CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX The next ten days passed, and Aubrey waded through a blizzard of emotion. During that time, she and Levi asked questions, wanting to know precisely what had happened to their son. Piper answered some; Dan Watney took action when it came to others. Their joint investigation resulted in this: Jude Serino had purposely steered clear of the actual kidnapping, directing things from afar. Not from the Serengeti, where he was supposed to have been, but an off-site location in Nova Scotia. In the end, the CEO of Serino Enterprises could not thwart justice. Levi had relayed the most recent news early that morning: Dan and his team had located Jude. He’d been arrested without incident and was being returned to the States for prosecution, including the suspected murder of Zeke Dublin. Among Jude’s possessions was Zeke’s .22-caliber pistol. Adding to closure was a detailed inventory compiled from Jude’s waterfront property. Before belonging to Jude, the house had served as a mod
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN One Week Later Sitting on the bedroom window seat, Aubrey stared into the nature preserve. It’d been a foggy Sunday morning, rolling puffs of mist moving like ghosts across the field. In her hand was the gold necklace with a teardrop pearl. She held it up to the window. A ray of sunlight broke through, catching on the chain. It swayed like a pendulum, almost as if a fingertip set it into a time-ticking motion. Aubrey turned her attention back to the preserve, a field where low fog roamed. In the millisecond of a brilliant flash—so much like his life—an image appeared. She saw a green flannel shirt and jeans, a mischievous grin that would forever hold a piece of her heart. Then it was gone. She glanced fast at Levi as he came through the bedroom door. In his hands were a laptop and a screwdriver, wheels of some sort. “Hey. There you are.” “Here I am.” She said it softly, turning back to the window, where she pressed her fingertips to the glass. Aubrey twisted back t
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Truthfully, I think about the acknowledgment page of a book long before I’ve earned one. Foretold is no exception. I had my running list while crashing into the prologue and delivering the draft of this book to my agent, Susan Ginsburg. Her opinion as a reader is as important to me as everything she does as a literary agent. Thank you, Susan, for being fabulous at both. Thanks to Stacy Testa as well; it continues to be my privilege to be a part of Writers House. This is my third novel with editor Alison Dasho. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and she was on board with this story from the moment I said the name Zeke Dublin to her. Thanks, Alison, for your many efforts throughout the book publication process. This is also my third book with developmental editor Charlotte Herscher. If a good editor is worth their weight in gold, Charlotte is the whole treasure chest. She has become the perfect ear to my words, and I am appreciative of the opportunity she affords me: the chanc
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Photo © 2010 Paul Vicario Laura Spinella is the author of the #1 Kindle bestseller Ghost Gifts, as well as the highly acclaimed Unstrung and award-winning novel Beautiful Disaster. She also writes the Clairmont Series novels under the pen name L.J. Wilson. She consistently receives reader and industry praise for her multifaceted characters, emotional complexity, and intriguing story lines. Foretold is the second book in her Ghost Gifts trilogy; the third and final installment is slated for release in 2018. Spinella lives with her family near Boston, where she can always be found writing her next novel. She enjoys hearing from readers and chatting with book clubs. Visit her at www.lauraspinella.net.
PRAISE FOR UNSTRUNG
“In Spinella’s wrenching tale of love and loss, one woman must come to terms with her past and the decisions that have shaped her life. Spinella has filled her incredibly emotional novel with multifaceted characters, and nothing is as simple as it seems in this true page-turner.”
—Publishers Weekly, Starred Review
“Every character is a work in progress, which makes this tale extremely realistic.”
—RT Book Reviews
“In Unstrung, Laura Spinella orchestrates a brilliant, multilayered story about family expectations, forgiveness, and whether we can truly love ourselves and others just as we are . . . an honest and raw exploration of one woman’s journey as she learns to embrace her talents and the goodness life has to offer.”
—Kerry Lonsdale, author of the #1 Kindle bestselling novel Everything We Keep
“A darkly quirky tale in which nothing is quite as it seems, Unstrung is about family legacies, dark secrets, one volatile violinist who sees her gift as a curse, and three men who are about to define her future. It will punch you in the gut and melt your heart.”
—Barbara Claypole White, bestselling author of The Perfect Son and The Promise Between Us
PRAISE FOR GHOST GIFTS
“An engaging writing voice, realistic characters, and a compelling mystery make this a must-read! Aubrey and Levi are compelling and likable, both individually and as a team, and the way their stories intersect increases the appeal. Just the right blend of emotion and humor combine with captivating suspense for a paranormal mystery that is sure to delight fans. The flashbacks heighten the tension and deepen the poignancy, and the romantic angle has a great slow-burn passion.”
