up on the covers with pen and paper in hand. It felt like more work than it should, but I cleared my mind of everything. I smelled rosewater again. That was another question I had to ask Gran someday. I’d smelled it before. I tried to write the question and was out.

***** My next conscious thought was how white the room was. Still, it didn’t feel clinical or cold.

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The waiting room again. I looked around, getting that queasy feeling. It was calm and serene here but my brain just wouldn’t forget that I was still physically in bed. It no longer felt like a dream here. Heaven wasn’t a place I wanted to stay long, at least not for now. Maybe I’d get used to it, maybe. I looked for Gran and was relieved when she came through a door. “I like this place even less alone.” She smiled and led me back the way she came. It was just like a city. A thriving metropolis of people. There were beautiful buildings and houses of every design. Every architectural style in history. Some I’d never seen before. “No clouds?” She chuckled. “It’s nothing like people expect. Which is exactly why reorientation is necessary.” We entered Gran’s house. I kept an eye out for Grandpa. No sign of him. Something else was conspicuously missing in Gran’s new home. “No statues?” “Statues?” Gran gave me a confused look. “My taste in art is more simple. I like landscape paintings. All forms of art happen here.” Her walls were lined with paintings of rolling hills and meadows. Lovely, but she’d totally missed my point. “Gran, your house. My house, now. It has more crucifixes and statues of Mary and the saints than Vatican City. Don’t even get me started on the holy water. It’s weird. There’s nothing here like that.” She waved me toward a comfy-looking squat burgundy chair. I sat and tried to make myself write a description of the house. I wanted to get my body to takes notes. The house had similar decoration in furniture to what I now owned but it was much smaller. “I never liked all that space. In life you take what you get.” She sat across from me. “As for religious decorations. I had to deal with bad spirits. You have to go with your strengths when handling evil. Whatever faith or philosophy works for you. I had a lot of protection in that house. Protection and religious expression aren’t really a concern here though people practice their religions.” Dumb question. If you were in Heaven why would you need to show your faith? You made it in. “I had another question though. This might sound dumb but what’s the right one?” “The right what?” She looked confused. “I guess Catholic worked out okay. I mean, you’re here.” I tried to tell my hands to write. “It’s a little more complicated and a lot simpler here than it is there. There’s no one right religion. People are judged by their deeds not by their affiliations.” Made sense. The Catholic Church would have a fit. However this wasn’t my real reason for coming to this side tonight. I didn’t want to waste time. I wasn’t sure how time passed here, could be that minutes were hours of sleep or the other way around. “Who’s the next victim?”

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Gran’s face dropped. “I can’t tell you that.” “Why? Right now I can’t see past Little Cel’s body. You were a psychic. That can’t have disappeared. Can’t you use your talents here to help me help them? Dying didn’t take it away, did it?” “That’s not my life now.” She settled her hands uneasily in her lap. “I can’t learn it all fast enough. I wish I could but I’m not up to speed. How can you not help?” This wasn’t the Gran everyone in New Orleans gushed about. “I want to help but that isn’t how it works. I can visit you and help you adjust. I can help Little Cel adjust here. But I can’t hand you the answers. Things happen for a reason. I can’t change them.” Great, Heaven had a Prime Directive. My youngest brother was a Star Trek addict so I was well versed in the Federation’s noninterference policy. I just never expected spirits had a similar code of conduct. “Then there’s no point in my talking to Little Cel. She has you to help her but she can’t help me save another little girl.” “I didn’t say that.” Gran held up a hand. “If you can’t help how the hell can she?” I caught myself on my language too late and waited for lightning to strike. Nothing happened. Gran didn’t even correct me. “Little Cel was directly involved with this situation. She can help you find her murderer. That information she can share. She is permitted to help you solve her death. She can even haunt him, if she wants.” “I want. I love that. She can help me catch him. How’s she doing?” I finally had hope. “Fine, she’s fine. I just wouldn’t expect her very soon. Reorientation can’t be postponed. You’ll do okay on your own. Finding the body will be no trouble for you. You’re already tuned into the killer. Little Cel likes you. She sought you out. When she’s ready, she’ll be there and be able to help you. Let her come to you,” Gran advised. I exhaled, or at least I thought I did. It felt like what I did but I had no idea if I was controlling my body or my consciousness here. The reality was, I was over-thinking it all. I was good at that. “Maybe Dad’s right?” I leaned back. “What do you mean?” “Maybe I am overeducated. I’m thinking about all of this too much.” “There are times with a gift like ours when you simply have to go on instinct. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. You don’t have to understand it all at once to help. It’d take too long to explain it all. They need you now.” She gave me a sympathetic head tilt. “I’m good at pressure. I learn fast. I need to figure out how not to get emotionally involved. It’s easier with students or patients but a young murder victim. How do you not get wrapped up in that?” I waited to see if she had an answer.

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“If you could keep that distance, you would walk away and never do what you’re doing. You’ll stick with it because you care. Family failing.” She smiled. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.” I gave a little wave and decided to wake up. There were no answers that’d help. I wanted to see if anything I’d tried to write down had made it onto the paper. My eyes snapped open. I sucked in air but I didn’t bolt up this time. Slowly, I rolled my neck, easing my muscles into a sitting position. The paper in front of me had scribbles. Nothing was legible. None of it made sense. I grabbed the pen and wrote down what I did remember. “Little Cel can help. Gran can’t. No right religion. Gran likes landscapes.” It all ran together in my head but I wanted to have it all down so it didn’t get hazy. Suddenly, it occurred to me that I hadn’t turned on a light. There were no candles lit. The sun streamed in through the sheer curtains on the French doors. Morning already. It was way past dawn. That meant something. The killer had buried the girl’s body. I closed my eyes and saw the girl in a shallow grave. I knew where the body was!

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Chapter Seven Every time I closed my eyes, I saw where the crazed killer had buried Little Cel. But for some reason I couldn’t call the police. If I were wrong, I’d be wasting their time. Plus I had no idea how long it’d take for me to get to the exact location. It could be anywhere in the bayou. I jumped in the shower and scrubbed myself from head to toe while trying to determine how to deal with the body location. Finally dressed in jeans and a gray t-shirt, I grabbed the phone from the nightstand and hit the speed dial for Greg. Ivy was no doubt still hung over and I couldn’t go driving aimlessly around New Orleans swamps. I’d get too into following the instinct and I’d drive into the Mississippi River. “Hello,” Greg answered. “I need a favor,” I said. “What kind of favor?” He sounded skeptical. “I know where the body is and I need someone to take me there.” “Why not call the cops?” Greg was at least taking me seriously. “It could take awhile to pin down and I don’t want to waste their time or listen to the bitching. And if I try to zoom in on the body and drive at the same time I might crash.” I took a deep breath. “If you’re busy, I can try Ivy but I know her schedule is unpredictable.” “Don’t bother her. She’ll still be hung over. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Greg hung up. I grabbed my lavender bucket purse and tossed in my recharged cell phone, a notepad and pen, and my compact. Ready to face anything, I headed downstairs and slipped on my black boots. It wasn’t even ten minutes when Greg pulled up and I was out the door before I thought too much about it. Greg had a nice shiner starting already but managed to still look hot in a polo shirt and khakis. I dropped my purse on the floor of the passenger seat and slid in. “Thanks. I know I can find her.” He handed me a cup of coffee. “You’re the best.” I sipped and coughed. The sharp taste was unlike anything I’d ever had claiming to be coffee. “This isn’t Starbucks.” “It’s good Louisiana chicory. I thought you liked coffee.” “I do. This isn’t coffee. It’s weird.”

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“If you stick around, you’ll get used to it.” He grinned. “So, we’re going after the body. You better call the cops before you touch anything.” “I’m not digging up anything. I just want to be sure before I bring the cops out.” “Where to?” “Water. Swampy area. If you go wrong, I’ll tell you.” I clicked my seat belt into place and closed my eyes. After a few false starts lasting more than an hour, we were close. There was a lot of water around New Orleans. “To the right, up here.” My eyes were still tightly closed. “We’re practically in the water.” He drove slower. “This Honda won’t convert into an airboat.” “Pull over, right here.” I slapped the dashboard and as soon as the car stopped, I jumped out into the thick humid air and soggy ground. I felt sticky but knew I was right. The clearing was about thirty feet wide but she wasn’t buried in the thick of the trees. “She’s out there.” “Be careful,” Greg called after me. “Why would he dump her out here?” It seemed so pointless and random for all the time he’d been driving around with the body. “It’s remote out here. No average person would find her for weeks. By then the body would be unrecognizable. Probably gator food.” Greg was looking for anything that passed for a shallow grave on the other side of the clearing. I kept on looking on the side I knew she’d be. Arguing with that man was pointless, I was right but he could look. “Shit!” Greg had found something. “What’s wrong?” I knew it couldn’t be the body. “Diamondback.” “A what?” I looked over and saw a big snake with a big rattler on the tail. “Oh shit. Poisonous?” “If it weren’t, I wouldn’t have a problem with it.” Greg was backed up to the trees with no easy escape. “How’d you get cornered by a snake, native boy?” I came closer but had no desire to see the snake up close. “It happens to everyone if you go wandering around a swamp.” “So what do we do?” I thought dialing 911 sounded like the answer. Animal control maybe? “Go in my trunk and get the rifle.” Greg sweated as the six-foot rattler swayed and watched his every move. “Okay.” I headed back to the unlocked car and popped the trunk. Returning to the scene of the snake with rifle in hand, I took a look at the hissing monster. “Won’t it get bored?”

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“No, it’s a territory thing. Throw me the gun.” “Throw it?” Greg was sweating way too much to catch it. “I don’t think that’s the best move.” “I can do it. I can shoot it.” “But if you miss the catch, the snake wins.” “I won’t miss.” He wiped his forehead. Ego! Men had no problem asking for help when they were sick but involve any danger or firearms and they think they’re Rambo. A little ego-soothing reverse psychology was in order. “But I throw like a girl.” “Try handing it.” He reached for it. “That thing will bite me.” I knew it wouldn’t work. “Try.” I took a few steps forward and was on the snake’s radar. It faced me as I stretched but my arm plus the gun wasn’t enough even with Greg’s long reach. “Forget this.” Before he could argue I stepped back, tucked the gun into my shoulder and took aim. I lined up the sights on the head of the little menace and squeezed the trigger. “Yuck.” I watched the headless carcass squirm. Then I glanced to make sure it was alone. “Not a big snake person?” Greg walked slowly to me and took a few deep breaths. “The only snakes in Chicago are little garden snakes. Hardly dangerous. These I don’t like.” I handed him the gun. “You’re a good shot.” He put the gun back in the trunk. “My grandfather owned a gun shop. Everyone had to learn to shoot. He went by the old Al Capone theory of manners.” “Manners?” Greg frowned? “A mobster?” “Sure. Back then people had better manners because everyone could legally carry a gun. You never knew what people had under their coats so you were nicer to them. Just in case theirs was bigger. Not much has changed except now it’s illegal.” That story was the one thing I liked about my grandfather. Maybe if I were armed as a child he’d have been nicer to me. “Interesting theory.” “Of course, most people don’t carry rifles around in their trunks in Chicago. Handguns are preferred. I think I bruised my shoulder on that thing.” I rubbed where the kickback had met my skin. “You’re in N’Orleans now. Lots of hunting.” “You don’t seem like a hunter. I’m better with a handgun.” I grabbed my cell phone, dialed Matt’s number and waited. “I just keep the rifle as a precaution.”

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“Snakes aren’t exactly a standard target either.” I held the phone up to my ear. “Yeah,” Matt answered. “It’s Deanna. I’ve got your body.” I leaned against the car and stared at my scarred boots. “Where are you?” He sounded skeptical. “A swamp with pissed-off snakes.” I handed the phone to Greg and rolled my eyes. I could find my way home from here but had no idea what streets we’d taken. Greg took the phone and gave the cop directions. I took a few careful steps, on the lookout for more snakes, toward the body. Little Cel was safe so the body bothered me less than the killer. It would be comfort for the family to bury the girl, but if it were me, I’d want the killer behind bars more. And what about the killer? He was hiding now. I couldn’t tell where exactly. He seemed to be living in his truck. There was more to it though. He wasn’t alone and yet I couldn’t get clear. I couldn’t see any other killers. The one I had was the right one. I saw movement in the distance and hoped it wasn’t more wild animals. If this was normal, I needed to get a gun to carry on me. But it wasn’t a snake or some bigger animal. It was a ghost, a child ghost. “Little Cel?” I knew it wasn’t her but who else made sense? I got closer and saw a little boy dancing around the spot the body was buried. It was like a little victory dance in the end zone at a football game. “What’s wrong with you?” I scolded him. He looked up at me and froze. He was surprised and stared at me like I was crazy. “Yes, I see you. Who are you?” I moved closer, not wanting him to go without at least my getting a good look. Greg was right behind me, saying something I didn’t hear. There was something more intense about this kid. He made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Logically, I knew he couldn’t be the killer. The boy wasn’t big enough to drive a truck. But very few ghosts made me want to run. The kid took a few steps toward me and scowled. He stuck out his tongue. Then he vanished. “Damn.” I turned. “What?” Greg’s hand was on my arm. “Was it Little Cel again?” “No, it was a little boy. I don’t know who but he was dancing on the grave. Sick little bastard.” “Do you think he’s another victim?” “I don’t think so but who knows. Cops on their way?” “Be here in a few minutes.” “Now what?” I went back and sat in the car to get out of the heat.

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Greg followed and cranked up the air. “They dig up the body and find out if you’re right. See if they can get any evidence off the body.” I closed my eyes to wait. I was exhausted again. I needed real sleep—not visiting Gran type of sleep. A knock on the window some time later startled me awake. It was Matt’s sweaty face on the other side of the glass. He gestured at me to come out. I turned to find Greg gone. I took a final breath of good cool air and entered the humidity. “Hi,” I said. “You killed the snake?” he asked. “He started it.” “Nice shot.” “Thanks.” Apparently being able to shoot a moving snake was more impressive than being psychic. At least it seemed to be getting me a bit of respect for something. “Find the body yet?” “No, we’ve set up a perimeter. Does the dig perimeter look right?” He pointed to the large police tape cordoned area with uniformed cops roaming, anxious to get started. “Looks right. She’s not buried very deep.” I started to walk toward the scene and Matt stepped in front of me. “What’s the problem?” “Why don’t you go wait in the back of the squad car with Greg We don’t want anything to contaminate the scene.” He wasn’t asking me. I didn’t bother arguing and walked to the squad where Greg sat. “Are we under arrest?” “Just stay out of the way for now. You did the hard part for them.” He smiled. I slid in next to him and closed the door. Air-conditioning versus humidity, no contest. “I think the hard part will be finding the killer.” “Nothing?” he asked. “I don’t know. Is that little boy another victim? I don’t think so but I can’t be sure. The killer is still in his truck but I can’t get a name or location. Sometimes his thoughts are clear, he wants to stop or turn himself in. Then he’s trying to find his next victim. I think he might have multiple personality disorder.” I studied my hands. “Damn, I cracked a nail on your rifle. I need a gun of my own and some nail glue.” “Think he’s crazy?” Greg asked. “Possibly.” I leaned my head back and tried to get inside the killer’s mind again. He was lurking outside another house. It had a little girl in it. He was giving in. I tried to get deeper, to get an address of the house, a view of inside of the truck. No address came but the truck started to come clearer. There was a blue sleeping bag and several bags from fast-food restaurants on the floor. In the passenger seat was a file folder. That had my attention.

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Was it information on the girls? I didn’t think so. Something was sticking out of the side It looked like a plastic identification badge. Did he work at the girls’ school? Was that the connection? No, it looked more like a state ID. He slammed the brakes on the truck and the contents of the file shifted. I couldn’t see much but I did get St. Luke’s Mental Hospital. He was crazy. I carefully shifted into his mind long enough to get his name. I’d tried before but it’d never worked. This time I got it. Darren Gordon. Matt showed up at the squad with a couple Polaroids in his hand. “We found the girl and a doll.” He handed the pictures to me. The graphicness of the pictures startled me but I adjusted. It was exactly what I’d seen in my mind, even being covered in mud. The red sleeping bag was there, the garbage bag and the girl still clutched her doll. “Guess you’re the real thing.” Matt stuck the pictures in his shirt pocket. “I have a name for you too.” I rubbed my eyes. “Darren Gordon.” “We’ll look into it.” He jotted the name down. “Look? Go arrest him,” I insisted. “Darren was scouting another girl right now.” “We’ll run his name. See if he’s got any warrants. Talk to him. But we can’t arrest him without proof. There’s nothing in the house to link this to anyone and the body’s been exposed to elements for the better part of a day. We’ll see what they can get with an autopsy but my guess is nothing there.” Matt shrugged. “He was a mental patient!” I kicked the back of the car seat in front of me. “That’s not against the law. Unless he’s escaped. Thanks for the help, Doc. We need to find some concrete stuff now.” He held the door open for me. Clearly he’d gotten what he wanted. “We appreciate it and we’ll keep your name if there are any more cases you can help us with. If you come up with any hard evidence we can use, let me know.” I huffed and got out of the car. “He’s going to kill again.” “We’ll talk to him, try to put a scare in him. Let him know we’re watching.” “First you’ll have to find him. He’s living in that truck. Seems like he’s hiding in the backwoods. He knows the area.” “Thanks for the info.” I walked to Greg’s car and he followed. “I got a don’t call us, we’ll call you sort of feel.” “You’ve done all you can. They have to find the evidence now.” I frowned and slumped in Greg’s car as he started it up. “He’s really disturbed.” “Matt or the killer?” Greg smiled. I had to laugh at that. “Matt’s just a pain in the ass. The killer is really messed up.”

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“To be committed to a mental hospital, I hope so. Don’t stress about it. You’ve done all you can,” Greg said again. I wasn’t giving up. “No, not even close.”

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Chapter Eight Half an hour later, we arrived back at my house. Greg and I headed up the steps and wiped our muddy feet. Ivy had recovered enough to be there, slouched over the kitchen table. “How are you feeling?” I asked. She groaned. “How’d it go?” “How’d you know where we were?” Greg asked. “I worked for Elinor long enough.” She shrugged. “Find the body?” “I shot a snake too.” I saw down across from her. Her left eye opened wider. “I knew you were a badass. And you got the body so they’ll leave you alone now.” She sipped her coffee. “I’m glad that’s over.” “Not really. I figured out the killer’s name but I don’t think they’re going to do much about it.” “It’s their job now, not yours. You’re not a cop, Deanna. Don’t put yourself in danger.” Greg sat down next to Ivy. “It’s not worth the risk.” “I guess.” I didn’t believe it. I had to know the truth. “I can’t just walk away.” “What are you going to do? Track the killer on your own?” Ivy frowned. “Maybe.” I shrugged. “Warren was in a mental hospital. Which means there are records. I just have to get my hands on them.” “Warren?” Greg leaned back in his chair and looked at me. “Yeah.” I stared back. “At the site you said his name was Darren.” Greg studied me with concern all over his face. “Maybe you got it wrong?” “Damn!” I rubbed my forehead. “This guy is a split personality. He’s connected to that little ghost too. Somehow.” “I think you’ve done enough today. Give it a little time.” Greg checked his watch. “I’ve got to go to work.” I gave a weak wave, feeling about as good as Ivy looked. “What does he do?” I asked after Greg was gone. “He teaches ancient world history at Tulane.” Ivy gave me a critical once-over. “You look like shit. Take a nap or something.” I yawned. “That’s a good idea.” I used the servants’ staircase and managed to get off my boots. After that, I crawled onto the bed and curled up with a pillow. No traveling this time, just sleeping.

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I jerked awake to the shrill of the phone. Squinting at the clock, I realized it was nearly two in the afternoon. I’d slept for three hours. Ivy was probably gone by now and I couldn’t expect Missy to answer the phone. A little more awake, I realized it could be the cop with news. A shot of adrenaline sliced through me and I grabbed the phone on the fourth ring. “Hello.” “Deanna, what’s going on?” my father barked. This house needed caller ID and voicemail. “Nothing. What’s new there?” I tried to sound casual and not as though I’d seen a rattlesnake, a dead body and an evil child ghost all that morning. “Your mail is piling up. You have four job offers that want answers. And your mother is beside herself about you being in that house.” Classic Dad, he didn’t express any concern for me himself. It was all practical issues and Mom’s nerves. And what a thoughtless daughter I was. Mom was really the calm one. “Send me the stuff. I’ll take care of it.” That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Why are you staying there?” he pressed. “Dad, I’m handling it. Don’t worry and don’t start.” I sat up and yawned. “No one handles that. You need to get rid of it. That house is insane.” “A house can’t be insane. It’s just haunted. A fact you could’ve told me before.” He wasn’t getting off blameless in all of this. “You don’t need that. You don’t want it. It’s dangerous.” Dads never stop being dads. “The biggest danger I’ve encountered so far was a large snake and I shot its head off. Don’t worry about me, and don’t upset Mom. I’ll decide what I want.” Technically, I’d spoken the truth. Nothing else had endangered my life directly but that slimy little reptile. “You should come home.” Dad was going stubborn on me. “Bye, Dad.” I hung up and flopped back on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, I could feel the air in the room change. Gran was at the edge of the bed. “He’ll never change.” I put my hands over my eyes. “That’s up to him.” “Why do I get so tired when I go, you know, over there with you guys?” “Your body gets rest but your brain is in overdrive. Once you’re more accustomed to coming over it won’t feel so draining. The more you do it, the more normal it will feel. But you should still sleep in more to give your brain a break.” She smiled. “Who’s that bratty kid ghost?” I asked. Gran pressed her lips together. I got the message, she couldn’t tell me that. “Little Cel okay?” I asked.

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She gave a slight headshake to the affirmative. I took that to mean Little Cel was still in reorientation. “Now what?” I took a deep breath. “Follow your instincts. Do the best you can. You can’t regret it as long as you try.” She vanished and I smiled. That was the bit of encouragement I needed when everyone else in the world was telling me to play it safe. I had two options. Try to get in touch with the kid ghost who had no manners. Or get my hands on the medical records. Both were long shots. Ghosts didn’t obey and medical records meant legal privacy issues. There were other options but the address and name of the next victim weren’t coming clear either. I had to try. Best odds first. Having the house to myself was a pleasant change. Missy was going about her daily schedule of chores. I needed to think through this mess I was in and took my pad of paper and pen into the library. When I walked in, two candelabras blinked and the windows flew open. “Thanks, Noah.” I curled up in a large square chair and scribbled in the corners. I started by writing down everything I knew. The names, Darren and Warren. Neither name felt wrong. The first girl’s name and everything she had on when they found her also went on the list. The doll was the only weird thing. I knew the girl was dead when he took her out of the house, so why would he bring the doll and bury her with it in her arms? It didn’t make sense. I closed my eyes and the killer was outside the next girl’s home again. I couldn’t see the girl but I could see she had a doll just like Little Cel’s only with a different dress. I needed Little Cel’s doll, at least a picture. I could see it in my mind and it seemed unique, handmade. I needed more to know for sure. I focused on the killer. Why would he care about a doll? It didn’t make sense, yet. But they meant something to him without question. I slipped into his mind and he was reliving the murder. But it wasn’t that murder. It wasn’t Little Cel’s room. It was outside. And the little girl was crying, screaming. She was being held upside down by an ankle. The killer, Darren, had her by the ankle but I heard another voice egging him on. To drop her. To get revenge. I turned the picture around, to look behind the killer and saw four dolls lined up around a table. Like a tea party but it was in a tree house. The girl was pleading to be brought up, she couldn’t be more than seven and Darren looked all of twelve. I could see him now, scared and angry at the same time. He didn’t want to let go but couldn’t stop either. The girl screamed for help and he let go. I opened my eyes and ran to the window for fresh air. “What the hell?” I muttered.

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The murderous replay wasn’t the only issue. I heard the sound of drawers opening. I looked and found a tall chest of thin drawers, each popping open and then closing. “Noah? What’s going on?” Finally the drawers stopped and the second one from the top stayed open. It was a newspaper from almost ten years ago. “Something interesting in here?” I asked. Two snaps confirmed it. I carefully lifted the old newspapers out of the drawer and scanned the stories. I turned pages and on the local section, found the story of a young girl dropped from her tree house by her brother. I read on, everything was what I’d just seen only the article went on to say that this was not the first tragedy to befall that tree house. I could sense that that tree house had been the scene of another tragedy. There was a picture of the tree house and the dolls that were left behind. Darren had killed before. His own sister at about the same age as Little Cel was. I went back to the window for fresh air. Deep breaths. I needed a picture of the doll to match up. Then I had to get this file. Darren could be more dangerous but there could also be a pattern to follow. I looked out on the beautiful gardens and breathed deeply. Somewhere in New Orleans, Little Cel’s body was being autopsied and still the world kept going. It felt wrong. “I’ve got to go.” I headed out to the garage door and climbed in the Jeep. I drove out of my driveway and down my street. Mary Lou was out front in her garden, directing the gardeners or so it appeared. She waved and I waved back. The wind felt good in my hair even as the humidity left it curlier than normal. By instinct, I found my way to the police station. First stop. I parked and headed in. The noise and voices were loud. The front desk was packed two people deep and I wasn’t interested in being official. I knew Matt was here and I found him reading a case file. Paperwork. I snuck up on him. “I need a copy of that picture.” “What the hell? How’d you get back here?” he demanded. “I walked. You need better security around here. I need a copy of that picture, with the doll.” “No, that’s evidence. I can’t have a leak.” He wagged a finger at me. “I’m not a leak. I’m the one who’s going help you catch this guy. But I need a picture of the doll to link it all together.” “Can’t do it.” “Yes, you can. What if it’s just the doll? A picture of the evidence, that’s all. I don’t need the body. Can’t prove it had a thing to do with the murder.” He chewed on the inside of his mouth or tobacco. I wasn’t sure which and didn’t want to know. “Okay. But if it gets in the papers or television, I’m putting you behind bars for harboring a fugitive.” 55

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“Sure, that’s what it’d mean.” I rolled my eyes and waited for him to get a copy of the picture. He handed it to me in a sealed envelope. Clearly this was something I wasn’t supposed to get but we Catholic schoolgirls were supposed to break the rules. That was the fun of it. I opened the envelope before I left just to be sure he hadn’t given me something else to get rid of me. Then I stuffed it in my purse. “Thanks.” “You come up with anything concrete, you let me know.” “Cross my heart.” I left the station and hopped back in the Jeep. Did Matt think I wanted to bring in a killer on my own? That was their job. I just had to help find him and keep any more girls from being killed. Darren’s medical records from the institution were the next essential piece to the puzzle. St. Luke’s Mental Hospital, look out!

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Chapter Nine With the picture of the doll in my pocket, I jostled in the Jeep until I arrived at St. Luke’s Mental Hospital. Definitely not the right car for me. I had a flash of an old convertible and wondered if it was just a wish. A working car like that was extremely rare. But for now, I had the Jeep and parked it. I walked through the first set of automatic doors into a lobby. It was late afternoon, which meant minimal staff at the front desk. That was the plan anyway. The fewer people I had to persuade or get around, the better. As I passed through the second set of doors, I saw I was right. There was only one young blonde girl behind the desk. She looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place her. Psychics didn’t have any better memories than normal people—at least I didn’t. I just hoped she wasn’t a by-the-rules type. She was reading intently, which necessitated my making some sort of noise. “Hello.” I tried to sound casual. The girl looked up and she stared at me. “Dr. Oscar?” She knew me and broke out in a smile. “Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.” “I’m Kitty Evans. Don’t feel bad, I’m sure you’ve had hundreds of students.” She reached out to shake my hand. “You looked familiar. What are you doing in New Orleans?” “Interning. What about you? You must be done with your degrees now.” She wanted small talk but I had a killer to figure out. “Actually I am. I was interviewing for teaching jobs when I took a little detour. Maybe you can help me?” I didn’t need to rehash my history to get a file, did I? “Sure.” She agreed too quickly. “I’m helping the police with a case and I need to get a look at a former patient’s file.” “Oh.” Her face dropped. “I know, I know, the privacy thing. But you see, I already know what I need to know. Mostly. I just need to be sure I know it. Be able to prove it.” I sounded more like a patient than a PhD. “So it’s true?” Kitty whispered. “What’s true?” I whispered back. “Everyone said you were special. You know, psychic.” She leaned closer. “That’s how you know?”

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“You guys knew? I mean, about me.” I tapped my right temple. Somewhere along the line I’d adopted Ivy’s gesture as a way of not having to say too much or too little. It was just easier. I had no idea that any of my students had known. “We knew.” Kitty sat back down in her rolling office chair. “So, can I get a look at this guy’s file?” All I could hope for was I’d impressed her enough and that common matriculation meant something. “Prove it.” She smiled. “Prove what?” “Prove your skills.” She tapped her temple. “I’ll pull the file, but you have to give me something in it so I know you know and it’s not all just a crock.” “Sure. The name is Darren Gordon.” I set my bucket purse on the desk, while Kitty rolled back to the files of prior patients. Moments later, she came back with the file closed. “So?” “A picture of the patient’s sister, at about age six, with four dolls at a tea party.” I looked Kitty straight in the eye, just in case she thought I could see though the file or something really weird. “Darren killed his sister when he was only twelve.” She opened the file at an angle where I couldn’t see and flipped through page after page. Then the flipping stopped. “Wow.” She put the picture I’d described on the desk. “You’re amazing.” “Hit.” I pulled the picture of the doll buried with Little Cel out of my bag. “Same doll.” Kitty looked and she chewed her lip. I’d found the guy and I could prove it. The dolls were the key. The next victim had one too. “Can I get a copy of that file now?” “Sure.” She still looked a bit stunned, and walked away. A few minutes later, she handed me a large plain white envelope containing the murderer’s file. “You didn’t get it from me.” I tucked the envelope under my arm. “Absolutely not. Thanks.” “Are you really working with the cops?” she asked. “For this case at least, I’m consulting.” I didn’t want her to think I’d lied about that. “Thanks for the help.” I headed for the door and immediately noticed I wasn’t alone in the waiting room. It was that little ghost from the swamp again. I was being stalked. Or haunted in a very strange way. “Go away!” shouted the little boy ghost. This time I got a closer look. He appeared about ten years old.

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“You go away!” I moved closer. “Who are you, anyway?” “Leave us alone!” “Us? You’re all alone, little guy. Why don’t you go to hell where you belong? Quit jumping on graves. Unless you want to tell me how you’re involved in this girl’s murder.” “No!” He stomped his foot. “Are you helping the killer somehow? What’s in it for you? You’re dead.” He folded his arms tight and pressed his lips together in a frown. It looked like he was trying to hold his breath but ghosts didn’t breathe. “Fine.” I walked away. Ghosts weren’t all necessarily ready for help, I reminded myself. They weren’t all good either. This ghost was neither. He was, however, connected to Darren. Which would make sense why he was hanging around here. Darren had spent a lot of time in St. Luke’s. I walked out the front door, and found Matt waiting for me in an unmarked car. He spotted me and got out in that slow Southern way I wasn’t used to yet. I still had my Chicago pace going. “Whatcha got there, Doc?” “Nothing,” I lied. “Am I being followed?” “No. Free city. But the plates on the Jeep are expired. You need to renew those. Could write you a ticket. Consider this a warning. Come on, big envelope there. You’ve got something.” “I was looking into getting a job in New Orleans. It’s just the paperwork to get my Louisiana license. An old friend was giving me a hand.” I took my chances that he wouldn’t get pissed and tow the car because of plates. “I’ll look into the plates, thanks.” “Why here? Why at the mental institution where Darren Gordon was held?” he pressed. “Kitty works here. I don’t know that many people in New Orleans yet. I just looked up a former student. Networking to get a job is a crime?” I tossed my purse and the envelope in the Jeep. “No, but I think you got his file.” Matt leaned on my Jeep. “That’d be illegal. Of course, I’m not a lawyer or a cop, but patient privacy is very important to us psychologists.” “What do you need that file for anyway? Psychic like you should already know it all.” “You’re right. I don’t know it all, but I know enough. You won’t get a warrant or believe me until you see something in black and white though. Will you?” “I can’t get a warrant on illegally gotten evidence either.” He watched me for any reaction.

