Page 79 of Real Fake Hauntings

“You should call her,” Ian said.

“I left my phone in the shop.”

He let out a huff of amusement. “I see it’s become a tradition.”

“Hope Avery and running out of her shop in a panic without her phone—name a more iconic duo?”

“Something like that.”

“I’ll call her,” Alex volunteered, his phone already out and his fingers flying over the screen. “Done.”

Shane shoved him amicably. “Dude, that’s not calling.”

“Eh. Same thing.” He checked the screen. “She’s on her way.”

“Wonderful,” I said, trying to convince myself it really was. My shoulders slumped. Ian and the strays had been right—I should’ve involved her from the start. Now Key was going to be as disappointed in me as I was for not figuring out Bagley’s game earlier.

Shane went to open the gate for Key while Ian, Alex, Rufus, and I cooled our heels. Alex kept looking at me with sad puppy eyes, but I refused to explain anything until everyone was together.

About twenty-five minutes later, Shane returned with Key, who was out of breath as if she’d run the whole way over—which she probably had. She looked so eager to help, it hurt. I really should’ve included her yesterday.

“We ready?” Alex asked just as eagerly. “Let’s get digging.”

“Digging?” Key asked, sending me a questioning look.

Ian crossed his arms and waited.

I cleared my throat. “So, uhm, yesterday I found Desmond Crane dead in the shop.”

Key’s mouth fell open. “Really? What did you do?”

“I called Ian, and we buried him here.”

We all looked at the ground.

“Here?” Key repeated.

“It is a cemetery,” I joked weakly.

She blinked a few times, then realized Alex and Shane weren’t surprised in the least. “You had Shane and Alex help you dig up a hole and you didn’t call me to help?”

Alex produced an exaggerated grimace from behind Key and gave me two thumbs down. Shane stared at me stoically, his one eye way too judgmental for a twenty-year-old.

“I didn’t want to put people in danger,” I said, tugging at the collar of my blouse and trying to remind myself of all the reasons it had sounded like a good idea not to involve Key.

A crease of discontent formed between her brows. “But you let Shane and Alex help?”

It crossed my mind to dump the responsibility for that on Ian—he had been the one to call Shane without my permission—but, as Grandma liked to say, taking responsibility makes for better pie dough. “Yes, I’m sorry, Key. Will you help now?”

“Of course,” she said, but I could tell from the sad arch of her mouth that I’d have to make it up to her with more than a simple apology. “What do you need me to do?”

Ian pointed at the patches of dislodged grass. Rufus went to sniff the ground, but Ian gently pushed him away. “Can you tell if the body is still there?”

Key nodded. “Body, right.”

Luckily for everyone involved, this wasn’t the first time Key had been asked to check if there were bodies buried around. Not wasting any time, she knelt on the ground and sank her hands into the soil.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. The crease of unhappiness between her brows became one of deep concentration. Outwardly, nothing changed for us—no magic tingled in the air or raised the hairs of our necks—but I knew she was using her power.

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