Page 9 of Dead to the World

His gaze flicked to the old computer that took up half the counter space. “I’m real good with computers too. I can tell that one needs fixing.”

He had me there. Technology and I weren’t exactly simpatico. I’d been living without Internet service and had been relying on my phone; the coverage at the Castle was spotty on a good day.

“You’ve got to help him,” Nana Pratt said. “These are my grandkids.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” I snapped.

Nana Pratt’s hands molded to her hips. “So help me, if you don’t do what you can for my kin, I will haunt you day in and day out for the rest of your time here.”

For a fleeting moment, I pictured Pops in the doorway, demanding that his granddaughter be admitted to yet another school. He would’ve threatened to haunt people, too, if he’d been a ghost then.

“What kind of help do you think I can offer you?” I asked. “I’m a better bet when the person is dead.”

Steven flinched. “Please don’t jinx it. Death is kind of a big deal.”

“Only to the living.”

“Stop beating around the bush and tell him you’ll help,” Nana Pratt demanded.

Sipping my tea, I pondered the broken computer. It would make my life easier to have it working again. Most of my money was earmarked for other necessities. The computer was so far down the list that it might as well not be on the list at all.

“Maybe you could talk to other ghosts in town,” Steven suggested. “Find out if they saw anything.” He tugged his earlobe. “Is that how it works? The ghosts are stuck near where they died or were buried?”

“More or less.” I wasn’t in the mood to discuss the details. I was still reeling from the fact that I was about to make a deal with Steven Pratt to find his sister. I blamed Nana Pratt. It wasn’t too late to cast her out; I’d have to mull it over when she wasn’t staring me down.

Steven’s head bobbed. “Cool.”

“You really don’t think she left town?”

“I really don’t.”

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

“Monk’s on Friday night. I left like an hour before she did.”

“I assume that’s a bar.”

“Well, it isn’t a monastery,” Nana Pratt quipped.

“What about her phone?” I asked.

“I’ve been calling and texting but no response, and she always kept location services turned off. The police said it would take time to get information from the mobile carrier because they need a warrant.”

“And you don’t think we have that kind of time,” I said, more of a statement than a question.

“For red tape? Definitely not. I tried a few apps to ping the phone’s location or show me the last known location, but nothing worked.” Steven chewed on his lower lip. “Is anybody else with you aside from Nana?”

“Ray Bauer.”

He seemed mystified by that. “Only those two?”

“Everybody else crossed over when given the chance,” I explained. “Sometimes spirits need a little nudge.”

“Tell him his parents weren’t here,” Nana Pratt said. “Remind him their ashes were scattered in the river.”

I highly doubted he needed reminding about that. Still, I said, “Your parents weren’t among them.”

His eyes flickered with a mixture of relief and disappointment. I understood his conflicting emotions. As someone who’d lost her parents at a young age, I’d simultaneously wanted to speak to their ghosts, yet also wanted them to rest in peace. Same for my grandparents.

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