by Paula Lester
She made sure to show up at the office with plenty of time before the assignment. That way, Cheryl would have one less thing to judge her about—aside from her attire. There was plenty of time for another reaper to get there in time.
Tessa crossed the marble floor, heading straight for her mother’s office. The blisters on her heels felt better, but she’d still put on Band-Aids inside her blue Chuck Taylors.
Cheryl’s office was empty. So was Gloria’s. In fact, the only person Tessa could find in the entire building was the janitor, who was finishing up and heading out.
“It’s Sunday,” he told her. “Y’all usually work from home on Sunday.”
Pursing her lips, Tessa thought about jotting down a quick resignation letter and leaving it on her mother’s desk. But she glanced at the clock above the reception desk.
“Ugh,” she groaned. “There’s no way someone else can get there in time.”
The assignment was at a nursing home on the other side of town. If she couldn’t make contact with another reaper right then, no one would be there when Ellen Walker passed.
Then there could be two souls wandering around Mist River.
With a groan, Tessa stomped out the door, resigned to the fact that she’d need to do one last assignment before she could retire her reaper powers.
Fine. One more.
At least then, she could pay a couple more bills or maybe get groceries. She was running out of peanut butter. And who knew how long it would be before she could find another job, get hired, and work long enough for another paycheck.
Yeah. Maybe this is a good thing.
Tessa tried not to wonder too much why Linda was cooperating so well lately. It felt like one of those situations when, if she gave it thought or attention, it would go sour on her. So, she just gave a silent cheer when the engine roared to life and then tried to act like it was an everyday occurrence.
When she got to the Mist River Senior Home, Tessa checked the time. On her phone, not Linda’s slow clock. She had five minutes to figure out where Ellen’s room was and get there. Should be plenty of time, in theory.
The nursing home was old but sparkling clean and cheerfully decorated. It looked more like someone’s home than a hotel, which Tessa found soothing. The lobby was filled with plants and bright paintings, and a small desk stood in the corner instead of a big doctor’s office-style window.
No one sat behind the desk.
Tessa hurried over and rang the bell. She waited, tapping her foot, for a minute, but time was getting away from her. Thinking about how she’d been too late to escort Mr. Sanborn over and the huge mess that ensued, she figured she’d better be proactive about finding Ellen.
Her maternal grandmother had lived in the home, so Tessa knew her way around a bit. She pictured the layout for a moment—there was one wing for men and another for women. She headed toward the women’s wing, entering the long hallway through a metal door.
The cheerful décor continued in the hallway—more plants, paintings, and tables. Tessa hurried along, glancing into each open door she came to, hoping Ellen wasn’t behind one of the few closed ones.
About halfway down, on the left, Tessa found her. And she was too late. Ellen had already passed away. Her spirit stood next to the still form on the bed. Well, at least she’d stayed put. She hadn’t run like Sanborn did when her reaper wasn’t johnny-on-the-spot.
Tessa moved into the room. It reminded her of her grandmother, all decorated in pale pink and pastel green. Lace doilies covered every available surface, and silver-framed pictures of Ellen and her family made up the main decoration.
Ellen smiled at Tessa. “Hello, dear. I’m glad you could make it.”
“Sorry I’m late.” Tessa smiled. “I’m new and still getting the hang of all this.”
“Oh, don’t you worry yourself about it.” Ellen gazed lovingly at her physical form, brushing a transparent hand over her own cheek. “It was a good body, and in the end, I went in my sleep.”
“So did my grandmother,” Tessa said.
Ellen beamed back at her. “I couldn’t have asked for a better life or death.”
Tessa couldn’t help but think of her dad. He hadn’t gotten the good, long life that Ellen had. He didn’t even have much time to contemplate the rest of his life. His reaper had let him sacrifice himself.
Ellen’s spirit floated away from her body, stopping at a framed photo of her younger self, smiling next to a handsome man. “I can’t wait to see Walter. Do you know, will it be very long before I can be with him?”