—RT Book Reviews, 4.5 stars
“A wild adventure of a mystery, brimming with layers, secrets, and more than one person who should feel guilty . . . paranormal mystery/romance fans will find a gem of a story in Laura Spinella’s Ghost Gifts.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Ghost Gifts transcends labels like ‘murder mystery’ or ‘love story’ or ‘ghost tale,’ giving readers a masterful plot that weaves effortlessly between past and present, sharply pivoting whenever you think you’ve put your finger on it. The characters and setting come to life so vividly that you forget you’re reading a book. Laura Spinella’s Ghost Gifts is an absolute treasure.”
—David Ellis, #1 New York Times bestselling author
ALSO BY LAURA SPINELLA
Ghost Gifts Novels
Ghost Gifts
Other Titles
Unstrung
Perfect Timing
Beautiful Disaster
Writing as L.J. Wilson
Clairmont Series Novels
Ruby Ink
The Mission
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2017 Laura Spinella
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542046749
ISBN-10: 1542046742
Cover design by Faceout Studios
For Grant, because he understands “You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it.”
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIG
HT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
New Paltz, New York
Carnival Days
Aubrey Ellis was five the first time life turned upside over, like a somersault in deep seas. Her parents were dead, and she was sent to live with her grandmother—Charlotte Antonia Pickford Ellis Heinz Bodette, carnival mistress deluxe. The woman’s hodgepodge troupe and a traveling life were Charley’s soul, though Aubrey quickly became her heart. Despite the odds, or the odd environment—the certainty of falling asleep in Piscataway only to wake in Poughkeepsie, the loneliness that lingered in carnival crowds—Aubrey prevailed. She had to. Her life’s other demand required all her wit and will, because Aubrey’s second somersault was the inexplicable ability to speak to the dead.
At twenty-one, Aubrey found that the freakish yet fascinating phenomenon of her childhood was never far from her thoughts. To her surprise, it was Zeke Dublin who had managed to soothe the most calamitous memories, peppering Aubrey’s life with security and happiness. In the heat of the current summer, those emotions had become Aubrey’s focus, perhaps a driving force, and she didn’t want the feelings to end. She’d imagined Zeke would want the same. How could he not? But as fantasies so often went, reality had muscled its way into this evening.
She was alone now, in a camper nicknamed Mule, stretched across rumpled sheets and a mattress that was the entire bedroom. Nearly an hour had passed since Zeke had abruptly exited. Beside her lay a thin gold chain. She picked it up, watching metal and moonbeams intertwine. Aubrey blinked and dropped the bauble, a gift from Zeke.
Her expectation hadn’t been without cause. Zeke had filled the voids in Aubrey’s life, first with friendship, then with a deeper sense of family. And now, for better or worse—a love story. The chain tangled around her fingers again, and Aubrey swiped at the tear running from her cheek to her ear. Zeke didn’t do “See you next season . . .” presents.
Common sense said to focus on facts: Tomorrow, carnival season would come to a close. Aubrey would return to the University of New Mexico. Like every other year, Zeke would head somewhere else. She sat upright and peered through a curtain of gauzy gold fabric. A campfire burned like a small sun. At its edge sat Zeke. One hand gripped the neck of a Coors Light bottle; in his other, a cigarette smoldered defiantly. Because she’d asked him to quit, Zeke had done just that back on opening day. Aubrey glanced at the unlikely gift, the necklace, and laughed. “He probably didn’t even buy the damn thing. He probably won it in a craps game at the Renaissance fair three counties over.”
She simpered at rings of smoke, which did not move, like a halo over Zeke’s head. He downed another mouthful of beer, perhaps drowning the prickly words he and Aubrey had exchanged. He was backlit by distant carnival lights, twinkling round globes that decorated the setting but were there for safety. The grounds were vacant; shutdown and cleanup had long passed. It had to be after two in the morning. The Heinz-Bodette carnival was doing the thing it did least: sleeping.
Aubrey scooted off the end of the mattress and placed the necklace on a shelf. Tugging a pair of denim shorts over her long legs, she then slipped a UNM Lobos T-shirt over her head. Exiting the tiny bedroom, she inched through the dark, narrow interior. In the cramped forward bunk, where Nora usually slept, Aubrey reached between the wall and the mattress and came up with a spare pack of Camels. Hidden contraband—it was the smallest act of loyalty Zeke’s sister would demonstrate, even if it did end up killing him. The camper door squeaked as Aubrey opened it, and nothing moved but cool September air. She wrapped her arms around herself. “Coming back in?” she asked. Zeke shook his head, his frown evident even when lit by a small sun. She pivoted on the camper’s steps.
“Fire’s warm if you want to sit.”
She turned toward his voice and came down the creaky metal steps. He snuffed out the cigarette and pulled a low beach chair closer. She knew he couldn’t do it—go back inside. The tension between them made the confines of the camper too tight, too real for Zeke, who’d run away from life so long ago.
Tentatively, she circled the ring of fire. While the flames were warm, the air was not, and goose bumps rose as she lowered herself into a chair. They even dotted the deep scars on Aubrey’s arm—an unpleasant keepsake from age seventeen, a physical ghost gift she did not want. Zeke’s gaze moved from her face to her arm. Most people would see the scars; Zeke saw that she was cold.
