Page 7 of The Grave Robber

“No, I’ve seen her lose her shit. I believe that part.”

He collapsed again. It was like watching a soap opera. “Shedoesn’t want anyone to know, so why create a video proving she has a ghost? Ora poltergeist. Or whatever you call it.”

“Fine,” I said, giving an inch. “Let’s say a departed hasattached itself to her. Or to something she has. What am I supposed to do aboutit?”

“You’re asking me?” He paused to gape at me before adding,“You’re the one who deals with this shit on a daily basis.”

“Not daily,” I said, pouting a bit.

He deadpanned me, his disbelief shining through in brilliantTechnicolor.

“It’s more like every other day.”

He continued to stare until I caved.

“Okay, it’s daily, but it’s not all bad. It’s justso…daily.”

“All I’m saying is that she’s had it rough. She’s beenterrorized by this thing since she was a kid. And she’s dealt with it on herown.” He tossed a glance her way, and I saw sympathy shimmering behind the maskof coolness he wore twenty-four-seven. “Her parents didn’t believe her either.”

I raised the cage around my heart. Reinforced it with barbedwire and steel. This was not my problem. “And she told you all of this?”

“No.” He shook his head, his mouth thinning into a grimline. “She won’t talk about it. Not even with the countless therapists andcounselors her parents forced her to see for years. Her father told me. He’s athis wit’s end.”

“So, he magically believes her now?”

“He does. Her mother did, too, before she died last year.Halle is all Donald has left.”

“Donald?”

“Nordstrom. My business partner and the money behind all ofthis.” He spread his arms, indicating the popular bar and grill.

I leaned closer and said softly, “It still doesn’t meanshe’s being haunted by anything other than her own mind.”

“I know,” he said, conceding the point. “Just talk to her,okay? Read her aura—”

“Her what?”

“—and decide for yourself.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. If she weren’t beingghosted—literally—then she was one hundred percent certifiable, and there waslittle I could do about either. Just because I could see the departed nowdidn’t mean I had the skills to deal with them. They were more stubborn thanthe living. The fact that they were still on this plane when they should’vecrossed was proof of that. And they rarely left, even when I asked nicely.

“Time is running out,” he added.

“What do you mean?”

He lowered his voice, his brows drawn into a severe line.“She tried to kill herself a couple of years ago.”

I stared at him, the image of that ethereal creature tryingto end her life throwing a left hook at my heart. Throwing andlandingwith his next words.

“And her father is convinced she’s about to go for roundtwo.”

Chapter Two

And the award for

Chump of the Year goes to…

—T-shirt

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