Ghostly Interests (11 page)

“I … it’s a blur,” Annie said. “I remember being on campus. I met a few people for coffee at the university center. Everyone has been really stressed out because of finals.”

“I remember that time of year,” Harper said. “What happened next?”

“They were all going to the bar and they wanted me to come, but I decided to be responsible,” Annie said, snorting as she realized what she was saying. “Being responsible led to my death. That is just so … .”

“Disappointing?” Harper supplied.

“Bleeding tragic,” Annie said. “My mother always told me I was too serious. It’s hard to believe, but if I had been less responsible and blown off a night of studying at the library I probably would still be alive.”

“You can’t go back and change it,” Harper said. “We can only move forward.”

“What’s forward?” Annie asked. “My life is over. I have nothing left to move forward to.”

“That is not true,” Harper said. “There’s another place out there. I’ve seen it. Granted, I’ve only gotten glimpses in flashes when I send spirits through to the other side, but every time I go there I feel the warmth and happiness associated with it.”

“I don’t understand,” Annie said, although her interest was piqued. “Are you talking about Heaven?”

Harper balked at the distinction. She’d never given a word to the “other place” because she was afraid if she did she would have to acknowledge the probability that a third place existed for … darker spirits. Only once did she think she caught sight of it – craggy, cold rocks and ominous shadows filling her heart with dread – and she’d quickly opted to push it out of her mind. She only wanted to believe in the good place.

“If that’s what you believe,” Harper said. “This isn’t the end for you. This is simply a … layover.”

“A layover for what?”

“I think you’re still here because you want someone to pay for killing you,” Harper explained.

“Do you know how I died?” Annie asked. “I keep trying to remember, but it’s … it’s like trying to remember things you did when you were really drunk. The memories feel like they should be there, but they aren’t.”

“Don’t push yourself,” Harper said. “If you’re having trouble remembering it’s because it was traumatic for you. When you’re ready to remember, you will.”

“What should I do until then?” Annie asked. “Are you going to help me cross over now?”

Harper bit her lip, unsure how to proceed. She wanted to put Annie to rest, but she still needed her help to solve a murder. She was hoping Annie would understand that. “If you want to cross over now I can help you,” she hedged. “It’s just … I was hoping you would be willing to hang around until we know who killed you.”

“Of course,” Annie said. “That’s the way it should be. I didn’t think of that. I’ve been so … lost. My mother was here earlier today. She looks like she’s aged ten years. I’m scared that my death is going to kill her, too.”

“You can’t worry about that,” Harper said. “We can only do what we can do. I’ve learned that the hard way on more than one occasion. You can’t help everyone, but you can help those who want to be helped. I’m guessing you want to be helped. Am I right?”

“I do,” Annie said. “Where do we start?”

“Go back to when you were at the library,” Harper prodded. “Do you remember seeing anyone you recognized?”

Annie screwed up her face in concentration, tilting her head to the side as she considered the question. “Not really,” she said. “The library wasn’t exactly a hub even when the end of the year wasn’t looming. There weren’t a lot of people there and that’s why I wanted to go there. I knew it would be private.”

“Did you live here alone?”

Annie nodded. “My mother worried about me being on my own so she constantly stopped by, though. I didn’t want to risk it when I had so much to do. That’s why I went to the library. I guess that was another fatal miscalculation.”

“Annie, you have to remember that the worst has already happened to you,” Harper said, her voice low and soothing. “You can’t die a second time.”

“Are you saying I’ve already survived dying?” Annie asked, chuckling hoarsely.

“In a way,” Harper said, joining in with the laughter. “Do you remember leaving the library?”

“I remember packing up my stuff.”

“Your stuff? Did you have a bag?”

“Yes,” Annie said. “I had an economics textbook, my wallet, a couple of notebooks, and my iPad inside of it.”

“You weren’t found with any of that stuff,” Harper mused.

“I wasn’t found with my clothing either,” Annie griped. “Do you think … ?” She broke off, the question too horrible to ask.

“I don’t know,” Harper said. “I hope not, but … . I think they’re getting your autopsy results back tomorrow. Go back to the library, though. Would you have left out of a specific door?”