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I gave no hint of tension as I climbed into the Jeep. “You won’t. I’ll get you something you can use. Gotta go. Talk to you soon.” I started the Jeep and threw it into gear. Matt made no move to stop me or go into St. Luke’s. I headed for home and tried to forget about the cops for now. I exhaled slowly, and for once felt like I was doing something that would help catch the killer. Analyzing Darren’s file was something I could do objectively and without any special skills. Just psychology. I parked the Jeep in the garage and pocketed the keys. Two for two, not a bad run for a couple of hours’ work. I walked in the back door with every intention of going over the file, but Ivy and Mary Lou were at the kitchen table waiting for me. “There you are.” Ivy looked a little worried. “I told Missy where I’d be.” Ivy rolled her eyes. “That helps. Like I can see her.” “Deanna, I’m glad I caught you at home. I need a big favor.” Mary Lou looked serious, but still serene. Not a hair out of place. “Sure, what do you need?” I got a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’m stuck with an odd number for dinner.” Mary Lou sounded worried, as though that was an actual problem. I didn’t follow the tragedy. “So?” “I need one more at dinner. Please, Deanna! I hate an odd number. You can meet my husband tonight. He’s in town for a change. You can’t pass up the opportunity. I even convinced my brother-in-law to come. If you don’t come he’ll be stuck talking to the same boring people he already knows. Then he’ll never come to another of my parties. He’s not big on dinner parties as it is.” “Matt? Not big on parties? I can believe it. He just harassed me today. I’m not someone he’ll want to talk to. Besides, I’m not big on dinner parties either.” No way was I going to be stuck at a dinner party with Matt. “No, not that brother-in-law. He’s at work. Besides, he’s not good company at dinners. This is the youngest of the Weathers brothers. He’s a judge. One of the youngest judges in the parish. Cute, single and very nice.” Mary Lou’s smile never broke. I caught the distinct scent of a fix-up. “Mary Lou, I’m sort of busy with this psychic murder investigation thing. I’m not looking for anything extra.” That and I’d already made out with Greg. Not that it meant anything. I just didn’t need more complications. “It’s nothing like that. I want you to meet people in New Orleans other than just cops, ghosts and criminals. Plus, you’ll be invited to all of the balls eventually. You should know more people. Expand your social circle.” Mary Lou sipped her coffee. “Balls? I’m not sure I’ll be at any of those.” People still had balls? The most formal thing I’d ever attended was my senior prom or the time I stood up in the wedding of a rich Northside friend. 60

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“You might feel differently once you see the judge.” Ivy winked. “It’s only dinner, please. Nothing really formal. I really don’t want an empty chair.” Mary Lou wasn’t letting this go. I didn’t want the neighbors to think I was the antisocial psychic. “What time?” “Seven o’clock sharp and you don’t need to bring a thing. I absolutely insist. The wine is already breathing.” Mary Lou got up and sprinted for the door. “I have a lot to do. Thanks, Deanna.” “Why couldn’t she have just invited you instead?” I asked Ivy. “Not my circle, sweetie. Plus, the Weathers at the same table as a drag queen? Doubtful. Very doubtful. The judge is cute but not worth enduring the rest of them.” She smiled. “You’d better shower and get dressed.” I’d committed myself. Probably should go back to St. Luke’s and commit myself. Instead, I headed upstairs to find something to wear to my first New Orleans dinner party. My only rationale was that knowing a judge couldn’t be a bad thing if I wanted to be taken seriously.

***** “I’m so glad you came!” Mary Lou looked genuinely relieved when she opened the door. “Thanks.” I walked in and a couple men stood. Talk about old-fashioned manners. Mary Lou directed me to an older woman perched in a high-back chair. “Deanna, this is my mother-in-law. Mrs. Lolly Weathers,” Mary Lou introduced. Mrs. Weathers looked me up and down and then set her drink down. “Are you a lesbian?” she asked. “No, are you?” I couldn’t hide my surprise at that one, but I got a laugh out of the room. “No, but I do think husbands are more trouble than they’re worth.” She sipped a glass full of amber liquid on ice. “Why do you ask?” I had to know what was going through her clearly scotchsoaked brain to trigger doubts about my orientation. “Most ladies don’t attend dinner parties in pants.” She pointed at my legs. “Sorry about that. In Chicago that’s never been an issue. Plus, I wasn’t expecting dinner parties when I packed.” I’d overruled the peasant dress for tonight as not formal enough. Ivy had agreed. “Mother Weathers, I told you Miss Deanna is here settling Mrs. Elinor Oscar’s affairs. Why would she bring nice dresses for that?” Mary Lou grabbed me by the arm and turned me in another direction. “So sorry about her. No sense of exceptions to her rules.”

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Mary Lou started a whirl of introducing me to the rest of the room. There was some logic to it, I was sure, but I knew I’d never remember all of the names. Finally she got to two people I would remember. “This is my husband, Lance Weathers. And his younger brother, the judge.” I shook hands with both of them. They didn’t look alike and nothing like Matt. The judge, apparently, wasn’t referred to by any other name. He was clearly the youngest by at least ten years. Before I could attempt any small talk, dinner was served and I found myself seated next to the judge and kitty-corner from Lance. Not my first choice. Mrs. Weathers and Mary Lou would’ve been more fun but the view to my left was pretty good. “What do you do, Miss Deanna?” the judge asked. “I’m a psychology professor.” Not exactly the truth, but not really a lie either. It was what I was qualified to do. I didn’t want to take the conversation in any impolite directions. I had no idea what Mary Lou or Matt had told them already. My wardrobe was already strike one against me. Talk about ghosts might not be appropriate. “That’s interesting. I’d heard you were wandering around a swamp today, looking for dead bodies.” Lance grinned. The rest of the table grew quiet with interest or unease. Maybe it was both, I couldn’t tell. Maybe I was the evening’s entertainment? “Actually, I was showing your brother Matt where to find one. He couldn’t seem to track it down.” I casually sipped my water. “So you’re really a psychic then?” the judge asked. “Well, I’m not sure there’s a license for that yet, but I’ve been doing my best. Helping with the case as much as I can. Not what I expected when I came here for a job interview and found out my grandmother died.” “I don’t understand. How can you be psychic and not know the future? Isn’t that the point?” The judge was skeptical. Not as overtly rude about it as his brother Lance, but he wasn’t convinced. “The first rule I discovered about it was that I’m never psychic about myself. I have no idea what’ll happen in my future. Life would be pretty dull and pointless if I did.” The next course was served and I did my best to use the most logical utensil, it appeared as though the entire silver drawer had been laid out for a simple dinner party. “You don’t just get all these flashes of crimes, do you? When I think of all the murders and crime that happen in New Orleans. Poor thing, you’d be dead from exhaustion.” Mrs. Weathers downed another scotch without ceremony and a dedicated maid moved to fill her glass again. “No, it’s not like that. If I know someone, and they’re going to die, I’ll usually see it. But I don’t see every crime or death in the world.” The judge sat back from his plate. “How did you find the body?”

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“The killer’s mind. Once I’m tuned in, I can try to get information.” I left off the bit about seeing the ghost dancing on the burial site. It was uncomfortable enough. I didn’t need to add to it with the extra weird. “How do I get that radio station?” Lance laughed. I threw Mary Lou a look that questioned my presence here. She cringed at her husband’s behavior. At least it wasn’t intentional. “If I knew how, I’d tune it out.” A joke was better than being rude. Mary Lou should’ve gone for the younger brother—the judge. He wasn’t convinced about me yet, but he wasn’t being a jerk either. “Come on, Miss Deanna.” Lance had no intention of letting this go. “You have to tell me about my future. Will I have sons or daughters?” “Mary Lou’s not pregnant.” Was this a test? I looked over at Mary Lou who shook her head to confirm my answer. “Not yet,” Lance added. “But you should know.” “Lance, she isn’t a magic act.” Mary Lou flushed with embarrassment. “Aren’t you curious, Mary Lou?” Mrs. Weathers piped up. “Come on, sweetie, tell me how many grandkiddies I’ll have. The Weathers line must continue. Can’t seem to get my other two boys married.” The only way to settle this was to give them something. I closed my eyes and saw Mary Lou with a little girl. I couldn’t tell how long in the future. “One little girl.” I opened my eyes and the tension hadn’t evaporated yet. “That’s all?” Lance set his wineglass down with a clink. “Maybe she didn’t look far enough?” Mrs. Weathers jiggled the ice in her glass. Mary Lou’s eyes pleaded at me from her end of the table. I closed my eyes again and tried to see more. I couldn’t lie so I tried to fast forward. “I see another baby.” “A boy?” Mrs. Weathers asked. “It’s hard to tell but it’s wrapped in a pale green blanket.” I opened my eyes before I pushed too far and I got an answer they didn’t want to hear. “Maybe I’ve had too much to drink. Alcohol dampens my gift.” “There you go, green blanket. Boy.” Lance seemed satisfied. “Better to have the girl first anyway. Mommy’s little helper, Daddy’s little princess.” Mrs. Weathers lifted her now full glass. “To my future grandson and granddaughter.” We all toasted and I could barely swallow. I needed to start calling universities back tomorrow. I wasn’t going to be the official New Orleans dinner party entertainment. “Where do you teach, Miss Deanna?” The judge politely changed the subject and I could finally breathe. Anything to get off ghosts and babies. “Nowhere yet. I just finished my PhDs and was interviewing. Gran’s death was an unexpected detour. Then this horrible murder. I taught at Northwestern while I was in

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grad school though. I enjoyed the students.” I looked at him in detail now that I had a better chance. Nice features and medium coloring. Well-built with clear brown eyes. I was enjoying the voice of the judge and things were going pretty normal for a change. Then I saw my first ghost of the evening. She just stood there behind the judge. I couldn’t talk to her now, but that was fine. She didn’t seem at all interested in me anyway. She was focused mostly on the judge. The ghost was young and thin, somehow I knew she was related to the judge. But I couldn’t be rude to the living and start a conversation right there. “Our Uncle Jojo is on the board of Tulane, if you’re thinking of teaching here.” The judge dominated the conversation for the rest of the evening with talk of the university and others in the area. I got the feeling he didn’t want any more of his brother’s antics. He held my attention with my glance only occasionally shifting to the ghost who had said nothing. I survived dinner with the help of the judge and as I headed out, he stopped me. “Do you need a ride home, Miss Deanna?” “No, I’m just the next mansion over.” I didn’t want to put him out or end up alone in a car with him. Might cause a Weathers’ family scandal. He came closer. “Please allow me. I can’t take much more of my brother tonight.” “Well, I think I might be getting a blister from all this walking in heels,” I said a bit louder. “You take her home, Judge.” Mrs. Weathers waved a warning finger at him. “Ladies shouldn’t have to walk anywhere if they don’t wish it.” “My pleasure.” He held the door. I smiled at the party and headed out the door. “Thank you.” “Thank you,” he said pointedly once the door was closed. “Lance is more out of town than he is in. I should want to spend more time with him but as much as I try, I’ve never been close to Lance. We don’t have that much in common despite our similar career choices.” “I understand that. I never fit in much with my family either.” I had no intention of commenting on their family squabbles but I could sympathize. So far, the judge seemed to be the nicest of them all. “Lance is different. He and Matt are closer.” The judge tried to find the words as he opened the passenger side door of his black BMW and let me slide in. “We’re different.” “I know what Matt is,” I replied once he was in the driver’s seat. “Lance is a lot like that, but a bit more of a snob. Matt likes to think he’s a good old boy.” “And what are you?”

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“Didn’t you hear? I’m the judge.” He looked at me with exasperation. Then he glanced behind us to pull out onto the street. Clearly, he didn’t like the label. I burst out laughing. “Do you have a real name, or are you stuck with the occupation because your mother named you that? Pretty cruel.” I understood labels— psychic, crazy and bad daughter. I owned them all. “It’s John. Dull. Mom just likes saying her sons the judge, the lawyer and the cop. But she only does this constant title nonsense with me. I think, because I’m the youngest, she’s actually forgotten my name.” “Maybe it’s the scotch?” I teased. “Maybe it’s her age. She’s seventy-five.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. I turned and looked at him. “She can’t be.” The woman didn’t look a day over sixty. Drunk and sixty, but no more than sixty. “She’s seventy-five. It’s called stressless Southern living. Her daddy was rich and she was the deb of her season. Married young to a man just as rich, and did the society mom thing. Nannies, maids and all of it.” He pulled into my driveway and put the car in park. “I’m glad you were there. I don’t know if I could’ve tolerated Lance all night.” I reached for the door as he exited the car. It was a disease down here. I took my hand off the door and waited. There were worse things in the world than this Southern gentleman thing. He opened my door. “You didn’t have to do that.” The Northern girl in me had to let him know I was independent. “I can’t get rusty. Gentlemen have to make it look effortless and expect no credit or thanks.” He gave me a slight bow. “I like that policy. Thanks for the ride. I would’ve driven over, but Gran’s old Jeep isn’t exactly dinner party transportation.” I straightened my jacket and checked that I had my purse. “You’ll have to get a new car. If you’re staying.” He closed the passenger door and proceeded to walk me to the door. “I was serious about Tulane. If you’re interested in teaching, I’m sure we can arrange something. Even if it’s just part-time for now.” “Thanks, I’m just not sure what I’m going to do yet.” I fished my keys out of my purse. Before I could put them in the door opened. The judge’s eyes bugged out at the movement without a body. All I could do was shrug and smile. Missy was an excellent watchdog. “The house is haunted. Ghosts are very dedicated chaperones. Can you see her?” He leaned in and looked around the door to look. No one was there, no one that he could see. I saw Missy studying him without expression. “I don’t see anyone. But whoever is there, I assure you, my intentions are honorable.” “Her name is Missy,” I supplied.

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“Missy.” He nodded at the empty air, playing along and believing me that there was a ghost. At least I hoped he believed me and wasn’t mocking me. Missy smiled and took a step back. I laughed. “Quit charming my ghosts. They might follow you home. Thanks for the lift.” I stepped into the doorway and Missy backed up a bit. “My pleasure. I hope Matt and Lance won’t drive you back North.” “They’re the least of my problems, believe it or not. Goodnight.” I put my hand on the door. “Goodnight.” He turned and headed back to the car. As soon as he was safely in, I closed the door and locked it behind me. “Why didn’t you invite the judge in for a drink?” Missy scolded. “Since when are you so forward? He has the proper manners and you cave? Besides, it wasn’t a date. Just a ride.” I waved her off. As cute and polite as the judge was, I had a file of papers to go through. I’d never sleep until I got through them. Why had Darren killed his sister? The thought had plagued me all night. If I knew why, maybe I could stop him from killing again. My mind flipped to Darren. He was outside the girl’s house now. I could feel him watching every move. He was in the back, no numbers or street signs for me to see. Darren was plotting his entry. It wouldn’t be tonight. This was recon. I pulled out the file, changed out of the pantsuit I might have to retire from my Southern wardrobe and flopped on the bed for a dull night of reading doctor’s notes. There was more to this than the file would tell me, but I had to start somewhere. If only I could get some ghostly help. Suddenly, the French doors opposite my bed rattled with a force stronger than the wind. I jumped. I had a visitor knocking.

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Chapter Ten I opened the French doors and the rush of wind stopped. There was nothing out there. At least that I could see. I went back to the bed and opened the file to be productive. It wasn’t my imagination. There was something out there but it could just be a ghost playing games. I needed to deal with Darren. A flash of metallic pale green appeared in my head. I blinked and saw a car of the same color. It had nothing to do with Darren. But I was going to see that car here in New Orleans. Anyone who thought there was clear logic or meaning in every psychic vision was seriously mistaken. So much of it didn’t really make sense until more pieces showed up. I got what I got. I shook off the color and refocused on the pictures in Darren’s file. There was a copy of the article from the library and another article with a picture. The twin’s name was Warren. “At least I wasn’t going crazy on the names,” I muttered to myself. “No, but you didn’t get them right, either. Did you?” sneered Warren from the balcony. It was the little grave-stomping ghost from earlier. I looked up but tried not to show any reaction. I studied the ghost boy for a moment. Just like his picture, he hadn’t aged a day, unlike his brother. Darren’s picture was of a young man with defeated eyes. He’d already done time in a mental facility and, if we caught him, he’d do time in another—if not, he’d land in jail eventually. “I’m not always right. No one is. Why don’t you tell me how you died?” He stalked in the room and the wind whipped around him. “Why do you care?” “You look like you could use some help. Most people go back home to the Other Side when they die. Nice, peaceful and happy.” “Not me, this is where I belong. The Other Side is for whole dead people.” Where Little Cel was timid and fearful, Warren was angry and rude. He’d been dead a lot longer, and apparently chose to haunt and terrorize instead of being normal and going back where he belonged. “Whole people? Is that really why you’re sticking with your brother? You feel incomplete?” Warren gritted his transparent teeth. “I tried to go around without him but it wasn’t fair. Didn’t work.”

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“How did you die?” I settled on my stomach on the bed, propping my head up with a pillow. Trying to ease him into sharing might not work, but it was option number one. “She pushed me. I told her, ‘No girls in the tree house’ but she didn’t listen. Brought all her dolls and that dumb tea set.” He sat down, grumbling. “Your younger sister?” I flipped through the photos casually and found the girl. “But the newspaper said she’d died because Darren dropped her out of the tree house, not you.” “That was later, stupid. I started it all. I tipped over her little table and the tea set broke. She started crying and having a hissy fit over nothing.” “Maybe she liked the tea set? Kids get attached to things. Like you and the tree house.” “And those dolls.” Warren rolled his eyes. “Mom had handmade them for her. Little Princess.” I wanted to talk about the dolls but it might be too soon. I needed more detail about why before I brought up the murders. That was guaranteed to work up the little guy. “What did you do after you broke the tea set?” “I chucked one of the dolls out of the tree house and held another ready to drop it in the mud.” A sinister grin spread across his face. “She screamed and came after me. She was nuts. Pushing me, grabbing for the doll.” “And?” “And I dropped it. It just got a little muddy. She should’ve gone after them. Gotten out of the tree house. That’s all I wanted.” His lower lip stuck out in a pout. Was that regret? A glimmer, maybe? “What did she do?” “She shoved me. Hard.” His voice became low and cold. “I fell. I fell on my head and heard a snap. Then I was standing there, watching my body lie there.” Little Cel died of a broken neck too. My skin crawled. “Where was your brother Darren when you died?” “He was inside, sick. He always got ear infections and stuff. Mom had him inside a lot. Babied him.” “What happened after you fell?” “Karen started screaming more. She ran for Mom, said I fell. Liar. She was a liar!” Warren pounded his transparent fist against his knee. “Were the police called?” “Sure, police and an ambulance, but I was already dead. It was an accident, as far as they knew. I tried to tell them, but no one could see me or hear me.” “Darren does.”

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Warren nodded. “Darren made himself sicker after I fell. He was upset. I stayed in our bedroom with him. At first he couldn’t really see me, but he knew I was there. I moved things, did things to let him know. After a while, he started to see and hear me.” “You told him the truth?” I was getting more info now. I wanted the roll to continue. “Sure, but no one believed him either. He tried to tell them. They were sure he was just imagining it. Just missed me. He needed time, at least that was their theory. They were morons.” “But you never left him?” “I tried once. Darren was getting mad at me. Saying I wasn’t real, no one believed him. I tried to go but I didn’t know where to go or what to do.” “What did you do?” “I hung around my sister’s room. Moved stuff, tried to punish her. It didn’t really work and Darren needed me back in the end. He was afraid of the dark and didn’t like to be alone. Twins, that’s the thing about it. You’re never alone. People don’t get how different it is. We’d never been apart our whole lives. I promised him, if he punished our sister, then I’d never leave him.” He spoke a bit odd for a kid. Maybe he’d matured? He’d been dead a long time. “You don’t think what your sister did was an accident?” I asked. “She shoved me! All because of the dolls. They’re just stupid dolls. She deserved what she got.” “And what did she get?” I prompted. “If I couldn’t live, she couldn’t live. I told Darren he had to get her for me. It took time because he didn’t want to do it. He did little things, at first. Sabotaged her bike so she’d fall, but nothing really worked well enough. Besides, I wanted her to go like I did.” “How did Darren get her to go into the tree house?” I could see her death clear in my mind, along with Warren’s death. But I wanted the why behind it. “No one went into the tree house after I died. But Darren did when I told him to. I told him to take the dolls up there. A nice little torture, he thought it’d be funny. I knew she’d go for the dolls.” “But taking her dolls wasn’t enough?” Warren smiled an evil little smile. “Once he was up there, I told Darren she’d push him out too and he’d die. That I’d gotten pushed off because I took her dolls. Which wasn’t a lie. All I had to do was convince him that she would kill him too. He didn’t want to die or for me to leave him. Darren was only twelve.” “He was twelve and your sister was only seven. It was no contest physically.” “Didn’t matter. He believed she was a danger. Darren hung her by her ankles outside the tree house. She cried, of course. Karen always cried. I wanted her to hang there longer, but a neighbor saw and Darren let her go.” 69

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“Her neck broke.” Just like Warren and the victims. “Fair is fair. And twins are always fair.” “Was it hard being a twin?” He seemed as intent on the twin thing as he was on the dolls. Warren shrugged. “It was hard and good. You never get anything of your own. Half the time you were treated like one person. Never alone. It was always a package deal. But not for her.” “Your sister was the only girl and not a twin.” Warren gritted his teeth and nodded. I had a much better picture of the situation now. “And Darren was arrested for killing your sister and placed in a mental institution.” “I didn’t mean for that to happen. It was supposed to be just another accident. Karen was never even arrested. Just a little report and they were gone. Then they put Darren away and Mom gave away all our stuff. I had another solution but he wouldn’t do it. He was such a baby.” “You were the stronger twin?” “Of course, he had to be there. I’ve hung around for him. Helped him survive that place. Since he wouldn’t join me he had to be there. Wimp.” “Why now? Why are you tracking the dolls now?” He glared at me. “I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being alone, but not really alone. Besides, they had Darren locked up so I couldn’t really do anything. I haunted the dolls but it’s not the same. I can’t kill the girls myself so I had to help Darren get out of there.” “Your brother was up for parole?” “Sure, but he was still seeing me. So I left for a bit. Once they thought he was sane and not a danger, they let him out. We’ve been together ever since. The cops will get him when the time is right.” “Why would you want him locked up again?” “Not locked up. They’ll get him.” The kid mimed a gunshot to the head and fell over, playing dead. “Then we’ll be done with everything and together.” Subtle ghost. “Why doesn’t Darren just turn himself in? Louisiana’s big on capital punishment, from what I understand. Killing a little girl in cold blood has to be good for a lethal injection.” “No way. He’s not done yet. He’s only got one down. There are four dolls. Four! He’s going to get rid of all of them or die trying.” Warren gave a satisfied nod. “Do you ever see your sister?” It was an abrupt change but I had to get deeper. “Why? So she can mock me?” That flustered Warren. “I thought you’d want to rub her face in it. You did get revenge.”

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“I can’t see her if I don’t go over. I guess that’s how it works. Or she’s just stubborn and mad. They sent someone to talk to me but it wasn’t her. Better that way.” “To talk to you about going to the Other Side?” “Sure, but what for? I can’t leave Darren. He’d be a mess. Twins aren’t supposed to be apart. Especially identical twins. If we were meant to be separated, we wouldn’t have been one to begin with. We’re really one person. It took me a long time to accept that but it’s true.” “Twins can be totally different, Warren. Maybe I can help you two find a way to exist, and still see each other. My grandmother is on the Other Side and I see her a lot. Would you want to try that?” “Darren needs me all the time. He’s probably lost right now, not knowing what to do. Anyway, you’re working with them. You want Darren in jail. I want my revenge first. Three more dolls and then you can let the cops use Darren for target practice.” Warren smiled. I’d be repulsed if I didn’t believe Warren really cared about his brother. He wanted to be with him. It was a sick and twisted love but it was true. The twin bond was powerful—love or hate. “Aren’t you mad at Darren?” “What for?” “He lived. Darren grew up. He could have kids and a life. You can’t ever have that. Don’t you envy him?” “He won’t have a real life without me. Just like I can’t be whole without him. It doesn’t work that way. Quit trying to manipulate us. You won’t win.” “I don’t think anyone can win in this situation, Warren.” “Three more dolls. Three more deaths. Then maybe I’ll be happy. Don’t get in the way. If you interfere then it might be you.” Warren took a flying jump off the balcony and the French doors slammed closed behind him. “Little freak,” I muttered. I looked for the medical records on Darren. Boiling down the jargon, it was post-traumatic stress syndrome in an extreme form. With a healthy dose of acute survivor’s guilt. Talk about separation anxiety! Personal notes by the doctor suggested the twins were close and it was making treatment next to impossible. Darren believed his brother was talking and visiting with him regularly. The courts put him in a mental facility for treatment to be reevaluated at the age of eighteen. I flipped forward in the medical file. A couple failed escape attempts early on, but no significant incidents. He didn’t commit a single violent act while he was there, and had willingly participated in group and individual therapy. Took all prescribed medications without complaint. No change in behavior was reported with medication. He believed his brother was with him always. Not much help there.

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No progress was reported until the age of seventeen, when he started calling for his brother at night. The doctors took it as a positive sign. He was letting go, finally. They were fooled all right. The facility released him after a year of constant progress. That was only six months ago. Every nerve ending in my body was twitching. I knew why. It was the dolls. They were the connection. They were Karen’s dolls and the twins would find them all. Scary, but I’d been right. I had no idea when the next victim would turn up but she’d be buried with another of Karen’s dolls. There had to be a way to find the dolls. There had to be another way to find out who the victims would be. I had a lot of questions and no answers. The motive helped me, but the cops wouldn’t care why. They wanted the killer behind bars. I got off the bed and paced. I wouldn’t sleep anyway. I knew what I needed to do, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. Climbing back into bed, I again put a pen in my hand and paper in front of me. The Other Side was worth a shot.

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Chapter Eleven Yet again I found myself in the bright white waiting room. This place really needed a map! If I could get in, why the hell shouldn’t I know which way to go? There were four doors, but I wasn’t sure if one of them led to hell. That might not be a two-way trip, and really wasn’t on my sightseeing list at the moment. I wandered the waiting room for a few minutes, examining the doors. I’d just have to pick one. What was the use of being psychic if I couldn’t trust myself a little? I closed my eyes and walked forward. Catholic school said good people were sent to the right, bad to the left. But there were four doors and no St. Peter, so I couldn’t try that logic. None of the doors were marked just visiting either. I allowed my feet to gravitate toward the right door. Disorientation set in. There was a weightless feel to this side I hadn’t fully experienced with my eyes open. My feet felt like they were on solid ground, but my senses of direction and balance were mixed up. I felt the door in front of me and forced my eyes open. Not the door farthest to the right, but the one just next to it. I told my body to write that down. I didn’t want to have to relearn this every time. But since last time that trick didn’t work so well, I took my hand and mocked carefully writing the words on an imaginary pad of paper. That wasn’t the craziest thing I’d done since coming to New Orleans, so I shrugged it off and opened the door. No way to tell if it worked until I woke up. I definitely got the right door. Once again I was on Main Street, the Other Side. I was slowly phasing the term Heaven out of my vocabulary, at least over here. They didn’t use it, so I had to get the terminology right. Maybe those left doors led to hell? Did they call hell the Dark Side? Alone here for the first time, I took in the sights more slowly. Large crystal buildings, a gleaming white dome and all variations of buildings dotted the skyline. Someday I’d come to explore. But not today. From here I could find my way to Gran’s house, but I wasn’t here to talk to her. The question was how to find Warren and Darren’s little sister. Were there maps or phone books here? Phones? I needed a PDA to see if I could still get the Internet and Yahoo Maps on the Other Side. Since I had no help, I had to go on instinct. If I were related to Darren and Warren, and died falling out of a tree house, where would I live? I started strolling down Main Street and concentrated on the sister’s picture in my mind.

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I looked down a short street with a cul-de-sac at the end. The street sloped downward and I saw a woman standing at the edge of the path leading to a one-story home. My feet made the decision, and I was headed for her. The woman looked liked the sister but was fully grown. “My name is Deanna Oscar. I’m looking for Karen Gordon.” “I’m Karen.” She started walking toward the house. I hurried to catch up. “You guys really need cars over here.” “I don’t think you need a vehicle. You only think you’re tired. Your body hasn’t moved in hours.” Clearly she knew I wasn’t a resident. “True. But my brain is pulling a lot of overtime.” I followed her in and saw pictures of the twins on her mantel. “You’re really Karen Gordon?” “Would you rather see me as a child?” She sat down at a cozy kitchen table. I took the chair opposite her. “No. I just didn’t know you had a choice. Gran died in her eighties, that’s how she shows up. Warren and Little Cel died as children. That’s how I see them. This is new.” “Well, Warren never went through reorientation or he’d know he doesn’t have to appear as a child. Little Cel will learn. Most of us appear to living loved ones in a way they can recognize us. I’d hate to be seven for eternity, wouldn’t you?” “I never thought about it. That would suck. I’m sorry to bother you, but I wanted to see if there was any way you could help me.” “The twins.” She took a deep breath. “Yeah. They’re very out of control right now. We need to get Darren back into a mental health facility so he can’t hurt anyone else. Is there anything you can give me? He’s found his next victim but I think Warren is interfering with my getting that information. If you tell me, I can make sure the police are there. Darren is very disturbed, but I think I can help him.” “What about Warren?” she asked. “Him too. I can’t help Darren without Warren. Warren should be here, with you. Darren should at least get to live out whatever sort of life he has left in peace. Don’t you want that?” “There are things stronger than want. On your side death, pain and disease are necessary.” The woman was serene but not in an encouraging way. “Not every death is necessary,” I argued. “I can’t tell you what you want to know. It’s not within my power.” “I don’t understand. Darren killed you, it’s not like I’m asking you to give information about the future of a stranger. I learned that lesson from Gran. You know I can stop this.” I started mock writing this on the table so I remembered it all, hopefully.

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“You could. I know what would happen if you did. The results would be much worse. This has to play out the way it will. I can’t interfere. But I’ll be here for the next girl and Warren, when they come.” “I don’t understand.” I looked her in the eyes but she’d made up her mind. She wouldn’t tell me and she had forever. I didn’t. “Fine, do you know if Little Cel is done with reentry reorientation?” “She is.” “Where is she?” I asked. “She can’t tell you what you want to know either.” “That’s not what I asked. I want to see her. I want to hear that from her.” Stubborn should’ve been my middle name, at least that’s what my mother always said. My patients always talked, but normally I had more time and never resorted to pressure tactics to get there. Karen looked at her living room and Little Cel appeared, still as a child and she had a ghost of the doll with her. “Are you doing better, Little Cel?” I got up from the table and moved to the sofa. She nodded and sat next to me. Finally a positive response from the girl! “I’m sure you know that I’ve been trying to talk to you about Darren. He’s going to do this again, and I need to stop him.” Little Cel looked down at her bare feet. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Why not?” I kept my patience. If Karen had appeared as a child, I probably would’ve been more patient there as well. But apparently all spirits were adult in mind, if not in appearance. Which explained Warren’s adult arguing with childish emotion. He was stuck on a cycle of immature revenge, but had more adult ways to act on it. “You can’t change the plan.” Little Cel fussed over her doll. “Why not?” Karen stood and came closer. “Everyone’s life has a plan. We have no right to change it. You’ll get what you need when you’re supposed to, and not before.” “Why can’t I catch a break?” “Your plan.” Little Cel smiled. “If it’s my plan, why can’t I rewrite it?” I was ready to learn anything Little Cel had to share from reorientation. “You can, partly. Not all of it, though. But the plan is right. When you veer off it, anything can happen. I have to go now. I’ll see you later.” Little Cel vanished and I was left with Karen. “I should’ve stayed in bed.” I pulled myself up off the couch. “If you find you can share anything with me, I’d appreciate it.” “You’re following your plan.” She fluffed the pillows on the couch and wandered back to the kitchen. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

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“Great. Thanks.” I left the house knowing little more than I had when I came in. Darren, Warren and Karen were all on my less-than-favorite people list right now. I headed back to the Main Street, and then made my way to Gran’s house. To come to the Other Side and not visit would be rude. I knocked, but there was no answer. I tried the door and it was open. Even if I just sat for a few moments, I might feel better. I sunk into a big cushy chair and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to miss any of it and mocked writing the plan stuff in case it made sense later. “You’re forcing things,” a male voice interrupted me. I opened my eyes but didn’t have to. Grandpa was in the entryway. “I’m going.” I didn’t want to discuss anything with him. “Your grandmother is on a little trip with friends. She’ll be back soon. I’m not totally useless, you know.” He came a little closer but I stood up. I could feel the tension knotting in my back, and I wasn’t even in my body. It was reliving twenty years of rejection in an instant. I forced myself to get a grip. If he could help, I’d take it. “Why am I involved in this if I can’t stop the next murder?” “Because you can help and you will. You just can’t fix everything.” He took a step closer. I stepped to the side and around to the door. “My plan sucks,” I muttered. “That’s a different topic.” He sat down. “I don’t care. It’s too late. How did you get into Heaven, anyway? You left your wife and treated me like the family freak. Must be pretty easy to make it in here. Hell must be mostly empty.” Telling him what I thought felt good. Gran wasn’t here to try to make me be nicer. I might not have this chance again. “Hell isn’t exactly what you think it is, Deanna. And that’s more than you need to know right now.” “So I can visit but I can’t understand this place? Doesn’t seem fair.” “Life isn’t fair. You know that all too well. I’d say I’m sorry for what I did when I was alive, but you don’t want to hear that now. You want to be mad at me. Punish me.” “I can’t deal with this now. I can’t do anything about these deaths. I can’t figure this place out. I might as well go be a professor. At least there I know what I’m doing, and I won’t be responsible for deaths.” I headed for the door. Enough was enough. I could go against the plan and be less stressed. The safe road was an option. I had a choice. “Deanna, one day you’ll be more comfortable with all of this. You do know what you’re doing. You’re going now because you need to wake up. The second girl was just killed by Darren.” Grandpa stayed in his chair without any further reaction. I closed the door behind me. How could I know what I was doing? I’d been goofing off here when a murder was being committed.

