by L. T. Ryan
And on it went. The other couch held three more people. Jamie couldn’t have been older than twenty-two. He was going to school to be an accountant. His little brother, Daryl, sitting on the other end of the sofa with a book in his hand, was two years younger and going to school for computer science. The woman in between them looked hilariously out of place in her sleek dress and giant hoop earrings. Janelle, Kiki explained, was going to school for fashion design. She even had a small following on Instagram who looked to her for advice on clothes, jewelry, and hair styles. Janelle politely said hello, only gazing up from her phone long enough to make eye contact.
Kiki turned to the last two people in the room. One was a short, stocky woman sitting in an armchair. She had a shaved head, dyed fuchsia, and wore baggy pants and a tight top. Her arms were covered in tattoos. She shook Cassie’s hand as Kiki introduced her as Dionne, her younger sister. She was a professional artist with several paintings hanging in a local gallery. Sitting next to Dionne on the arm of the chair was a woman with tawny skin wearing a dusty rose-colored hijab and tailored pantsuit. She had one arm draped around Dionne’s shoulders as she introduced herself as Imani, a personal chef. She didn’t seem at all intimidated by the vibe of the room, which led Cassie to assume the two had been dating for quite some time.
As the first hour stretched into the second, Dionne invited Cassie to visit her gallery before she and Imani drifted out of the room. Soon after, Jamie and Daryl packed up to go back to their dorms. Janelle followed moments later, promising to meet Kiki for lunch the next day. Ty gave Cassie a bear hug on the way out, and Evan, not to be outmatched, lifted her up and spun her around before gently setting her back down on the floor. He punched Jason in the shoulder before grabbing a cookie and sauntering out of the room.
Cassie slumped onto the couch, turning to Jason. “How do you do that all the time? I’m exhausted.”
“I’ve built up a tolerance.” He sat down next to her, shoving several potato chips into his mouth. “You’ll get used to it.”
Cassie tried not to grin at the idea that she might see Jason’s family again, but it was no use.
Kiki must’ve caught it. She was sitting across from Cassie in one of the chairs. “For the record, everyone liked you, too.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
“It sounds like you don’t believe it.”
Cassie looked to where Janelle had been sitting. “I just hope no one thought I was intruding on family time.”
Kiki followed her gaze. “Janelle?” She smiled and shook her head. “Janelle is super quiet. You wouldn’t think that by looking at her. She looks like a supermodel. God, I can’t believe she’s going to be twenty-five soon.”
Jason groaned. “When did we get so old?”
“I don’t know.” Kiki’s smile faded. “It was Janelle’s sister who died. Jasmine. She was a year older. Their mom, our aunt, died when they were little. Now it’s just Janelle and Uncle Roger.”
“I’m so sorry.” The silence of the room was suffocating. “Were they close?”
“So close.” The smile returned to Kiki’s face. “I’ve never even seen them get into an argument. Not a real one, anyway. They were best friends.”
“How is she holding up?”
“I don’t know. She’s not talking a lot, but she’s around. I take that as a good sign. If it were Dionne—” Kiki broke off. Shook her head. Smiled without smiling. “I’d bury myself alongside her.”
The three of them let that hang in the air for a moment. Cassie couldn’t stop herself from asking. She remembered what Jason had said at the bar. “She had a heart defect?”
Kiki nodded. “She had routine surgery about a week ago. At least they told us it was routine. She made it through okay. But apparently there were complications after the fact.”
“But you don’t think that’s what actually happened?”
“I don’t know what happened.” Kiki leaned back in her chair with a huff. “One minute, she was fine. Like, completely fine. The next? She crashed. They can’t tell us anything other than her heart gave out.”
“She had a lot of surgeries.” Jason’s voice was gentle. “I wouldn’t be shocked if that were the case.”
Cassie remembered the woman from her dream. The one who had been resting—maybe not peacefully—before the ghost of the doctor had pulled her from her own body. She had no idea what hospital the woman had been in. It could’ve been back in Savannah. Or it could’ve been here in New Orleans. Or anywhere in between.
“Cassie?” Kiki’s gaze flicked to Jason, and Cassie realized that while Kiki had figured out she was psychic, she couldn’t possibly know if that was information Cassie’d shared with Jason. “You looked a little lost there for a second.”
“Can I see a picture of Jasmine?”
Kiki pulled out her phone, tapped on the screen a few times, then held it out. “This is her Instagram.”
Cassie took the device. Jasmine had a natural glow about her. In nearly every photo, her head tipped back in laughter. There were dozens of pictures with her sister. Even pictures of her in the hospital. She didn’t try to hide it. She wasn’t ashamed.
Kiki moved to sit by Cassie on the couch. “She was like that in person, too.” Kiki pointed to a picture of herself standing between Jasmine and Dionne. “Jazz was always laughing. She had the most reasons to be mad at the world, but she always had her next joke lined up. She kept the rest of us humble.”
“She sounds amazing.” Cassie handed the phone back. “I had a dream on the plane ride down here. A woman in the hospital. She was asleep, but she looked sick.” Cassie paused. It still sounded strange to say it out loud. “Then the ghost of a doctor pulled her spirit right out of her body. She died, just like that. It wasn’t Jasmine, but I’d imagine it could look the same. One minute, she was fine. The next minute, she was dead.”