“I, uh, I don’t know the answer to that.”
Ellen waved off the apology. “Oh, that’s right. You’re new. It’s okay. I guess I’ll find out soon enough!”
“Yeah, it’s probably time to go.” Tessa wanted to get back to the agency and put in her resignation. She waved a hand, and a beam of light shot into the room as though someone had opened a skylight. She reached out for Ellen’s spirit. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, dear. I am.” Ellen turned away from her body. She shot Tessa one more smile.
Tessa reached out and touched the spirit. It didn’t feel like anything, but suddenly, she felt like she was moving—rising into the beam of light. They traveled together like that for a few moments. Tessa glanced at Ellen’s spirit. Her expression was serene. Hopeful. Happy.
She looked beautiful.
Suddenly, Ellen gasped and pointed. Ahead of them, a figure stood, backlit by the white light. As they got closer, Tessa could see it was an elderly man. She stopped short and let Ellen go ahead. She floated toward the other spirit, who opened his arms to embrace her tenderly.
Tears sprang to Tessa’s eyes. She could feel the joy emanating from both spirits. They were at peace, finally reunited at the end of long, happy lives.
The spirits parted, and the man offered his elbow to Ellen, who accepted it readily. They floated away, blinking out of Tessa’s view after a moment.
In the next instant, Tessa was back in Ellen’s room. The light was gone. She slipped out and hurried back toward the lobby, filled with emotion, still wiping tears from her eyes. What she’d just witnessed—the reunion she’d facilitated with her reaper power—had been nothing short of breathtakingly beautiful. Tessa felt honored to have witnessed it.
She emerged from the nursing home into the sun and looked to the sky, imagining Ellen and her husband dancing with the stars, still in love even in the next leg of their journey. She smiled and breathed deeply, feeling her heart settle into an easier rhythm than she’d felt in days.
She shook her head, thinking about her mother. Cheryl knew exactly what she was doing. Maybe Tessa didn’t want to give up her new job after all.
Chapter 15
TESSA DECIDED TO HEAD home for some lunch and figure out her next move for finding Chet Sanborn. She realized that crossing over wasn’t necessarily as scary as Chet probably thought. Or at least it didn’t have to be. She just had to convince Chet. Things would resolve themselves on Earth with or without him. But she did hope that everything with his son Mark found a resolution soon.
Silas was in the lobby, taking a rare break and sitting behind the front desk doing nothing. He smiled, revealing those irresistible dimples. He nodded toward the sun streaming through the front windows. “Nice day.”
“Yeah, it’s wonderful out.”
“If only I wasn’t stuck inside.”
“What? Are you out of repairs to work on?”
He snorted. “Never. I’m just taking a breather.”
“That’s so . . . unlike you.”
“I’m taking a play out of your playbook,” he said. “Oh, by the way, I saw Officer Stewart at the hardware store this morning. We had an interesting conversation.”
“About?”
“Well, about grout mostly.”
“And?”
“And he told me they released Mark Sanborn.”
Tessa pursed her lips, thinking. “So, they can’t prove he did it.�
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“Usually,” Silas said, “they don’t make an arrest until they’re pretty sure they can prove it. I’m thinking he must have had an alibi that checked out and overwhelmed their proof.”
“That’s what you think, huh?”
Silas shrugged. “I watch a lot of Law & Order.”
“Hmm.” She leaned on the desk and studied him for a moment. She knew Chet Sanborn wanted to talk to his son. If he was at home, maybe she’d find the errant spirit there. Since she’d decided to keep her reaper job, apprehending him was back on her short list of things to get done.
“Okay, well, I’ll see you later.” She turned toward the door.
“Where are you going?” He sounded suspicious. “You just got here—you didn’t even go to your apartment yet.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Um. I just remembered an errand I need to run.” She winced, hearing her own tone sounding like an evasion. Tessa had never been a good liar.