“I always park on the east side of the library,” Annie said.

“What kind of car?”

“It’s a 2005 red Ford Explorer,” Annie said. “It wasn’t much to look at, but it was dependable.”

“Do you remember getting in the Explorer?”

“No.”

Harper rubbed the spot between her eyebrows. “Do you think you made it back here?”

“I honestly don’t remember,” Annie said.

Harper was starting to get frustrated. The holes in Annie’s memory were definitely a hindrance. “Do you remember anyone talking to you after you separated from your friends?”

“I just remember sitting at the table in the library,” Annie said.

Harper blew out a frustrated sigh. “Well … I guess that’s all we can do tonight.”

“There’s an easy way of knowing if I ever made it back here,” Annie suggested.

Harper glanced up, hopeful.

“I always put my book bag on the table in the kitchen because I go in through the back door when I come home,” Annie said. “If my bag is there that means I came back here. I don’t know if that helps, but it’s something.”

“Except I can’t go in your house,” Harper said.

“Why not?”

“It’s called breaking and entering. I would go to jail.”

“I’m giving you permission,” Annie said.

“That’s nice, but I’m not sure it will stand up in court,” Harper replied.

“No one is out here,” Anne said, glancing around to make sure she was telling the truth. You don’t have to search the house. You only have to open the back door and see if my bag is on the table. That would at least tell us if I disappeared between the library and here. I wasn’t stopping anywhere else.”

Harper sighed, hating that Annie was making sense even though she knew it was a bad idea. “I have no way of getting in,” Harper said, almost relieved at the realization. “I’m not kicking the door in.”

“There’s a spare key hidden under the turtle planter on the back porch,” Annie said.

Of course there was. Harper sighed, resigned. “I guess that means I should probably look at the table.”

“It won’t take long,” Annie said, moving along the side of the house and gesturing for Harper to follow. “I need to know if I made it home. I have no idea why it’s important to me, but it is.”

“You want to know if you were … violated … here,” Harper said. “You probably have fond memories of this place and don’t want them tainted.”

“I did love this house,” Annie mused. “Mom wanted me to live closer to campus, but I fell in love with this house.”

Harper stepped up onto the back patio and peered into the gloom. “Where is the planter?”

“Over here.”

Harper followed the sound of Annie’s voice. She almost tripped over the turtle before she found it. She pulled the arms of her hoodie down to cover her hands and then lifted the turtle up to find a gleaming key right where Annie indicated it would be.

“What are you doing with the sleeves of your hoodie?” Annie asked.

“In case they check for fingerprints I don’t want to have to explain mine here,” Harper said, carefully grasping the key through the fabric.

“I guess you’ve done this before,” Annie said.

“It’s not my first time,” Harper agreed. She slipped the key into the lock, the sound of it tumbling to signify the door was opening filling her with a mixture of dread and relief. “I’m just looking really quickly to see if the bag is here. I’m not doing anything else.”

“That’s good.”

The voice coming out of the blackness caused Harper’s heart to skip a beat. It belonged to a man, and for a moment she wondered if a murderer was about to claim another victim. When a small flashlight snapped on and landed on her face she was momentarily blinded. That’s when she recognized the voice.

“I can’t wait to hear how you’re going to explain this,” Jared said.

“Uh-oh,” Annie muttered.

“Yeah,” Harper said, exhaling sharply. “Uh-oh.”

Twelve

“It’s a nice evening for a walk,” Harper said, fidgeting nervously. “That’s what I was doing, by the way.”

“With a key to a murder victim’s house?” Jared pressed.

“I … can you not shine that light in my eyes? It hurts.” Harper was irritated. She couldn’t decide if being caught or standing so close to Jared was the primary cause of her agitation.

Jared lowered the light and it took a few seconds for Harper’s eyes to adjust. When they did, she found Jared watching her with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. “What are you doing here?”

“I was taking a walk.”

“And you decided to let yourself into Annie Dresden’s house?”

“I … .”

“He’s really handsome,” Annie said.