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Now what? The cops wouldn’t call for my help this time. Matt had made it very clear that unless I had more concrete info, they didn’t need me. Not that that would stop me. I mocked a few, last-minute notes to myself and closed my eyes. The power of will amazed me. The decision to wake up was all it took and I caught my breath in bed. The pain of not moving ached in my muscles and the pain of the second girl’s death pounded in my head. Warren’s little blocking tricks were gone. The name and the crime scene were as clear as Little Cel’s now. The twins had waited until I was occupied to strike. Warren might look like a kid, but he was a lot more dangerous than I’d given him credit for. And I’d given him a lot of evil ghostly credits. I forced myself out of bed and into the shower. The police were just getting the call from the parents. According to the clock, it was only four in the morning, and Darren was already long gone. I could take my time getting ready since I didn’t want to beat the cops there. No way I wanted anyone accusing me of tampering with evidence or influencing the family. Once again, we’d be after Darren who was out to bury another little girl and another little doll. Preferably not in another snake-infested mudhole. This time it’d probably be an alligator swamp with my luck. I couldn’t see my future or death so there was no point in worrying about it. Another little girl was dead. Warren and Darren were beating me. I didn’t deal with failure well.

***** I timed my arrival at the crime scene just right. Cops were already inside but they hadn’t drawn a big crowd. I blended in pretty well with my white blouse, black jeans and of course the boots. I really needed to go shopping if I was going to keep this up. I had no gym shoes or casual shoes. All I had were the supportive boots for traveling and dress shoes for interviewing. My brain snapped back to last night. I remembered that teaching sounded like a better conclusion. Logic told me I shouldn’t be too hasty in either direction. This case wasn’t exactly going well, but I couldn’t walk away. Matt wouldn’t be happy to see me, unless I had the killer in the Jeep. He’d get over it. The second crime scene was every bit as disturbing as the first. Even more for me, because I hadn’t seen it in time to prevent it. Now I was determined to get this killer with or without ghostly help.

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I nodded to a uniformed officer I recognized as I stood in the doorway. Matt took one look at me and shook his head. “Who called you?” “No one.” I rolled my eyes and walked in the house. “The victim’s name is Tina Price.” “There is no evidence that this is the same killer. Different MO.” Matt pointed a warning finger at me. “Same guy.” I walked into the Tinkerbell-themed room where it’d happened. Matt followed. “No, there’s just a tiny amount of blood this time.” He pointed to the pillow where Tink’s winking face and wings were now slightly dried blood-red, a very creepy color. “Could be a simple kidnapping.” “It’s not.” “The girl wasn’t home alone. The babysitter put her to bed about nine and never heard a thing.” “The babysitter was a teenager.” Darren and Warren weren’t into those sorts of details. “Of course.” “She had music going on her Ipod, of course she didn’t hear anything. She’s why the killer didn’t stay and do what he did last time. He broke the girl’s neck in her sleep and took her away. No fuss, no noise, and just enough blood to let you know something happened.” “Which means she might still be alive. We’ve got teams out looking. Maybe she got away.” “She isn’t alive. You’ll find more blood in the shed.” Darren’s actions were replaying in my head like a movie in slow motion. A horror movie. “And the body?” Matt asked. “You know how he likes to drive around and find the right spot to bury them. He won’t go to the same place this time. He knows we found the first girl.” “I can’t tell the family this,” he whispered. “Ask them if she had a doll like the first girl’s.” I knew it wouldn’t make sense to him but that was the key piece of evidence they’d need to link it all. “A doll? You think the guy has a thing for dolls?” Matt looked at me like I’d lost it. “You found a doll buried with the first girl, didn’t you?” I pointed out. “So, the girl had the doll in her arms when he took her off in too much of a hurry to care.” “Please, he practically drained her of blood in her bed. He could’ve left the doll, it’s not like she could’ve put up a fight. Besides, if you find a doll is missing here, then you’ve got a connection, don’t you?” “That might prove it’s the same guy.”

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“Better to focus on one guy out there than split time and resources trying find a phantom second. One killer on the loose is enough.” I glanced around the room at the girl’s toys. There were lots of dolls of all kinds. “Do you have a picture of the doll from Little Cel?” “Back at the station.” “Bring it and ask them about it. Can’t hurt to see if their daughter had a similar doll.” “It wasn’t a Barbie. What are the odds they’d have the same doll?” Matt wasn’t convinced. “Not the exact same doll but the same style. Hair, eyes, dress are different colors but the shape and design is the same. It’s really weird.” “You said it, I didn’t. I’ll bring it back in the morning. I don’t want to influence them. Today we need them to inventory and see what was taken.” “Just the doll.” I didn’t need an inventory. The family would still have to go through it and some poor babysitter would be questioned as well. They were no use to me. There was no reason for me to bother them. They didn’t do it, they knew nothing and I wanted to put effort toward something that might help. If I could find it. “He’s still driving a white pickup?” Matt asked. “Yes. You haven’t caught him yet, he doesn’t even know you’re looking for him or that type of car so why would he switch?” “Any criminal with a brain would change cars. Let me know if he does.” “He’s not that smart. He’s crazy. I think he wants to be stopped.” “Then his methods don’t make sense. We got no prints from the last house, no hair or blood or skin of anyone unusual in the house. We got nothing. He even takes the body.” Matt wasn’t buying the wanted-to-get-caught theory. But to me that was all that made sense. “I think he might have a fixation.” “He’s not a pedophile. We checked the first body. No indication of anything like that.” “I told you that much the first night.” I rolled my eyes at him. Matt was willing to listen but he didn’t completely believe me yet. “So what’s he fixated on?” Matt huffed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Not yet anyway. We need to find him. He’s really nuts.” Telling Matt that Darren was obsessed with his dead sister’s dolls would not win me any points. “Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Oscar, PhD?” he mocked. “Certifiably.” I smiled back. “You want me to find him, not cure him.” Darren wasn’t playing with a full deck. Not that I would use that term in front of a patient, but shrinks were people too. Nuts was nuts.

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The guy’s mind was a pinball machine with nothing but confusing flashes thanks to Warren’s influence. When I could make any sense of things, they were seemingly pointless images like the road, the bayou and the truck. Nothing I could use to further things yet. “Give me a little time. I’m not sure you can use what I have.” I wanted to be sure this was the right direction. “Is he done?” Matt asked. “Nope,” I sighed. “But I’m getting closer.” “Closer to what?” “Figuring out his mind. Everyone’s mind is like a maze, your own thought process and priorities. No two people process information the same way.” “I don’t care if he’s wired for HBO. Just find him.” “For what you want, I need to get more comfortable in his head to make sense of it. Like you said, he’s crazy. That makes it tricky.” Trickier even more because Warren liked to interfere and mess up everything. He was the one I had to get a hold of, but how? “I’m going to have to rerun your credentials. Are you sure you’re a PhD? Sounds weird to me.” Matt didn’t mean it but I didn’t care if he did. “Go ahead. This has nothing to do with psychology right now. You have no hard evidence to draw a conclusion on a suspect, except for my stuff. The psychic stuff.” “I got a profiler from the local FBI office to work up our guy.” Matt patted his breast pocket under the official jacket. “Sure, white, male eighteen to twenty-five, lives alone and has depressive or loner tendencies. Drives an older truck or sports car. Single or divorced. Am I close?” I grinned. “Yeah.” He frowned. “He called you?” “No,” I scoffed. “You read my mind?” “Please, that’s cheating. And boring.” “So?” He crossed his arms. Men really didn’t like it when you showed them up. “You got a FBI-trained profiler to do a standard profile. Generic, yes, but probably at least fifty percent accurate because it’s so vague. I had to write some myself for some criminal psyche classes.” “You’re not saying it’s wrong?” “No. He probably also said the suspect has a troubled childhood or family problems with possible abuse or neglect. That’s all completely true but you won’t get detail or a name from that stuff. You’ll have better luck with my info.” “Like what?”

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“The truck. I told you the make, approximate age and the paint color. They couldn’t. I can tell you this man has never in his life lived alone, though he may want to. He’s under twenty-one years old and he doesn’t trust anyone alive.” “You’re still sure. White?” He adjusted his large belt as though taking the weight he’d been throwing around back for a second. “The truck or the guy?” Two could play semantic games. “The guy.” He threw up his hands. “He’s white, pale white for living in the South. Had two siblings, both dead in childhood. Parents have moved away. Darren Gordon has nothing to lose. We have to get him.” I walked toward the door of the room. There was nothing more to look at now. “Don’t throw a name around, okay?” Matt came closer and glanced around the room. “You’re got nothing to link this guy to the crimes yet. Seriously, do you think we’ll manage to catch him before he kills again?” I had a feeling but reminded myself that no one was one hundred percent. The ghosts weren’t helping and Warren was sneaky. “Probably.” I sounded confident but noncommittal. It was the best I could do for now. “You get anything more, you let me know.” He wagged a finger at me. “You too but I’ll know anyway. Call me when you find out about the doll. I might have something you can use by then.” I smiled and left.

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Chapter Twelve I went home and crashed. I slept for hours to recover from last night’s travels and woke to the endless ringing of the phone. My ears weren’t grateful, but I knew I wanted to take the call. “Damn it,” Matt grouched in my ear. “Doll?” I asked. “Doll,” he confirmed. “Who made these?” “You’ve got one in evidence, see for yourself. They were handmade by the suspect’s mother for his little sister.” “Anything new?” he asked. “No, he’s just driving. Didn’t bury her yet.” “Freak.” “Or he’s waiting for things to calm down and see where we looked already.” “What for?” “Do you look over the same place twice?” I knew where Darren wanted to bury her but he hadn’t done it just yet. “Not normally.” “I never said he was stupid. You search one area, clear out and a few hours later he can be there. Nice and safe. I think he’s playing a real cat-and-mouse game.” “I thought he wanted to be caught.” “He does, but not all the time. There’s another influence that makes him watch his step. It’s complicated. Darren is very conflicted.” Matt would believe me about Warren, sure. I’d be the one in a padded cell and straightjacket. “Are you making this shit up?” Matt growled at me. “What’s he got, two personalities?” “I wish it were that simple, but that’s a good way to think about him for now. I could write a paper on this guy. He wants to stop but then he can’t. He feels relief when he kills, but then remorse enough to bury the body.” “You got something concrete?” “I’ll meet you at the station in an hour.” I put the phone back and pulled the file out of the drawer. The file was illegal, but the newspaper articles from the library weren’t as far as I knew. One article was on Warren’s accidental death. The police didn’t need to know

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that the other one on Karen’s death was from his medical file. That stuff was all public information. I hopped out of bed and quickly ran a brush through my hair. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the pen and pad of paper from the night before had slipped under the bed. I’d never even checked to see how nice my scribbles looked this time. I recapped the pen and put it back on the nightstand and then grabbed the paper, expecting scribbles. I was wrong. This time it’d worked! The words were slanted oddly, not my usual writing at all, but it was legible and there. Finally, I’d gotten something right! I put the pad in the drawer for safekeeping and shoved on my boots. I grabbed the two articles and put them in a blank envelope. As I picked up my keys, Gran appeared at the edge of the bed. “Sorry I missed you,” she said. “That’s okay. I’m a little busy right now. Can we talk later?” “I want to explain some things. I didn’t want you to learn about the plan and things from others. You were busy enough with this.” I sighed and closed my eyes. “It’s not your fault. I got pushy with Karen and Little Cel. I know you have your rules, but I have to try whatever I can. I’m here, on this side with no real plan. All I can do is try.” “I know. But you’re not alone.” “I couldn’t stop this second murder but maybe now I have enough real evidence to get a warrant on Darren. Maybe I can stop the third girl from dying.” “I need to tell you something, De.” She stared at me as though she understood my struggle. No encouragement or confirmation. “I have to go. I’ll see you later. We can talk then, okay?” Gran already told me she couldn’t help so I had to do what I thought was best. I left the room and went straight outside to the Jeep. Pausing for a moment, I had the feeling something wasn’t quite right. I felt bad about rushing out on Gran. That had to be it. But she had all the time in the world and the next girl didn’t. I’d apologize later. I flew to the police station without directions. I parked the Jeep and headed inside the station. Matt saw me and waved me in. At his desk, I saw Little Cel’s doll caked in mud and secured in an evidence bag. A severe chill went through me. “Creepy, aren’t they?” “They’re proof enough we’ve got a serial killer on the loose. But it doesn’t prove Darren did any of it. St. Luke’s reported no violent incidents while he was there. You’ve got nothing.” He gave me a smug palms-up. “I know Darren wasn’t violent in the institution but there’s more to it. I looked up Darren and there is a connection to the dolls. Too bad I don’t have a computer to Google him. You might try that.”

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“What can you get from Google? A story on his case at most. His medical file is not admissible. No judge, not even my little brother who’s got a thing for stubborn women, would give us a warrant for him based on that.” Matt held up his hands in absolute rejection of the idea. “I admire your ethics. If we did use his file, any decent lawyer could get him off on bad procedures, I’m sure. I don’t want that to happen. But newspapers are okay, right?” I sat down uninvited. “Like stories?” he asked. “And pictures.” “Sure, if you can make a clear link.” I produced the two articles, Warren’s first and then Karen’s. The dolls were in the final piece of Karen’s article. The loving treasures of a girl whose life was cut tragically short by mental illness in the family. The last line was a bit melodramatic for a news story, but I’d take it. The girl died, the dolls were hers, and Darren did it. “Well?” I asked when he was done reading. “Hmm.” He looked at the faded copy of the picture again. “Kind of fuzzy.” “I think the dolls are unique enough to be recognizable. And the article says they were handmade by the mother. I’m sure you could track her down and get her to identify them.” “Possibly. But I still have to get this by the judge.” Matt shook his head. “No, you’ll have to do it.” “Me? That’s crazy.” “Relax. The warrant will be for the police to catch him not some psychic. But if you want to work with the police and be taken seriously, you’ll need to make nice with the judges.” Matt patted the air like I was hysterical. “I am nice. But I haven’t applied for a job that I know of. I just want to help, if I can.” I wasn’t interested in political pleasantries or red tape. “You’re involved now, and we don’t just let anyone off the streets wander onto crime scenes and talk to victims’ families.” “You’d have nothing if it weren’t for me,” I reminded him. “I know but the judges are still the final word. Most of them are okay but some are a bit squirrelly about having psychics working on cases. We’ll start with my brother. You already met him and the other judges respect him. Good start. First, I’ll need these.” Matt put the articles in the case file. “No, those are mine from Gran’s library. You can have copies. Or you could get them on the computer, probably better picture quality too.” I folded my arms and waited until Matt went over and copied the articles. He gave me the originals back. “Happy?” he asked.

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I nodded. “I’ve got a big library to keep there. All I need are the ghosts staging a revolt because something went missing.” “That place gives me the creeps. Everyone knows it’s haunted. There have been all kinds of reports of windows opening and closing on their own. A woman walking the grounds in a maid’s uniform. Elinor talking to people who aren’t there.” “They’re there, you just can’t see them. And the ghost in the maid’s uniform would be the maid, Missy.” “You hired a maid?” “No, she’s a ghost. Very cheap labor, and I’m guessing nearly impossible to fire. Gran comes around too.” I leaned back in the stiff plastic chair. “You two psychics sit around and drink tea?” he scoffed. “No, ghosts don’t need to drink. She comes by to talk, check up on me. That’s all.” “I’d have a heart attack.” “I’ll feel a lot better once we get our hands on all four dolls and two more live girls. Darren isn’t going to stop.” I didn’t mention that Warren made matters worse. Matt wouldn’t care about a ghost. He couldn’t put it behind bars. “We’ll get him. I’ll set up a time to talk to the judge. I can get the warrant now. But you said Darren keeps moving. It might not be enough.” “True. He’s still driving. He’s not even staying at a motel or with friends. There’s no logic or consistency to his patterns.” “He is crazy. Our best shot is to try to find out who else got the dolls. I’ll get in touch with the parents. Probably better you stay out of that.” Matt gave me a stern look. “Fine.” I didn’t really want to meet the twins’ parents anyway. Maybe if Darren had gotten better help with his grief earlier, he’d have handled it better. “I’ll let you know if I get anything on the next victim. He’ll be stalking the next girl as soon as he buries this one.” “How is he finding out who got the dolls?” Matt wondered out loud. “No idea.” I put the articles back in my purse. The phone rang on Matt’s desk and I knew it wasn’t for him. “Detective Weathers,” he answered. The voice on the other end was frantic and loud. I could hear it was Ivy. “Calm down, she’s right here.” Matt handed me the phone. “Ivy, what’s wrong?” I could feel the chaos instantly. It could be a fire or something worse. Damn Warren, he was playing tricks again. I pushed harder, forcing myself to see what was going on in my house. “They’re all loose. Get here now,” Ivy shouted. I concentrated on the house and knew immediately what was loose. Someone let the haunted objects out of the storeroom. One guess who. I’d get Warren if it killed me. 85

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“Call Greg and see if he can help. I’ll be right there.” I slammed the phone down. “Need any help?” Matt offered. “Thanks, but the police will only get in the way with this problem. I think this is more of a job for the psychics and believers.” I left the station driving faster than when I came. Had Gran been trying to warn me Warren was up to something before I left? Did Warren think this would scare me off? All I knew was that this meant something. It wasn’t just a loose lock or a haunted and determined teapot. I needed to get control of my house. I really needed to get control of Warren before he decided who he wanted Darren to kill next. Four dolls, four girls but that wouldn’t be enough, if he succeeded. Warren wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted, or we got Darren back in a secure place. For now, it was one crisis at a time. My house was apparently filled with evil objects on parade. I pushed the gas pedal to the floor and kept one eye out for Warren. If he killed me, he’d probably end up getting everything he wanted and more. Was Warren unable to kill his sister for revenge, or did he have Darren do it to be closer to his twin? And then a very important question popped in my head as I raced home. Could a ghost kill me?

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Chapter Thirteen Flying up the steps of the house, I pushed open the door and a chaotic vibe of evil and stress hit me. Noises came erratically from the area of the kitchen, but no human screams. At least not so far. I closed the door behind me and carefully walked toward the kitchen. I didn’t need to make it that far. The door to the storeroom under the stairs was wide open and the top hinge was broken. I flipped the light on inside. It was mostly empty. If I hadn’t known what was housed in there, I’d have thought nothing odd about the dank storeroom filled with cobwebs and a few boxes. This room, however, was supposed to be sealed with haunted objects behind the heavy door. Something caught my eye in the corner near the door of the storeroom. A box of white candles, a large container of holy water and a sack of salt sat untouched by the objects. Must be reserves. I pulled the supplies out of the room, just in case I needed them. Behind the holy water was a small bucket and sprinkler wand just like the priests used. I got the impression all of this stuff should be behind a case marked “in case of escape, break glass” because I’d need it. Filling the bucket, I headed for the living room first. I wanted to make sure Gran’s ashes were undisturbed. Everything looked quiet and calm but I flung droplets of holy water from the wand over everything just in case. Nothing said the objects couldn’t play dead. An etched hand mirror I’d never noticed before sizzled on an end table but only quivered slightly. I grabbed the mirror and felt it resist me. Finally, I forced it in the holy water until it stopped struggling. I took it to the storeroom and threw it in. There was no crash or even a thud. Whatever spirit had that mirror was strong. Next, I went to the kitchen where the noises were becoming more constant. I walked in to find complete insanity. Two daggers were dueling with a real suit of armor in one corner. At the opposite end of the room, jewelry and hats were doing an odd dance along the counter. The inmates had control of the asylum and they weren’t getting along. I hoped that meant I had a chance of them not ganging up on me. “Get back in the storeroom.” I started with the holy water and activity slowed as the air sizzled. A few smaller objects went quietly. A small pillbox hat broke loose from the group and hit a lever on the coffee machine before I got it with more water. Coffee

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spilled everywhere but I stuck with the objects until the small group herded into the storeroom. Returning to the kitchen, I heard the sound of praying in Spanish coming from the pantry. The daggers and the suit of armor were now after the pantry. Ivy had to be in there. “Get in the storeroom.” I threw holy water on them and the daggers began to relent. The suit of armor was more stubborn and stronger. Just then a long ruby-encrusted hatpin whizzed by my head like a wasp. It was darting around, which only made it harder to spray holy water on it. The pin was sharp, long, and very dangerous-looking. “What the hell?” Greg was in the doorway of the kitchen, looking stunned. “Apparently they got loose. Help me.” I swatted at the hatpin but only after dipping my hand in holy water. I didn’t want to go to the hospital and try to explain how I got impaled by a hatpin. Greg left and returned with a spray bottle of holy water. We double-teamed the suit of armor and the hatpin into submission. Though the hatpin still tried to drill a hole in the bottom of the bucket. “I’ll put these in the storeroom. Talk Ivy out of there. Then we have to go room by room. I think we’ve got the worst of them, though.” Greg took the bucket and nudged the suit of armor with the wand. I kept the spray bottle and opened the pantry door to reveal a now shrieking Ivy. “It’s okay. We got the ones in here.” She gasped for breath, clutching her purse to her chest. “They were everywhere. Just came flying out.” “It’s okay.” Once she was out, I sprayed the pantry and every surface in the kitchen. “Missy,” I called. The maid appeared and looked distraught. “Put them back,” she pleaded. “I will. Can you look upstairs and keep an eye on any? It’ll help if we can identify them without drowning everything in the house.” Missy nodded but looked reluctant as she disappeared. “Come on, Ivy, I need you to guard the storeroom.” I tugged her arm. “Why me?” she asked. “Greg and I are going to get them but we need to make sure they don’t re-escape until we can reseal the door. All you have to do is throw holy water at whatever comes out.” I led the way to the storeroom. Ivy put her purse down and took the bucket from Greg. “I got the second squirt bottle.” He handed her the wand. “Kitchen clear?” “Appears to be. Ivy can stand watch while we go. I have Missy checking upstairs.” “Okay, you take the upstairs and I’ll finish up down here. Then we’ll lock them back up. I wish I knew how they got loose.” He headed for the second parlor.

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I had a pretty good idea who’d cause trouble in the house. I still wasn’t sure why Warren would let the haunted objects loose. Unless he was just being rotten to make my life hell. I wouldn’t put it past the kid. I headed up the stairs, with a light mist of holy water going over everything. Missy met me at the top of the stairs. “Your room is safe. All the rooms here are fine, except…” “Except?” I pressed. “It’s not an object, but something is terribly wrong in the library.” She pointed to the end of the hall. I heard faint laughter and rattling. “Okay. Double-check all the rooms. Be sure. I’ll handle that.” That little brat! I ran down the hall and opened the door to the library to find a librarian’s worst nightmare. Papers, books and even maps strewn everywhere. “Noah? Are you okay?” Not sure what a ghost could do to another ghost. Two snaps came back to me. “Are you alone?” I knew the answer but wanted to make sure. I didn’t see Warren, yet. Silence was the answer this time. “Warren, I know you’re in here. Show yourself now.” I didn’t want to ruin the papers by spraying them, so I walked around until I spotted him. He was tossing papers out of the flat drawers of the newspaper chest. “Stop that!” “Where are they? What did you do with them?” he demanded. “My house, my stuff. Now put all of this back and clean up my house.” “Ha ha. Your objects got loose.” He hopped on top of the chest and did another funny dance. “I got what I wanted anyway. The articles are stupid. The new ones will be better. Four murders. Two down and two to go!” “What you wanted? What were you after?” He had nothing in his hands. I looked around and spotted a doll. Another doll, it was one of the four. I froze for a second, not believing my eyes. “Was that in my storeroom?” “Duh. You’re so smart, but you didn’t know you had doll number four. That means Darren will come for you last. Maybe my twin and I will let you bleed to death. Breaking your neck would be too kind and quick.” He kept dancing and smiling. I took a minute to process the info. Gran must have taken the doll off someone it was tormenting. Clearly Warren had been a busy little boy. “Why break the doll out of the storeroom? Why not just leave it so it’s a surprise when you try to kill me?” “This is more fun.” He kept dancing like a crazy leprechaun. “Besides, we have to bury the doll with you. Darren couldn’t handle those objects. You did the hard part for us.”

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I sprayed the doll and grabbed for it. Warren’s little face scrunched into a snarl and he lunged for the doll. “Mine!” “No, mine.” I sprayed him too but it didn’t have much impact. His hands went through mine but he had a grip on the doll. A strong grip. I held my own but my strength wasn’t supernatural. I sprayed him again and again but it only made him angrier. The doll wasn’t fighting me. It was strictly Warren. “Noah, a little help please?” I felt him approach and smelled rosewater again. It was stronger than it’d ever been. A force threw Warren back against the wall and held him there. His little legs kicked but he couldn’t move. The library filled with the scent of rosewater until I thought I couldn’t breathe and Warren was gone in a blink. As quickly as it happened, it was over. The doll was on the floor in front of me. “You okay, Noah?” Two snaps. “Thanks for the help.” I picked up the doll and sank into the nearest chair. The vacant black yarn eyes of the doll stared at me as I adjusted her pink and white dress over her cloth body. Karen had loved these dolls and now they were a link to pain and death. The random factor that had led to Little Cel’s and Tina’s deaths. “Noah doesn’t help everyone like that.” Gran appeared in the mess. “I’m real lucky. What the hell happened?” “Warren.” “No kidding. I meant what’s with the rosewater? Is that you?” “No, that’s Noah. When he’s protecting you. It’s a long story.” “Protect me? Then why won’t he talk? Or show himself? That’s disconcerting.” “That’s for him to tell you. When he’s ready. I’d say you have a good protector here.” She smiled so hard it almost looked like she was beaming. “Well, I’m sorry I ever commented on your supply of holy water. I might need more.” I exhaled slowly. “First seal the storeroom. As long as Warren doesn’t decide to break anything else out of the storeroom, it should be fine.” “Good to know I wasn’t weakening things around here.” I pulled myself out of the chair, cradling the doll so it didn’t get lost in the tossed library. I did my best to find a path where I wasn’t stepping on paper or books. “What a mess.” “I’m sure Noah can put it all back.” Gran looked up, as though she knew exactly where he was. Two snaps answered her. “Thanks, Noah. That’d be great. Missy’ll be busy with the kitchen. Damn hat turned on the tea.” I rested my hand on the doorknob. “Hopefully Greg’s had a bit better time downstairs.”

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“Good luck.” Gran vanished. I escaped the library and found Missy on the other side of the door. “Nothing up here,” she said. “Good. The kitchen is a wreck, when you can get to it. I have to go help Greg make sure they don’t get out again.” I took the stairs two at a time down with the doll tucked under my arm. No sounds of panic came. I found Greg and Ivy at the storeroom door. They were replacing the hinge. Men were a good thing to have around for minor household repairs. I had two little brothers but they were back in Chicago. Greg had his uses. “Everything okay?” “It quieted down once you got upstairs. Found a few escapees looking for their freedom from the house, but all are back in and it’s quiet.” Greg slipped in the pin through the new hinge and the door stood straight again. “Does that doll need to go in too?” I shook my head. “No, it stays with me.” I tightened my grip. Warren was unpredictable. Greg closed the door and locked it with a key. Then he put holy water along the doorframe and did the same with the salt while muttering prayers. He handed me the bag of salt. “Pour some along the floor at the door.” “What do I say?” “Nothing. Just concentrate on containing them.” He stepped back. I slowly poured the salt and focused. If only I could get Warren in there. He really belonged in the attic, but wrangling evil ghosts wasn’t a lesson I was up to just yet. Handing the salt bag back to Greg, I clutched the doll and rested my chin on its head. “That looks like the other doll.” Greg leaned in for a better look. “It’s the fourth one. It was in the storeroom. That’s what caused all of this.” I gestured to the house. “At least it wasn’t me.” Ivy collected her purse and ran a hand over her hair. “I’m going to go, if you don’t mind. I need a sedative and a big drink.” “Bye, Ivy, thanks for helping and for being here.” I walked her to the door and made sure she got safely into her car. Once she was gone, I leaned against the front door and closed my eyes. “That was so fucking weird.” “That’s putting it nicely.” Greg came closer. “What happened up there?” “Long story.” I waved it off. “Thanks for helping. I’m sure you have to get back to class. I should go help Missy clean up.” “No, I think you should go lie down. You look like all of the energy was sucked out of you.”

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“Probably was. Okay, as long as you’re here to make sure nothing escapes just yet. Give me half an hour to rest and I’ll be fine.” I trudged up the stairs with the doll. Until I had Darren in a mental hospital and Warren firmly on the Other Side, the doll was staying with me. In the wrong hands it could be even more dangerous. I sank onto my bed and put the doll in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. My eyelids felt heavy as my head hit the pillow. Warren was a lot of trouble for such a little brat. But he hadn’t won yet.

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Chapter Fourteen I startled awake when I felt movement in the room. Instantly I was on guard for Warren but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t even Missy. Greg had set a glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed. “What are you still doing here?” I half sat up and looked around for Warren. “It’s only been ten minutes. Missy has most of the mess cleaned up down there and I didn’t want to get in the way. You okay?” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I wish it was all a dream and over.” I didn’t want to deal with Warren, or Darren, or victims, or ghosts. I wanted it all to go away. “The stuff is all back in the storeroom. That’s done. They shouldn’t get out again.” He brushed a strand of hair out of my face. I hadn’t seen much of Greg since the night at the drag club. I’d convinced myself he’d just been proving he was straight. I sat up and folded my legs under me. Burying my face in my hands, I tried rubbing away the numbness I was feeling. “I suck.” “No, you don’t,” Greg whispered. “Yes, I do.” I let my hands fall into my lap. “You don’t know how messed up I am. I can’t sleep without ending up on the Other Side, I can’t catch the killer, I can’t keep this house together, and I can’t handle that I can’t do any of that. This was a mistake. I’m not fit to take over for Gran.” He stared me back right in the eyes, absorbing everything I was saying. “There are no mistakes. There is always a plan. Would you be happier in Chicago? Taking a job you can tolerate but having to ignore this side of you—not talk about ghosts or haunted things?” Greg took my hand and the sensation sizzled on my skin. “I don’t know. It was easier.” In some ways it was. When I was teaching, no one was trying to turn my house upside down or kill me. Warren had threatened my life. Not that I could report it to the police or anything. There was nothing they could do about it. “It’s easier living a lie? Ask Ivy how hard it was on her to deny reality. Our senior year of high school was hard but she was so much happier out. The family took awhile but I don’t think she’d go back for anything.” “Are you comparing being psychic to being gay?” I forced myself not to laugh. “Anyone can have a closet. And everyone has to decide for themselves if they want to keep hiding or deal with the reaction of others.” He squeezed my hand and I felt warmth all through me. “And their own.”