“Listen,” Silas said, “If you’re going to Mark Sanborn’s house, I’m going with you. I learned my lesson last time.”
“You did?”
“After I dropped you off at that casino, I worried about you like crazy. Felt like a horrible friend for leaving you there in a possibly dangerous situation. I don’t want to deal with that again—it’ll throw off my whole day.” He came around the counter. “And I’ll drive. I don’t feel like getting stranded by that bucket of rust you call a car.”
“Hey! Linda isn’t rusty. She’s just . . . finicky.” Tessa followed him out to his Silverado. Tessa gave Linda a frown. “Don’t tell her, but I’m saving up for something newer and more reliable.”
“That’s nice.” He fired up the truck’s engine. “And in the meantime, I can probably keep her going for you.”
“You know how to fix cars too?” Tessa wondered what this man couldn’t do.
“Some,” he said. “My dad and I used to work on them a lot when I was a kid. I picked up some tricks. So, where’s this guy live?”
Tessa gave him directions to Mark and Mary Sanborn’s house and enjoyed the feeling of the warm cab as they drove over. They turned into the large suburban community where the houses all shared design aesthetics and the same size lots. People were outside, walking or playing catch in their yards. After the cold, rainy snap they’d had, everyone was soaking up the sun.
They pulled up in front of the Sanborns’ house and got out. Tessa hurried around the truck and intercepted Silas. “You can wait here for me if you want.”
He shook his head. “Nope. I’m coming in with you.”
“Why?” Having a driver was one thing, but Silas would definitely interfere if she found Chet’s spirit. He’d probably think she went crazy if she started talking to an unseen entity.
“I’m not convinced the cops didn’t let a murderer go free.” He crossed his flannel-clad arms. “And I’m not sending you in to face a killer alone. Sorry. You’re stuck with me.”
She eyed him for a moment. His face was set into hard lines, and his shoulder and arm muscles looked tense. He resembled a dangerous, angry lumberjack. “Fine. But let me do the talking, okay? You’re kind of . . . intimidating right now.”
His brow furrowed. “I’m not intimidating. I’m totally guy-next-door friendly.”
That was true most of the time. Silas was the type of guy people wanted to tell their life story.
“Maybe you should stay here while I talk to Mark.” Smugness oozed out of his body language.
Tessa rolled her eyes. “Let me do the talking, Mr. Guy-next-door.”
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about, Tessa?” Silas asked as they opened the picket fence to the yard. “It’s about your new job, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re not going to be telling any lies to get answers, are you? Because, honestly, you’re terrible at it.”
“And you’re a good liar, huh?” She climbed the steps to the stoop and then dug in her purse for a ponytail holder to pull back her long hair.
Silas shrugged. “I haven’t had much occasion to lie in my life, but anyone would be better at it than you. You have a tell.”
“I do?”
He nodded. “You bite your bottom lip right before you say something untrue. It’s a basic, beginner’s tell. You should work on it if you intend to do much lying.”
She blinked at him, dumbfounded. Tessa had no idea it was that easy to see she was lying, but it explained so much. Like how her dad had always known when she was lying as a teenager. “Huh. I didn’t know I did that.”
“Yeah, well, stick with this life insurance thing, okay? I don’t think we’ll be seeing you on World Series of Poker anytime soon.” He chuckled.
Before she could stop herself, Tessa bit her bottom lip, just thinking about the lie that she was strictly a life insurance agent. Luckily, Silas wasn’t looking at her—he was knocking on the door. She forced her lip back out and straightened her spine.
Mary Sanborn answered the door. She looked confused until she glanced past Silas and spotted Tessa. “Oh, hello again. Is there some paperwork or something that got missed?”
Tessa shook her head. “No, I was just wondering if I could talk to your husband for a moment. Is he home?”
Over Mary’s shoulder, Tessa saw a familiar form flit through the air. Chet Sanborn’s spirit was there! She fought the urge to barrel over Mary to get to him, forcing her expression to stay relaxed and pleasant.
