Ryley gave Maggie a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I can make you something else,” Maggie offered.
“Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.” Ryley shook the dark thoughts forming in her mind. “No need, Maggie. Tucker is right, this is great.”
Maggie retreated behind the counter to offer more refills. Tucker snagged the ketchup for his fries before Ryley and drowned the potatoes on his plate. “I had a new client come in today.”
“I hope it’s not another one you need help with. I’m still feeling the effects of the last one.”
“No, just an interesting guy. I’ll have to introduce you, if I get the chance. You two have a lot in common.”
Ryley raised her brow.
“Yes, he can see them too. I just thought you might like to talk to someone who truly understands.”
She reached across the table and rested her hand on his. “I have you, and you’re all I need.”
The muscles in Tucker's shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad you still feel that way.”
“You’re my brother, and besides, you know all my secrets. Speaking of which, I need you to draw up a will to include the new property and stuff from Mr. Wilson’s last will and testament. I have no plans of letting Felix Wilson get his grubby little hands on it.” If she could ever wish ghosts on anyone, it would be Felix. And she’d release the most frightening, vengeful spirit she could find.
“Gladly,” Tucker said, biting into a fry.
“So, what kind of service did this new psychic want from you? Is he setting up a shop?” Ryley gestured to the slips of paper. “It looks like our town is in need of some type of haunted, psychic intervention.”
“Nothing of the sort. He’s just passing through. His sister just had a baby, and the guy wanted to set up a living trust.”
“That’s…different.”
Tucker shrugged. “The guy said he lives a dangerous life and just wanted to be prepared should something happen to him.”
“That’s very adult-ish of him. Most people think they’re going to live forever.”
“Like I said, this guy can see ghosts. I’m pretty sure he realizes that we’re all going to die one day.”
They ate in comfortable silence. Eating together was something they tried to do a couple of times a week. Not easy, because Tucker didn’t have a life since he was always at work and since Ryley wasn’t normally awake during the sunlight hours. They still found a way to make it work. That’s what family did, and they were the only family they had left.
“Your client has brains. Just be careful he doesn’t start looking into our old ghosts. He might decide to find another lawyer.”
“Remind me of that when we finally get the notification our father is dead.” Tucker frowned. Worry flashed in his eyes.
“What?”
Tucker sighed. “I don’t know how I’ll protect you from Dad’s ghost when that day comes. I’m not like you. I can’t see them.”
It was a good point. Most ghosts weren’t inclined toward physical violence. It cost a lot of energy to physically hurt a living person. Usually, a ghost like Kitty, or her dad, who died with anger issues didn’t really care about what it drained from them. They were just out to hurt someone.
Ryley suppresses a shiver from the thought. “Let’s just hope we get a final viewing, and I can touch him and send him into the light regardless if he wants to go.”
Tucker nodded. “So, what exactly did Mr. Wilson leave you in his will? It must be important if his attorney Jane Pinkerton is worried enough about you to come to the hospital.”
“Everything, I guess.”
Tucker pulled the grilled cheese apart and took a bite as if he had to think about his words carefully. “You know if you need me, I’m here. Even if it’s just to talk.”
The stress building in Ryley’s shoulders eased. “I know you are, and I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know.”
“Good. Then you won’t balk when I suggest you stay at my house until Dad is found. I’m sure you might have some reporters parked in front of your apartment, too.”
“Actually, I don’t need a place,” Ryley said and raised her hands to stop Tucker’s objection. “I think tonight I’m going to stay at Rosalind Crews’s house again to see if I can get Kitty to talk.”
“You think that’s a smart idea considering she almost crushed you with bottles?”
Ryley wasn’t sure it was Kitty that pushed her or made the bottles fall. It was just easier to believe than any other scenario that suggested there was more than one issue she had to deal with. One vengeful ghost was enough.
“I’ll be safe. I always am.” They talked about his day and enjoyed the quiet time to catch up. Once they’d paid, and Tucker left as she climbed into her car. The passenger seat was already occupied.
Stretch had claimed the space.
“Your brother is looking sexier every day.”
“Ew. And don’t talk about my brother like that. It’s just…ew.”
Stretch chuckled. “Would you rather me tell you about how the PI looked when getting in the shower? Or maybe you want to know what the cop has been up to? Both are fascinating conversations.”
“Neither.” Ryley started the car and pulled out, taking the turn to head toward her house to grab clothes. “Now, if you come across a ghost named Kitty, that’s trying to kill me, be sure to ask who killed her before she succeeds. That’s the only answer I need to know.”
“Yeah, about that.” A frightening scowl marred the thin, ghostlike flesh on Stretch’s brow. “I’ve seen some things I wish I hadn’t. The reapers are hanging around your pal, like she’s about to increase their flock by one or more. I hate those shadows. Makes my skin scrawl.”
“She’s not my pal.” Stretch’s news was as welcome as screen doors on submarines. “In fact, after the stunt she just pulled, she’s at the top of my naughty list right now.” Which just firmed up Ryley’s resolution to kick her ass into the light.
“Can I help?” Stretch’s whispery, hopeful tone sent shivers down Ryley’s back.