“He’s still an idiot,” Harper muttered.

Jared glanced around. He couldn’t figure out whom Harper was talking to. “Are you talking to someone on one of those ear things? Mel says you and Zander use them on your ghost busting cases. Is that who you’re talking to?”

“I … .” That would be a feasible excuse except Harper didn’t have an earbud with her. “I was talking to myself.”

“I see,” Jared said, choosing his words carefully. “So you were calling me an idiot while carrying on a conversation with yourself?”

“Yes.”

“I know this is really bad for you, but he is so hot,” Annie said.

A biting retort was on the tip of Harper’s tongue, but she opted not to release it. She had no idea how she was going to get out of this situation but unleashing a bevy of insults and hurling them in Jared’s direction didn’t seem like the smart way to go.

“Ms. Harlow, I need to know what you’re doing here,” Jared said, changing his tactics. “I also wouldn’t mind knowing why you’re out walking in your pajamas. I love the pink, by the way.”

“Those pants are really cute,” Annie said.

Harper pinched the bridge of her nose. She was caught. She knew it and she was pretty sure Jared knew it, too. There was no way out of this situation. The only thing she had was truth – and it was going to make Jared think she was even crazier than he already did. “Fine,” she gritted out. “I came here because I wanted to see if I could find Annie’s ghost. I wanted to know if she remembered anything about her death.”

Jared pursed his lips and nodded. “I see. Did you find her ghost?”

Harper glanced at Annie. “Yes.”

“Did she tell you how she died?”

“She doesn’t remember how she died,” Harper said. “She remembers getting coffee with friends and going to the library. Everything after that is a blank.”

“The ghost has memory gaps?” Jared was amused.

“It’s very traumatic for spirits when they first come to grips with their new reality.”

“You can say that again,” Annie said.

“And why were you breaking into Annie’s house?”

“I wasn’t technically breaking in,” Harper said. “Annie gave me her permission. She wanted me to see if her book bag was on the table on the other side of the door because that would mean she made it home.”

Jared furrowed his brow. “There’s no bag on that table.”

“There’s not?” Harper didn’t know if that was good news or bad news.

Jared shook his head. “We were here earlier. There’s no bag on the table.”

“He’s right,” Annie said, glancing into the kitchen. “I guess I should have remembered that. I was inside with my mom earlier. I was more focused on her, though.”

“We also should’ve remembered that you can walk through walls and I didn’t need to use a key to look inside,” Harper grumbled. “I knew that was a stupid move.”

“Oh, yeah, I never thought of that,” Annie said. “I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to all of this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Jared made a face. “Are you talking to Annie right now?”

“I’m not crazy,” Harper snapped.

“I didn’t say you were crazy. I asked if you were talking to Annie.”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Jared said. “Well, I think we need to have a little talk down at the station.”

“What?” Harper’s heart flopped. “I … you’re arresting me?”

“I’m taking you in for questioning,” Jared stressed.

“But … my car is here.”

“Is that the purple one in the driveway?”

“Yes. Is that how you knew I was here?” Harper narrowed her eyes. “Were you following me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jared said. “I was checking out the house because I wanted to make sure no one stopped by to … break in … or anything. “This is not technically my jurisdiction, although the St. Clair Police Department gave us permission to come and go from the property as we please.”

“Wait a second,” Harper said, realization dawning. “This isn’t your jurisdiction. That means you can’t arrest me. You don’t have the authority.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Jared said. “I … .”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Harper said, her tone haughty. “You don’t have the power.”

“Ms. Harlow … .”

“I’m leaving,” Harper said, moving away from the door. “I’m sorry to have ruined your night with ghost stories. It won’t happen again. I can promise you that.”

“Ms. Harlow … .”

“Have a nice night,” Harper said, smiling at Jared and turning to walk off the back porch. Jared’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm at the elbow and stilling her.

“Ms. Harlow, I can assure you that you’re wrong about my powers in this situation,” Jared said. “I witnessed you breaking the law. I have no choice but to take you in.”

“Are you seriously telling me you’re arresting me?” Harper was incensed. “You can’t be serious.”