Page 52 of The Accidental Ghost

Ralph fought a laugh at Shamus’s surprised look.

As they pushed their way out of the station and down the stairs, the crowd holding vigil for her now diminished, likely because the temperature on the sign in the police station’s parking lot read twenty-two degrees, Nina stopped where the two officers were chatting with Marty and Wanda, obviously charmed by their flirting.

She tapped one sturdy-looking officer on the shoulder. “Just FYI, this ain’t the fuckin’ Dunkin’ Donuts, if you were thinkin’ a glazed donut’s in your future tonight.”

Dragging Shamus down the rest of the steps, the two laughed. Despite how torn she was over killing this man Michael, she managed a laugh, too.

They were all still laughing on the car ride home.

It felt good to put off the inevitable by sprinkling in a lighter moment.

It had been a week since they’d been to the police station, and they hadn’t learned a single thing about this Michael Vorris other than what the detective had in his file.

He didn’t have any social media accounts, just an arrest record as long as her arm with a couple of mugshots of him, and the picture the one of him lying on the pavement—dead. One Ralph could barely look at.

Still, she couldn’t be certain he was who’d nabbed her in Hell.

But he’d been arrested plenty in his twenty-four years, for assault and battery, drug possession, several misdemeanors. The pathologist’s preliminary report had found meth in his bloodwork.

Michael’d been in and out rehab for habitual drug use, meth in particular, and in and out of jail on several occasions since he was a teen.

And she’d killed him. She’d killed someone. A child in comparison to her. Someone who hadn’t even had the chance to live their life.

Mild-mannered first grade teacher, careful, quiet Raphaela Tucci had killed someone. Someone she still couldn’t identify with a clear conscience as the man who’d hauled her off to Hell, let alone the man who’d killed her.

He was the only explanation about why this was happening to her, and if they didn’t identify him, find him she’d be stuck in this sort of in-between-life-and-death state forever.

She didn’t remember a single thing about the night she’d been killed, but that she’d killed a man—even if he did end up shooting her—left her torn up inside. And she’d used a utility knife to do it.

What made this whole scenario even weirder? Ralph remembered the utility knife. She remembered using it to open boxes. Why was everything else such a black hole in her mind?

“Ra…Ralph?” Carl put a hand on hers, watching as it fell directly through her palm.

She’d finally met the infamous Carl, and she was in absolute love. He was the sweetest, gentlest young man she’d ever encountered.

And he loved to read just as much as she did. She’d been introducing him to YA mysteries. Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys, to be specific. He read them at the speed of light, and then they discussed them on the couch of the library in front of a roaring fire while everyone else watched TV.

He turned the pages for them as he sat cuddled in a fuzzy blanket with a bowl of broccoli, Blanche in his lap and Dale at his feet, while Waffles zoomed around in her wheelchair attachment and Gloria cuddled by Carl’s side.

Gloria had quickly fallen in line with the tiny pack they’d created this week, and it filled Ralph’s heart with joy. She’d been released from the vet with strict instructions to rest while she healed, which turned out not to be a problem, considering the number of laps she’d been able to find safe harbor on.

Gloria was a gentle soul, with happy eyes and a grateful heart, and Shamus had fallen in love with her from the moment her tail furiously wagged when they’d picked her up from the vet.

But she truly appeared to relish the routine of sitting in the library with them. In fact, for the last two days, Glo had found her way to the library doors after dinner, waiting outside patiently for her favorite zombie’s lap.

The few hours or so she and Carl spent each evening, chatting about what he’d read, made her day. She’d missed books.

She missed her store. She missed a reason to get up. Even though she didn’t have to get up because she was awake around the clock. Not as fun as one would think.

“Ralph?”

Blinking, she smiled and sort of patted his hand in return. “Sorry, buddy. I was lost in thought.”

He cocked his head, his pale green face concerned. “Sad again?”

She didn’t want to put a damper on their time together or expose him to something so awful, even if he did already know what she’d done.

This time with him had become a respite from her ugly thoughts about what she’d done to Michael Vorris. A young man she could find no information on no matter where they looked.

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