“I’ve got this. But thanks.”
“You’re no fun,” Stretch said as she twirled her hair around her see-through fingers, like a habit lingering from her mortal existence.
If Ryley was honest, it was a freaky, creepy display.
Chapter 31
Ryley pulled into her apartment complex where a news van was parked, and she kept driving, pulling back out again and heading toward the seedier part of town where dinner was probably being prepped if not served by the non-profit. Surely, they wouldn’t turn her away even if they had seen the newspapers.
She parked and got out, locked her car door and headed inside. There was a larger dinner crowd than there had been at lunch. Several tables were filled, with more people standing in line and coming in the door. Peter was at the serving station. She moved up to the counter, bypassing the others waiting patiently. Some men grumbled as she passed as if she’d line jumped.
Peter glanced up with a smile as she approached. “You here to help this time, or you have more questions? Because, as you can see, this really isn’t a good time.”
“Helping this time.”
“Did the ghosts tell you we needed the extra hands?”
Ryley’s smile fell, and her shoulders deflated. She nodded in understanding and turned to leave.
Peter caught up to her before she pushed out the door, blocking her path. “That was a joke. We don’t discriminate here. We don’t care if you can see goblins as long as you’re willing to help.”
“I’d like to help. If you don’t mind working alongside a crazy woman.”
“I think all of us have a little crazy inside.” He gestured back to the serving station where the other patrons were grumbling. He showed her into the backroom.
“Samantha, looks like we’ve got some extra hands. Why don’t you help…”
“Ryley.” Ryley filled in the blank for him.
&
nbsp; “Why don’t you help Ryley get settled in. She can help you with the potatoes.”
Samantha smiled and gestured to the table. “Grab a hair net, wash your hands, and put on some gloves.”
Peter patted her shoulder. “Welcome aboard, Ryley.”
Ryley cleaned up and joined Samantha at the sink, where she was peeling potatoes. She’d pulled out an extra peeler and gestured to it without breaking her stride.
“Do you know how, or do I need to teach you?”
“I think I can manage.”
Samantha’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Do you help here often?” Ryley grabbed a potato and tried her hand at small talk. She’d always sucked at talking to people who didn’t get her. And now that she had a reputation, thanks for Felix’s loose lips, she figured most people would cross the street before talking to her.
“As often as I can when I’m not at school or working at my paying job.” Samantha shrugged but kept peeling. “I’d work here the entire time if my mom didn’t need me to work the other job that pays so I can help with the bills.”
“Are you in high school?”
“Yeah, I was in private school on a soccer scholarship, until my dad died and Mom’s car crapped out and she used the money I needed for my books to get it fixed. She couldn’t afford to send me there anymore.”
The story sounded similar to Ryley’s, except that Samantha didn’t seem like the type of girl that would shoot her father.
“You must be running on pure adrenaline with all your jobs and classes.”
She looked up. Determination shone in her eyes. “My dad used to volunteer here and bring me with him when I was just a little girl.”
“What a great memory of him. He sounds like a good guy.”
“He was the best,” Samantha said and gestured to the potatoes. “They aren’t going to peel themselves.”
“Right.” Ryley grinned and continued to peel. She’d gotten through one potato while Samantha was on her third.
“So, is it true that you talk to ghosts?” Samantha asked.
She resisted rolling her eyes. “Sometimes, if the circumstances are just right, I can.”
Samantha lifted her hopeful gaze. “I can feel him sometimes when I’m playing my guitar. He always loved to hear me play. Do you think you could talk to him, maybe?”
“Maybe,” Ryley said. “Is there something important you want to tell him?”
She nodded and dropped her gaze to the colander full of potatoes she’d peeled. “Yeah, there is something I’d like to say.”
Samantha picked up the colander and moved across the room without another mention of Ryley’s ability. They worked in relaxed silence and occasional laughter as they joked and talked while they worked.
After the dinner rush, Peter walked into the backroom with a handful of trays he’d wanted to wash. He tossed a rag over his shoulder. “Thanks for your help. We appreciate it.”
“My pleasure. It felt good,” Ryley said, sliding the gloves off her hands. “I’d like to come back. Unless you would prefer that I wait until the media frenzy dies down.” She also knew she shouldn’t risk putting anyone else at risk while Kitty was behaving so badly. She’d hate for anyone at the shelter to get caught in the ghostly crossfire.
“We’d welcome the help anytime,” Peter said.
Ryley waved in passing and said her goodbyes as she made her way to the car, hoping she’d been busy long enough the reporter had gotten bored and left.
“That was nice of you,” Stretch said as Ryley slid into her car.
“It felt good.”
“It might have felt good, but seriously, did you see the other dead people hanging around in there? Some creepy dudes there. And I counted a couple creepy crawlies out back. Seriously, those things scare me, and I’m already dead.”
“I don’t even want to know,” Ryley said.
“I’m not sure, but I think I saw one eying you.”
Tension gripped Ryley’s shoulders, all the way to her fingertips, which whitened on the steering wheel. Just one more dang thing to worry about. Ryley blew out a breath and tried to ignore Stretch as she drove a couple of miles to her apartment complex. She was about to turn in when Stretch spoke again.
