Page 43 of Ghosted
His lips quirk into a small smile, flashing his dimple. “Thank you,” he says before flitting outside. “Let’s get this over with,” he calls from outside my door.
I take a calming breath and get out of my car. We parked across the street from the office since it’s a Sunday and not very busy. Dean’s hoping that not many people will be here. He thinks it should be quiet since that big case finished a couple of weeks ago.
We swung by Dean’s house so I could get the keycard to the building. I also sent off a text to Jack letting him know we’d be poking around. He said he was in Boston watching a Patriots game with his other kids, otherwise he’d be here with us. I wonder if he’s mentioned me to anyone else. Although I guess that would be a weird thing to try to explain.
“Honey, I’m texting this woman who is thirty years youngerthan me, but it’s nothing weird, I swear. She’s just a medium trying to figure out who murdered our son and may or may not be involved in a romantic relationship with him from beyond the grave. Pass the butter, please.”
Okay, so maybe Jack should keep this whole thing to himself. At least for now.
I use a passkey to get into the lobby, and we take the sleek elevator up to the top floor of the building. The door slides open on an empty hallway with large windows that look out on the street below. At the end of the hall is a door that opens with the keycard. The overhead lights flicker on automatically with the motion of the door opening.
I let out a breath at finding the law firm empty. We had come up with some story about my being Jack’s new assistant sent to clean out Dean’s office in case someone was there, but I’m a terrible liar and would rather slink around unnoticed.
“My office is right over there,” Dean says, pointing to a small, glass-walled office situated between a few other identical-looking ones. We bypass the secretary’s desk and walk past a few cubicles reserved for the paralegals. I use Dean’s keycard one last time to get into his actual office.
When I push the door open, he’s already sitting in his office chair, looking pensive. His decor is, you guessed it: a deep red color. He has a large, abstract painting on the right wall depicting black and white mountains against a burning red sky.
Comforting.
I doubt Jack allowed a cleaning person to come in here since Dean died. Everything is blanketed with a fine layer of dust, and there’s still some debris in the small trash can next to his desk.
I come around the desk and am relieved to find that, atleast from here, his office is a little less stark. He has multiple picture frames with his friends and family, including one digital one that scrolls through different, less-posed pictures. “Are you here for legal advice, Miss Alderwood? Have you gotten yourself in trouble?” Dean says, looking up at me from his seat with a mischievous glint.
I smirk and say, “No, I’m a good girl through and through. No law troubles for me.”
“Are you sure? We have a special package for anyone who's been naughty.” He raises his brows at me and I swat his shoulder, earning myself a static shock.
“Come on, let’s sleuth away so we can get out of here. Large, empty buildings give me the heebie-jeebies.”
Dean pouts. “You don’t even want to hear the rest of my role-play script?”
“Not particularly.”
“It’s really good though. Very sexy.”
“I’m sure… Wait, do you actually have a script?”
Dean sighs and says, “In the afterlife, I have much more free time than I know what to do with.”
“So you spend your free time thinking up role-play scripts instead of wandering the Taj Mahal or the Pyramids?”
“Has that been an option this whole time?” he questions.
“I… honestly don’t know. You could always try it. Visualize it on a map or something and see where you end up. I have a feeling that travel is much different for you.”
He shakes his head. “No, thank you. I’d rather spend all my free time either with you or thinking up very sexy role play starring you.”
“You’d rather picture me naked than see the Seven Wonders of the World up close?” I ask playfully.
“Some could say you’re the eighth wonder,” he replies with a toothy grin.
I roll my eyes. “Okay, come on, Romeo. Let’s get this done and then maybe we can spend some time working on your next script.”
“As long as it involves you bent over this desk, I’m down,” he proposes with a smirk. I shake my head at him and try to think of anything other than getting bent over the damn desk. Because if I think about it too hard, we really won’t make it out of here without me ending up with my jeans around my ankles.
Sigh. Focus!
“Okay. So. Walk me through your day at work. I’ll sit here, so you can go about your tasks without distraction.”