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“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you? I just can’t help but think Ivy knew she’d be a great drag queen. But I’m not so sure I’m going to pull this off.” I rested my head on his shoulder. He smelled so good. I knew I was in danger of a lot more than a kiss this time. And I needed it. I wanted it. “You will.” He sounded confident. I looked up at him skeptically. Why was he so familiar? “You don’t have a choice.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, softly at first. I deepened the kiss and laced my fingers around his forearms. Greg shifted closer. I let my hands move to his chest. He was so solid, just what I needed. Human contact and warmth, not ghosts and visions. Something real that made me remember I was still alive—for now. “And I thought you were a good little Catholic girl,” he teased. “I’m good.” I pushed him back until I was straddling his waist. A sexy man flat on his back, this was as normal as I’d felt in a long time. I pushed his black polo shirt up and off him, with his cooperation. His body was gorgeous. Muscled and still lean enough not to look overdone. “Big Bud was right. Yankee girls are bossy.” Greg didn’t seem to mind. I smacked his shoulder. “If that’s where you get advice about women, it’s no wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.” He pulled me down into a deeper kiss. His hands slid under my t-shirt. Slowly, he lifted it off me and I didn’t care about my less than seductive blue cotton bra. Greg’s hands were all over my torso and the little cloth I had left. He half sat up and his mouth was on my shoulders. I closed my eyes as he pulled one bra strap to the side and his tongue teased the exposed area. Closing my eyes was my first mistake. A flash came to me. Not a sexy flash but the dead body of Tina Price. Victim number two. I opened my eyes, trying to enjoy the moment. I needed this. Stopping wouldn’t catch the killer or change anything. I just had to keep my eyes open. Greg pulled my mouth down to his and I found kissing with my eyes open creepier than the body. I closed my eyes. This time I saw the doll next to the girl’s body. I tried opening my eyes again but I could still see the image. Talk about bad timing! I pulled back and broke the kiss. “Gross. Sorry.” I rubbed my eyes. “Damn it.” “What’s wrong?” Greg looked at me with concern. “Nothing’s wrong. I just can’t. Shit! Now the body’s location decides to come clear. I’m a cosmic joke. What’s going to happen? Every time I want to have sex, I’m going to get some weird psychic flash to interrupt me? I can’t live like that.”

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“It’s okay.” Greg sat back. “You’re preoccupied with this case. It won’t always be like this.” “You don’t know that.” I moved off him and grabbed the phone. “Maybe that’s exactly what it’ll be like for the rest of my life.” I dialed Matt’s cell and waited. He was looking at the caller ID and debating whether or not to take my crazy call. I just knew it. Finally he picked up. “Yeah?” “I know where the body is.” I didn’t even bother to identify myself. “Where?” he replied. “The creek behind the Price’s home.” “We looked there. Twice. It’s not there.” Matt sounded annoyed. “It’s there. He just buried it.” This interrupted my would-be sex life. It had to be right or I’d be really pissed off. “In broad daylight? Behind the girl’s house? You’re crazy.” “Probably but he did it. Tina Price is there. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.” Tired of arguing I hung up, knowing he’d show. Matt had no other leads. I was it and I wasn’t backing off my vision. I looked around and realized I’d left my purse and shoes downstairs by the door. “I have to go meet Matt. I’ll talk to you later.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Um, Deanna?” He stopped me as I opened the door. “What?” I expected some weird or awkward moment out of a movie. Maybe a suggestion for a date in order to pick up where we’d left off. Or the standard this was a mistake letdown. “Shirt?” He pointed at my chest. I looked down and cursed under my breath. Of course, that would be perfect. Topless psychic finds missing body. “Thanks.” Locating my shirt, I pulled it over my head and adjusted my bra straps so everything was in the right place. If it were Mardi Gras, I’d have blended in just fine, but I didn’t need to give the cops a show. Finally, I was out the door to another body excavation. This was becoming too much of a routine, but would it ever feel normal?

***** Arriving back at the victim’s home, I found the situation very different from before. The Price family had gotten media attention and a few reporters and photographers were standing watch outside the house. I could try to cut through another yard but they’d see me in the back and I’d be trapped on my way out. There was no back way into the creek area and they had

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cameras with large lenses. I probably couldn’t avoid being spotted no matter how hard I tried. Taking a deep breath, I got out of the Jeep and headed down the sidewalk to the driveway. Reporters wasted no time in throwing questions at me, crowding me as though it would intimidate me into answering. A good psychological tactic, but I was on to them there. “Are you a friend of the family?” I pretended not to hear a thing. “Excuse me” was all I said. “Are you with the police?” Another reporter pushed a tape recorder in my face. I made it to the backyard where two uniformed officers let me pass, but stopped the reporters and sent them back to the street. I’d never been so happy to see Matt. “What the hell is all that about?” “The family is looking for publicity. Any help they can get. They want this killer in the chair. America’s Most Wanted will be here tonight. We’re officially calling this guy a serial killer now.” Matt looked stressed. “Did you tell the Price family about me?” “No, if they ask, you’re a consultant. To save time maybe you should point out where she is.” He led me to the bank of the creek. “Nothing looks disturbed.” I’d made progress with Matt and the police. Last time I wasn’t allowed on site. They were starting to trust me at least. I walked over the bank and the spot reverberated through my body the second I touched it. “Here, about three feet down. He used the neighbors’ hose to wet the dirt so it wasn’t obvious.” I stepped away and the police cordoned off the area and brought in the crime scene team to dig. Matt led me to the side, behind the house so the reporters couldn’t see. “We need to find this guy.” “You’re good at saying that. You’ve got the name.” “We’ve been looking for him. Stopped a ton of white trucks and found nothing. You need to talk to the judge. Tomorrow, ten a.m. I’ll set it up. His schedule is packed, but we’ve got to do something.” “I don’t see how my talking to the judge will help. You’re looking for Darren. There should only be one more little girl at risk. I’m not sure what he’ll do then.” Not that that was much comfort to the third girl’s family, whomever they were, but it was all I had. “What do you mean? The picture has four dolls. I talked to the mother. The family gave all four dolls away at a garage sale after Darren was locked up. I emailed her a picture and she confirmed it. Those are the dolls she made. There has to be another.” Matt was at least convinced about the dolls. “There is a fourth and I have it. One of them was in my storeroom. Someone must’ve handed it over to Gran. Warren’s been haunting them.”

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“Who?” Matt asked. “Darren’s twin brother. He died accidentally. His sister pushed him out of the tree house. It was all in the second article I gave you. Didn’t you read it?” “Right, the brother. His ghost? That’s what you’re running your mouth about?” Matt grew frustrated. “We’ve got a real killer on the loose!” “Look, Warren is the one manipulating Darren. That’s why we can’t get a handle on him. They’ll go after one more little girl and then me.” Damn. I hadn’t meant to say that. Matt didn’t look convinced. “Why you?” “Because I know. Believe me I know this is crazy, but Darren isn’t smart enough to be this good on his own. The brother is helping him. America’s Most Wanted won’t help you. Darren and Warren will work around whatever info you get.” “Any better ideas?” Matt challenged. “We need the doll. Can we get the dolls on TV? ‘If you have this doll, please contact police?’” I suggested. “If we do that, half the parish will bring in their kids’ dolls asking if it’s the one. There would be widespread panic if any doll even slightly resembled these. We can’t cause that. That’s endangering the public.” “Isn’t that better than just telling them there’s a serial killer of little girls on the loose?” I returned. “It’ll only make things harder to have the system clogged up with fake dolls. Cops will be obligated to investigate every report. You have to find the next girl before the killer does.” He tapped his temple. “Use it or we’ll all be on the evening news with another murder.” “Got it!” yelled a cop from the creek bed. Matt and I walked over. There was Tina with her doll in another sleeping bag. Just like my vision. I closed my eyes and wanted to see the next girl before it happened again. The address of her house. When it would happen. Anything. I got nothing. “Well, that’s two for two bodies. How about now you find us a live little girl we can protect?” Matt punched me softly in the shoulder and walked away. I sighed and headed for my car. Matt had to go talk to the family, let them see their daughter buried so close to them and gone forever. My being there would only make matters worse. The reporters were still there but it was easier to tune them out this time. I registered their questions but gave no reaction.

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“How did you find the body?” “In what capacity are you helping the police?” “What’s your name?” “Do you know who the killer is?” All information I wasn’t about to share. “Deanna Oscar,” a voice boomed from past the pack of reporters. I looked up. I shouldn’t have, but I did. It was Big Bud smiling and waving from the next-door lawn. He was in a black tank top that hardly covered his stomach and insanely bright yellow Bermuda shorts, topped off with black socks and sandals. I didn’t know what to say as he cut through the reporters and wrapped a beefy arm around my shoulders. This wouldn’t be good. “I knew you’d be here helping that poor little thing next door, Deanna. She was a sweet girl and they’re a good family. Greg said you were working on this case. At least you found the body.” He looked back into the yard. “Do you know this woman? Who is she?” A reporter jumped at Big Bud. “Sure, friend of the family. I live next door and my family owns The Buddy on the Bayou restaurant in the French Quarter. Deanna Oscar comes from a long line of people with the sight. She found the body straight away. Helping them find the killer too, no doubt.” At that moment I wanted the earth to open and swallow me up. Anything I said now would only make things worse. Goodbye teaching at Tulane or Columbia. Cameras flashed, tape recorders and microphones moved in. The glare of a light on a video camera momentarily blinded me. Questions flew from all sides. “Now that’s enough.” He pushed through the crowd that was still asking what kind of a doctor I was and what the killer’s name was. “Dr. Oscar has done her job here. Done enough for now. Can’t exhaust the woman flat out.” Did I use tarot cards? Did I practice voodoo? Was I a follower of Wicca? I refused to react. Big Bud got me to my Jeep as the police showed up and herded the reporters back to their area. I took a deep breath and let Big Bud have it once the cameras weren’t pointed at us anymore. I whacked Big Bud’s arm hard with my purse. “What the hell did you do that for?” “What? You looked like you needed a friendly face.” He looked hurt.

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“Friendly? Friendly isn’t throwing me to those wolves. You gave them my name and why I’m here. I don’t need or want publicity.” I took a few deep breaths and got into the Jeep. They had way too much information now. I rested my forehead against the steering wheel. “I’m going to be on the news.” “You deserve it, Miss Deanna. You found that body and you’ll find the killer. It’s my neighborhood, and I want it to be safe.” Big Bud had the best of intentions. But there was an old saying about the road to hell and good intentions. I must’ve hit one of the potholes. I had the strong feeling that I was about to experience hell on earth. “Please, don’t do me any more favors. I really don’t want publicity. It’ll only turn this case into a three-ring circus, and the girl deserves better than that.” I grabbed my sunglasses out of my purse and put them on. Like it’d make a difference. They had my name already. But it made me feel better. “Sorry. I know how your grandmother didn’t like it but you’re a lot younger. This is your life now. You should accept it and love it. A musician’s life isn’t easy either, but it’s my destiny.” He smiled. “Go with it.” “Thanks for the advice. I have to get home now. I don’t want to upset the family.” I started the Jeep. “I wouldn’t talk to the press anymore either. Let the family have their time with the body in peace.” “Sure thing.” He stepped away from the car and nodded like he understood. “Bye, Miss Deanna.” “Bye, Big Bud.” I gave him a half wave and peeled away from the curb, praying I wouldn’t find reporters invading my front lawn.

***** I stalled going home and swung by the Internet café. Caffeine soothed me while I checked my email. If I ever needed support now was the time. I had two messages. One a general welcome from The Lotus Circle. How they could tell via email that I was qualified I wasn’t sure. But the other email was personal. You can’t make your family supportive. You must seek out support in others. That’s what we are. Yeah, that was pretty much what I’d tell my patients in therapy. It was still nice to hear. I drafted an email with a more immediate question. How do you seal a room against ghost invasion? I explained what Greg and I had done to the storeroom but I hoped there was more I could do to control unwanted ghosts. I sent the email and headed for home to see what the fallout was from Big Bud’s big mouth.

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Chapter Fifteen The gate was secure and the front of my house looked peaceful as I did a drive-by before putting the Jeep in the garage. The reporters hadn’t tracked down my address yet, or Ivy had already scared them away, or I wasn’t a big enough story. Please, let it be the last one. I crossed my fingers for extra luck. I entered the house through the back and all was quiet. No reporters got inside. I exhaled in relief and kicked off my shoes, dumping my purse on the kitchen table. Getting a cup of coffee, I saw Missy in the doorway. “What’s up?” “You better go and see what’s in the parlor.” Missy wandered up the servants’ staircase. I headed to the living room, also called the parlor. There were just too many rooms in this place! There I saw Gran and Little Cel sitting on the couch. “Something going on?” Like maybe they could tell me who the next victim would be? “Little Cel wanted to come and see you,” Gran said. “She felt badly about how disappointed you were after talking with her and Karen.” “Okay.” I sat down on the other side of Little Cel. “How are you doing?” “Fine.” She swung her feet on the edge of the couch. “Tina Price is in reorientation.” “I figured. Are you going to help her get used to the Other Side?” Little Cel nodded. “We’re going to help you too. Only we can’t just yet.” “Soon?” “Yes. You can’t die.” Her soft brown eyes looked up at me with hope. “Can’t?” I looked at Gran. I liked the sound of that but didn’t buy it. “Of course you can die. Little Cel doesn’t want you to,” Gran explained. “That’s very nice. I think Warren does want me to die. We’ll have to outsmart him.” Little Cel shook her head. “A ghost can’t kill you. I have to go now.” “Okay. Thanks for coming.” I watched her vanish and looked at Gran for answers. “She’s got to practice showing up and leaving. It takes time. So the press?” Gran frowned. I buried my face in my hands. “I didn’t want it to happen. Why did Big Bud have to open his big mouth?” “It’ll be okay. You’ll just have to be a little more careful and work a little faster.”

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“This isn’t a paper I have to write. How do I speed this up?” Any suggestion would do. I was in no position to be picky. “Don’t worry. It’ll happen. Tell me what you see.” She patted my knee. I closed my eyes and saw a few flashes. One was a house, but it was too far away. I couldn’t see a street name or numbers. Before I could move in, my brain flashed to a car. That sea foam green thing again. It had fins and was as big as a boat. I didn’t want to look at cars. I wanted to find the little girl. “Damn it!” “What?” she asked. “I keep seeing this car. It doesn’t mean anything to the case. It’s just a car but it keeps showing up.” “You’re sure?” she asked. “Yes, I can see it. It’ll replace the Jeep. Good, fine, whatever. Why can’t I see the killer? Or the next victim? I swear it’s Warren causing interference.” I opened my eyes when the picture wouldn’t change. “Warren could be causing trouble. The girls might be able to help you with him. Have a little more patience.” Gran looked at her shrine. “You don’t have to leave this up, you know. I’ll always be with you.” “I haven’t really had a chance to take it down or ask you where you want your ashes spread. The garden maybe?” I felt bad it’d been sitting so long but I hadn’t exactly been sightseeing. She looked at her picture and the urn and shook her head. “No, I want to be out more. Out in the swamp area, somewhere more real.” “Really? Why?” I didn’t know why I was surprised. Nothing around here ever ended up as I expected. It did keep things interesting though. “Under the stars and in the real Louisiana.” She smiled. “Why not? I can be anywhere I want. What does it matter where a pile of ashes ends up? You decide.” “You’re sure?” “You’ll know the spot. But I should go now. You have company.” She smiled at me. As Gran vanished the doorbell rang. Ivy hadn’t returned and was probably still sedated from her encounter with the storeroom contents. Greg’s car hadn’t been out front either. It was Missy or I for answering the door, and I was the better choice. I approached the door with caution. The nice thing about being psychic was I already knew it wasn’t a gaggle of reporters coming to harass me. But I was still uneasy about who was on the other side of my door. I looked through the peephole to make sure my psychic skill hadn’t failed me. It was Cecelia. Little Cel’s grandmother had come to see me. Steadying my nerves, I opened the door. “Hello.” “You probably don’t remember me,” she began unsteadily.

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“Of course I do, Cecelia. Come in.” I stood back and led her into the second parlor. I didn’t want her to be faced with Gran’s shrine. She’d had enough death in her life. The second parlor was fine for the evenings anyway. The windows faced full east. It also had a large array of elegant furniture and no ashes in it. “Can I get you anything?” I offered. “No, dear, you’re so sweet. I found out today, on the news.” “Found out what?” “That you were the one who found my little girl’s body. I made the police admit it too. I had to thank you. I recognized you from my cab. I never forget a nice customer. You even warned me about watching her.” She started crying hard into her lace hanky. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more. I’m not as good as my grandmother.” It was confession time. I wish I knew why I couldn’t stop the murders. For now, I needed to ignore the fact that I’d been on the news in New Orleans. I just hoped it didn’t get on America’s Most Wanted. Dad was always on the lookout for a chance to turn in one of his neighbors. I couldn’t deal with that yet. “It’s not your fault.” She patted my arm and sat on the large white couch. I sat next to her and wondered how I’d react if it were someone in my family. I doubted I could be so generous. “I wish I could’ve prevented both murders.” “You’re not God. Can’t expect to be everywhere.” She dabbed her eyes. “I can’t help thinking I could’ve done more to warn you.” “You found my baby so we can bury her proper. And I’m grateful. I know you’ll do all you can to find that evil man. I just wanted you to have this.” She pulled a prayer card from her oversized white purse. “I just approved these with the funeral home. Wanted you to have one of the first. You look after my Little Cel, now.” “Thank you, I will.” I glanced down at the card. St. Francis was on the front and the usual information and prayers were on the back. “Little Cel loved her animals. That’s why we picked that saint for her. Not as much as she loved that doll, though. Had it since she was a baby.” “You got the doll at a garage sale, didn’t you?” “You’re good. Yep, soon as I heard my little girl was expecting, I hit a garage sale in a nice neighborhood. Good quality stuff, no junk. Little Cel stuck to that doll like glue.” Cecelia smiled, reliving happier memories. “Was she ever afraid of it?” “All kids go through a phase of being afraid of the dark. Sometimes I’d find the doll on the floor, but I expect she got scared and threw it. She never wanted any other doll, though. That was her baby.” “She sounds very sweet.” Little Cel had a strong will, that’s the only way she’d be able to handle that doll so well and for so long.

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“She was sweet. Only those cops won’t give us her doll back. We wanted to bury Little Cel with it. Damn cops say it’s still evidence.” She started crying again, silently this time. Tears of deep pain rolled down her clenched jaw. “I’m sorry, but it is evidence. The dolls are what connect the murders. Until we catch the killer and put him away, I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do.” “I know. Cops are cops. Can’t worry about the victims when the criminals are on the loose. It’s their job. The funeral is only a few days away. I don’t expect it’ll be settled by then.” She looked hopeful. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t see that happening. But once it’s over, you can always put the doll in later. I know it’s not the same but it’d be with Little Cel then.” It was the best I could suggest. “Thanks. I’ll make sure to get my baby’s doll back when this is all over. Don’t you worry, I will.” She got to her feet. “I’m sorry I took up so much of your time. I just wanted to thank you again, and if you can make the service it’d mean a lot to me. And to Little Cel, I’m sure.” “I’ll do my best to be there.” I had to be. I’d never forgive myself if I weren’t there. “Thank you.” She held my hands in hers and I felt a positive jolt. Little Cel took after her grandmother. No wonder Warren’s haunting hadn’t really bothered Little Cel too much. I walked Cecelia out and closed the door. I shut my eyes and tried to see the third victim again. I was getting past Warren’s tricks. I had the start and it was improvement. Practice, I need to practice more, and focus harder. But the house disappeared and another image popped into my head. That damn car! All I got was the car. I’d had it. I marched to the kitchen and grabbed the phone. I dialed Matt’s cell number. “Yeah?” He sounded stressed and I wouldn’t be helping his blood pressure, but I had to get this out. “If you come across a mint-condition sea foam greenish-color convertible from the late Fifties, early Sixties, it’s mine. Just let me know, okay?” I blurted. “What the hell are you babbling about?” he asked. “Someone steal your car?” “No, I don’t have it yet. I can’t get this picture out of my head. It’s got fins and big headlights. White inside and bucket front seats. I just needed to tell someone so I can stop thinking about it. You’ll find it and when you do, I’ll buy it.” I sounded insane. I had to try something to get it out of my head. “Sure. I’ll put all the murder cases on hold to find you a car.” He snorted into the phone. “I’m not asking for that. Just when the police come across it, don’t let anyone else have it. It’s mine. Okay?” I did have a secret love of old cars. Especially big convertibles. Chicago was no place for a convertible year-round.

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“Fine, just don’t be late for the meeting with the judge tomorrow. My little brother is anxious to see you again.” “I’ll be there. Bye.” I hung up and tried to clear my head. My life right now was certainly nothing I’d expected. And maybe, just maybe, having that car out on Matt’s radar instead of in my head would free up my few operating brain cells long enough for me to find Darren and Warren’s next victim before they did. Until then all I had to do was meet with the judge, John Weathers, tomorrow. That would be no hardship. One of these days I would network with the Lotus Circle but first I had to convince the law to believe me about Darren.

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Chapter Sixteen “I still think he’s awfully young to be a judge.” I nosed around the judge’s desk. Now Matt and I were waiting for the judge. I’d been on time and dressed to impress in my soft gray suit and lilac blouse. Since there was little chance of swamp tours, I’d switched to my black high heels. I’d borrowed a medium black suede bag from Gran. I wasn’t leaving the doll home alone. Warren might stage another breakout attempt. Matt eased himself down onto the brown leather couch. “He’s thirty-five. Not so young and not a bad guy to know. Johnny always had a baby face.” “I still don’t know why I’m here. We’re going to catch Darren.” I hadn’t found the third girl yet, but I was closing in. Getting better at getting around Warren. “You’re pretty insecure for a psychic.” He grinned. “It’s more of a disadvantage than an advantage in social situations, or so I’m finding. It makes people uneasy.” I picked up a picture on the desk. It showed Mrs. Lolly Weathers surrounded by her three boys. “At least I’ve met him before.” “Doesn’t hurt.” “You never told me why we really have to do this.” I had never gotten a real answer. “Politics. Southern manners. Show of good faith.” Matt shrugged. “Fine.” I didn’t really mind but it felt weird. This wasn’t a university position interview. Those I knew how to handle. “You haven’t given any press interviews since the body recovery, have you?” Matt asked. “Of course not. I could strangle Big Bud for that.” “Who needs enemies with friends like those, huh?” He snorted. “At least the reporters aren’t bugging me too much.” Only a few phone calls that I’d ignored. “Why would they? You think a psychic is all that special here? If you’re proven right on all counts, then maybe you’ll get special attention.” “Fair enough.” I glanced at my favorite silver bracelet watch with the lavender face. “Is your brother being fashionably late?” “Not likely. The judge wanted to see you. Come on, Doc, you know my little brother’s got a thing for you.” I tried not to let my head jerk up and instead rolled my eyes. “I’ve only met him once. Don’t be stupid.” I didn’t need more complications. 105

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“Besides, she isn’t psychic about herself, remember?” The judge’s voice came from behind me. Oh shit! And damn Matt for his mouth. “Right. It really isn’t fair.” “Most people would kill for half of your powers.” Judge Weathers crossed to his desk. “They can be distracting,” I warned. “How so?” he asked. “Take Mary Lou’s dinner party, for instance. There was a ghost hanging out behind you. She didn’t say anything but it was hard to not be rude and try to find out why she was there.” I smiled. “A ghost in the house?” Matt sounded concerned. “Is it dangerous?” “No, she’s not stuck here or anything. Just seemed to be observing.” “Is she a relative?” the judge asked. “I didn’t get to talk to her. But she looked like you.” I studied the judge. Not bad to look at. “Mom’s sister? Aunt Sarah maybe?” Matt wondered out loud. “Not like Lolly, like him.” I pointed to the judge. The brothers exchanged looks as though they weren’t sure what I was talking about. I took a deep breath. “I know you’re all adopted. Lolly raised you, but I could feel the biological variations at dinner that night. I think this ghost is related to the judge by blood.” As if on cue, the woman from the dinner party appeared. “Don’t upset him,” she said. “I’m not. He knows he was adopted,” I replied. “Who are you talking to?” the judge asked. “The ghost from the dinner party just joined us,” I explained. “She ever do this to you before?” the judge asked his brother. Matt shook his head. “Dr. Oscar, please stop freaking out my brother. Can’t you chat with ghosts on your own time? We’ve got a goal here.” “You see?” the ghost added. “They’ll get over it. Who are you?” I asked. She pressed her transparent lips together. “Come on, you showed up for a reason. If you want him to know who you are, I’m your best chance.” I sat down in one of the judge’s guest chairs. It felt like family therapy and if I could help—I would. “I don’t want to make things worse. I just like to see him.” She smiled softly. “You’re his birth mother, aren’t you?” I asked. “She’s what?” Matt jumped off the couch. “Cut it out. Don’t play games.”

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“Shut up, Matt,” the judge cut in. “Why don’t you go ask the judge’s secretary out to dinner?” I suggested to Matt. Matt gave me a startled look, but he knew I knew he’d been thinking more about her than anything going on in this office. He had a crush but hadn’t acted on it. Just the diversion for him that I needed. Matt slid off the couch and then paused. I nodded to further encourage him. The door closed behind Matt and I looked back at the judge. “Did I freak you out?” He sat in his chair. “No, but I’d like to know if it’s true. Is she my birth mother?” The ghost nodded. “Yes,” I relayed. “Can you describe her?” His jaw tightened. “Tall, brown hair and pale blue eyes. Bone structure is pretty delicate. Did you ever try to find her?” It was none of my business, but part of me had to ask. He nodded. “I never found anything.” “There was nothing to find,” she said. “I don’t understand. What’s your name?” I asked. “Paula Schaffer. But I was a Jane Doe when I died.” I repeated the info to the judge and waited. “No wonder I couldn’t find any info on her. A Jane Doe, really?” he asked. “I was very young and living on the street, when I got pregnant. I tried to stay off the drugs when I was pregnant, but once I had him, I couldn’t help it. I knew I’d never make a good mother. I left him at the hospital.” “Wouldn’t the hospital have a record of your name? They should’ve known where to find you.” “I didn’t have him at a hospital. I gave birth at a friend’s apartment. Her brother, a paramedic, was there. I wasn’t completely irresponsible.” I wanted to argue but held my tongue. There was no point. “The next day I convinced the paramedic to take the baby to the hospital. He said he found it while driving waiting for a call. I felt terrible, but it was the right thing to do.” I told the judge all of it and watched him stoically contemplate it. “When did she die? How?” “Three days after he was born. I overdosed. It’d been too long, and I couldn’t handle the same hit I did before. But I wanted it.” Paula watched her son carefully. Again, I was the go-between. Then it hit me, this was my first real medium effort, of sorts. It was as personal as therapy and yet the judge really had to trust me. “Is she okay?” he asked. “She’s not hanging around here all the time, is she?” “No, she isn’t stuck here.” I knew that much on my own.

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“I’m fine. I hung around more when he was little, but when I saw you here. I wanted to let him know it was for the best. And that I’m proud of him.” She moved closer to her son, the judge. When I finished with her story, the judge took a deep breath. “Tell her I’m fine and thank you.” “You just did.” I smiled as Paula’s face brightened with relief. Then she vanished. “She’s gone. You okay?” “I’m fine. I never expected our meeting to go like this though.” “Neither did I, but I tend to attract them. Ghosts try to communicate with the living, but it’s tricky.” “Guess Matt did a good thing keeping you on this case.” The judge leaned back in his chair. “I hope I’m helping. The killers are really out of control.” I hadn’t seen Warren lately and it made me nervous. “The ghost can’t really be considered a killer,” he corrected. “No,” I conceded. “But he needs help as much as Darren, or neither will ever be at peace.” “You care about the killers being at peace?” He looked only slightly surprised. “Someone has to. Their parents certainly didn’t. Don’t worry. My first priority is getting Darren behind bars, so he can’t hurt people. But I would like to try to help him. He’s too dependent on his brother.” “And you’re sure you’ll catch him?” I got the bag and produced the final doll. “We’ll get him before he gets the third girl, but he’s planning to come for me either way.” “Do you know where the last girl is?” “I’m almost there. Getting closer. The first victim is talking. Hopefully she’ll help me find the last girl before Darren does.” “Why is it taking so long?” He didn’t sound impatient, more inquisitive. “Death requires some adjustment. Victims aren’t immediately able to communicate or visit. Plus this was a very traumatic death. We’re just lucky they didn’t get stuck here. It’s all very organized.” I needed all the help I could get. “Stuck?” I searched for the best way to explain. “Death is kind of like an airplane ride. It can be smooth, or it can have lots of turbulence and detours. Traumatic and unexpected deaths make it harder. Some don’t realize they’re dead at all.” And the men in white coats would be coming for me any time now. The judge felt safe to talk to, but I was just waiting to open my mouth to the wrong person. I’d never discussed ghosts or visions this much in the last twenty years combined.

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“Does that make you the stewardess?” He laughed. “I hope not. But I’m sure they prefer the term flight attendants. And no jokes about Hooters Air. I’m not qualified. I think you’ve got to be a ‘D’ cup for that.” “Sorry, this isn’t funny but it’s…” “Weird, I know. At least we know that the girls are okay now. That helps. Tina Price isn’t ready to talk yet, but Little Cel can help. We need to find the third girl and get her some kind of round-the-clock protection.” “Any idea when?” the judge asked. “He hasn’t found her yet. Which is good. But it’ll be soon. He won’t get the girl, but I can’t tell if we catch him then or when he comes for me.” “You sound pretty casual about your own death.” The judge frowned at me. “I’m getting more casual about this living and dead thing in general. At least about myself. I can’t see my own future, so I’ve pretty much stopped wondering. Right now, all I want to do is get this guy back in the mental hospital, where he can’t hurt anyone else.” “I was thinking the chair myself.” The judge took another look at the doll. “He’s not in complete control of what he’s doing.” I knew it was crazy to defend a killer, but prison wouldn’t help. A child killer would end up dead at the hands of another inmate. Killing him and setting his ghost free to haunt people didn’t thrill me either. “He was cleared for release by medical professionals. He isn’t even medicated. When we get him, I’m sure the DA will go for the most severe sentence.” “That’s up to you guys.” I put the doll back. There was nothing I could say to change the legal system. “But I will want to interview him myself. With his record, an insanity plea won’t be much of a stretch.” “Because his brother told him to isn’t a defense,” the judge argued. “No, but if you were a victim of an extreme haunting, I think you’d do some pretty crazy things. Who would believe you anyway?” I challenged. “I think you would. What are you doing for dinner, Dr. Oscar?” The judge abruptly changed the subject. This was one of those times I wished I were psychic about myself. “Um, I don’t know.” “I think we’ve covered what we need to about the case, but I’d like to discuss your credentials in more detail. I have a luncheon, and then I’m back in court or I’d take you to lunch now.” “Okay. Dinner is fine.” I got up, feeling confused and frustrated. Another non-date? “I’ll pick you up at seven. Don’t worry, we’ll go somewhere out of the way, just in case Big Bud wants another photo op.” “Thanks.” I smiled back politely. “See you tonight. I’ll bring my résumé.”

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I left the judge’s chambers and walked right by Matt who was still flirting with the secretary. They never noticed me, which was fine. I was off balance and didn’t like it.