The room was silent. Cassie risked glancing over at Jason. He had his eyebrows pinched together in concentration. “What does it mean?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” Cassie didn’t want to make any major leaps, but she usually had dreams for a reason. “It could mean I’m supposed to help this woman move on. Give her family some answers. Or it could mean I need to figure out if a ghost is killing people.”
Kiki didn’t look fazed by the conversation. “I know it’s a lot to ask—”
Jason stiffened next to Cassie. “No.”
“—but will you help us?”
“Kiki.” Jason’s voice was sharp. Disappointed. “Cassie has enough on her plate. That’s a lot to ask someone.”
Kiki met his gaze. Cassie was once again reminded of how formidable she’d be in court. “You could help, too, you know. It’s not like you don’t have experience with this stuff.”
Cassie looked between the two of them. “What experience?”
Kiki folded her arms as if to say go on, tell her.
Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I used to be an investigator. When I was an MP. I’m good at talking to people. Getting them to open up.” There was pain in his voice. He didn’t look proud. “I know my way around a crime scene.”
“But this is your cousin. It’s different. Harder.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Jason’s words were clipped. “Not a cousin. Someone else. Someone I was close to.”
A friend? Cassie wondered. A girlfriend? A partner?
“What if it’s not a conspiracy, and Jasmine’s heart really did just give out? And what if it’s not, and someone murdered her?” Cassie thought of David. Of what waited for her when she got back home. “What if you learn her death wasn’t an accident, but you can never bring that person to justice?”
Kiki’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. “I need to know the truth. One way or another. Jay, you know I wouldn’t ask. I wouldn’t put you in that position. But this is Jazz.”
“I know.” Jason’s eyes were watery, too. He set his jaw. “I can go to the hospital to
morrow. Ask around. I’m sure somebody knows something they didn’t tell us.”
“Stacey still works there,” Kiki offered. “She was on call when it happened.”
Jason bobbed his head. Turned to Cassie. “Her brother and I went to college together.”
“I want to help.” When Jason opened his mouth to argue, Cassie held up a hand. “Please, let me help. This is what I’m good at. This is what I do.”
Jason closed his mouth. He looked exhausted but relieved. He nodded once. It was sharp and quick, but it was all the permission she needed.
Cassie let the full weight of it hit her. She’d gone on two dates with him. The first one, she’d accidentally punched him in the face. The second, she’d agreed to help him investigate the murder of his cousin. If they had any relationship at all in the future, at least it wouldn’t be a boring one.
13
Cassie waved to the security guard as she entered the museum, stuffing her phone into her purse and taking a sip of her coffee. It was still too hot to drink, but she ignored the burning on her tongue and tipped the cup back for a second time. She needed the caffeine more than she needed her taste buds.
Last night had been a whirlwind of emotions, and as soon as Jason had dropped her back off at the hotel, she’d face-planted into her bed. She didn’t feel like she got a full eight hours, but according to her alarm clock, she had. The night had been full of dreams—part memories, part premonitions—jumbled into one confusing mass that Cassie was still trying to untangle.
She remembered seeing the Ghost Doctor again, but this time Jason was in the hospital bed, fighting for his life. Then the scene shifted, and Cassie stood in the middle of the cemetery while Sabine and Granny Mabel watched on, silent. Kiki stood before her, but it was really Jasmine. She complimented Cassie’s hair, then faded away. No different from any of the other spirits that circled them. Cassie tried to find her again, but she tripped and fell into a grave. When she looked up, David stood above her, poised with a shovel in his hands.
As soon as the first heap of dirt hit her face, Cassie had jolted up in bed.
Now, staring at the front entrance, she took another long pull from her coffee cup and wished it would work faster. Jules had called her just after eight to let her know they had unloaded the van full of antique furniture. They’d cleaned the exhibit area days prior, so Cassie only needed to supervise the placement of the pieces and ensure the informational placards were correct.
When she finished, Cassie would meet Jason at the hospital where Jasmine had died. They’d track down the nurse he knew, see what she could tell them, and go from there. Cassie was still glad to help, but Jason’s apprehension had rubbed off on her. There was a reason he’d given up investigating crimes as an MP, and an even bigger reason he hadn’t told her. And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t dying to know.
Jules waved Cassie over to the information desk. Her bob swung with excitement, and her wide eyes looked like they were ready to burst from her head. Cassie had only met the woman two days ago, and she already felt like an old friend. A bright spot of normality in a world full of strange shadows.
“How did last night go?” Jules bounced up and down in her chair. “How was the date?”
“The date was good.” It wasn’t a lie, but Cassie found she had to force some cheer into her voice. “It was good.”
Jules frowned. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Cassie set her coffee down on the counter and ran a hand through her hair. “Nothing bad, I mean. I had a great time. Things are just complicated right now. For both of us.”
“Complicated doesn’t mean impossible.” Jules shrugged, and her frown dissipated. “I saw the way he looked at you at the bar. Trust me, he wants this.”
