Page 77 of Ghosted
“So, just to confirm, this guy passed the BAR, right? Like, your coworker says, ‘OMG wouldn’t it be so funny if he were dead?’ And then hewinds up dead,and you don’t say anything?!” I screech.
“He probably didn’t want to get in trouble, or be looked at as an accomplice,” Jack states, his weariness clear over the line. “Oh, and I also spoke with my P.I. yesterday. He said the GHB finding in the autopsy was bogus. It definitely should have been a urine sample. But the county coroner has been in practice for decades, so it’s unlikely they could or would do much to prove he intentionally botched the report.”
I take Dean’s hand in mine and squeeze. He’s worrying me with his faraway look. “So, what now?” I ask.
“I just got off the phone with the detective. We’re in luck because the one who got assigned to this case is a young guy who hopefully hasn’t gotten the chance to get wrapped up in all the corruption. He’s putting in an order for a search warrantfor Richard’s house and is going to try to get it pushed through today so Richard doesn’t have a chance to hide anything.”
I slowly exhale the breath that had been stuck in my chest. “Okay. I hope they find something.”
“Me too. And listen, Rae, I know you aren’t one to run your mouth, but keep this whole thing between us. No one knows Amari went to the police, and they want to keep it that way so they can hopefully surprise Richard. I called mostly so you can update my son, who I’m sure is within arm’s reach as we speak,” Jack says, amusement lightening his tone.
I feel my cheeks redden when Dean laughs a little, muscles bunching in his stomach in a very distracting manner. “You got it,” I quip. “Keep me updated.” We say our goodbyes and end the phone call.
I stand up and stretch, reaching my arms up above my head. Even with the rude wakeup, that’s the best night of sleep I’ve gotten in a long time. Dean’s eyes stay trained on my chest, and I snap my fingers to get his attention.
“What? You thought you could just be naked and sexy in front of me and I wouldn’t look?” he asks incredulously.
“Well, I thought you were kind of used to it by now,” I say, tossing my shirt from last night back over my head.
“I’ll never be used to it, Alderwood. You will always be the best thing to look at in the room.”
“Even when I’m old and saggy?” I ask. It’s something I’ve thought about with the whole tether thing. He’ll stay the same, but I’ll age. One day, I’ll look old enough to be his grandmother.
“Even then,” he says, dimple peeking out. “A beautiful woman is a beautiful woman. Age is but a number. I’m ready for you to be whatever the female equivalent of a silver fox is for me.”
“Silver vixen?” I supply.
Dean nods his head. “Yup.” He chomps his teeth and winks.
“Well, we have at least a few years until then,” I say.
“You’re not even thirty,” Dean counters with a scoff. “I think we have more than a few years.”
“Whatever. I feel closer to sixty than twenty these days,” I complain. “You’re knocking years off my life.”
“Maybe that’s been my plan all along so I can have you over here sooner,” he says, bouncing his eyebrows. I slip on my sweats and laugh.
“Well, lucky for you, I have something else going on today that takes years off my life,” I say.
“What’s that?” Dean asks, standing and suddenly clad in a casual t-shirt and jeans.
“It’s the second Saturday of the month, which means it’s time for a Main Street Business meeting,” I say with a sigh. “I fucking hate public speaking. And it’s worse now that my secret is out and everyone knows. They’re all going to be looking at me.” I shiver, hating the idea of it. If I could have chosen my Gift, invisibility would have been high on the list.
“Does it help to know that I will also be looking at you?” Dean asks, flitting in front of me.
I tilt my head side to side. “Maybe a little.”
“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss me so thoroughly, I forget all about my social anxiety.
FORTY-TWO
I convincedWren to go with me to the meeting, and despite her constant grumbling, I’m glad she did. It’s been an odd feeling knowing that everyone knows I’m a medium, but nothing has come of it. People have been kind to me, but I could see the barely-restrained questions on their minds. Now when I walk among the cramped bookcases of The Cracked Spine, I feel too many eyes on me. Every time I turn to look at someone and meet their stare, they look away.
I feel like a social pariah in middle school again, and I want to crawl out of my skin.
Dean presses more firmly into my side, and Wren grits her teeth from the other. “The next person who looks our way is getting their eyes melon balled.”
I sink further in my seat as Mr. Chase, the owner of Ravenwood Antiques, drones on and on about the upcoming Thanksgiving Day parade, various preparations we all need to make, the type of decor we should hang in our shop windows, etc. etc.It’s disconcerting to have my heart pounding like it wants to escape the cage of my chest and simultaneously be bored out of my mind.