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Chapter Seventeen “You’re not actually going, are you?” Greg demanded from the doorway of my bedroom. It was six-thirty p.m. and I was going no matter what he said. “Yes. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t?” I had on my one dress for fun no matter what the purpose of dinner was. It had a peasant blouse feel with a swirly long skirt in cream. The edges were decorated in red and brown stitching. For some reason I felt free in it. “You have another girl to find. There’s a killer on the loose. You’re a target.” He’d counted out the reasons on his fingers. “I’m just meeting with the judge. And I’m really sick and tired. I need a break. I’m sick and tired of ghosts, death, crime scenes and inquisitions. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for one night to be normal. This is business, but I don’t report to you in any case.” “So that afternoon meant nothing?” he whispered. “Nothing happened. I had a vision of a body and that stopped everything.” Since that afternoon, Greg and I hadn’t discussed it. I couldn’t explain why but it felt like the right thing to not get that close to Greg. “It won’t be like that all the time.” “I think there is a reason things got interrupted. I’ll figure it out eventually.” That instinct was too strong. I had to go with it. “You have a responsibility, Deanna.” He changed the subject. “To the victims, Greg. Not to you, or the police, or anyone else. So let me deal with it anyway.” I slipped on a cute pair of sandals with a small heel. “If one more person tries to tell me how I should or shouldn’t handle my gift, I’ll be on the next plane back to Chicago and lecturing at the U of C in a week.” Greg watched me for a second and backed slowly out of my bedroom. “Have it your way.” “I intend to.” I threw a bottle of moisturizer at the doorway seconds after he’d left. “That’s not nice,” Gran scolded from the bed. “What will make him really go away?” I asked Gran. “You’re a grown woman. You know how to handle men. He’s a good man. They all get on your nerves.” That was all she ever really said about Greg. “So? Because he was nice to you, I’m stuck with him in my house, telling me what to do for the rest of my life?” I turned to face her sitting on my bed. “He has some unresolved issues,” she admitted.

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“I know, I’m a psychologist, the signs are hard to miss. But I’ve sort of got my hands full with the dead patients right now. Can we send him somewhere else for therapy?” I rubbed powder into my face. “He doesn’t need therapy. You’ll figure it out in time.” “Great. Until then, I’m stuck with someone who acts like he’s my brother and my boyfriend at the same time. No thanks.” I sat down next to her and exhaled. “What am I supposed to do?” “You’re doing fine. Go out tonight. You’ll have fun, and hopefully have more luck with the police than I did. They thought the crazy old lady just got lucky. Except for my friend.” She smiled. “You’re going to have to tell me about this friend of yours.” I smiled back. “Some things are private, my dear. Matt and the judge can help persuade any doubters to give you more freedom. Assuming you want to stay.” I wanted to tell her that I didn’t know what I wanted. I knew I wanted to help these little girls. I liked doing something more than teaching or standard therapy. It felt good to make a difference—but I hadn’t really. Not yet. But my father and brothers were calling constantly to get me to come home. I must’ve made the Chicago news. I hadn’t called them back. I was waiting for the day when they all showed up here for an intervention. Fear was the only thing preventing them from coming, for now. I knew some day they would. Right now they still had hope that it was just a unique experience and I’ll get tired of it soon. I could stay. I had the backbone to get a PhD, in what my father called touchy-feely crap. But part of me was still too afraid to make a real decision, one that would change my life permanently. I was trained to teach psychology not be psychic. “Just go and have fun.” Gran faded. I knew I needed not to think for one night. I grabbed a wrap and the tote with the doll and went downstairs. Avoiding Ivy and Greg wasn’t too hard in a house this size. I hovered near the front door, hoping the judge would be on time. The sound of a car in the driveway made me look out the peephole. It was the judge in a blue SUV this time. That reminded me, once again, that I needed to find that car soon. I couldn’t keep riding around in that army reject of a Jeep or with the police. I needed my independence and a car that was me. I stepped out onto the porch as he got out of the car. “Hi,” we both managed at exactly the same time. Embarrassing, but I found that the living, like the dead, frequently had very bad timing. He walked around the passenger side and opened the door for me. It might not be a date, but he was still a gentleman. Not too bad so far. “You really are young to be a judge.” I had a blunt streak, which probably wasn’t good for a shrink, but I could control it. When I wanted to.

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“You’re a little young to be a double PhD, right?” he returned. “Call me John.” I shrugged. “Twenty-six. I went straight through. No time off for bad behavior. My parents offered to pay for undergrad if I went straight into college.” “Good move. Get an education. Is your dad a teacher?” I forced myself not to laugh. Not my dad. “Dad worked in a steel plant and wanted his kids to have nice air-conditioned office jobs. So I started college at seventeen. If they were smart, they would’ve ruled out some majors while we were negotiating my fulltime college career.” “They didn’t like psych?” he asked. “Too touchy-feely for them. Plus, to do anything that paid anything with my major, I had to get advanced degrees. That didn’t thrill them. I think they’re still afraid I’ll go back and be a perpetual student.” “You won’t?” He smiled. “No. I majored in the right thing. My parents want me to start teaching at some fancy university where I can earn tenure. They always got for the security angle. Anything but…” “Here?” he supplied. “Exactly. It explains why my parents weren’t very positive about Tulane. They’ll accept I had to do the estate stuff. But after the news coverage.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure there are a ton of messages from them.” “They didn’t come down with you for the funeral?” he asked. “Long story, but no.” “How about the short version?” He parked the car and we entered the hole in the wall, which was as small as promised. It had character though. Lots of shrunken heads, streets signs and voodoo dolls. Plus a big mural of fairies and leprechauns on the wall. “Best food in N’Orleans, I promise.” He held the door for me again. The waiter knew him. That made me feel less like I was being hidden from the public, and just a bit special. Almost normal. “Short story about the funeral,” I began once we were alone. “Gran and I are the only two psychics in the family. Which makes us freaks to the family. They moved to Chicago to get away from her before I was even born. I never met her and her own husband divorced her.” “So what happened when they found out you had the same gift as your grandmother?” “I didn’t even know what it was, because I didn’t know about my grandmother. I thought all imaginary friends were real. They were for me. My parents told me it was in my head, to ignore it. They still showed up, but I had a better handle on it—except in my dreams.” “And now?” “I’m still learning, but from what I’ve seen so far, talking to ghosts isn’t that far from regular psychotherapy.” I glanced down at the menu. 113

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“You’re the therapist for the formerly living?” He leaned in. “At least that’s what they called you on the news.” I felt my face turn red. “I didn’t hear that one. Ghosts, spirits, whatever. I guess it’s sort of true. They hang around for a reason. Unfinished business. Like our troublemaker who’s torturing his brother, the killer. He wants revenge and he wants his brother back. I don’t know how we’re going to fix it, but he and his brother need help.” “I don’t get why you want to help the killer.” John frowned at me and sat back. “Maybe if someone helped him before, he wouldn’t be a killer. You can get the killers, but you can’t stop the ghosts from doing what they want. Maybe I can help there. Luckily, most ghosts seem to have less homicidal issues. Nicer reasons to visit.” I sipped my water. Law enforcement wasn’t exactly a comfortable world for me, yet. They all just wanted to catch the guy and thought that solved things. “So some visit like my birth mother and some are stuck?” he asked. “Depends on the ghost, but yes. They can visit from the Other Side. Some of them are stuck here because they don’t believe, or refuse to believe they’re dead. Or they have something to do here. Like your mother wanted to watch over you until she knew you were safe. It’s not all bad. Most of them aren’t here to hurt the living.” “Maybe we should change the subject? Wine?” he asked as the waiter approached. “Please.” The judge ordered an expensive French white wine. Then the waiter looked expectantly at me. I ordered the blackened catfish on white rice, and made sure I added a Diet Coke in case I didn’t want to drink too much. The judge entertained me with tales of him and his brothers growing up until the food arrived. I’d polished off a full glass of wine and decided be to lightweight and go for the Diet Coke, when I caught a flash of something out of the corner of my eye. I blinked and studied the room again. Nothing. “Everything okay?” he asked. “Yes. Sorry. I thought I saw something.” I shook it off. “They say this place is full of fairies.” “You brought me to a gay restaurant?” I was thoroughly confused. “No, little mystical fairies.” He pointed to the mural on the wall. I looked around. “I don’t see any little winged creatures. If I do, I’ll let you know.” My eyes checked the room again as I lifted a forkful of catfish to my lips. Seeing the familiar squinting grin on a barstool made me drop my fork. “Go away,” I said. “What’s wrong?” the judge asked. “Warren’s here,” I explained. “Here? Are you being stalked by a ghost?” “Not exactly a crime we can punish. Warren likes to hang around and annoy me.” “Ignore him,” he advised. 114

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“Can’t. It’s better if I can keep an eye on him.” I stared at Warren who stuck out his tongue. “Can you get rid of him?” the judge asked. I shook my head and mouthed to Warren. “Behave.” Warren just smirked and began moving glasses around the bar. The patrons didn’t seem annoyed but entertained. “The fairies are out tonight,” the bartender announced. The patrons clapped and Warren seethed. It wasn’t the reaction he wanted. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Warren’s pissed. They think he’s a fairy.” Warren kicked some glassware on to the floor but people kept applauding. The little ghost came to my table and folded his arms in a huff. “Tell them it’s me.” He stomped. “No, it’s better if you’re a fairy. Go entertain us more,” I said. “You’re going to die,” he warned. “Not tonight.” I shrugged. “Go away, Warren.” The judge smiled at me. Warren glared at the judge and back at me. Enraged, he flew up onto the bar and behind the bartender. Warren knocked over a few big bottles and glasses, and then went up through the roof with another round of cheers and applause from the patrons. “Sorry, he enjoys threatening my life,” I told the judge. “Don’t apologize. Everyone here is happy and no one was hurt. If I could see Warren, I’d strangle him but I think you can handle him.” He sat back, impressed. I sat staring at the judge for a few minutes. The dinner could’ve been a disaster thanks to Warren, but it wasn’t. “I like this place. Blame it on the fairies.” I refilled my wineglass. The night wasn’t exactly normal, but I didn’t feel weird about being interrupted by Warren either.

***** The noise from the first floor snapped me awake. Three glasses of wine had left me with a night of blissful, visionless and travel-free, sleep. The noise was no nightmare. For a split second I thought Warren was tearing up my house, but I’d been so focused on him that I knew he couldn’t have slipped by me. This was the work of the living. Not bothering with a robe, I padded downstairs in a baby blue tank top and pajama pants to find Ivy had taken over the kitchen and second parlor. Sequined gowns in bold colors and more boxes of shoes than in all of Macy’s made my house look like a Vegas showgirl’s dressing room. “What’s all this?” I asked. “De, thank God you’re awake. It’s nine-thirty already. I hope you don’t mind, I don’t have enough room at my place. I got booked at the newest, hottest drag club. The 115

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Long and Big Easy.” Ivy was bustling in a fuzzy hot pink robe and matching slippers with a towel still wrapped turban style on her head. “That’s a terrible name for a club,” I groaned. “The point is, it’s the hot club right now. And I got a primetime slot. You’ve got to come!” she insisted. “Sure, of course, I’ll come. When is it?” I opened a box and found hot pink platforms. “Tonight. Short notice but if I’m great, it could be a regular thing. What should I wear?” “If it won’t fit in your apartment where did you get all this stuff?” “Friends. I need to really pop tonight.” “Maybe I can borrow something? I’ve been wearing the same outfits for days.” “None of these are right for you. Right size or style. Go shopping. I’d take you but I have a million things to do. Rehearsal. Hair, makeup and nails all need to be done. Take Mary Lou. She dresses a bit stuffy, but maybe you can loosen her up.” “Nails,” I murmured and looked at mine. It’d been over two weeks since my last appointment. I was in desperate need of a manicure. “Any chance you can get me squeezed in for a manicure?” Ivy stopped her hurried wardrobe review to grab my hand and take a look. “Christ, you can’t go to a funeral or a club with those. I know the owner, they’ll fit you in. My appointment is at eleven. Meet me at the Ladylike Salon then. One of them can do you.” “Thanks. And relax, I know you’ll be great.” I headed back upstairs to do the bathing and grooming thing then I dialed Mary Lou’s number. “Weathers’ residence,” a maid answered. “Can I speak to Mary Lou, please?” I checked myself in the mirror. Black jeans, boots and the white t-shirt I was shocked hadn’t worn out yet. “Hello?” Mary Lou answered. “Feel like shopping?” I asked. “Deanna, I thought you’d never ask. Let me know when.” She sounded thrilled. “Ten minutes? Or are you busy today?” “I’ll be right over. Bye.” She hung up. Back downstairs, Ivy was stunning in a halter-top gown patterned in large diamonds of bright pink, peach and yellow trimmed in silver. “Nice. See you at the salon later.” “Bye.” Ivy remained engrossed in studying her image in the mirror. I left the house and found Mary Lou already waiting in her white Jag. “Thanks for doing this!” I settled into the luxury car. “I’ve been living out of a suitcase.”

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“You saved me from another dull day with Lolly and my routine. I know where all of the high-end stuff is. Top of the line for your new fortune. What are we shopping for?” she asked. “Essentials, and I have a funeral and a drag show to go to today. Nothing high-end, just the mall please. I need some more stuff. Plus, I’m getting my nails done at eleven.” “Interesting schedule. Definitely power shopping. The mall if you insist. We better get going.” Mary Lou slid on her Chanel sunglasses as she eased away from the curb. Nothing felt so civilizing and normalizing as a good trip to the mall. I hit a shelf of v-neck t-shirts first. One of every color and a couple pairs of jeans. That covered crime scene and slob wear. “I guess my black suit is best for a funeral.” “Whose funeral?” Mary Lou asked. “Little Cel’s. First victim. Her grandmother came to see me and invited me.” “Oh well, I wouldn’t wear black to that.” Mary Lou shook her head. “Why not?” What else did someone wear to a funeral? Navy blue and gray were acceptable but why bother? “I read the piece in the paper. I’m pretty sure it’ll be a black jazz funeral. You don’t want to be depressing.” She pulled a pair of white slacks and a white scoop-neck top with navy horizontal stripes on it. “This is better.” “What’s the different between a normal funeral and a black jazz funeral?” I asked. “A mini-parade to the cemetery led by a band mainly. Wearing black would be okay but not the best. You’d look like a tourist. Now what to wear to a drag club? I’ve never been to one.” She headed for the dresses. I found a little black dress and a little red one. Not as showy as Ivy’s, but I didn’t want to take attention away from the performers. “I’m not sure I’ll wear either tonight but I should have a couple of dresses, just in case I have to have dinner with Lolly again,” I teased. “She’s impossible. But if you keep spending time with the judge, you might see more of her. I heard you two had dinner.” Mary Lou grinned as though she were picking out invitations and planning a shower. “More business than anything. And of course a ghost decided to cause trouble on top of it. I never got a moment of peace.” “You don’t like him?” Mary Lou sounded offended. “I like John fine. It’s just complicated. With a killer on the loose and Greg. And ghosts everywhere.” “What about Greg?” Mary Lou pressed. “I almost slept with him. I’m so confused.” For some strange reason I’d become comfortable sharing with Mary Lou and Ivy. Normally I didn’t bond this fast but under weird circumstances people did weird things. For now the solution was shoes. I headed for that department.

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“Eww. You didn’t.” Mary Lou was right behind me. “No, we got interrupted. Something’s off about him. I can’t seem to figure it out though.” I pushed it out of my head. “How about he’s an ex-priest.” Mary Lou smirked. I dropped the box of red sandals. “He was a what?” Mary Lou’s eyes hit the floor. “Sorry, I thought you knew. It wouldn’t be a big deal but there’s a lot of Catholics around here.” “I was raised one myself. That’s so gross.” But it made sense. His familiar tone and manner. Nothing could stop him from being an attractive man, but that put a whole new spin on things. “He’s still a man.” Mary Lou winked. “Not to a recovering Catholic schoolgirl. How creepy. Can you imagine if I’d slept with him? That’s guilt and rosaries I can’t even process. That jerk. The worst part is he didn’t tell me.” “Maybe he assumed you knew. You pick up a lot of things with that gift of yours.” Mary Lou was clearly a peacemaker. “I don’t get every detail of a person’s life the second I speak to them, Mary Lou. I’m psychic but it’s not like an automatic background check when I see a person. I’d go crazy being a mind reader. He’s going to pay.” I tapped my foot with a surge of energy. “You already didn’t sleep with him. Isn’t that punishment enough?” “We’ll see. First, I need more retail therapy.” I grabbed another pair of shoes. “Is that shrink humor?” she asked. I shrugged. “It’s true. And if I’m going to stay here much longer, I’ll need more of a wardrobe. Gran can afford it.” “You can but it’ll have to wait. It’s almost ten-thirty.” Mary Lou led the way for me to pay for my mass of clothes. Fifteen minutes later we were parked in front of the Ladylike Salon on the edge of the French Quarter. “Are you sure you want to go here, I have a very nice, if a tad expensive, salon you can try.” Mary Lou didn’t look convinced about this place. “You don’t have to come in. Ivy can take me back to the house.” I started to get out. “No, I’ll go,” Mary Lou insisted. I walked into the salon and knew why Ivy liked it. It was instantly clear that Mary Lou and I were the only original women in the room. “I got them to squeeze you in,” Ivy shouted from under a dryer. She waved her long red nails to get my attention. “Have fun shopping?” I moved closer and sat next to her. “Yes. Thanks. No wig?” “I’m as authentic as I can be. I use all my own hair. Well, maybe a few extensions but I only do wigs so I don’t have to dye my hair for effect. Tonight it’s all natural. I 118

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want to set a higher standard.” She looked Mary Lou up and down, focusing on her stuffy outfit. Ivy’s cheeks flushed. “What’s she doing here?” “We were still shopping. Why?” I’d agree with Ivy that Mary Lou’s fashion wasn’t exactly bold but I wouldn’t trade with Ivy either. Ivy shrugged, picking up a nearby copy of Vogue. “Dr. Oscar?” A large drag queen with black hair and light blue nails held out a cocked wrist. I shook her hand. “Deanna.” “I’m Violet. Just nails today?” she asked. “Yes. I appreciate your squeezing me in. It’s been over two weeks since my last appointment,” I confessed. Following Violet, I motioned for Mary Lou to quit hugging the door. If she was going to be here, she couldn’t act like it was a freak show. “If you ever need a trim or any waxing, we’re full service.” Violet sat at her nails station and pulled up an extra seat for Mary Lou. “Maybe I’ll make an appointment for a bikini wax next time,” I teased. Violet frowned. “That you might want to go to a different salon for, doll. We’re equipped but I’m not sure our techs want to look at that, okay? It’s not that we aren’t professionals, but we’re used to working around a different set of equipment. Most of our clients aren’t the post-op variety.” “I understand. This is great. Fully staffed by drag queens?” “Most of us need a day job. Only the big names earn enough money to live off performing.” Violet got down to business and examined my hands. “Don’t usually get your kind in here. Tiny hands, I’d kill for these.” “It’s hard to find a good nail place.” So far I liked Violet. “Your friend could use a better color on her nails. Uptight pink is out this season.” Violet glared at Mary Lou. “Oh, I’m just here to keep Deanna company. I have a salon,” Mary Lou said. “Just as well, we’re booked today.” Violet got to work.

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Chapter Eighteen Mary Lou had been right about the funeral. This was a new experience for me. In Chicago, funerals were respectful and solemn occasions. Even my mother’s side behaved at the church and cemetery. I’ll admit the wakes were parties of drunken Irishmen and women toasting the deceased and telling stories to celebrate their life. But nothing topped the spectacle of a New Orleans black jazz funeral. I found out from Ivy the parade would start at the family’s home and stationed myself a few blocks from the cemetery they’d end at. A funeral procession wasn’t weird, but the fact that I could hear the music of the band playing from blocks away filled me with dread. I did my best to blend into the tourists and other lookers-on as the parade approached. Everyone was dressed in white and a full band lead the procession. Lots of horns blaring music that was upbeat. The mourners clapped and moved to the music. All were respectful but seemed to be celebrating life rather than grieving. I spotted Cecelia who looked as though her spirit wasn’t in it. Then I noticed her daughter, pretty obvious who the junkie was. Skinny as a rail, hair that looked like she was attempting dreads but not succeeding and a glassy-eyed stare. Between them was a tall dark man who clapped but was calm. The boyfriend? No, this guy would have more sense than to date a junkie. He was dressed in khaki pants and a crisp white shirt open at the collar and rolled up to just under his elbows. His eyes kept sliding over to Cel. I guessed his identity to be her son or other close relation. He was handsome and had a look of strength about him that made me curious. I followed along on the sidewalk until it ran out and then tagged along at the very end of the procession and stayed back. Why they wanted me to be at the burial when I’d predicted the death. Who the hell knew! I shouldn’t be here. I’d only upset people but she’d asked me to come. I had to respect her wishes. One interesting thing about New Orleans was the water table was so high that they buried people above ground. The tombs gave me more cover to watch and not intrude than a simple headstone like up North. The service began and I felt someone standing next to me. “Did I miss the parade?” Ivy huffed. “Sorry, yeah. I didn’t know you wanted to come,” I whispered. “Did you know them?” “No, I’m just a sucker for a good funeral. And I thought you’d need moral support. Plus, I really needed a distraction before tonight. I’m so nervous, I’m sick. How do I look?”

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I studied her out of the corner of my eye. The pale blue cocktail dress lacked sequins and any decorative bows, so I guessed it was the most conservative outfit Ivy owned. Definitely not for tonight. “Great,” I lied. Her dark hair was elaborately piled on her head and dark oversized sunglasses perched on her nose. I checked the shoes, white stilettos of course, which at the moment were sinking into the grass. In truth, she looked like an extra from Rocky Horror. Halfway didn’t work. Gown or casual, Ivy needed to learn where and when to put on a cocktail dress. I looked down at my own outfit. I’d stuck with what Mary Lou picked out and it blended. I’d blown off the idea of heels and went with thick sandals. I was clumsy enough to know better than to wear heels on wet grass. “Aren’t they gorgeous?” Ivy eyed the band. “Which one?” “All of them.” “Got a thing for musicians?” “Yeah,” she sighed. “What’s your fetish?” “Uh, I don’t know.” I frowned. “Most of the guys I dated thought I was weird. College curse, never really done the long-term thing.” “Oh because of the…” She tapped her temple and nodded. “But you’ve got to have a type.” I ran through the mental list of guys I’d dated, ignoring the one-nighters because they couldn’t count. I came to a conclusion I didn’t like, but I can’t say was a big surprise. “Yuck. All bossy and arrogant like my dad. I’ve got to change that.” “I never knew my dad. Maybe that’s a good thing.” She shrugged. A lecture I’d sat through about the psychological ramifications of our growing fatherless society rambled through my head. It was actually nice having Ivy here as a distraction. My opinion on father or no father depended entirely on the father. “My dad wasn’t so terrible really. Your standard mill rat in a steel plant on Chicago’s south side, but we had a decent house, food, clothes, toys, Catholic school, and a stay-at-home mom. Vacations were a White Sox game or Brookfield Zoo. Not exactly Disney World, but I don’t like roller coasters anyway.” “Doesn’t sound that bad,” she agreed. “Guess I need to find a guy who isn’t full of himself.” Greg fit that mold before I found out about his previous occupation. “You’ve got a better chance of finding a big-ass diamond buried in the backyard. Better to look for a man who can keep you happy in bed. If the sex is hot, the rest will work itself out.” Interesting advice. Not quite funeral conversation but interesting. The service was over and our conversation faded as we watched the people disperse. When it was just the three, Cel, daughter and the guy—Ivy’s eyes fell on him. 121

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“Is it me, or does he look like Denzel and Will Smith had a kid?” Ivy was practically drooling. “It’s a funeral, Ivy.” “Introduce me.” She poked me in the ribs. “I don’t know him. I only know Cel, the grandmother, and that’s only because she drove the cab from the airport. You’ll get plenty of men when you’re on stage.” “It’s not just about the man. You should still pay your respects.” Ivy wasn’t going to let me off the hook. “You can’t help it that you saw the death. You warned her. What else can anyone expect?” I stood my ground as Ivy tugged at my arm. While Ivy dressed and acted like a woman, she still had the biological muscles of a man, and I was pulled off balance. It was leave my hiding spot or fall. I went halfway and stumbled into view just as Cel and company were coming our way. “Hi,” I managed. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.” Cel’s eyes fell on me with relief. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to intrude.” I kept my eyes on the ground. “You didn’t.” Cel sniffed. “I told you, I don’t blame you. I’m mad at this one. Leaving a little girl home alone.” She pointed to her daughter who seemed completely distracted looking at her nails. “Brandy, look at me when I’m talking to you. This is the woman who could’ve saved Little Cel, if you’d have listened to me and kept your dumb ass at home.” “I gotta go find Mule.” Brandy started to wander off and Cel followed her. “You’re Deanna Oscar?” the man asked. “Yes.” I nodded. “Dr. Deanna Oscar.” Ivy was turning into one of the best girlfriends I’d ever had, if she weren’t actually flirting at a funeral. “I’m sorry, this is Ivy. She came with me.” “I’m Dan, Cel’s son.” “I’m sorry about your loss. Is your sister okay?” I was keeping one eye on Brandy and Cel’s argument just in case. “Thank you. Brandy has some big problems. I’m a doctor and I haven’t been able to help.” He seemed totally unfazed by the screaming match going on behind him. “You’re an MD? Good, ‘cause it looks like one of them might need some stitches soon.” Ivy pointed at the mother-daughter argument. “It’s complicated. The cops offered her a choice. Detox in a ninety-day inpatient treatment and probation, or charge her with neglect and take her chances with a judge. Mule is Brandy’s boyfriend and dealer. He wants her to take her chances with the judge but the family wants her to go to detox.” He glanced back momentarily. “What kind of doctor are you, Deanna?”

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I looked up and turned red. I flashed a glare at Ivy. “Psychology, PhD.” “Maybe Brandy should talk to you.” “I don’t have much experience with substance abuse. You’re better off with an established detox center.” “I hope she takes the deal. The drugs won’t bring back Little Cel.” “She’s okay. I’ve seen her since she died. She’s happy.” It was the best comfort I could offer. “Good. You’re going to find this guy. Right? Momma is convinced you’re the only one who can. I mean, you found her body and it meant everything to Momma to be able to bury Little Cel. You’ve got to be able to find the guy that did this.” “I’m doing everything I can. Unfortunately, being psychic isn’t an exact science.” I gave a weak, but somewhat reassuring, smile. He took her hand and squeezed it. “Then I know you’ll find him.” “Hopefully, before any more deaths.” I shifted my weight nervously. I couldn’t promise anything. “I heard about the second one. You’re sure it’s the same guy?” he asked. “Yes.” “If I can do anything for you, let me know.” He handed me his card as the screaming behind him got louder. “I better go before they wake the dead, literally.” “Thanks.” I waved the card and slipped it in my pocket for safekeeping. Dan walked one way, while Ivy and I went another. “He gave you his number. Just my luck, he’s a doctor and he’s straight,” Ivy whispered. “He gave me his card. It’s strictly business. If the cops catch the killer, I’ll give him a courtesy call. If I need a doctor, at least I have a name. This isn’t the way I wanted to meet people in New Orleans.” “Honey, he’s the best-looking thing I’ve seen in a long time, and believe me I’ve looked. If I were you, I’d fall down and break something right now.” Ivy glanced over her shoulder at the feuding family. “He’s got his hands full with the family. Besides, I don’t need any more complications. If I can give the cops enough to get the killer, I can get back to figuring out what to do with my life. Did you bring a car? I just walked.” Ivy led the way to a bright pink Camaro convertible. I guess I didn’t do a very good job of hiding my surprise. “I had the paint custom-mixed. Get in.” Ivy was clearly proud of her wheels. I wondered if the sample color was Pepto Bismol as I climbed in. “So what do you want to do with your life?” Ivy reapplied her lipstick before starting the car. “I mean, are you staying or what?”

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“What the hell am I going to do here? Live in a huge haunted house? Run around trying to solve ghosts’ problems and use my psychotic abilities to help the cops?” I blew out frustration and snapped on my seat belt. “You’re psychic not psychotic. Don’t be so negative. Why the hell can’t you help?” Ivy merged into traffic. “It was a joke. I just feel psychotic. Clearly I’m not funny.” “Can’t be everything. Are we going to the after-funeral dinner thing now?” “No,” I decided. My mood wasn’t good at all. “Then let’s drive-through. I skipped lunch and am starving.” Ivy pulled into the first thing she liked and I told her just to get me the same. It was all burgers and fries anyway, but I got a strawberry shake. She parked the car where we had a view of the lake and ate. “Why aren’t we going home?” I asked. “Why do you want to leave Louisiana?” She ignored my question. I sipped the shake and tried to figure out how to explain it. “This isn’t me. I don’t track criminals.” “You said you got a degree in forensic psychology. Isn’t that criminals?” “Yes, but this isn’t like that. I studied the criminal mind. I interviewed them and talked to them when they were behind bars. Or I profiled them from a distance. I don’t chase them down or find them before they strike again. I’m not a psychic detective. Besides I’m better at teaching. I have four universities ready to pay me to move to them and teach there. I’m good at teaching.” I added ketchup to my burger. And took a bite. “Holy shit, what is this?” At least I’d thought it was ketchup. I dug out the wrapper. “Hot sauce?” “You are a Yankee. Hot sauce goes on everything here.” Ivy rolled her eyes. I sipped my shake to dull the shock and scrapped off some of the sauce with a napkin. Spicy I could take, but I’d doused my burger like it was good old Heinz 57. I ate a fry to cleanse my tongue and tried again. I wasn’t going to be the Yankee wimp. “Not bad,” I said. “I just can’t use too much.” “Your tolerance would build if you stayed.” Ivy didn’t look at me but smiled. “If I don’t take one of these jobs, I’m stuck until at least next year. I can’t not work for a whole year.” My brain couldn’t handle that. “Why not?” she asked. “Elinor left you a bundle.” That was true. I kept forgetting about that. It hadn’t cleared probate or whatever, so it didn’t seem real. Only the house seemed real. “But I don’t have my hands on it yet. I’ve got student loan payments to make, and I’ll have to buy a car no matter where I live. I’ve got very little in the bank, so I can’t just wander around finding myself or Casper for a year.” “The money won’t take that long to come through. Besides, you look the type to have good credit. Plus you fit in here.” Ivy was undeterred.

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Technically my credit was clean. Except for the student loans, I was largely debtfree. My father was so anti-debt he hated the idea of me taking those loans, but he wouldn’t pay for grad school and loans were my only options. Masters and PhDs weren’t cheap. “So I should just tag along with the cops and tell them where to look? Ivy, it doesn’t work that way. Psychics aren’t exactly welcomed in law enforcement. Matt’s unique because he knew Gran.” I didn’t get the feeling that all of the NOPD would be accepting of me along for the ride. “If you prove yourself, they’ll believe and who knows what could happen. You could start your own business.” “I don’t do tarot cards or palm readings.” That wasn’t something I wanted. “I don’t need props and I never understood them anyway. I’ve never owned a crystal ball.” “Honey, you don’t need it. You’re right about this stuff. People would pay big money to know their future.” “I don’t think I could do that. I didn’t train to be psychic. I couldn’t take money for that. Besides, it’d be just like having sessions with patients. I was never great at that. You usually get people who don’t need real help but need to vent, complain and want you to tell them how to fix their lives. They already know what they need but don’t want to do the work.” “Okay, no boring stuff. Teaching doesn’t sound all that thrilling either.” “I never said it was thrilling. But it wasn’t frustrating like catching a killer. Students were there to learn, I was good at it and they liked me. I taught undergrads while I was in grad school and made enough money to pay bills, drive an old car and split a tiny apartment with a friend. I had a plan for after I got my degrees. Professor on the road to tenure.” “It’s boring. You still want to be doing that when you’re fifty?” Ivy collected the garbage from our lunch and tossed it in what passed for the backseat of her Camaro. “As opposed to what? Playing Scooby-Doo and chasing pirate ghosts in the Mystery Machine?” “You could be on one of those unsolved mystery shows on TV. You could take private clients too. Don’t know how someone died, call Dr. Oscar.” Ivy started up the car and swung back out into traffic. This could be so bad. “I’m not doing cheesy commercials.” “But you’d help anyone who asked you to. You’re a bleeding heart. That’s why you came to the funeral, and why you can’t say no to the cops when they ask you for help.” “Helping people is my area.” I couldn’t argue that. “And there are plenty of people in New Orleans that need help and they’ll believe you. We could use a badass psychic detective around here. Chicago might be a bit more closed-minded but here you blend right in.” She hit the brakes for a red light.

