Page 61 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

“The one bleeding from the bullet wound in his chest.”

Oh, fuck. Another ghost? “He’s dead?”

“For some years, judging by his attire. She keeps walking through him. It’s most disconcerting, although I suppose he’s used to it.”

Even though we’d already had the ghost discussion, every time Kim said something like that, it made me question all over again whether I’d stumbled into a parallel universe.

“Uh, okay. Do you think he can help?”

“Who knows? I’m new to this detective thing, remember? But there’s only one way to find out.”

She was right, and if I wanted to find Emma, I had to grab every chance, no matter how slim.

I sidled up to Blondie again. “There’s an empty spot for pancake mix. Do you have any more out the back?”

“How should I know?”

Because it’s your job.“Would you mind looking?” I forced a smile. “I’d be grateful.”

She shuffled off, and I followed her to keep watch while Kim did her thing. This reminded me of the time I had to testify in a murder case, and the poor dumb schmuck of a public defender asked the witness whether he’d become acquainted with the victim before or after he died. At the time, we’d all laughed. I wasn’t laughing now.

Kim picked up a box of candy and pretended to read the back, but I could see her lips moving. How often had she done this? Pretended to concentrate on banalities while she talked to a dead person?

Her head tilted to one side and she looked up, ingredients and calorie content forgotten. What had the former clerk said? Was it important? Kim seemed to hate her gift, as she called it, but at times like this, I envied her. Detectives dreamed about this shit. How much easier would it be to solve a murder when you could ask the victim anything you wanted?

Kim was still engrossed in conversation when I heard Blondie’s footsteps returning.Think quickly, Cullen.I shoved a jar of spaghetti sauce off the shelf and leapt back when it splattered everywhere.

“Shit! Sorry. Here, let me help you clean that up. I’ll pay for the damage.”

Blondie shot me a filthy glare and retreated into the storeroom. Clattering suggested she was hunting for cleaning materials, and I raised an eyebrow at Kim.

“Two minutes,” she mouthed. Then, “Emma had a boyfriend, didn’t she?”

“Wyatt Banks. I believe you met him.”

Had the spirit, as Kim called him, seen something? Was Emma with a man?

Blondie came back with a filthy mop and bucket and began spreading tomato sauce all over the floor while I stooped to pick up the shattered glass. A few moments later, Kim came over too.

“Let me help with that.”

“You’ll get your shoes dirty.”

She glanced down at her feet, undecided.

“We’ve got this. Why don’t you wait in the car? I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay.”

Was it my imagination, or did she look paler than usual? I watched her ass—no, her back—when she walked away, pausing as she went to turn to the empty air by the register and mouth, “Goodbye.”

My heart began to race as I grabbed the mop and washed the floor properly. Were we any further forward than when we arrived?

***

“And?”

I slid back into the driver’s side, clutching a packet of pancake mix and the six-pack of beer I’d bought out of guilt.

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