Cassie couldn’t find the words to explain how that was the least of her worries at the moment. She was more concerned with what Jason thought of her abilities, and whether he’d ever get used to what she could see. Then there was the fact that, in a matter of hours, they’d be investigating the death of his cousin. Would he appreciate how she helped him find answers—if they even found answers—or would he resent her for it?
Too late to turn back now. But she couldn’t say that either, so she smiled instead. “Thanks. That’s nice to hear.” Ford emerged from the back and waltzed up to Jules. He tipped his head back in acknowledgment of Cassie. She returned the favor. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” Ford plucked the stapler off Jules’ desk. “Need this.” He opened her drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors. “And this.” He grabbed two pens and a paperclip. “This, too.”
“Help yourself.” Jules’ voice was sarcastic, but she had trouble hiding her smile. “Anything else? My coffee mug? My desk chair? The computer?”
Ford looked at the chair as if weighing his options, but Cassie had a feeling he was using it as an excuse to look her up and down. Jules blushed under his scrutiny. “It’s safe for now.”
“What in God’s name are you doing?”
Ford spun on his heel. He said nothing until he was halfway across the room. “Crime.”
Cassie lifted an eyebrow when Jules turned back around. “Crime?”
Jules shook her head. “He’s always saying that. Probably fixing”—she fluttered her hand in the air—“something.”
Cassie noticed Jules’ blush hadn’t receded. “And you’re the only person in the entire building with office supplies?”
Jules rolled her eyes. “He likes to pick on me.”
Cassie grinned. “I wonder why.”
“Ford’s impossible.”
“He likes you.”
Jules scrunched her face. “What kind of drugs are in your coffee?”
“Just good old-fashioned caffeine.” Cassie took another sip. It had finally cooled to a reasonable temperature. She could almost taste the caramel now. “Seriously, though. Take it from a completely neutral source. He’s into you.”
“Ford’s a flirt with everyone. Have you seen him? I’m not his type. And he’s not mine.”
“I beg to differ.” Cassie shrugged. “But if you insist.”
Jules huffed, but Cassie could tell she heard what Cassie said. “Anyway, you have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Cassie looked around, but the entire entranceway was empty. “Who? Why?”
“Don’t know why. He said he’s from Savannah. He’s waiting in my office. I told him I’d send you back when you got here.”
“You could’ve led with that.” Cassie kept her voice even, but her stomach churned.
“I had to get the good gossip first.”
“Fair enough.” Cassie pushed away from the counter. “Thanks, Jules.”
“Are you okay?” Her voice was already fading as Cassie wound her way to the back.
“I’m good.”
But she wasn’t. A visitor from Savannah? Cassie’s first thought was Jason, but he wouldn’t have met her inside the museum. They already had plans for later, and he would’ve texted if something had come up. She checked her phone just in case, but there were no messages waiting for her.
Against her will, Cassie’s brain conjured another image. David. She shook it away. She knew he was gone. She’d been to his funeral. But if this had been any other time, it would not surprise her to see his frame filling the doorway. Delusions of some cosmic correction filled her with hope, even as she turned into the office to see a stranger sitting in Jules’ chair.
He was the exact opposite of David. Tall. Lean. Comfortable in a suit. He had gelled and coiffed his hair. His tanned skin was two shades too dark to be real, and it made the blue of his eyes stand out even more. The smile on his face was genuine, yet it made her think of a shark. If she wasn’t careful, he might open his mouth and swallow her whole.
“Ms. Quinn.” It wasn’t a question. He knew who she was. “My name is Dan Palmer.”
When he held out his hand, she shook it. “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”
“We�
�ve never met.” His smile didn’t waver, like it was glued to his face. “But I’ve heard a great deal of wonderful things about you. Please, sit.”
Cassie stayed standing. How presumptuous of him to ask her to sit in what currently doubled as her own office. She didn’t want to be rude, but something about Dan Palmer kept her on guard. “How can I help you?”
If the fact that Cassie hadn’t complied with his request bothered him, he didn’t show it. He sat behind Jules’ desk, his leather briefcase before him. “My colleague has been raving about you since you two met. She suggested I reach out to enlist your services on a project I’m struggling with. It would be well worth your time. The compensation would be generous.”
“Who’s your colleague?”
“Anastasia Bolton.”
A ripple of fear made its way through Cassie’s body. “You work for Apex?”
“Yes.” Impossibly, his smile grew wider. “I’m so glad you remembered. I wasn’t sure if you would. Anastasia told me how chaotic things were in Charlotte. Though, she tends to leave an impression.”
Cassie couldn’t argue with that. Anastasia Bolton had been Senator Grayson’s publicist, and while she’d only come face to face with her once, Cassie remembered the cool confidence that oozed out of every pore in her body. Detective Davenport had murdered Senator Grayson’s son, but FBI agents Viotto and Mannis thought Apex had been pulling strings the entire time.
Mannis had warned both Cassie and Viotto before they parted ways—if Apex comes knocking, make sure you don’t answer the door.
But it was a little late for that.
“What is it you want me to do?” Curiosity got the better of her. “I’m just an art preparator.”