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“You insult Chicago again and I’ll lock you in the attic with the evil ghosts and leave for good.” “I ain’t afraid of those ghosts. I’m getting onstage tonight. There’s nothing scarier than drag queen reviews.” The light turned green and she floored it. I smiled. She drove. We both knew she was lying her ass off. Ivy was afraid of my ghosts and objects. I was afraid to stay.

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Chapter Nineteen I wore the little red dress with the strappy shoes for the drag show. Red lipstick and strong smoky eyes would make sure that I didn’t blend into the background. My nails were back to their normal French-manicured, comfortable-length and very squared shape. Since my new car hadn’t shown up yet, I arrived at the Long and Big Easy in the Jeep. I’d never figured out how to put the top on so my hair now looked even more windblown. It didn’t matter because after my appointment at the Ladylike Salon, I knew I’d never have the biggest hair in the club tonight. Tonight there were two goals, support Ivy’s career and let Greg know I knew the truth. I didn’t date liars, no matter how attractive they were. The outside of the club looked innocent. Not even a lighted sign. Inside, the light was better and the noise was electric. A huge stage was the focus with two bars lining the sides along the length of the club. Shirtless men in tight jeans or leather pants that could’ve been plucked from any issue of Playgirl manned the see-through bars. Every piece of the bar was transparent so you could get a full view of the men working. Nice touch. A dance floor had a transparent plastic finish and it looked like there were lights underneath. It was currently covered with tables and chairs. No wonder this club was hot. I found my new nail tech, Violet, and a few other familiar faces from the salon. They’d taken over a large table down front. “I guess this is the most popular drag club in New Orleans,” I said. “Obviously, we’re here. It’s a good thing you’re here. Ivy is so nervous. She’ll be really glad to see you, Deanna. Ivy was convinced you’d get pulled away by the cops or a ghost or something.” Violet poured me a pink drink they’d ordered pitchers of. “Thanks. I’m sure she’ll be great.” I sat down and sipped at the frozen strawberry margarita. Silently, I warned Warren away from here. There was no way I’d let him ruin my friend’s début. “Looks like it’s going to be packed.” Violet scanned the crowd. “Some cute boys here tonight.” “Don’t think any of them would be interested in me.” It was actually a relief. Men were more confusing than anything but none here would confuse me. “Here comes a straight one.” Violet nodded to get me look behind me. I didn’t have to look. It was Greg, I knew it. “Hi,” he said. 127

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“Hello,” I replied flatly. “Everything all right?” he asked. “Lovely.” I smiled indifferently. A few minutes of tense silence later, he leaned over and whispered, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” “Go ahead.” I sipped more of my drink. “In private,” he added. I didn’t deal with liars well. In college, I’d caught my boyfriend cheating. I’d yelled at him and the girl he was sleeping with, right in the middle of one of our classes. I wanted to vent my anger at Greg right there, but I decided not to make a scene. I had matured since then. Getting up from the table, I followed Greg outside. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “Not the best opening line I’ve ever heard.” “I know things are weird. I say we try it again. A real date this time. We’ll take it slow.” He folded his arms and waited. I smiled slightly. “You’re not even going to tell me now?” I gave him one last chance to come clean. I thought it was the mature approach. Why did men stuff always make me feel like a teenager? “What?” Greg couldn’t hide his nervousness. “You’re really not going to tell me? I’m ashamed of you, Father Greg. Priests aren’t supposed to lie,” I scolded. His last chance just expired. “I’m going to kill Ivy.” He refused to look me in the eye. “It wasn’t Ivy. It doesn’t matter who told me, because you’re the one who should’ve—but you didn’t. You’re a liar and I don’t get involved with liars. Or priests.” I kept calm. Not the enraged college girl I could’ve regressed to. “Ex-priest,” he corrected. “Don’t care. Especially because you didn’t tell me about it. A liar is a liar. The Catholic schoolgirl in me finds the priest thing pretty creepy.” “I’m sorry. I thought you had enough to deal with.” He didn’t have a better excuse. “That’s a nice excuse for a friend. However the second we went beyond that, you should’ve come clean. You’d better go to confession and do your penance.” I walked back into the club. I felt a lot better. I hadn’t gone off, like I might have in prior years. Still, I’d made my position clear without losing my temper. Clearly, I was more pissed than hurt. With so much going on, I’d rarely had time to think about myself. It was easier that way. I sat back at the table and finished off my drink. “Any chance your friend will change sides?” Violet asked. “He’s my type and I don’t have any hang-ups about sleeping with an ex-priest. Too bad he’s close with Ivy.”

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I lifted a shoulder. “I’m just his friend now. He’s all yours, if you can turn him.” I winked at Violet as Greg joined us at the table. I ignored him as the lights lowered and the curtain went up. Hopefully, Ivy could sing.

***** Everyone in the crowd was blown away. Not only could Ivy sing, she could put an audience in the palm of her hand. A few men almost jumped up on stage, she looked so good. Her dress was nothing like what I expected. She’d gone with something that looked like a disco ball, and from the stage she sparkled. All silver with a halter-top, it was perfect on her. It had what looked like little squares of mirrors sewn into it. No idea how she moved or breathed. Ivy’s shoes were the same fabric over large platforms. As Ivy took a final bow before the cheering crowd, I noticed an underage audience member. Little Cel was sitting on the stage watching Ivy in wonder. I focused my attention on Little Cel until she looked over. Motioning for her to come, I could feel Greg looking at me. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Little Cel is here.” I wasn’t in the mood for his nosiness. I looked back and Little Cel was standing next to me. “That was fun. Your friend is a great singer. I love music!” “Yes, she is. What are you doing here?” “Are you talking to a real ghost? Here?” Violet squealed. “I can’t believe it.” “Believe it,” I replied. “Ivy says your house is just crawling with them.” Violet studied the space where Little Cel stood, but clearly couldn’t see the ghost. “Maybe you should have your chat with Little Cel in the ladies’ room? People are going to start staring,” Greg said. “You think anyone will notice me? Here?” I rolled my eyes, but got up. More to get away from Greg than to avoid the stares. “So sorry to bother you, your holiness. Come on, Little Cel.” I left Greg to the company of the queens. Hopefully they’d have him squirming by the time I got back. I still had a little passive-aggressive streak. Once we were safely contained in the ladies’ room, part of me wished I’d stayed out there. But that wasn’t the point. I needed to talk to Little Cel and at least this room was quiet. “Any news?” I asked. Tina Price appeared before Little Cel said a word. “Hi,” she whispered.

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“Hi. How are you doing?” The rush of relief that both girls were now communicating, and hopefully at peace, ran through me. “Okay. You need to stop Darren and Warren.” Tina stuck close to Little Cel. “I know. Can you help?” I needed all the help I could get. Nothing concrete had developed. “You have what you need now. We can’t help you anymore.” Little Cel shrugged. “Anymore? I don’t recall any actual help from you two before. Now tell me what I need to know.” My hands were on my hips, for a split second I felt like my mother. A chill ran through me. I relaxed my arms, taking a deep breath. These weren’t real children anymore, I reminded myself. They just looked that way. “We can’t. You have everything you need now. Why’s that Greg guy so angry anyway?” Tina asked. “He’s sexually frustrated.” Little Cel smiled at me. “Yuck. If you’re going to talk like that, please appear as, at least, an eighteen-yearold.” I waved off that topic. “What do you mean, I have everything I need? You mean to find the last girl?” Tina and Little Cel nodded in unison. “You just need to clear your mind. You’re really bad at that.” Little Cel smiled. “Thanks a lot.” I walked out of the ladies’ room. I had very little patience left but most of my frustration was targeted at myself. Not two steps into the main room, I was attacked by a sweaty and smiling Ivy, hugging me like she was ready to collapse. “That was unbelievable!” “You were great!” I said when she finally let me up for air. “Where did you go? They said you saw ghosts in the club? Everything okay?” Ivy looked concerned over my shoulder. Ever since the haunted objects were let loose, she’d been a bit on edge. “Yeah, it was only Little Cel. Not Warren. Nothing to worry about. The crowd loved you.” I had no interest in talking about a killer to Ivy on her big night. Darren and Warren weren’t after anyone tonight. “What happened with you and Greg?” she asked. “He’s totally acting weird.” “Nothing and it won’t happen. I found out he used to be a priest from Mary Lou today.” “The dumbass didn’t tell you? That’s my cousin. Men.” She shook her mass of curls so stiff with hairspray nothing moved. I exhaled slowly. “I can’t deal with that now. Can you believe he wanted me to take the ghosts into the ladies’ room? He’s the one who talked about coming out of the closet as a psychic. Not denying myself. Now I shouldn’t be too public in a drag club.”

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“Ha. He’s one to talk. It took him forever to leave the priesthood. He only went to the seminary because his mother wanted him to be a priest. While he’s nice enough to come to these things for me, if I were to start kissing any man in this place, it’d freak him out. Greg means well, but he’s not there yet.” “There?” I frowned at her. “Reality. Or what he wants his reality to be. I don’t know what it is. He’s got to find it himself. It’s not your problem, honey.” Ivy patted my arm. “You could’ve told me he was a priest.” I nudged her boa-clad elbow. “If he were the one for you, it wouldn’t matter.” Ivy lifted a matter-of-fact shoulder at me. She was right. I had bigger problems than men anyway. According to the girls, I had what I needed. No idea what that meant, but I had to try. “Are you coming to the after-party?” she asked. “No, I have to try to find the third girl. Sorry, I just feel like I’m missing something. I haven’t done one thing today that was useful toward the case. I need a bit of quiet.” “No problem, I understand. Do what you have to do. I’m just thrilled you got to see it. I’ll see you later.” She gave me an air kiss at each cheek then headed off to find the table. I followed, and in the flurry of attention lavished on Ivy, managed to grab my purse and slip out the door without being noticed. I cleared my mind and drove wherever my instincts wanted. Twenty minutes later, I found myself at the site where Little Cel’s body had been dug up. Cutting the engine, I closed my eyes. All I could do was empty my mind and look for the killer. Darren’s mind came clearly to me now. Unfortunately, he didn’t know where the next victim was yet either. I had the impression Warren kept it from him until they were plotting how to get in. I needed another angle. I left Darren’s mind and tried Warren’s. As expected, I met a brick wall. There was one thing I hadn’t tried. It hadn’t even occurred to me until that moment, but it was worth a try. If I wanted to locate the third doll, I needed to tune into it. I only knew one way. I went into Karen’s mind. Not the Karen I’d met on the Other Side, but the Karen who was a little girl being terrorized by her brother. I went back to the day Warren fell out of the tree house. The day he died. I felt the fear. The anger in Karen as she fought with her brother. That wouldn’t help me. I backed up to when she settled her dolls into the tree house for the tea party. Before Warren charged in to cause trouble. Karen primped and held each doll. The first two I knew, the last one I had. As she touched the third one, I got clearer than I’d ever been. The face of the little girl that now slept with the doll flashed in my mind. I opened my eyes and started the Jeep. Flooring it in strappy heels through the back roads, I 131

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didn’t think at all as I drove to the house. I just had to go there before I lost the connection. My lead foot nearly overshot it. I slammed on the brakes, bringing the Jeep to a jerky stop at the end of a gravely driveway. The name on the mailbox was Major. I’d found it! The third girl lived here. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Matt’s number. “Yeah?” He’d clearly been asleep. “I’ve got the house and a name for our third girl.” I exhaled all the pressure. The danger was by no means over, but at least now we could put up a fight. “Get to the station now.” I’d gotten Matt’s attention. “Don’t you want to come here?” I asked. “No, station, now,” he ordered. “Fine.” I hung up and grabbed a pen and notebook out of the glove compartment. I wrote down what I knew. The girl inside was the same age as Little Cel and Tina. Innocently sleeping with her doll. Part of me wanted to go ring the doorbell. To warn them. It wasn’t the right thing. The parents would think I was nuts. It would undercut whatever the cops would do. The cops wouldn’t appreciate that. Darren and Warren weren’t going to strike tonight, so it was best to do as Matt said. I pointed the Jeep in the direction of the police station. At two in the morning, the station was still humming with activity, though at a lower level. Matt had beaten me there. “You’re sure?” he asked. I handed him the piece of paper. “I’m sure.” “Any idea when?” He headed inside. I followed him to his desk, dropping into the uncomfortable hard plastic guest chair. “Soon. Not tonight.” Matt finally looked at me with a frown. “What are you wearing?” I glanced down. The red slinky number was perfect for the club. Not so perfect for ghost busting, killer hunting or police station interviews. “I was out.” “Apparently. The judge’ll be here any minute.” “Why is he coming?” I asked. Matt pushed a bunch of buttons on the computer. “He asked me to keep him apprised of this case. It’s not even his area but that’s my little brother. He gets stuck on things.” “What are you doing?” I tried to get a look. “Looking up the family.”

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“The girl’s name begins with a ‘B’ and she’s an only child. Both parents live in the house.” I hadn’t gotten all the information. It was a start and there was no time to waste. “That’s a hit.” Matt looked sharply at me. Not in surprise or disbelief. More like wonder. I still wondered how it happened. “You pick the weirdest times to have breakthroughs.” John entered in jeans and an LSU t-shirt. His hair looked like he’d barely run his fingers through it and the worn gym shoes on his feet had no socks underneath. “You didn’t have to come.” I toyed with my silver watch. He looked me over but didn’t comment on the dress. “I like to finish what I start. Or at least whatever I get myself involved in. What do we have?” “A name, Becky Major, an address, and if we can pinpoint it, I’m hoping we’ll have a date.” Matt turned from the computer to face us. “I told you soon. The next day or two. It’ll happen at night. I can’t be more specific.” “That’s close enough. We’ll talk to the family tomorrow.” Matt’s printer began to hum as he organized the paperwork. “I want to be there,” I said. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The family might dismiss it if we tell them how we got this lead.” Matt made some notes. “I’ll go tomorrow.” “What’ll you tell them? You searched the house without their permission and found the doll? You can’t say that. No matter what you do, Darren’s going to get inside the house,” I said. Matt looked at John then back at me. “I’m going to have that place surrounded,” Matt said. “Won’t work. Warren will get Darren around you. You can’t catch a ghost.” “I don’t need to catch a ghost. Just the killer.” Matt folded his arms. “If I have to shoot him to catch him, it won’t break my heart.” “I hope that isn’t plan A.” That was exactly what Warren wanted. I didn’t know what else to say. It could be necessary. I couldn’t see Darren’s fate, however I did have a clear vision of him getting inside the house that night. Oddly, the girl wasn’t alone. I was there too. “Let’s concentrate on the family first,” John said. “Without their permission, you won’t have a stakeout or a capture. You have to convince them their daughter is in danger.” “I should be there for that.” “Why?” Matt asked.

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“Not as a psychic, as a psychologist. That kid is going to be scared out of her mind with all the police. The idea that her doll is somehow going to put her in danger will take some clarification.” “The parents can handle the girl.” Matt waved off the argument. “Sure, because this is just the sort of thing a time-out is perfect for.” I rolled my eyes. “This isn’t normal parenting. It requires a certain skill set to handle well. You can’t just barge into her home—take over her room and doll, without explanation.” “She should go,” John said. “What’s your logic?” Matt asked. “She’s a target too. Let her convince the family. Get them to trust her. Let her stay with the girl during the stakeout. If the girl is heavily guarded in one place, the killer might switch order to go after Deanna. This way, you have both targets contained.” John leaned on the desk. “I like the way you think.” I smiled at John. It didn’t hit me until I was walking out to my Jeep. I’d just agreed to being put inside a house being staked out for a killer. Worse yet, I knew the killer would make it inside. This whole thing was way too close to me personally now. My skills didn’t tell me if I’d live or die. Some things were beyond me.

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Chapter Twenty Matt was already in talking with the family when John and I pulled up in their driveway. I could sense the parents wouldn’t be overly receptive to the news, who would want their home staked out? In the big picture, it was their daughter who was the lucky one. “Ready?” the judge asked. “As I’ll ever be.” We made the short walk to the front door. A man shouted on the inside. There was no way to be ready for this. “I don’t believe this.” The father was not the quiet type. Honestly, I couldn’t blame him. It was still hard for me to get my brain around the randomness of this. That Warren was using the dolls as a way to arbitrarily kill innocent children. How would I explain that? John knocked on the door and Matt waved us in. “This is the lady I was telling you about. Dr. Oscar is a psychologist who specializes in these sorts of unusual cases.” I didn’t know I had a specialty like that, however it seemed to make the family relax a bit. “Look, Doctor, I don’t know what this has to do with our girl or her doll.” The father was still pacing though not as angrily. I wanted to tell him to call me Deanna, but the title gave me an edge of influence I might need with them. His wife was sitting on the couch, silently crying. She just looked stunned and I couldn’t blame her. “Please sit down, Mr. Major. I know this is hard. The first thing you have to realize is that it has nothing to do with your daughter except the doll. The man we’re looking for is very disturbed. It goes back to his childhood. He’s not rational but he is very dangerous.” I didn’t want to give away too much. “What does it have to do with a doll?” Mr. Major cut in. “Those dolls belonged to his late sister. They are the center of his obsession. Your daughter has become his focus.” “So take the doll,” Mrs. Major squeaked behind her tears. “It wasn’t even one of her favorites until recently. Get rid of it, burn it. We’ll find her another doll.” I sat next to the wife, attempting to seem confident yet understanding. Regular therapy was one thing. You were usually dealing with past demons. This was a crisis in the future. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Major. That won’t help. This isn’t easy to understand but the doll’s already here. The killer has already fixated on your little girl. Whether the doll is here or not, he’s coming just like a homing pigeon because it was here and your daughter owned it.”

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“What the hell are you talking about?” the husband snapped. “That’s crap. I can’t believe any of this. Next you’ll tell me the doll is haunted.” That was true. But how much to tell? How much would they believe? Being right didn’t matter. Convincing them I was right wasn’t the point. I had to get them to agree to the stakeout. “It really doesn’t matter what you believe. If the doll is haunted or not, it doesn’t change the fact that a man who has killed three times already is going to try to kill your daughter. Matt, do you have the crime scene photos?” I asked. “We don’t do that, Dr. Oscar. It’s a last resort.” He toyed with the file. “We’re there.” I held out my hand and he put the pictures in it. Respectfully, I set them on the coffee table. “This is what he does. This is what’ll happen if you don’t let the police stake out the house tomorrow night. With your daughter inside.” Mrs. Major covered her eyes. Mr. Major flipped all the pictures over. “This is insane. Why tomorrow? Why not tonight?” “He’s not coming tonight.” I didn’t have a better explanation for why. “How do you know that?” he asked. “I know, I’ve gotten inside the killer’s head. That’s my job.” I looked him in the eye and saw the fear. He felt helpless like any father would. “What do we tell Becky? What do we tell her about why police are camping out in her bedroom?” The father had accepted the need but still wanted to protect his daughter. “She can sleep with us.” “No,” I cut in. “She has to be in her own bed.” “And we can’t have you in the same room. If you get in the way of the police trying to protect her, your safety could be at risk or you could jeopardize her safety,” Matt said. “You can’t leave her alone.” The mother went from passive to stern. “You can be in your bedroom but we can’t have you on scene. Besides, he won’t get in. The perimeter will be covered. We’ll get him before he gets inside the house. He’s not that smart of a killer. He’s mentally disturbed. That’s why we think he’ll try even with the police here. It won’t discourage him. That’s why this is all so unusual.” Mr. Major shook his head for a few moments then looked at his wife. “She’ll be terrified.” Mrs. Major buried her face in her hands. “You know how she gets with those bad dreams.” “I’d be willing to stay in the room with your daughter.” I hoped that would put some reassurance to this. “Why you?” Mr. Major asked. “She’s a psychologist. Maybe she can help Becky understand some of this. And not be so scared. You’d be angry and I’d be crying the whole time.” Mrs. Major showed the first glimmer of real sense.

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Not that I didn’t understand her feelings. I had no idea how I’d feel if it was a member of my family as a target. Being hysterical or angry didn’t help anyone. “You have experience with children?” he asked me. “Yes.” I sounded confident. I’d done all of the required child psychology courses but it wasn’t my specialty. This wasn’t even something normal like bad dreams or a divorce trauma. This was much bigger. “She’s in the backyard playing. I’ll go get her. If she’ll let you, you can stay. If you can’t convince her, no one can be in the house. You’re all outside. The cops can stake out the house. Got it?” “Yes.” Outside was no good. The killer might not get inside but the ghost could. He could hurt the girl if not kill her himself. Someone had to be there if something happened. Darren and Warren wouldn’t give up. I was amazed at how quickly Mrs. Major recovered, looking almost normal. A little pink around the eyes, but she didn’t want to show fear to her daughter. Mr. Major brought his daughter in and her eyes grew twice the size as she took in all the people. The girl clutched the doll hard. “Don’t worry, honey. They’re here to help us,” he said. “This is Dr. Oscar. She wants to talk to you for a minute.” “Hi, Becky. That’s a pretty doll.” I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her. She smiled briefly but kept looking at the boys in blue. “Why don’t we go to your room? We can talk there without all these boys around.” “Am I sick?” she asked. “No, no one is sick. I’m not that kind of doctor. People come to me when they’re scared or sad, not sick. Will you show me your room? There’s too many boys out here.” I winked and got a real smile out of her. Finally, she took my hand. I was tugged into a pink and lavender world of lace. Dolls lined the walls. Clearly the girl loved her dolls. She hopped on her bed and cradled the doll. “Are you here for Mommy?” she asked. “Why do you say that?” I sat down next to her. “She was crying. You’re a sad doctor.” Observant girl. “Does she cry a lot?” I asked. The girl shrugged. “Not a lot but pretty easy. At movies sometimes or birthdays.” “Well, today your mommy is scared because there’s a bad man in the neighborhood. She wants to make sure you’re safe. You know that bad men look same as regular men.” She was old enough, but I had to make sure she followed me carefully. “The boy is bad.” “A boy at school?” I asked. “No, him.” She pointed to the dresser. Warren was smugly smiling at me. He didn’t move. I didn’t let my unease show. “Do you see him a lot?”

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She chewed her lip. “Not a lot. He keeps saying his brother is going to come and hurt me. Is that the bad man Mommy is worried about?” “Yes, that’s him.” “But he’s just a boy.” “No, honey. He’s a boy. And a ghost.” I pointed to Warren still silently watching us. “His brother is a grownup now and he’s very sad because they’re separated. We have to stop the brother from coming here.” “You won’t,” Warren said. “He’s going to get her and that dumb doll.” “No.” The girl buried her face in the doll. Warren just laughed. “She has no idea what she’s in for.” He wasn’t going to make any of this easy, but I never expected that he would. Worse now, he knew we’d be there now. The element of surprise was gone, if I’d ever had it. “Why are you doing this? These girls didn’t do anything to you. Your sister is already dead.” If I could get him talking maybe I could stop the whole thing. Maybe, but it hadn’t worked before. I wasn’t the type to give up. “So they get the dolls now? They get to enjoy them? Be special. I was never special. I was never unique. Do you know how hard it is to be a twin? An identical twin?” he asked. “We’ve been through this before, Warren. I’d be happy to talk to you about all of this. If you’d just stop having your brother kill people. Why not leave Darren and this little girl alone? Let them live their lives, unhaunted. You go to the Other Side.” This was therapy. I was counseling a ghost. If I thought about it too much, I’d either start laughing or run out of the room. This ghost wanted the girl dead and I was trying to counsel him. It was all I could do. “I thought I could. I tried to be apart from that wimp brother of mine. Time for us isn’t like it is for you. I left him alone and I couldn’t take it. So I decided neither could he. Then he wouldn’t do it.” “Wouldn’t do what?” I asked. “He’s killed for you twice. Three times if you count Karen.” “Sure, but I wanted him to. The chicken wouldn’t do it himself. I hate being alone. And I hate that I hate it.” His shoulders slumped and lips quivered. I almost felt sorry for the kid. He was in an endless repetition of wanting to be unique yet needing to be a twin again. “This isn’t the answer to getting your brother back.” We were going in circles. Sometimes therapy had to go that way to get a little further. “No, but he won’t jump.” Warren pouted. “You still want him to kill himself to be with you? What a selfish little brat.” I had to bait him, he was making no progress at all the other way. The girl clung tighter to the doll as the boy approached enraged. “Why should I get screwed out of living and he didn’t? We always got exactly the same. Our parents 138

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always had to be fair. Everything equal. Karen got more because she was the baby.” He pointed to Becky. I realized he was completely projecting Karen’s actions onto each new girl. If we didn’t stop the brothers, they’d keep going after young girls his sister’s age when he died. He’d never be satisfied because Warren convinced himself it was his sister. “Becky isn’t your sister. Your sister is dead.” I felt Becky move behind me to hide. She was being very brave and obviously this wasn’t the first time the boy had terrorized her. “Doesn’t matter. Spoiled girl gets the doll she wants. Same story, I can’t even have my own brother with me. Someone is going to pay.” He stomped his foot like he was about to start a tantrum. I couldn’t fear this little boy. “I’m sorry your life was cut short. This girl is Becky, not Karen, she didn’t do anything to you. Do you really want to put Becky through this? You already know it won’t make you feel better. It won’t change anything. The first two girls didn’t. Did they?” He was quiet for a moment. He smiled viciously at me. “It felt good to watch.” I produced a small vial of holy water from my pocket. I’d had enough of him. “Get out.” I flung the water at him. It hadn’t worked in the library but it was better than nothing. “You won’t stop me that easy.” He vanished in a blink. I took a deep breath. “He’s gone.” I waved the girl from her hiding spot, now even more convinced I’d make a lousy mother. I had zero patience. “Are you okay?” “He’s coming back with his brother.” “I know. He will. We’re going to be here with you. The police are going to be outside, so the brother can’t get in. And I’m going to be in here with you, if that’s okay?” I looked in her tear-filled eyes and hoped she’d trust me enough. “Okay,” she managed. “Tonight? He comes more at night.” “I think they’ll both come tomorrow night. Do you want us here tonight?” She nodded furiously. Right now a lecture hall full of bored freshman seemed like heaven. But what could I do? This little girl needed me. I’d been committed long ago.

***** Back in the car, John was staring at me. “What?” I asked. “You okay?” “The girl can see the ghost too. Didn’t count on that one. The good news is she agreed to let me be in the room.” “And the bad news?” he asked. 139

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“I ran into our problem ghost, Warren, again. He’s not going to go away easily. Better yet, he knows we’re on to him.” “I’m going to be in the room too.” John wasn’t asking. “No. You weren’t invited. It could upset Becky.” I crossed my arms over my shirt and looked out the window. “You need someone else in there. Someone who can’t see ghosts and can be objective.” He sounded rational. I was in no mood for that. “No, I don’t need you in there. Objectivity isn’t an asset when you’re dealing with ghosts. They aren’t playing by the same rules. Warren isn’t playing with anything like a logical mind. He died when he was ten. He’s selfish, bratty and cares only about his pain. He died so he thinks others deserve the same fate. A broken neck. How are you going to help with that when you can’t see him?” “What does he want? He must want something? Something has to be able to stop him.” John had a lead foot like I did. “Oddly enough, he wants what you want.” I frowned. It wasn’t funny but the irony gave me a headache. “He wants Darren to die.” “You’re telling me, he can make the brother kill others but not himself?” John’s eyes left the road too long. I grabbed the wheel. “Watch it,” I warned. “We can’t both end up dead or the ghost will win.” He quickly got control of the car and pulled over to the side of the road. “Why not just kill his brother?” “I’m not sure ghosts can directly kill anyone. I think he wants his brother to kill himself. Loyalty—to be together. Warren will settle for death by cop for Darren, if he has to. The police will play right into their hands if you aren’t careful.” “I’m going to be in the room with you. In the room,” he repeated. “No offense, but you’re a judge. I’d feel a lot better if the SWAT team were guarding me.” Not that John wasn’t in good shape, however good shape and good with an automatic machine gun weren’t the same thing. “We’ll have enough firepower. You need an impartial head. Someone who isn’t listening to the ghost, instead of their own survival instincts. A different perspective, if that makes you feel better.” “It doesn’t. If you promise not to go overboard and have the cops shoot on sight or anything, I guess I’ll let you sleep on the floor.” “I’m not in charge of the police, and I certainly don’t want that little girl to see any real violence if we can help it. If the ghost causes real trouble, I could be useful.” He was still trying to convince me. “Possibly. If Matt can capture Darren outside that’s better. I want still to talk to him when it’s over.” I shifted in the seat. “What’s the point of that?” he asked. “Besides your own morbid curiosity, I mean?”

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“You want in the room or not?” I asked. “Fine.” He started the car back up. “Once he’s behind bars, I guess a little therapy won’t hurt. He’ll have to be evaluated by an independent psychologist though. You’re too involved.” “Of course someone else will have to do the official stuff. This is personal now. I’m not licensed in Louisiana anyway. Catching him will be the hard part. After that, it’s all downhill.” “We hope.” “The family wants us to stake out tonight too.” “I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty. No reason to have twenty non-police cars around the neighborhood.”

***** I snuck off to the Internet café and checked my messages. My Lotus Circle contact confirmed we’d done exactly right on sealing the storeroom. Warren got in because he was connected to the doll. The new seal should keep out any ghost. Good to know I was on the right track. I enjoyed a mocha iced coffee this time and debated about my next quandary. I would be interfering. Then I thought about Becky. No one had ever interfered on my behalf. I had to throw it out there. What do you do about a little girl who is a medium? I hit send and hoped they’d have an answer.

***** By nine at night John and I were back at the little house setting up for a stakeout. The police had been relieved at the two-night stakeout. From their point of view, it was playing it safe. They’d be in serious trouble if Darren came a night early and they had to say they weren’t there because a psychic’s vision said it wouldn’t happen until the next night. I just hoped that no activity tonight wouldn’t give the family a false sense of hope that nothing would happen tomorrow night. It didn’t take much for Warren and Darren to slip in and ruin lives. John hadn’t changed his mind. Stubborn man, he was there in jeans and a sweatshirt. Damn him, just what I needed. The distraction of him in nicely fitting denim didn’t help. When he was in a robe or dress pants I could play the professional. I could try to see him as the judge—not John the hot guy. Easier said than done. I’d changed into more comfortable new jeans and a new dark purple t-shirt for the stakeout. My gray cable-knit cardigan was wrapped around my waist in case I got cold. I had the feeling that wouldn’t be a problem.

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I set myself up in the window seat with some essential tools Ivy had packed for me. After the objects got loose, she’d become the holy water queen. The family had moved a chair and some pillows in there for us. Apparently John had informed Matt that he’d be in the room and that was nonnegotiable. That’s why the police were more than tense. His little brother’s life was on the line. That brother just happened to be a judge. Talk about a headline of nightmare potential. We settled in and let Becky’s parents tuck her in without interruption. The girl didn’t seem afraid. Her parents had assured us Becky was a heavy sleeper and nervously left. “You’re sure he’s not coming tonight?” John asked quietly. He’d made himself comfortable in the chair. “I’m sure.” I looked at the girl from the pillow-filled window seat. “Not tonight.” The bottle of holy water sat next to me. A white candle flickered between me and John as our only nightlight. Becky was sound asleep in her twin bed. The police could be heard walking around outside now, but she trusted me when I told her it wouldn’t happen tonight. So far Warren hadn’t appeared to warn me off or try anything else. Warren had apparently left Becky alone for the rest of the day as well, and like the adorable seven-year-old she was, she’d largely forgotten about it until we showed up. Maybe she could sense his presence too and knew they were safe. I felt sorry for Becky. I saw too much of myself in her. “How do you know it won’t be tonight?” he asked. I shrugged. “Don’t know, but I know. Don’t you trust me? Why are you here, really?” “I trust you. If you want the official version of why I’m here, the papers call me a crusader. Out to help the little guy. That’s their story anyway.” He stopped and looked at me. “Wait, I thought you were psychic.” “Psychic isn’t necessarily telepathic. I don’t always know why. I don’t go poking around, reading thoughts. I just know some things.” I smiled. “What do you know?” “About you?” He nodded. “Other than the whole birth mother thing? You really do want to help people. The fascinating thing is, you love this city and want to make it safer. Yet, you don’t care what people think of you.” “How’s that?” “You’ve gotten personally involved in a case that isn’t yours, with a psychic on it no less. If this goes badly, it could be really bad press for you. Still, here you are. Not caring about it.” I smiled. “See, I don’t need the powers for everything.” “Now you’re glad I’m here?” he mocked. 142

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“I didn’t say that. I don’t need distractions. You could make me lose focus if Warren and Darren are both causing trouble. I have to concentrate on the ghost and the girl. Whatever happens tomorrow night, you can’t touch me.” “I’m a gentleman, miss,” he drawled. “I’m serious. Don’t yell at me. Don’t stop me just because you don’t understand what I’m doing. And please don’t do anything to try to break my concentration. If you have to get Becky out of here, that’s fine, just leave me. I might get through to one of the brothers. I have to try.” “How can you? You said Warren is evil.” John looked concerned. “If Warren could kill me, he already would’ve. I can try to manage him, can’t I? If we can’t get his brother in custody this won’t stop. Not with Becky’s death or all the dolls destroyed, not with anything but the killer’s capture.” “You’ve tried before. Do you think you can talk the ghost out of it this time?” He leaned toward me. I stared out the window. “Probably not. Once we have Darren, I’ll try to help them both. Better get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be it.” I leaned my head back against the wall and curled up. I wondered how I got here. I could be preparing lectures in a little office or sitting in a staff meeting. Would I be happy? I’d be more comfortable, safer and probably bored to tears. This wasn’t boring. It was crazy and dangerous, but not boring. However, this was just a preview. Tomorrow would be the real deal.

