by Amy Ravenel
“Would someone like to tell us what happened?” Detective Morgan asked.
Tristan exchanged glances with McKenna, Tabitha, and Aaron. “You won’t believe us,” he said.
“Try us,” Thompson ground out.
“It was a ghost.” Aaron crossed the parking lot to meet the detectives. “The White Lady.”
Thompson arched an eyebrow. “The one Ms. Collins was telling us about?”
“Yes, sir.” Aaron pointed to the corpse. “She killed him like she killed the others.” He patted the detective’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We took care of her for you.”
“You did?” Skepticism dripped from Thompson’s voice.
Aaron slipped a card into his pocket. “Got a ghost problem? We’ve got your solution.”
Morgan sighed. “How about we talk about this downtown?”
The EMTs started to roll Tristan towards the ambulance. “Wait!” he called. “Check under the building.”
“What?” Detective Thompson’s face turned as red as a tomato.
Morgan put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, Bill. Breathe.”
Tristan raised up on his elbows. He winced as his leg throbbed. “My dad is Chief Matthew Johnson. He’s retired now, but he worked with your department on a lot of missing cases.”
Morgan nodded. “I remember him. Man could find just about anyone.” He rubbed his chin. “Whispers around the precinct said he was psychic.”
“He is,” Tristan declared. “So am I.”
A paramedic tried to push him down. “We need to get you into the ambulance, sir.”
“Do me a favor and check under the building.” Tired, he lay back down and let the paramedics put him in the ambulance.
A day later, McKenna filled him in on what happened. The police followed his advice and checked under the building. They found Lily’s body right where Tristan had said it was. It took a while to dig it out from under the floor, but her family was finally able to bury her.
Detectives Thompson and Morgan showed up at the hospital. Tristan told them about the bow and about his vision, but neither cop appeared to fully believe him. They tried to find evidence that connected McKenna, Tabitha, or Aaron to Dr. Smith’s death, but there was none. In the end, it remained a cold case.
When he finally got out of the hospital, Tristan wanted to see Lily’s grave. In the end, they had helped each other find peace. He needed to pay his respects to her.
The grass behind him crunched. Jaime, carrying flowers, and a young girl made their way to the graveside. Tristan and McKenna moved aside.
“You came?” Tristan asked.
“I felt like it was the nice thing to do.” Jaime set the flowers on the grave. “After you told me the whole story, my heart broke for her.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe Dr. Smith killed her. It’s terrifying to think about.” She took in all the other people. “Hi, I’m Jaime. I share an office with Tristan.”
“We met.” McKenna beamed. “Who is this?” She indicated the girl.
“This is Ella, my daughter.” Ella waved at everyone, then stared at her shoes.
Tristan introduced Aaron and Tabitha, but Drew cut him off before he could introduce him.
He shook Jaime’s hand. “Andrew Keane. I’m Tristan’s smarter, better-looking friend.”
Jaime chuckled. “Are you?”
Drew shrugged. “Everyone says so.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not everyone.” And, like that, the tension lifted.
As they walked away from the grave site, Tristan turned to Kayla. “What are you going to do now?”
Kayla smiled. “I’m staying here and finishing out the school year. I owe my students that much. Then I might head down to Charleston, spend some time with my brother. Give myself a chance to heal.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” McKenna patted her shoulder.
“Charleston’s a great place,” Jaime chimed in. “Thank you for letting us be a part of this. Tristan, I’ll see you at work.” With a wave, she and Ella headed back the way they came.
“Where have you been hiding her, man?” Drew watched her walk away as if he were in a trance.
Kayla nudged him. “Don’t be creepy.”
“I wasn’t being creepy.”
“That was so creepy.”
Drew draped an arm around Kayla. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back to Angela’s.”
“Thank you.” They waved good-bye and disappeared through the trees.
McKenna squeezed Tristan’s hand as they approached his truck. “You planning on coming out as a psychic? Maybe help us out at the office? We could use someone who can see the past.”
“Maybe. It felt good helping Lily move on and keeping my neighbors safe. I still have the world’s worst control, though.” He stopped and wrapped his arms around her. She giggled as he lifted her into the air.
“We can work on your control, you know.” She poked his chest.
“I’d rather work on something else.” He lowered her to ground. Bending closer to her, he nibbled on her ear.
For the first time in his life, he had found someone who made him feel sane. And for that, he was grateful.
She pulled away, her eyes heavy-lidded. “How fast can you drive?”
He reached his apartment in record time. He opened the door, and for the first time since he moved in, everything was quiet. No shadows of the past pushed their way into his mind. No ghost sucked all of the warmth out of the room. McKenna was the only other person in his world.
Smiling, Tristan closed his door. He lifted McKenna into his arms and carried her into his bedroom.
The End
Acknowledgments
Like you do when you pretend to win an Oscar, I’ve been practicing my acknowledgments page for a while now. However, now that I’m actually writing one, I’m a bit overwhelmed. Bear with me. It’s true that you can’t write a book alone. Okay, you can do the actual writing alone, but all the encouragement and inspiration come from outside yourself.
Thank you to John Hartness and Falstaff for taking a chance on this quirky little book. When I started it all those years ago, I didn’t know if it would ever see the light of day. Melissa Gilbert, I’m so glad I got an editor who could also be my friend. How many people can say that?
My two best friends in the whole world, Alexandra Christian and Susan Roddey, thank you for pushing me and telling me to finish this book already. And for liking my fanfiction all those years ago. It’s true that you can meet your best friends while fangirling a movie musical.
Thank you to Rebecca Enzor and Tyffani Clark Kemp! I got so lucky when I found the best writer’s group in Charleston. Our members may have changed throughout the months, but the three of us were a constant. You helped me shape this book into what it is now.
Thank you, Tina McSwain, for answering some ridiculous ghost hunting questions.
And thank you to Tally Johnson for imparting his ghost hunting wisdom, even when I didn’t really ask for it. Seriously, though, may someone tie you down to the Devil’s Tramping Ground one day and film it for all of our enjoyment. Hey, Y’all, Hold My Beer needs to happen. Bill Roddey, it’s up to you!
Jonathan Phillips, little brother extraordinaire, thank you for looking at the first draft of this and saying, “You can do better than this.” And I did better than that.
Love to all of my nieces and nephews – Genevieve, Annabelle, Fox, Mason, and Kit!
To my parents for patiently encouraging me, even when you weren’t in the mood to read another story.
Finally, to my heart, Michael, who puts up with me every day. I didn’t think I’d find someone whose weirdness matched my own. I love you! Still fifty more years to go!
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About the Author
Amy Ravenel has done a bit of everything – waitressing, customer service, teaching, librarianship. But writing has been the only thing she’s ever wanted to do. She has a deep love for bookstores, the mountains, and all sorts of geeky things. A native North Carolinian, she grew up in the foothills near the inspiration for Mayberry. Today, she lives with her epically-bearded husband and her epically-furry cats.
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Copyright © 2019 by Amy Ravenel
Cover Design by Susan Roddey
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