Mary glanced over her own shoulder and looked uneasy. “He’s in his office catching up on a few things. He got behind with work while he was . . . detained.”
“We heard the police let him go,” Silas interjected. “That’s good news. Do you know if they arrested someone else?”
Mary shook her head and stood aside to let them in. “No, the officer who released Mark said they didn’t have any other leads.”
They followed Mary through a cozy living room filled with worn furniture and discarded toys. Tessa continuously scanned for another sign of the ghost. They went down a short hall, past a bathroom, to a bedroom that had been converted to an office.
Mark sat behind a desk piled high with papers, a harried look on his face. His clothes and hair were rumpled.
Over his shoulder, Chet hovered.
Tessa could see glimpses of books on the shelves behind him through his half-transparent body. He glared at Tessa, shaking his spirit head from side to side. “I’m not ready.”
She opened her mouth to reply but snapped it shut fast. Chet could speak without the others hearing him because they couldn’t see spirits. But they’d hear her answer him clear as a bell—and think she was crazy.
Instead, she shot a quick glance back at the ghost before tearing her eyes away from him to focus on the live people in the room.
“Honey, this is the woman from the life insurance company and . . .” Mary shot a quizzical look at Silas.
“Her partner,” he drawled, grinning. “Silas St. Onge.”
Mark gave them a weary look. For a moment, recognition flitted across his face. “I’ve met so many people the past few days. I could swear you worked up at my dad’s apartment complex.”
“My, uh, my brother does.”
Silas wasn’t as good a liar as he’d claimed.
Mark shook his head. “Whatever. Nice to meet you. What can I help you with?”
Tessa itched to leap forward, open a way to the other side, and drag Chet Sanborn through it. But then she looked at his face. The glare was gone and in its place was an expression that looked almost begging. “Not yet. I’m not ready,” he repeated, but this time, it sounded like a plea.
“Mr. Sanborn, I just need to get some information from you. As you can probably understand, your father’s life insurance disbursement to you isn’t valid if . . . well, if you killed him.”
Mark nodded as if he expected this line of questioning.
“Can you please explain why you were released from jail?” Tessa couldn�
��t keep her eyes from flitting to Chet periodically. She didn’t trust the spirit to stay put.
“He didn’t kill me,” Chet argued.
“Shh!” Tessa admonished.
Mark looked confused. “What?”
She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I, um, have some ear ringing that bothers me sometimes. Please . . . go ahead.” She ignored Silas’s gaze on her.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to ask the cops?” He shook his head. “They cross-checked my cell phone records and location stamps against my digital time clock at work. It proved I was at the office when Dad died—just like I told them.” He ran a hand over his face. Exhaustion radiated from him like heat waves from concrete in the summer.
“Told you so,” Chet sneered.
Tessa pressed her lips together and forced herself not to glare at her mark. “Thanks for the information, Mark. And you’d be willing to sign something attesting to that once we have the lawyers draw it up, right?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You have to give me a little more time,” Chet pleaded. “I have to make sure my son understands that I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
Everyone looked at her, bewildered expressions on every face.
“I mean, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Sanborn. I don’t think I had enough coffee this morning.” She laughed nervously.
Mark nodded. “I get that. And it’s no sweat. I don’t mind signing whatever I need to. At least I’m getting something back from the guy who had the nerve to steal from his own son.”
“Your dad stole from you?” Silas sounded shocked.
“That’s why I’m sorry,” Chet whispered.
Mark nodded. “He gave me a Hank Aaron rookie card when I was a kid. It was my most prized possession. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I thought it meant something—I thought it meant my dad loved me.”
“I do love you,” Chet said.
“Then, when he ran into some trouble with gambling debts, he stole it while he was over here eating my wife’s famous lasagna.” Mark’s face twisted in disgust. “I guess he didn’t love me after all. Or at least, he loved gambling more.”