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Chapter Twenty-One “Here we are again. This is getting to be a habit with us.” John parked the SUV about a block down from the Majors’ house. We walked in a comfortable silence. Two nights wasn’t really a habit. It was comforting small talk though. I gave a half-smile. I knew John was trying to break the tension, but we were going to be neck-deep in it all night. It would definitely be tonight. Nothing happened the night before but that hadn’t calmed the tension. Nor had it necessarily proved me right. Something had to happen tonight. Not that I was worried. Something would. “You’re still not sure if you’re staying?” John tried to change the subject. I wasn’t really interested in that one either. “We haven’t caught anyone yet. I can’t leave until this guy is in prison. In the end, I might be better off in a classroom.” I looked closely at John for the first time since he’d picked me up. He was in a pair of jeans and worn-out t-shirt this time. Complete with gym shoes. I’d gone casual too. Blue jeans with a red t-shirt. We walked into the house and pretended not to notice the cops with big guns standing around. “I’d have skipped fewer classes if you were the teacher,” he said. That actually made me smile. Before I came up with an improper response, Becky spotted me and ran like the ghost was after her. Instead of fear, she was smiling. “De.” “Hi, Becky. Ready for an adventure?” I didn’t want to upset her more than she needed to be. John was talking to Becky’s parents, which was good because I didn’t want to. Becky looked unsure. I didn’t blame her. She wanted it to stop. Odds were, we’d keep her out of any danger. I had a feeling Warren was more interested in me now. “How we doing, Matt?” I knew nothing had happened all day, but it didn’t hurt to ask. “Fine. It’s going to be tonight, right?” He leaned in. “I got antsy guys here.” “It’ll be tonight. You’ll need them antsy. Keep them on their toes.” I nodded in John’s direction. “And don’t let John do anything stupid. If weird stuff starts happening, get him and Becky out of here. They can’t fight a ghost. Neither can your men.” “And you can?” he asked. “Better than you. I’ve got a chance, considering I can see them. You get Darren, I’ll try to keep Warren from making things worse.” I exhaled my growing tension. Matt walked away.

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“You really think you can keep Warren busy?” John asked. “I don’t have any better ideas. The brothers are very codependent. If Warren is dealing with me, the cops might have a better chance of catching Darren off guard or him making a mistake.” “Can’t you exorcise him or something?” “That won’t help. He’s not haunting this house. Even if I tried, he’d just come right back. He was switching between Darren and the dolls. Warren moves at will, trying to move him won’t help. He’s too strong to attempt to lock him in the attic of the house. That ghost has been dead and mobile for a long time. I’ll have to handle him directly.” “Let’s get set up,” Matt announced. John threw me a look of support. He still didn’t fully understand what was about to happen. Greg might’ve been the better choice, but it was my first police thing. I couldn’t make the rules yet. The nightly routine went off just as it had previously. The parents weren’t quite convinced that anything would happen tonight. It seemed only Becky and I understood this was inevitable. I was thankful she didn’t fully understand what the ghost’s intentions were. John settled in his chair again while I set my supplies in the window seat. Anything that might slow Warren down was good. “De.” Becky had only been faking sleep. “Yes?” I knelt by the bed. “I’m scared.” “That’s okay. Me too. Just don’t worry. We’ve got help.” I touched the doll in her arms. I didn’t know what Warren had done to it, but clearly the girl was strongly attached to it. “Will you stay here?” she asked. “I’ll be right here in the window.” “No, here.” She moved over and tugged on my arm. “Okay.” I sat on top of the covers. She’d grown attached to me faster than an average seven-year-old. But considering Warren’s threats and my ability to see him, she had reason to trust me. From my new position, I had a better view of John. I smiled weakly. The pause felt like a place for conversation but neither of us bothered. Becky slept while I opened my mind trying to get a sense of where the killer was. Warren and Darren both knew we were waiting for them. Around midnight, I felt Warren and Darren. I looked up at John, who’d nodded off. I wanted to warn the police but I wasn’t ready to wake Becky yet, so I grabbed a miniature plush Hello Kitty off her bedside stand and chucked it at him. He startled awake. John’s eyes locked on mine.

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“He’s coming. Tell Matt,” I whispered. Without a word, John slipped out of the room. The second he was gone, Warren appeared. “Think he’ll help?” the ghost scoffed at me. “I don’t think I need help. I can handle you. You don’t have to do this,” I said. “You’re bringing your brother into a trap.” “Maybe they’ll shoot him?” The ghost grinned. “Maybe then I’ll stop?” “Maybe your brother will turn out to be stronger than you,” I suggested. Warren vanished. Then I heard scuffling around the back of the house. They were going the wrong way, Warren had created a distraction. I knew we couldn’t keep the killer out. Telling them would only make Warren switch tactics faster than they could. I shook Becky awake and got between her and the window half a second before the killer crashed through it. Becky whimpered behind me. “Matt!” I shouted. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was high or really drunk. He’d broken through glass and seemed oblivious to the fact that he was badly cut. The window hadn’t even been locked. Darren grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me off the bed. Now Becky was totally vulnerable. He pushed me up against the wall. Darren didn’t say a word. He looked at me as though I didn’t really exist. I could’ve been a lamp in his way. I made eye contact and he stopped for a moment. I realized that handling the ghost wasn’t the answer. I had to handle Darren somehow. Make him believe he was stronger than his twin brother. “You don’t have to do this, Darren. You’re the one in control of your actions, not Warren.” Matt, several cops and John plowed through the door. For a second it felt like a movie. Guns cocked in unison from the area of the door. Did they practice that in the academy? “Don’t shoot,” I managed as Darren’s hands restricted my air supply. “Let her go,” Matt yelled. “Get Becky out.” I made eye contact with the girl. She listened and John disappeared with her. “The family is out, Doc,” Matt said. “Get all of them out of here,” Warren insisted as he appeared over his brother’s back. “Out!” Darren yelled at the cops. “Not going to happen, kid. Let her go.” Matt took a step closer instead. “Maybe if we kill you, there will be no one to stop us?” Warren pondered while looking me in the eye.

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“Darren, you don’t have to kill anyone. You don’t have to hurt people. I know you don’t really want to.” I felt his grip on my throat loosen a bit. “Sure, but if he doesn’t, he’ll still end up dead by all those police out there. And if he doesn’t kill you, I’ll never speak to him again. He’ll be alone forever.” Warren knew exactly how to stir up his brother. Darren’s hands on my neck went from loose to crushing. Then he pulled up until I was on the tiptoes of my shoes wishing I’d gone for the heels. I gasped for air. “I can help you,” I rasped. Darren was listening and his grip backed off a bit. But Warren clearly didn’t approve. His energy level spiked and the bedside lamp that wasn’t even turned on exploded, sending glass flying. “How the hell did you do that?” John asked. “That’s Warren,” I said. “We’re stronger than him, Darren.” “No, you’re not,” Warren shouted. “You’re nothing without me. You don’t deserve to live. Neither does she.” Darren’s hands tightened around my neck and I sunk my nails into his hands again, trying to free myself. I wondered if my first attempt at psychic crime solving would be my last. My nails dug into his hands. I heard him swear and felt his hands release me. I didn’t care what had happened. Free, I kneed him in the crotch and pushed. “Clear,” Matt shouted. I heard a shot. Darren fell to the ground, screaming in pain. “I told you not to shoot,” I gasped. “He’s not dead. We used a Taser dart.” Matt waved for two of the officers to drag Darren off. “Read him his rights as soon as he comes to.” “Good thinking.” I took some deeper breaths. Glancing down at my nails, I realized one of them had been exceptionally sharp. “We’re good for some things. If I’d had a clean shot, we’d have popped him. But that lamp thing was weird.” Matt walked over to examine the evidence. “You’ll pay for this.” Warren stood with his little fists clenched over his brother’s body. “Darren won’t be free to do your work anymore, Warren. Go play or something.” I rubbed my neck as I walked out of the bedroom to find Becky. “Are you okay?” John asked. “Fine.” It wasn’t technically a lie. I wasn’t seriously hurt. That was the first time anyone had every tried to kill me. If I stayed in New Orleans, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last. “Becky’s okay?” I asked.

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“With her parents. We’ve got them stashed at a safe house a block up. Plus, now we’ve got the doll for evidence.” Matt had it in a clear plastic bag. “And we found a knife on Darren.” “A confession won’t be a problem.” I knew Darren was itching to be stopped. So long as he didn’t appear disloyal to his brother. “We’ve got him on attempted murder of you, if nothing else.” John inspected my neck. I took a half step back. “I’m fine. I just need a little air.” It was a lame excuse considering the breeze from the broken window, but I went out the front door. I needed to be out of that house. The cops looked at me but no one said anything. Darren was lying in a squad car with his head against the window. Warren appeared sitting on the car trunk. “He’ll never get rid of me. You can’t do it. We’re twins. Twins! This is the way it has to be.” He didn’t look angry or defeated at all. More matter-of-fact. I didn’t respond. Warren disappeared and reappeared in the car with his brother. The bottom line was, Darren couldn’t hurt anyone else. Warren might be impossible to change but Darren’s life wasn’t over. Somehow Darren would have to learn to resist Warren and his own guilt. Why hadn’t he gotten over it younger? I’d had enough of Warren’s drama. I’d never felt more relieved. Warren had no reason to bother us anymore. We’d achieved the ultimate goal, I reminded myself. Protecting the victim. Not everyone could be fixed. I harbored a tiny bit of hope for Darren. That was the psychologist in me. Whatever help he’d gotten wasn’t enough. If we knew why—maybe then it could be changed. Or that knowledge could be used to help others. The cops wanted an arrest. I wanted the why. “Come on, Doc.” Matt waved for me to join him. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “The serious cases all went via ambulance, Darren stabbed two bystanders and a tree fell on another group. Think that was your ghost’s handiwork. I’ll let the judge take you to the ER.” “No, I’m fine, Matt.” My throat did hurt. Swallowing wasn’t a pleasant experience, but it hardly warranted a hospital run. My brothers had done more damage to each other on their best days of sibling rivalry. “Sorry. You were injured on scene, you’ve got to be cleared or we could be liable. No refusing it.” He was blowing hot air to cover his ass. “Fine.” I could refuse to go. On the other hand, I wasn’t ready to go home. Warren might be waiting to get back at me. Nor did I want to sit down with Darren just yet. The hospital seemed like the safe alternative.

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John and I got in his car. Resting my head on the plush leather headrest, I closed my eyes. Part of me did want to go home. Talk with Gran. Something. “Don’t lose it on me now. We’ll get you checked out.” He sounded concerned. “I’m exhausted.” I touched my tender neck. I’d have some pretty bruises tomorrow. “Darren won’t bother anyone again. You did it.” He gave my hand an encouraging squeeze. I looked down at my hands. “I ruined my new nails.” The nail on my right hand ring finger still had blood on it. I’d broken the nail on a thumb and middle finger. Both were beginning to sting. “Maybe I need to tell Violet to make them less sharp next time.” “Didn’t hurt for tonight. Those things are weapons.” John produced a handkerchief and wiped my bloody nails. His touch made me want to curl up on his shoulder only I didn’t have the energy to make a move. The hospital was close by. I refused to have him drop me at the ER door, where they’d probably wheel me in like an injured person. Instead, he parked and we walked through the doors like normal people. The paperwork was as bad as any hospital. John was kept in the waiting room while Matt was pacing, asking about his men. “Well, Dr. Oscar. Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.” The voice was familiar but I couldn’t place it. Then Cecelia’s son, Dan, came around the corner. “Me either. I’m fine, really.” It was nice to see a familiar face. “That’s what they all say,” he said. “Someone tried to strangle you?” “The cops got him.” “The killer?” Dan’s voice dropped to a serious tone. “That’s the guy. He’s behind bars now.” It was nice to say that. The reality was only beginning to sink in for me. Darren was off the streets. That would mean something to the two families. “Good. My mama will be relieved.” He pulled out a tongue depressor. “Now let’s take care of you. Open.” I obeyed. My throat didn’t hurt on the inside much. “It hurts when you swallow?” Dan felt my neck. I flinched involuntarily. Hands around my neck never made me nervous before, but Darren had given me a new phobia—strangulation was not a nice thing. I nodded. “Doesn’t hurt to talk though.” “Just bruised. We could x-ray if you want, but nothing feels broken or swollen. If it gets worse or you can’t eat, come back.” “Told you it was nothing, Matt.” I called to him.

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“Good. You can go.” Matt came up from behind. I needed to pay attention. The psychic skills weren’t always on. “Darren will be under interrogation for a while. We can get your statement in the morning. You can talk to him then. Think he’ll confess?” “I think he already has.” I looked down at my watch. It was frozen at midnight. The battery had died, that was my first thought. More likely, Warren had gotten too close and shorted out the battery just like he’d exploded the lamp. “I’d really like to go.” I signed a bunch of papers at the desk and found John. “Where to?” he asked. “Home. I need to sleep in my own bed for a change.” I finally relaxed as I sat in the car.

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Chapter Twenty-Two I arrived at the jail early the next morning. My mood was tense. Somehow I knew this would be another challenge. If I ended up staying and doing this sort of stuff regularly, I’d have to get used to this feeling. Matt spotted me as soon as I entered. “Morning, Doc.” “Hi, Matt.” I shifted my weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. “How did Darren do last night?” “He’s alive. We kept him isolated. Prisoners tend to look down on the ones who’ve hurt kids. The guy confessed, like you said he would. Let’s go, more privacy.” Matt pointed to a small table in a smallish room that looked like an interrogation room. I sat, knowing it wouldn’t be quick. Two hours later, Matt and I were done with my statement—ghosts and all. “I’ll have Darren brought into the room. He’ll be handcuffed. There will be an officer right outside the door. Don’t touch him or let him get near you. We’ll get you outfitted afterward.” “Outfitted?” I asked. “You’ll see.” I had Darren too much on my mind to wonder what Matt was up to. I went back in and sat down. Ten minutes later the man, who not ten hours ago had his hands around my throat, was seated opposite me. The fear slid over my skin because of last night. The man in front of me didn’t want to hurt me anymore. “How are you doing, Darren?” I asked. He shrugged, refusing to look me in the eye. The feeling I got from Darren was completely different. No malice or fear or concern. He wasn’t arrogant either, just didn’t seem to care about his future. “I know Warren isn’t here. I can see him. I know you aren’t crazy. I know what he’s done to you. He’s the one who wanted me and the girls dead. Not you.” I wasn’t one to give up on a patient. “So? Not gonna stop him.” Darren finally spoke. “Nothing will.” “We can try. Like it or not, you’re going to be locked up for the rest of your life. Your hands killed those girls, not Warren’s. With your mental history, they’ll never let you out. What have you got to lose by talking to me? It won’t hurt,” I promised. “I don’t know, lady. I don’t want to lose my brother. Never not had him, except right before they let me out. He told me I had to be good to get out. He knew I couldn’t kill or be killed inside a juvey psych ward. Warren wanted me out, so I got out. I knew he’d be waiting for me. Warren gets his way, eventually. He wants me dead too.” 151

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“No one is going to kill you, Darren. They’ll review your history and find you’re not a candidate for the death penalty. You’ll end up in another mental hospital at best. At worst it’ll be prison. You won’t be able to hurt anyone else. However you’ll be stuck with Warren unless we work on this.” “He wanted the cops to kill me.” Darren stared at the ceiling. “I know he’s still a child. Warren is selfish in a lot of ways. I’m willing to work with you on this, Darren. You can learn to block him out. Make your own decisions. Two two-hour sessions a week is a good start. You can be strong enough to block Warren and be free. The first step is learning to trust someone other than Warren. What have you got to lose?” I asked. Darren’s face flinched. He didn’t believe it was possible but he didn’t have an argument. Even worse, he didn’t want to lose his brother. “Got nothing better to do in here.” That was as close to a yes as I was going to get. “Okay. We may have to wait until you’ve been sentenced. Just remember that Warren won’t be able to make you hurt anyone else.” I didn’t want to push too far on our first conversation so I left it at that. Darren didn’t really believe me. And with Warren around, I couldn’t blame him. No doubt, Warren would put other ideas in his head. Damn little homicidal ghost! John and Matt were waiting for me. “Hi.” Something was up and that didn’t take any psychic readings. It was written on their faces. “Well?” John asked. I exhaled slowly. “He’s willing to have sessions. Not sure he wants to give up his brother, but he has to learn to think for himself.” “Why are you wasting your time on a lifer?” Matt asked. “This is what I do. Lifer or not. I hate losing a patient.” I folded my arms defiantly. Matt rolled his eyes and lined up three cans of pepper spray on the counter. “You’re going to be trouble, Doc. Car, person and house.” “What’s this for? This is your idea of outfitting me with equipment?” I scoffed. “I did my share of clinical time with criminals. This is standard issue when dealing with those patients. Works pretty good too.” I’d been groped at, gawked at and once had to use pepper spray on a deceptively strong little pervert. The stuff worked but you could get it anywhere. “Good, you don’t need training then.” Matt wasn’t impressed. “What exactly is this about?” I asked. “A job,” Matt explained. “A job? With you? What would I do for you guys?” I was feeling very skeptical. “You’d work for the police department. Unsolved cases, no leads. And anything else you pick up on. Plus, I might ask you to interview the odd witness or suspect, our own little lie detector. Might not be admissible, but at least we won’t be chasing our tails.” Matt was serious. 152

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I thought it over. “I can try to help them though? Once they’re caught. I don’t have to be some impartial cop or anything?” Matt shifted his weight. “First priority is always catching the criminal. Protecting the innocent. You might be needed for a witness, like with Darren. He tried to kill you. If he pleaded not guilty, we’d have to put you on the stand. But if you wanna head shrink ‘em after we’ve got ‘em, go ahead. If you want to baby ghosts with therapy, none of us will give a crap.” “Fair enough.” I wasn’t getting a supportive feel. “Keeping the living alive is the most important thing. Can I think about it and let you know?” Matt put a manila folder on the counter. “Lots of stuff to consider. Read it. Call me if you have any questions.” “Okay.” I slipped the folder under my arm and looked at the three cans. “So I’m really supposed to do this stuff armed only with pepper spray?” John cleared his throat and handed me a card indicating I was now legal to carry a concealed weapon in the state of Louisiana. “I had them waive the six-month residency requirement since that’s the only stipulation you don’t meet. It’d be a good idea to take some classes or something before you carry. Sign it and we’ll get it laminated.” I studied the card. “Permit to carry? Louisiana is going to let me carry a gun?” John nodded. “You needed something when Darren busted through the window. And if you’re going to work for Matt or not, you’ll need to be responsible for your own safety at times. We didn’t pull any special strings. Matt can arrange shooting lessons.” “What makes you think I need them?” I asked. “I forgot about the snake,” Matt mumbled. “Snake?” John asked. I grinned. “I thought it’d be in the police report. When I found Little Cel’s body, a snake got in the way and I had to shoot it. I can’t believe it’s this easy to get a permit. In Illinois it’s almost impossible to get a permit to carry unless you’re a cop. Lucky for me, my grandfather owned a gun shop. I can shoot almost anything. His idea of an afterschool program. I can carry whether I take the job or not?” “It’s a civilian permit but you’ve got to keep it concealed. We’ll give you an employee ID in addition to the permit, assuming you come to work for us,” Matt explained. “Good. I feel like shopping. Is that it for now?” I asked. John smiled. “That’s it. I’ve got to go to a few meetings. I’ll pick you up after lunch. I know a good gun shop.” “See you then.” I piled into the Jeep with a permit to carry and a job offer. “Now what?” “Now comes the hard part.” Gran appeared next to me in the passenger seat. “Now you decide what to do with your life.” “So, no pressure.” I started up the Jeep. 153

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“No rush. Lots of pressure. But you’re doing that to yourself.” I rolled my eyes as I drove toward home. “It’s my life. Sure. Dad was already calling nonstop about this, you know he’ll lose it if I stay.” “There’s always an excuse not to do something. He’s strong. It’s your decision. You have to be the one responsible.” “These little lectures would’ve helped more when I was sixteen. Maybe I could’ve been better prepared to prepare the parents too.” “Better now than never. I’ll let you think. And while we’re on unpleasant topics, I don’t like guns. No matter what your grandfather taught you.” “You married him.” I had her there. Gran vanished. I sped back to the house, not sure what to do with my life.

***** The house was serene when I arrived. I spotted Missy cleaning the second parlor. As I passed by the kitchen, I heard Ivy and Mary Lou talking with Greg. I avoided detection and went straight into the living room. Everything should have been fine. But it wasn’t. The fact that I hadn’t seen Warren since the night of his brother’s arrest nagged at me. I’d expected him to turn up during my talk with Darren. Or in my nightmares. Yet the little devil hadn’t shown up at all. “Heard you got the guy.” Greg startled me from the doorway. “Not me. The cops got him. I think I just got in the way.” I didn’t want or need a reputation for playing Buffy or Xena or even trying to impersonate a Charlie’s Angel. Being nearly strangled once made the danger very real. “From what I heard, you got the girl out. That’s the important part.” “And I’ve got these to show for it.” I pulled the pink and white scarf that flowed to my knees off my neck. I’d accessorized to hide the evidence. “That’s the sort of thing I was hoping you’d avoid.” Greg took a closer look and stepped back with a sigh. “I don’t want things to be weird between us. Okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my past. Being Elinor’s granddaughter, I just assumed you’d know, being psychic and all. I should’ve known it’d be an issue.” “The issue was more the lie. You’re not bound by any vows now. Hopefully we can still be friends.” We hadn’t really discussed things. To me there wasn’t much to talk about. “So I’m totally shut down?” He looked like he got sucker punched. “For the foreseeable future, yes. We can be friends. I’ve got enough drama right now.” I walked into the kitchen, still attracted to him but not ready to face those demons of childhood teachings. Right now, I didn’t need to be alone with him either. 154

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“What happened with Darren?” Ivy asked. “I think he’s agreed to some therapy. Of course, he could always change his mind. It’s Warren that’s bugging me. No signs of Warren at all.” I dropped into a chair, the relief still catching up with me. “Look at your neck. Thank God you’re all right!” Mary Lou looked as though she’d been up all night worrying. Which wouldn’t be a shock, since her brother-in-law and I had both been in the house. “Thank God that’s over.” Missy set down a plate piled with a club sandwiches and chips. “Thank you.” I popped a chip in my mouth and went into the fridge for a Diet Dr. Pepper. Ivy’d begun stocking some of my favorites. Now I could actually enjoy them. “So?” Ivy asked. “So?” I repeated. “Are you staying?” Mary Lou filled in. “The cops offered me a job.” It wasn’t an answer. I didn’t really have one. “Are you going to take it?” Ivy pressed. “I don’t know. I don’t need the money.” “That reminds me.” Ivy pulled out a large white envelope marked confidential. “The lawyer dropped this off.” I ripped open the envelope and flipped through a lot of papers. “I guess that’s it.” “You don’t have to work for the cops to stay.” Ivy reminded me. “You can do anything you want here.” I chewed on my sandwich slowly. “I know. Which means I don’t have to make any firm decisions yet.” “Stubborn, just like Elinor.” Greg smiled. “Thanks. Honestly, I haven’t had much time to think about it seriously with the whole twin murderers on the loose thing.” I put my dish in the sink and checked my watch. It wasn’t my nice one, but my travel backup since Warren had toasted my nice Fossil along with the lamp the other night. “I’ve got somewhere to go. See you guys later. Ivy, when you get the chance you can take Gran’s shrine down. I think it’s time.” Ivy froze and a look passed between her and Greg. I could tell it was unexpected. But she seemed to shake it off. Finally Ivy smiled. “No problem. Have fun.” I hit the porch as John pulled up in his SUV. The one thing I really liked about him, no pressure. He was low stress, even for all the things we’d faced together. “Find my car yet?” I asked as we settled into John’s car. “No, no windfall of vintage cars. Matt told me they’re on the lookout for you, though.” John drove to a backwoods road with a wooden painted sign announcing Uncle Meep’s Gun Shop and Firing Range. “This is it.” 155

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The outside looked like a large run-down wooden shack. A tree house on the ground, more or less. I walked in with John right behind me. The inside was more of a tribute to hunting than Grandpa’s shop in Chicago had been. Lots of dead animal heads mounted on the walls. Some were even decorated with party hats or pipes. I didn’t know animals did Mardi Gras. I headed for the handgun case, since it seemed no one was working there. The place looked deserted. “You could always get a shotgun for in home protection,” John suggested. “Gran has one under the bed though she claimed to hate them. Guess I inherited it too.” I smiled. An old man appeared from the back. “My favorite customer. What can I show you, judge?” “Uncle Meep, this is Dr. Deanna Oscar. She needs to get some personal protection.” “Miss.” He nodded. “What can I show you?” “I’m thinking the Kel-Tec .380.” I spotted one. It seemed just the thing. Uncle Meep shot John a look. I loved throwing Southern tough guys. A girl from the south side of Chicago doesn’t know a thing about guns. Right! John knew I could handle them but hadn’t seen me in action. “You don’t have it in stock?” I asked. “I’ve got it, miss. If you don’t like it, I can get you anything you want.” Uncle Meep opened the unlocked display and produced a slender gun-black automatic pistol. “It has a six-round clip with a light touch trigger. If you use +P ammo, it’s got the same power as a .38. It has a lot more kick than it looks.” I lifted it. It was perfect. Light, small and still powerful. “How much?” “You sure you wouldn’t prefer a revolver?” Uncle Meep asked. “Ten-pound trigger, exposed hammer. They are much safer.” “Revolvers are for beginners or people who never shoot their gun,” I said. “How much?” “For you, four hundred even.” Uncle Meep acted like he was giving me a big deal. I lifted an eyebrow. He was lying and price gouging. He should know better by now. Psychic or not, I wasn’t a novice gun owner. “Have you heard about me?” I asked. His eyes hit the floor. “Two fifty and a free supply of ammo, of course. Ladies’ special.” “That sounds better. I’ll need a holster too.” I handed over a credit card. “On the house, friend of the judge special. Shoulder or belt?” he asked. “Belt,” I replied. “You could leave it in your purse,” John suggested.

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“No, I don’t think so. If I actually need it, I don’t want it in a purse. Some creep could take it from me and I’m screwed.” I took the black leather holster from Uncle Meep and slipped the black gun snuggly into it. Lots of women my age had tattoos on the small of their back. I wasn’t looking for that sort of commitment. I’d sport something a little more dangerous. An automatic weapon. I pulled the shirt over it. “Concealed?” I asked. John grinned. “Nice lines.” I rolled my eyes but gave a little smile back. “That’s why I wanted the small one. If it’s too heavy it’ll pull on the clothes and be obvious.” “Better for a woman to have a lighter piece at any rate,” Uncle Meep piped up. I tossed him a scolding look and he added another box of ammo to my pile. “Firing range open?” I asked. “An hour on the house for a pretty lady.” He pointed the way. I grabbed a box of ammo and walked through the rickety old door to what passed for a firing range. It was cold with a concrete floor and back. The stalls were wood. A sign read, “Fire at your own risk…ear plugs and eye shields suggested.” “Big on safety.” I smiled. “He’s like family. My daddy brought me here to learn to shoot. Mama didn’t care for hunting.” The judge handed me a beat-up pair of ear shields. I loaded the gun and put on the ear protection. “Do they have targets?” I asked. “I’ll get it. Don’t shoot.” He went around back and put up a silhouette of a man. “What am I? A first-timer?” He was asking for a show. “How close to do want it?” “That’s fine.” “That’s all the way back.” He walked back around to me anyway. “I know it.” I raised the gun and took aim. He put on ear protection just before I squeezed the trigger six times in rapid succession. “Do I qualify?” I joked. John hit the button to bring the target in closer. The line of bullets went from the center of the outline’s forehead to his groin. It wasn’t perfectly even between shots but the line was straight. “Holy shit.” John took a closer look. “I told you I could shoot. If that’s not good enough I can do any standard pattern you want.” I reloaded the gun. “Hit him in the heart? The groin? The eye?” “Did your grandfather start you shooting in the cradle?” he asked.

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“No, about age ten with light shotguns. You had to be thirteen to handle the handguns. I got pretty good with a 9mm Glock but it’s too bulky to wear. Maybe I should start a collection?” “I thought you didn’t get along with your grandfather?” John leaned closer. “I didn’t. He tried to keep me from all the boys stuff but I told him if he didn’t teach me the same as my brothers, I’d tell my mom. Then he’d be in trouble.” “Your mom?” John asked. “She was a pretty traditional housewife in most things, but she didn’t like the idea of her daughter not knowing how to protect herself. Dangerous world.” I touched my neck and shook off the memory. “I ended up being a better shot than both of my brothers.” He just smiled. “What? Not good enough?” I asked. “No, better than most of the people I know. You’re just full of surprises.” He smiled at me and for once I felt in control. This was a skill I had confidence in. I didn’t want to use it, but I knew I could rely on it. Unfortunately, ghosts didn’t really care about firearms. For them I’d have to rely on my less perfected psychic skills as a weapon.

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Chapter Twenty-Three I’d gotten in one more round of target practice before I called it a day. I signed my permit and Uncle Meep went in the back to laminate it for me, when John’s cell phone rang. “That would be my car.” I glanced over my shoulder at John while I took the card from Uncle Meep and put it in my wallet. I was still stunned it was this easy to get a permit to carry but I wasn’t complaining. In Chicago you had to be a cop—or own one. John answered the call. He made a few grunts of acknowledgement and hung up. He slid the phone in the pocket of his dress pants and stared at me in disbelief. “Gun shopping and then car shopping? You sure you can afford this?” Uncle Meep chuckled. “If she’s got Elinor’s money, you better believe she can afford it. Old woman had more money than anyone around here.” “How’d she make all of that money?” I’d been so curious but the time never seemed right to ask. “She didn’t make it, miss. She inherited it. There were rumors of how it was made, but I don’t rightly know for sure.” Uncle Meep shrugged. I tried to get more from him psychically but nothing was appearing. Gran would have to tell me in time. “Thanks anyway.” I took my receipt from Uncle Meep and turned to the judge. “Come on, I’ve got a car to buy!” “Are you sure it’s there?” We piled back into his boring cookie-cutter SUV. “Yep, I’m sure. What happened?” “I guess the feds released some seized property for auction. The guy was a dealer.” “Drugs?” That didn’t feel right. “Some drugs but more exotic animals. Snakes, alligators and spiders. Even a few large cats and monkeys. Yankees buy the weirdest things to keep as pets. They nabbed him and he pleaded out. To pay the fine he has to liquidate his collection.” “Of vintage cars,” I asked. “Yes.” He looked at me in a sort of expected awe. “You can be really freaky.” “Get used to it. If I can find a killer out of everyone in New Orleans, I can find myself a car.” I smiled at him as we drove to a gorgeous home on the edge of a swamp. It was pure white with a porch that wrapped around every inch. John and I walked along the manicured lawn to the veranda where a couple of uniforms were lounging. The taller uniform got up when he saw John. “We’ve been expecting you, sir. Never thought of you as an old car buff.” “Not me. Her. This is Dr. Deanna Oscar.”