He shrugged off a worn green flannel shirt. “Here. Just put it on.” She accepted the peace offering, such as it was. The garment was laced with the scent of Zeke—a lusty combination of wandering and lure. She buttoned a few buttons and crossed her arms, her fingers gripping into the sleeves of the soft fabric. Zeke’s dark gaze settled on her face, and he reached out, grazing his thumb over the scar on her chin. “Guess we all have things we don’t like to talk about. Things that could set off an argument.”
“True. But mine won’t keep us apart.”
Zeke picked up his beer and drew it to his mouth, lowering it before taking a sip. “Hell, Aubrey. You’re twenty-one. Anything could happen by the time you graduate next May.” He snorted a laugh. “For one, you might find the right guy.”
Aubrey narrowed her eyes.
“We agreed,” he said. “I might be your other half, but I’m not that half.” He traded the beer bottle for a small branch, snapped a piece off, and tossed it onto the fire. “Not a forever half.”
She didn’t argue; it wasn’t about romantic ideals or ideal romance.
“That guy, he’s out there.” Zeke pointed the remaining stick like a wand toward the future. “He just doesn’t know it yet. I’d like to meet him someday.” He raised a dark eyebrow. “’Course, that’s not to say I won’t hate the son of a bitch. But I’d still like to get a good look.”
“When I find him, I’ll be sure to tell him all about you on our first date.”
Zeke dropped the slip of wood. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Why? Because our relationship doesn’t fit into your off-season?”
“No. Because I’ll never fit into Aubrey Ellis’s life. Not really. Be realistic. There’s a kind of guy who wins the girl. He isn’t me.” Zeke grinned. “Damn. He might even be better looking too.”
Aubrey bit down on a smile. Physically, you couldn’t define Zeke at a glance; he required the double take. Dark locks of hair, the kind never meant for scissors, outlined salient bone structure, all of him complemented by a sinewy frame. Above his left eye was a zigzag scar, a flaw that Aubrey guessed was also scored to his soul.
“Ah hell, forget the other guy.” He drank the beer. “You might skip over him altogether and find a life in Los Angeles or Paris. Last I checked, carnivals weren’t much for stops in Paris.”
“I know. Future addresses. It’s what started the argument. Remember?” She sighed. “I’m not coming back, Zeke. I love my grandmother. You know how much Charley means to me.” Her blue-gray gaze took in a small army of RVs and more distant tractor-trailers, the permanent fixtures in ever-changing scenery. “I love a lot of the people in this place. Some days I even love the place, but . . .” Aubrey was absolute in her decision. “I’m done. I don’t want this.”
“Right. I got it. Your entire life turned out to be nothing but a summer job.”
“That’s not fair. I never chose this, and I’m ready to move on. Earlier, I was only suggesting—”
“I heard you. You were suggesting that wherever you land, I could come hover, like some flesh-and-blood ghost.”
“Not funny,” Aubrey said, though the imagery was. Zeke was one of a few people who viewed Aubrey and her ethere
al gift as . . . seamless. “And my suggestion includes Nora. You know that, right? This honestly can’t be what you want for your sister.”
“Wow. Wouldn’t your grandmother love to hear that?” His Adam’s apple bobbed with a longer swig of beer. “Imagine Charlotte’s reaction.”
“She gets it, Zeke. This is her life—not mine. I’m grateful for everything she’s done. The roofs over my head, a life where ghosts aren’t the most curious thing I encounter in a day.” The scar above Zeke’s eye vanished into a deep groove. “Even so . . .” She slammed herself into the chair. “I didn’t think wanting one zip code, instead of a dozen post office boxes, was so crazy.”
“Can’t speak for Nora, but I don’t need any zip code. The last one we had didn’t work out so good. I don’t know what you want my response to be.”
“That you’ll think about it. That you realize how smart you are, that surviving shouldn’t be your life.”
He looked toward shadowy traveling carnival props, the most stationary things in his life. Envy fluttered; Aubrey wanted to be the stationary thing. “Look, if Nora wants to go to college or ends up with a two-car-garage life . . .” He pointed to the small Heinz-Bodette camper. “Hell, she’d like that, more than bunkin’ in a tin can or under a bridge.” He hesitated. “So would our parents.”
It startled Aubrey. Zeke so seldom spoke of his dead parents. Years before, when he and Nora first turned up in Yellow Springs, Ohio, the siblings were hungry and dirty and pickpocketing thieves. Nora’s gaunt appearance drew concerned citizens as she feigned a spot-on fainting spell. Why not? The sun was hot, the crowds thick. Adults had rushed to Nora’s aid, leaving backpacks and purses abandoned. It was elementary pilfering for Zeke until Carmine nabbed him by the shirt collar. Charley had intended to call the police. Zeke’s stomach stopped her. It growled so loudly that Aubrey heard it from the alcove of the Winnebago where she hid, eavesdropping.
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