Page 6 of Amber Gambler

“Hey, Mary, did you run over a cat?” Josie greeted us in a tank and shorts. “I heard yowling.”

“Ihave a beautiful singing voice.” Pascal knocked on his chest. “It’sMattywho’s the problem.”

“Oh, sure.” She wiped sweat from her brow. “Blame your host when you can’t hold a tune in a bucket.”

“I challenge you to a sing off,chica.” He swaggered up to her. “Francita, you be the judge.”

“Francita has somewhere else to be.” I held up my hands, skirted them, and approached Harrow. “Hey.”

“Hey back.” He tracked Badb as she abandoned the wagon for the power line. “Are you ready to talk?”

Casually interrupting his line of sight, I began punching in the code to unlock the office door. “Yes.”

I should have given him longer to grieve his uncle. I should have let him come to me when he was ready. I should have turned down the case if I couldn’t solve it on my own. But I pushed it, I pushedhim, and as gooseflesh pimpled my arms, I couldn’t help worrying if the next push might shove him over the edge.

Harrow settled into the client chair opposite mine while I flipped on lights and got ready for the day. The short reprieve before sitting across the desk from him gave me precious minutes to decide how to frame the information he required to do his job without giving away more details than necessary about what happened below The Body Shop.

“You’re nervous.”

“Ha.” I wiped my damp palms on my pants where he couldn’t see. “Youwishyou made me nervous.”

Wood groaned as he shifted his weight, and I composed myself before turning to face him.

“Chew your thumbnail any lower, and you’ll convert to cannibalism.”

“I haven’t bitten my nails in…” I startled to find my thumb denting my bottom lip. “Oh.”

“I came on strong earlier.” He wiped a hand over his mouth. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No worries.” I used that gust of bravado to sail into my chair. “I appreciate your time.”

An awkward silence fell between us where we both avoided looking at one another.

“So.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Tell me about your case.”

“A spirit visited me last night.” I mimicked his businesslike tone. “His name is Leonard Collins. His granddaughter, Audrey, is missing. He believes she was kidnapped, but there’s no proof. She lost her mom, never had a dad, and skipped out on her foster parents when they started talking about adoption. She’s been living on the streets for months with only her grandfather’s spirit watching over her. But he’s got time limits. Even if he spends from dusk until dawn with her, she’s still vulnerable during the day.”

“The people who took her must think she won’t be missed, that she’s an ideal victim.”

That was what Collins told me when he pleaded with me to find her. That was what forced me to say yes when I had no business agreeing to a request so far outside my comfort zone. But if I didn’t try, who else would put in the effort? Without parents or a home, she had no one to miss her, to worry about her.

Us Marys shared a lot in common with Audrey. Except we had each other. This girl? She had no one.

No one with a pulse anyway.

For those who couldn’t see or hear spirits, it amounted to the same thing.

“Her name is Audrey Collins?” He pulled out his phone and a stylus. “Do you have her mother’s name?”

“Yes. Audrey Collins. Her mother was Leonard’s daughter. Her name was Marsha Collins.”

“Okay.” He wrote down his notes. “How about the fosters’ names?”

“Holly and Dan Houwaard.”

“Address?” One corner of his mouth twitched. “Phone number?”

Heat spilled into my cheeks as I squared my shoulders. “Are you laughing at me?”

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