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I waved and all the men stood up. Old-fashioned manners, a girl could get used to it. “Hi, I’m Deanna.” “It’s in our hands now. We’ll auction it off this weekend.” Joe led the way to the back. “He kept them all in a huge temperature-controlled garage back here.” “Any chance of getting first crack?” I asked. “We could make an exception if you’re willing to pay the estimated value.” He unlocked the chain and pulled back the police tape. “Great, let’s see them.” I pushed open the door and felt the air-conditioning immediately. There were no less than fifteen cars lined up in a huge pole barn. All different makes and models and all in perfectly restored condition. I resisted the urge to tell them I wanted every one. “Christ. These must’ve cost a fortune.” John walked in behind me and took off his sunglasses. “Beautiful.” I went down to see every one. I had no real interest in the 442. Seventies muscle cars weren’t my style. There was a Rolls Royce and a car that looked like it belonged in the days of Al Capone. Both gave off vibes I didn’t want to get close to. People had died in them. A few other cars were cute but not me. An original VW bug in orange. A blue Ford from the Sixties. Nope—not what I was after. Then I saw it. A 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz. The convertible was between a minty and a seafoamy green, complete with fins and massive whitewall tires. It was a boat, plain and simple. Huge backseat, roomy front bucket seats all in a white leather interior. The top was down and so were the windows. It was fabulous! I opened the door and slipped behind the wheel. The cruise control knob looked like it was designed by NASA, but the car had the one absolute essential—airconditioning. I felt like a kid but my feet managed to touch the pedals. The old dash was in perfect condition and I searched for the ignition. “Got the key, Joe?” I asked. “You’re a kid in a candy store.” John leaned down on the driver’s door. “You scratch the paint and you’re chipping in,” I warned. “You’re serious about this.” John smiled. Joe walked over. The keys were on a huge ring. Luckily they were marked. “Here you go. Owner said they were all ready to be driven.” He handed it over. I turned the ignition and the monster V8 under the hood roared. The car vibrated softly like it was ready to go. “That’s my car.” I shifted into drive and pulled out into the center of the barn toward the door. On the road, I found the size of the car wasn’t a problem. I’d owned nothing but compacts, but this car I understood. The road was fairly deserted and I did as tight a Uturn as allowable to head back to the house. Parking my new baby would be an experience, but I’d manage. 160

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I parked a good ten feet from John’s little SUV. He approached. “You’re sure?” “Why not? It’s totally drivable and very me.” I wasn’t getting out until I paid for this car. “It’s huge.” “So? Isn’t that the ‘in’ thing? Your car isn’t exactly a Mini Cooper. My car’s bigger than your car,” I teased. “Mine is twice as tall.” “Tall, great. It’ll roll over and crush you. You can’t flip this baby. And it’s made of steel not that plastic and fiberglass crap.” Joe had the papers in his hand. “There’s also a ‘57 pink Eldorado if you’re interested.” “A pink Cadillac. That’s not too cliché. I’m tracking killers not selling Mary Kay.” I handed him my credit card. “No thanks. Just this one.” “Okay.” Joe scribbled down some information and handed me the rest of the papers. “Take this to get the plates and title switched over. You know, it won’t be cheap to insure.” “It’ll be worth it.” I signed my name in all the right places, opened the glove box and slipped the papers in before putting my credit card away. “Guess I’ll have to get a Louisiana driver’s license too.” “That’d help.” John shook his head in disbelief. “So, can I drive it?” “Not a chance. You mocked my car and now you want to drive it? Never.” I put the car back in drive. “Thanks for the lift but I’m a woman with the right wheels now. I think I’ll go for a ride. Bye, Joe. Thanks for all your help.” “Anytime, Miss Deanna.” “You gentlemen have a nice day.” I did my best version of a Louisiana accent. It was Southern with a twang of French. It was terrible, but I’d made an effort not to sound like a Yankee for once. I pulled off the lawn gently but hit the gas when I got on the road. The car had pickup to spare and for a huge car, it handled well. The shocks were nothing to be impressed with but it was style over function. I’m sure a Honda would’ve been more practical, but practical wasn’t my life anymore. No schedule of classes, no list of appointments. I drove to the house but didn’t go in. Instead, I decided to explore my new surroundings through my own eyes without any narration by Greg, Ivy, Mary Lou or John. Lots of older homes and lovely little places to eat. I cruised until I found what I was looking for and pulled into a parking spot near a strip mall with a little cell phone store. That was another thing I needed. I’d been on some family plan with my parents, cheaper in college. I needed to upgrade. Twenty minutes later, I walked out with a new fancy phone that did Internet, instant messaging—everything but my taxes. Plus, it was almost the same color as my 161

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car. I’d gone a little over the edge there, but I didn’t care. With cell phone in pocket, I went next door and got some takeout Cajun food. I stopped by the Internet Café since it was on the way home. Already I had routes, and places looked familiar. The zippy ladies at The Lotus Circle had replied to my question. Give us the girl’s name and we’ll approach the family. I was thrilled! All the work wasn’t on me. Other people knew about this stuff and could handle it. Plus I had an attachment on the email. I opened it and found a listing of The Lotus Circle members in New Orleans. Meeting people in person would be a lot better. It’d feel truly real then. I printed off the list. I drove to my home, which I hoped would be blissfully empty. It was after two in the afternoon. Ivy and I had worked out a new schedule. She’d work for me from noon to two five days a week. The rest of the time she could do the show or handle her other clients. Greg didn’t have a key to the place and hopefully Ivy wouldn’t just let her cousin in to loiter. It was my house now. I parked the boat in the garage and put the top on the car just in case something decided to make my new car its new home. It fit fine, but the garage was probably older than the car. I stood in the draft of the garage door for a moment. My new house was haunted. My new car was an ancient green boat. My career was undefined. But I didn’t feel abnormal. That was the weird part. I didn’t feel like a freak at all.

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Chapter Twenty-Four For the first time, I was in the house alone and felt entirely at ease. The case was over. My life was more or less settled. I ate my takeout, to Missy’s annoyance, and spent the evening reading up on my new toy. I’d need to get my possessions from my parents’ garage, but for now my phone let me check my e-mail and surf the web. I was enjoying the first completely peaceful sleep since I’d arrived when Gran showed up. “What’s so important? I got the killer in jail. Is Warren acting up?” I grumbled. She waved off my complaint. “A gun?” “So?” I shrugged. “Your ex-husband is the one who taught me how to use them.” “Don’t refer to your grandfather like that. I don’t like guns. It’s too dangerous.” We were in the white domed room again. “Is this a time-out space or something? The cosmic principal’s office?” I knew it was the entryway to the Other Side, but for some reason I enjoyed teasing her about not giving me concrete info. “I don’t like that. And I don’t like this whole career thing.” “You said I could help people. How better than this? It’s what you did. Isn’t it?” I asked. “You can’t help people if you’re dead. These are real killers you’re dealing with not just ghosts.” She was pacing. “I stayed out of it more. You’re getting too close.” “You’re starting to sound like Greg. Why am I here if you didn’t want me to take over for you?” This was too much. I was doing what she wanted and she still wasn’t happy? Could I please anyone in my life, ever? “I do, but I don’t want you in danger. I didn’t think I’d see you being strangled. And there was nothing I could do.” Gran seemed to wither as she paced. “I never thought I’d be in that situation either, but it turned out fine. You know I wouldn’t be happy sitting in an office being safe. I thought I would, but I don’t want that anymore. I can do this. Trust me. Plus thanks to your good finances, I won’t need to earn a living. I can help the people who need it and not be a psychic friend. How did you get all this money anyway? I mean, someone had to work really hard for this.” “Never you mind about that. I inherited it the same as you, so it doesn’t matter. Remember you don’t have to help that Judge or Matt all the time.” “What’s wrong with John?” I asked. “Nothing. I just don’t want to see you in danger more than absolutely necessary. Your grandfather is very concerned as well.”

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“Really?” The idea that he was the least bit concerned was laughable. “There is no negativity here, Deanna. No resentment or guilt or hate.” “Tell that to Warren. He’s a ball full of negativity. You want to worry about someone, worry about getting him to back off his brother. I haven’t seen him but I know he’s not going to lose so easily.” Gran looked down, around, anywhere but at me. Dead or alive, the tells of lying and avoidance were the same. “What? What are you hiding from me?” I asked. “Is it wrong to spend time with you?” she asked. “You’ve finally accepted your life. I can help you.” She was hiding something from me. “No, I’m happy to spend time with you but it’s a really dumb idea to lie to a psychic. I might not catch on right away but I’m not totally clueless. You should know that more than anyone. What’s happened?” I demanded. “You were just so happy that I thought it could wait until morning. But maybe this will make you see what you’re getting in to. It was fate, Deanna. Know that. His fate.” Gran disappeared. I sat bolt upright in bed and caught my breath. Each time it got a little easier to manage the recovery. Especially when I was distracted, the answer to my question came more quickly than I could process. Darren was dead. I could see his lifeless body on the floor of his cell. His wrists were slit vertically and deep. The mark of a suicide attempt that was serious. How the hell could he do that in jail? They were together now. The twins. Warren got his way just like he said he would. There was no point to it, but I slipped on a pair of jeans, a gray t-shirt, socks and some gym shoes. I yanked my hair into a ponytail, so as not to scare people, and I grabbed my keys. Ten minutes later, I pulled my green boat into the parking lot of the jail. I asked the young female desk sergeant to see Darren. They didn’t know he was dead. “Yeah, you’re the lady who was in here earlier with the judge. Nice ass on that one. Sorry. It’s past visiting hours. We don’t need to rile them up.” She snapped her gum at me. “He’s my patient. I need to see him now,” I informed her. “Look, I saw you on TV and all. I’m sure you’re good but no special treatment, no exceptions. Visiting hours or special circumstances only. You can bring him a teddy bear in the morning.” She gave me a smug smile. “He’ll still be dead.” Someone had to know. I couldn’t stand the vision of his dead body on the floor of the concrete cell all night. Her jaw dropped so I could see the purple color of her gum. “What?” she asked.

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“Go see for yourself. Or send someone in. Just don’t leave him there.” I wanted to call Matt, but what could he do? Vouch for me, sure, but I didn’t need approval. I didn’t need to see the body. My visions were in living—or not so living—color, thank you very much. The desk sergeant punched a button and picked up the receiver. “Check on cell 8.” “You don’t believe me?” I tugged at the hem of my shirt. “How can that be? He’s isolated in a locked cell.” “Self-serve.” I had a feeling Warren had a hand in this. “Sure.” She looked me up and down four times, not knowing what else to say, before the shouting began. “Man down,” someone yelled. A bag marked paramedics was pulled out of a closet. The pounding of rubber soles on the floor drowned out the voices. At least they could say they tried. “You can call the coroner. He’s dead.” I walked away from the desk and paced the dingy waiting area. It was a quiet night tonight. Not that I’d been in many police stations at this hour. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the desk sergeant making calls. I didn’t know what to do at that point. Leave? Stay and see Darren? I eased into an ugly yellow plastic chair and sighed. Not two seconds later, Warren appeared next to me, smirking. “Told you.” He stuck his tongue out at me and wagged his hands by his ears. “And the best part is, you did it!” “I what?” I tried to whisper but that little brat had my full attention. “You told him they wouldn’t kill him for his crimes. He knew I wouldn’t leave him alone. He didn’t want to go back into the system. He only had one alternative once he got all that through his thick head. All I had to do was slip him a razor. There were plenty in the evidence room.” Warren danced with a big smile. “Get lost,” I murmured under my breath. Warren finally vanished and I felt ready to puke. Darren had been committing the murders hoping to get caught. I thought he’d wanted to be stopped, but he’d equally wanted to be executed. He’d never believed I could help him get rid of Warren. The more I learned about Warren, the more I suspected Darren was right. Little Warren had nothing to do all day, every day, but think up ways to torture his brother. I’d been totally wrong. I looked up at the hallway where the men were walking away. He’d lost way too much blood. They’d given up now. In the midst of them, I saw Warren and Darren walking side-by-side. Both ghosts. Darren was smiling now. The first time I’d ever seen him smile or sensed him feeling happy even a little bit. They approached me. I didn’t know what to say so I didn’t even try to speak.

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“Thanks, Doc. I might’ve waited for a sentence, if you hadn’t told me.” Darren put a hand on his brother’s head. “You didn’t have to do this,” I whispered. “Yeah, I did. I couldn’t be apart from him anymore, not the way we were and locked up. Don’t worry, we’re done hurting the living. We’re going to check things out on the Other Side. Some old lady told us it was pretty nice there, wherever it is. But we’ll probably end up in hell. No reason to face judgment twice or alone.” I didn’t know what to say. It was too late to change any of it. “Goodbye.” I got up to leave as John rushed through the door completely out of breath. “What happened?” He grabbed me by the shoulders. “You need to work out more, if you’re going to keep hanging out with me. You’re headed for a heart attack.” I turned off the part of my brain that registered my failure and tried to be normal. “What are you doing here?” “They called and said you were here. That there was a death.” He cleared his throat and got a few deep breaths in him finally. We got out of the way as the coroner wheeled a gurney through the main hallway toward the cells. “And I hope you’re kidding about the heart attack.” “Figures they’d call you. Darren’s dead.” I sat back down and stared at my old Avias. I couldn’t push away what Warren and Darren had told me. “Dead? Another inmate? He was supposed to be isolated.” John smacked his knee with his hand. “Relax, he was isolated. He did it to himself. Warren helped though.” I stuffed my hands in my jeans pockets and slumped further in the seat. “I’m such a failure.” He was silent for a few seconds. Finally he shook his head. “It’s not your fault. You were trying to help him.” “I told him he wouldn’t get the death penalty. That he’d probably get a psych sentence, and I’d work with him to get rid of Warren. He knew Warren wouldn’t go away, so if the court wouldn’t do it for him…” I shrugged the rest. “At least he won’t get to hurt anyone else.” John watched as they wheeled Darren’s body covered by a sheet from the police station and into the waiting vehicle. I rolled my head back and stared at the cracked tile ceiling. “True.” “Want to go get something to eat? Some coffee?” he asked. “No, I’m going home. Sorry they dragged you down here for nothing.” I walked out of the jail and slumped in my car when John opened and then closed the door for me. He leaned over the door. “Come on, you don’t want to be alone.” “That’s just it. I’m never really alone.” I threw the car in reverse and puttered out of the parking lot.

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On the way home, I spotted a liquor store that was still open. It’d worked in college. Whenever I had alcohol I was much less receptive to the visions and the ghosts. I ran in and got a bottle of chilled Aftershock. I was glad they had my favorite shot beverage already on ice. An hour later I was home and in bed with five hot and cold cinnamon-flavored double shots in me. For a change I felt alone. Thoughts of Warren and Darren were far away. Which was good, because I was pretty sure I’d be uninvited to work for the cops in the morning. I’d driven my first caught criminal-patient to suicide. Bad therapist, extremely bad therapist!

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Chapter Twenty-Five Two days of wallowing later, I was over myself. Over the drama and self-blame that were to be expected when losing a patient. Darren could only count as an almost patient, however I’d had my hopes up about him. Anyone who’d spent as much time as I had in school learning how to help people had to be a bit of idealist. I hated losing, but if every patient were fixable in a few sessions, my field wouldn’t really exist. Not that my field was exactly my field anymore. I wasn’t completely sure what my field was now. What was I sure of? However I knew what I wasn’t. I wasn’t a full-time teacher. I wasn’t a normal psychologist. I wasn’t a good daughter. My father had left tons of messages. I’d ignored them all so far. I didn’t need to be told I was messing up my life. It was my life and time I defined it, without worrying what they’d say. I tried to focus on what I was. I was now a licensed driver in the state of Louisiana with a legal car and my insurance transferred to a local rep. I was free from the teaching job offers. I’d called all the universities and politely turned them down yesterday. I left the door open to guest lecture at Tulane, just in case I got the urge again. Or in case I needed a change of scenery. I was, however, not employed with the New Orleans Police Department. I’d decided I would consult, but not work for any one organization. I couldn’t be subject to anyone’s rules or restrictions. My gifts just didn’t work that way. Not having a structured day job would feel very weird at first. I was used to order and ghosts and psychic vibes getting in the way. Now they would be my way. One day soon I’d get in touch with the local members of The Lotus Circle and meet others like myself face-to-face. People who understood. It was a bit scary and comforting at the same time. The dead really did have it easier in a lot of respects. No taxes or department of motor vehicles. No money or stress or need for health insurance. I had to chat with Gran one day about how that all worked on the Other Side. But I had something on the schedule for today that I couldn’t miss. I’d promised Matt I’d be at the station by eight-thirty, so I skipped breakfast and cruised to the station with my unsigned paperwork on the seat and my Kel-Tec .380 tucked in my jeans. I walked in and found the same desk sergeant from the night of Darren’s death was on duty. She was calmly snapping her gum and answering phones, until she looked up and saw me.

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The chewing stopped and she got off the phone. “Can I ask you something before you go see Matt?” “Of course.” I smiled. “If you see these things—I mean, know them, can you tell if I’ll ever get married?” She gave an exasperated sigh that showed the lines on her deeply tanned face. I smiled to seem sympathetic, but inside I cringed. I saw what I saw. I’d never tried to see anything except the stuff for the crime or about a ghost or something relevant. Death was powerful. Romance wasn’t so cut and dry, but there was no guarantee I’d blow it either. “Let me see.” I studied her deeper than the surface. “Do you need a bracelet or my watch?” she offered. I frowned but kept the “you’re crazy” look to myself. I’d never needed that stuff before. If my friend’s boyfriend was cheating, I knew it, and it wasn’t because I held his watch. Touch did give more intimate knowledge but sometimes a little distance made it easier. “I don’t do props, it’s okay.” “You must be really strong.” She sounded more and more impressed. I didn’t believe that for a second. I let my mind wander for a moment over her and her space. Marriage was the only thought I put in my head. I got a flash of a man, tall and dark-haired with piercing green eyes. Not drop-dead gorgeous by any means, but he had strong features. Only a bit out of shape with the start of a beer belly. I was at a party with them and they were married but I couldn’t tell what the party was for. Maybe I wasn’t really going to be there, I couldn’t tell if I was just dropping in or I was really there. I pulled myself out of it before I got too curious. I had what I needed to know and didn’t want to know any more. “Yes, I see you married to a nice-looking guy.” “When?” she asked. I wanted to say I didn’t know but I vaguely had a feel for it. “Under two years.” “Do you have a name?” she pressed. “No.” I repeated the description I got. “I think he’s in uniform,” I blurted and didn’t know why. “A cop?” she asked. “No, not a cop. Sorry, that’s all I get right now. If anything else turns up, I’ll let you know. We can try when it gets close.” “At least he’s out there. Thanks!” She looked relieved. “Go on in.” I walked into Matt’s office and found him looking over the dolls. All four lined up. “Thinking of starting a collection?” I teased. “Trying to figure out what to do with them. They’re not evidence on an active case anymore. I’m not sure I want haunted dolls in the old evidence room.” He put them

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back in the bag and wiped off his hands like it was catching. Matt would grow more used to this sort of thing, I predicted. “Cecelia wanted to bury theirs with Little Cel. They aren’t haunted anymore. Warren decided to go over now that Darren is with him. That’s one good thing. How they get judged, that’s over my head. Can I give the first one back?” I sat down in the black plastic guest chair. “Sure. But how do you know the twins won’t be back?” he asked. “I don’t think they’re out to hurt anyone anymore. They have what they want so there’s no point. Some things I just know.” “Can you do anything with these dolls?” he asked. “One of them was locked in my storeroom. I can lock up the other three back there if you want.” I took the bags. “So you’re sure they’ll be safe?” He seemed hesitant to believe me. “I’m sure.” I set the papers on his desk. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t take the job. It’s important to me to be impartial. I’d be happy to consult on cases but I have to be independent.” Matt nodded as though he’d been expecting that answer. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep you busy with or without you on the payroll. We’ll pay you for whatever hours you work. If you have a conflict, we’ll work something out.” “No money. I’m not taking cash for helping people. Call me a psychic detective or whatever. But I say what cases I take. Anything else?” I was relieved enough to do anything. “Your choice. Actually, I need a little help. The press has been after us to talk to you. Get an official statement. Since the suicide, well, things are getting more heated,” Matt said. “No one is bothering me.” I’d been relieved to feel like a just another psychic in New Orleans for a change. “The judge kind of made it known through unofficial channels that anyone harassing you or trespassing on your property would receive the harshest punishment allowed by law and a few that weren’t. He’s personally made sure they’d have a hard time getting any story if they bug you. So, I’m pretty sure you’ll be okay at home. But they want to hear from you.” I had to remember to thank John later. It certainly didn’t hurt to have friends in high places. Of course I wasn’t totally off the hook. “You want me to talk to them?” “Not too much. You did fine on the spot at the second girl’s home. Just give the basics, the guy was disturbed and so on. Okay?” he asked. “Sure, when?” The people deserved to hear from me, I supposed. My name was already out there thanks to Big Bud. Too late to hide now. I needed to come up with something that sounded just right. “Now.” He shifted his weight uneasily. 170

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“Now?” I looked down at my black jeans and kiwi green t-shirt. “You want me to talk to reporters dressed like this without a prepared statement?” “You look fine. And you don’t need a prepared statement. The press can smell those a mile away. Just get up there and be professional. That’s what the people need to see. Strength. We’ve got it covered. You’re just helping.” I felt my heart race. I had no fear of public speaking. Teaching had cured me of any such phobia. But this wasn’t about psychology texts. I was under the microscope. “You okay?” Matt asked. I lifted a shoulder. “Let’s get this over with.” Matt led me to a small room filled to the brim with people. It felt as though guys with cameras were crawling on me. They were at least three feet away, but the flashes never seemed to stop. Matt was saying a few words that I wasn’t listening to. Then he stepped aside. I stepped up to the microphone and put on my best professional face. This wouldn’t kill me. “The good news is we captured the killer and the third targeted victim is safe. The bad news is that before any further in-depth psychological tests could be conducted, the killer committed suicide in his cell. I’ll try to answer any questions you have.” “Dr. Oscar, were you brought in strictly as a psychic or as a psychologist as well?” One reporter shouted. “I had a vision and pushed myself in as a psychic. My other credentials are an asset, but the killer was interviewed by psychologists independent of the investigation after he was arrested.” “Was there any way to save the second victim? The one who died not long after you were brought onto the case?” another report asked. “I’m sorry to say there wasn’t. The killer, a former mental patient, had serious psychological problems. It was a unique challenge to determine his pattern in selecting victims. He also knew the terrain much better and was able to elude police even after we’d identified him.” “Why did he kill himself?” A third reporter jumped in. “Again, he had a long history of psychological problems, which stemmed from his brother’s early death. It was a deep childhood trauma he’d never recovered from. The most we can surmise is that the killer preferred death to returning to a mental facility or prison.” “Didn’t you see the suicide coming in your psychic visions?” “If I knew everything, I could stop all the crimes before they happen. But I’d also be insane myself. No one can see it all. Darren had no history of suicide attempts in all of his years at the mental hospital. The police had no reason to believe he was a danger to himself. I saw no indications of it either. It was likely a snap decision on the killer’s part

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when he saw the opportunity and realized his fate. The human mind can be very unpredictable.” There were murmurs in the room and the flashes continued. No one shouted any more questions so I decided to say something I’d wanted to since the beginning. “I’m only a tool. I tried to help the police locate the killer and protect the victims. They are the ones who brought him in. Hopefully, I can use whatever gifts I have to continue to help.” I took a slow deep breath after the statement. It was all true. It felt good to admit that I wasn’t perfect and no one should expect me to be. Even with my weird gift, I wasn’t always right. I stepped away from the mic and Matt stepped up. “Dr. Oscar will be helping us when needed. The use of psychic detectives may be controversial but I can assure you, she was both accurate and cooperative. Dr. Oscar was given no hints or help of any kind. We have full confidence in her as with any outside expert we utilize. Thank you.” We left the room and I felt oddly validated. Tough but fair questions. The police support. Not too bad. Much better than Big Bud’s impromptu press conference on the lawn. “Anything else?” I asked Matt. “Nope, nothing too weird today. The cops can handle it.” “Glad to hear it. Well then, I’ll take the dolls away and lock them up. Call me, when you need me.” As I headed out, I saw the desk sergeant leaning over the UPS guy and showing a lot of cleavage. He fit the general description but he wasn’t the man I saw. She gave me a little nod, looking hopeful. I just shook my head. “Not him,” I mouthed. She shrugged and kept right on flirting as I left. I dumped the dolls in the huge trunk. The inside of the car had room, but I didn’t need one of them staring at me. I believed they were harmless now. But they’d caused enough fear for one lifetime. I walked into the house and felt better instantly. The living room no longer reminded me of a church as much. It hit me that I’d asked Ivy to take down the shrine. That made a huge difference. Gran was dead, and visiting whenever she liked. I didn’t really need the candles causing a daily fire hazard, or the feeling of mourning making the house depressing. If I was going to live here, I was going enjoy it. Instead of closed drapes and candlelight, I had sunlight. I didn’t know or want to know how Ivy’d managed it all. I was just relieved. Gran’s picture and ashes rested on the mantel. My house no longer looked like a gothic tribute, but as normal as any other parlor in any mansion in New Orleans. I contemplated my house and the dolls. There was a huge fireplace. I could burn them. The plastic faces would make the house smell gross and probably be very toxic.

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Part of me wanted the dolls out of the house. I couldn’t risk a child actually getting them. They gave me the creeps. That was hard to do now. They weren’t happy toys anymore. There was only one logical thing to do. Like it or not, they had to stay in the storeroom. If I knew where they were, at least I could sleep. After throwing them into the storeroom and resealing the door, I walked across the thick carpet to the mantel and took down Gran’s urn. I unscrewed the top and peeked inside. I pulled my head away and sneezed from the dust that had escaped. What had I expected? Fairies? The point of keeping an urn full of dust and ash in the house was what exactly? Another ghost or object could get loose in the house and tip the urn over. Then all of Gran’s earthly remains would end up in a Hoover and eventually in the landfill for eternity. Gran didn’t care what happened to her ashes. They say funerals are for the living. I believed it now. Gran had told me that she didn’t care about her ashes. I couldn’t help it, I did. So where to scatter them?

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Chapter Twenty-Six I arrived at the swamp with a sense of calm. Holy water, salt, white candle, matches, a complete change of clothing, jumper cables and a full-size spare were all in my trunk. I’d add to it as I learned of other things a girl like me might need in New Orleans with ghosts on the loose. It was my emergency kit of sorts and it gave me a sense of being prepared for anything. John had suggested a gun, and considering Greg’s snake incident I’d added a large shotgun from Uncle Meep’s. A handgun was still preferable but backup was always good. I got out of the car and reached into the huge backseat. I carried the heavy urn to the edge of safe sand. Luckily, the wind was coming from behind. I removed the lid and scattered the ashes. The wind took them farther than my weak arms could. “Hope you don’t mind it out here, Gran.” I put the empty urn and lid back on the floor of the backseat before brushing the inevitable residue off my clothes. “It’s as real Louisiana as I can get without being too close to snakes or alligators.” Climbing onto the top of the backseat of my new car that could double as a boat, I looked up at the stars over the marshy water. Gran’s ashes were where they belonged and so were the dolls. It wasn’t exactly as I’d hoped. “It’s nice that I get to know you now, but it’d be nice to have you on the same side as me, Gran.” On cue, she showed up sitting next to me. “It’s a lovely spot. I did love this city, Deanna. And don’t worry, you’ll be on the Other Side with me soon enough.” I looked at her and looked back at the stars. Rethinking my statement. “I’m really not in that big of a hurry for a permanent change, thanks.” She laughed at me. “Don’t worry, you’ve got a long life ahead of you. Lots of people for you to help here. Time is a very relative thing.” “Good. Things sound better on your side, but I’m just getting the hang of this world. One step at a time, please.” Not that I believed she’d really tell me if my number was up any time soon. That was probably against the rules. “And now that things are settled—you can make contact with The Lotus Circle.” “I’ve been emailing. I’ve got a list of people in the area. It’ll feel a lot more real in person. Other people who go through what I do. Who get it. And once I get all of my stuff out of storage, including my laptop, I’ll be able to communicate with them a lot easier.” “That’s right. You belong here, Deanna. I forget that you’re not moved yet. That it’s so new to you. Time is very relative on my side of things.” Gran nodded serenely.

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I ran a hand over the side of the car. Things were starting to fall into place for me here. Haunting consultant, therapist to the formerly living, or everyday psychic detective—Ivy had been keeping tabs on what the press was calling me and listing them on the fridge in case I missed one. None of those titles made me cringe or get nervous anymore. That was progress! “Your grandfather had a car just like this while we were still married. I hated it. I could never park it straight. Guess you have a bit of him in you after all. Between this car and your fondness for guns.” Gran grinned. “Don’t start in about him now. I’m not ready to forgive any of the family yet for hiding you from me, or keeping me in the dark. Think how many people I could’ve helped if I’d known this to begin with? Oh. That reminds me.” I fished my new cell phone out of my pocket. I dialed my parents’ house. I felt only the slightest twinge of nerves and a lot more excitement. “Hello?” Dad answered. “Hi, Dad. How are you?” I sounded so nice and normal compared to the other times we’d spoken. “Fine. Deanna, you finally sound like yourself. Your brothers and I were debating if we should come down. Talk some sense into you.” He sounded happy to hear from me. That’d be over soon. “No need. I’m just fine.” I winked at Gran. “Good, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Which job did you take? Where are you going to live?” The relief in his voice was going to be gone really fast. “I’m going to be consulting down here for a while. Freelance psychic detective.” I smiled as Gran nodded in approval. I waited for the reaction. “A what? That’s not even a real job. Deanna, that’s dangerous, crazy and sounds like you have no benefits or health plan. You can’t stay there anyway. You can’t be near that house.” His voice wasn’t so happy anymore. “You know where to find me, Dad. 1300 Carmen Court. Just don’t come down unless you’re going to be nice about this place and my job, or I’ll release the ghost dogs on you.” I hung up on him before he got in another word. “You do realize that ghosts of dogs aren’t vicious at all, Deanna. Not that you have a kennel of them anyway. Where do you come up with this stuff?” Gran folded her arms, disapproving of my threat. “I know that, you know that. But Dad doesn’t know that. He couldn’t see them if I did have them.” I couldn’t stop smiling. “Come on, Gran, want to go for a ride in my new car?” “I’m beyond needing a car for transportation, thank you.” She eyed it with distrust. 175

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“It’s still fun. Humor me? If you’re good, maybe next time I’ll let you bring Grandpa. I might even be nice to him.” I hopped in the front seat and the V8 engine roared as I turned the key. “Okay, but no speeding,” she said. “Please, I know where all the speed traps are. And what cop would give me a ticket? Sometimes it’s good to be a psychic.” I threw the car into gear and it kicked up sand until I was back on the road. “That is not why you were given this gift.” “It’s a fringe benefit. Besides, this car has more crumple zones than a Hummer. I couldn’t be safer. Now stop arguing and enjoy the ride, Gran.” I smiled as she stuck with me. New Orleans wasn’t where I’d seen myself ending up, but I had a pretty good feeling about my future here. There were plenty of people to help, living and dead. And here, I was normal.

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About the Author A lover of unusual things, Cheryl Dragon enjoys writing unique stories of sinfully hot romance, pure erotica or paranormals with a psychic twist. Never at a loss for ideas, there are plenty of stories yet to be written. Her two favorite settings are Las Vegas and New Orleans—where anything can happen. Cheryl lives in the Chicagoland area with her deaf albino cat. By day she analyzes numbers as an Assistant Controller for a division of a large international company, which leaves her creative side free for writing. Cheryl welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.thelotuscircle.com. Also check out Cheryl’s erotic romances at www.ellorascave.com.

Entertainment ☼ Education ☼ Enlightenment ☼ Empowerment The Lotus Circle is a multi-faceted, internet-based source for metaphysical books, products and services. The web store sells fiction and non-fiction books and new-age style products such as Tarot cards, rune stones, crystals, jewelry, incense, bags and scarves.

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