“Listen, the sexy cop is waiting at your house and he looks ready to spit bullets. Let me know if you need any tips on how to help him ease that stress. The CEO’s called me a master of…”
“Yeah, I don’t need to know that. I’m not sure I’m old enough.” Ryley stopped her mid-sentence. Seriously, Stretch was a little out there as ghosts went, but when she tried to play the bringing sexy back card, it bordered on sinister.
Ryley pulled into the parking lot.
Detective Jake Crews was sitting on the stairs, a vacant stare aimed her direction, as if lost in thought.
He rose as she parked and approached. A storm cloud skipped over his expression.
“Detective Crews. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Ryley asked.
“My mother was attacked by someone the security cameras couldn’t see.”
Ryley paused, trying to still her quickening heartbeat. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. She’s pretty banged up.”
“Where did it happen?” Ryley asked, heading up the stairs with Crews following her.
“Her house. She went home to repack a bag and was on the way out when she was shoved off the porch. The security cameras caught her trying to defend herself against something…invisible.”
Goose flesh raised on Ryley’s arms. This was bad.
“So now you believe her?” Ryley glanced down at the tape at the bottom of her door. It was flapping in the wind.
Had Crews replied, she didn’t hear it. She stepped back until her back was against the railing.
“What’s wrong?”
She pointed to the tape at the bottom. “I set the tape each day I leave.”
Crews bent down to look at the tape and then slowly rose to look over her locks.
“Doesn’t look like anyone jimmied the locks, but give me your key. I’ll check it out. You stay here.”
Ryley didn’t think her feet could budge anyway. Her fingers shook as she handed him the key. A knot swelled in her belly. Fighting ghosts was one thing; fighting the living brought a whole different level of fear. Especially knowing what trouble was headed her way.
He put the key in the lock, and the door inched open. “It wasn’t locked.”
Fear slithered down her spine. “I always lock my door.”
He pulled his gun from the holster before he entered.
Chapter 32
Ryley didn’t wait on the walkway. She followed behind him, afraid of what he might find. He eased into the entryway. Her heart raced with each step. Jake shook his head to make her stay and held his finger to his lips to keep her quiet.
She frowned but didn’t argue. It was easier to escape from the entryway. Easier access to the door. She held onto the knob, ready to pull it open should Crews find what she feared.
A few tense minutes passed before Crews resurfaced. “There’s no one here, but there is something that may or may not be unusual in your bedroom.”
She let out a pent-up breath in a whoosh. “Unusual?” She shut the door, throwing the lock before she followed him down the hall.
Her step faltered at the doorway, but she squared her shoulders and crossed the threshold. Crews was at her dresser. Sitting on the wood surface was a crushed piece of metal. She didn’t need to have a job in forensics to understand what that was. She’d seen it on all the cop shows before. It was a spent bullet. Had that been the one she’d shot into her father?
“Was this always here?” he asked.
Ryley swallowed hard and crossed the room. She picked it up quickly, holding the cold metal in her palm. “My brother must have left it.”
“Is that a normal thing for him to do?” Crews asked.
No. She wouldn’t tell him that the fear in her gut was telling
her where it came from. Knowing her father had been in her home left an icy feeling slithering over her limbs.
Crews crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at her as if his cop radar knew she was lying. “Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me?”
“I’m sure. Thanks for checking. I probably just forgot to set the tape and lock my doors.” She questioned why she felt she had to lie to Crews but didn’t offer the truth. She headed back out to the living room. “Where is your mom staying?”
“At my house.”
She nodded. “Good. I’m trying to figure out who killed Kitty, but it’s taking longer than I thought.”
“What good is that going to do?” Crews asked.
“If she gets justice, it’s possible she may leave; otherwise, I’ll have to send her out the hard way.”
“And what way is that?”
“I’d need access to touch her corpse. I understand the coroner is holding her on ice.”
“I’m not even going to ask,” Crews said, heading toward the door. He opened it and paused, turning back to look at her. His face seemed set in stone, a muscle popping in his jaw the only movement. “This is my mom. You tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen, even if that means I have to go dig Kitty up out of the ground with my bare hands.” He lifted one of those hands pointing a finger at her. “But don’t make me regret buying into your shit.”
Ryley understood the anger. She understood the need to protect the people she loved. They had a kinship in their motivation. He wasn’t a cop, and she wasn’t just a crazy psychic. “They haven’t buried her yet, but I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll probably be in and out of her house over the next couple of days. This will go a lot faster if I’m not arrested each time I enter.”
He nodded, and his gaze softened as he glanced toward her bedroom. “You going to be okay here by yourself?”
She smiled. “Who said I’m by myself?”
His gaze darted around the room as if searching for the ghosts he couldn’t see. There were none, but he didn’t need to know that.
“You have my number.”
“I do. Text me your address, and I’ll stop by to set up some boundaries so your mom will stay safe while she’s there. Tell her I’ll do her office, too.”
Grave Wrong (Lost Souls Society Book 1) Page 15
