“That’s different, though,” Jared noted. “Your uncle was in the grips of addiction. That can change brain chemistry. I’m not making excuses for him, but drugs can alter reality. In this particular case, I believe it’s possible Harris altered his own reality ... and not because of drugs but because of greed.”
“This camp could turn out to be nothing, though,” Harper pointed out. “It might never make him a dime.”
“And think how terrifying that would be for a man like Harris, someone who clearly puts a premium on money over people.”
“I ... still don’t understand how I play into all of this.” Harper held out her hands. “Are you saying that Harris killed her because he thought that would somehow lure me in?”
“I’m not saying anything of the sort,” he reassured her. “Harris could very well be innocent. All we know is he seems manic ... and fixated, to the point where he lied to his employees. It could be an innocent mistake. It could be something more, though.”
“So, how do we figure it out?” Shawn queried.
“Right now we get some sleep. I want to think on this, but I’m tired. We’ll start figuring things over breakfast and go from there.”
“That sounds like a good plan to me. We’re all exhausted. We should head back together.”
“Definitely.” Jared extended his hand toward Harper. “Are you appropriately sugared up?”
Harper nodded. “Yup. I’m totally ready to punish you for eating s’mores without me.”
Jared’s grin was impish. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m a glutton for punishment.”
“I guess so.”
DESPITE JARED’S WORRIES OVER THE SUGAR, Harper had no problem falling asleep. She curled into the nook between his neck and shoulder and drifted off within minutes. She almost didn’t hear Jared’s murmured “I love you” before she was dragged under.
At first she went nowhere, merely drifted in the darkness. Then slowly, the clearing from her previous dream started taking shape. When her vision sharpened, she let loose a sigh and made an exasperated sound deep in her throat.
“Really? I was hoping for a good night’s sleep.”
“That’s always a good thing to get,” a female voice offered from behind her, causing Harper to snap her head in that direction.
It wasn’t Leslie, much to Harper’s surprise. It was the other ghost, the brunette she’d caught a glimpse of in the foliage before Harris interrupted them during the early morning hours.
“Hello.” Harper openly gaped as she tried to wrap her head around the new development. “I wasn’t sure I would see you again.”
“No?” The woman offered a wan smile, giving Harper a wide berth as she circled to the fallen log in the middle of the clearing. “I knew I would see you again.”
“You did, huh?” Harper folded her arms across her chest and watched the ghost circle. The woman had a lot of nervous energy, which felt out of place given the circumstances. “How did you know we would cross paths again?”
“Because your mind is an open book. You should be careful, especially given what you can do, to close off avenues of entry. Evil forces would gladly take over your mind if you give them the chance.”
Harper didn’t know what to say. “I guess I’ve never thought about that.”
“Which is surprising,” the woman noted. “You see evil every day of your life, and yet you don’t fear it.”
“I don’t see much sense in allowing fear to take over my life. Who wants to live that way? If something bad happens, it will be sad, and I’ll work to ensure a good outcome, but allowing the fear to turn me into someone I don’t recognize, or actively dislike, is the same as losing.”
“Ah.” The ghost nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Is winning important to you?”
Harper shrugged. “I don’t know. I would like to think I’m not a competitive person, but I recognize that’s not true. I like to win as much as anybody. I would hope I don’t let that overtake me either.”
“Yes, competitive people are the worst.” The woman’s smile was rueful. “I was a competitive person in life. What’s worse is that I wanted to make my daughter a competitive person because I believed that would help her get farther in life. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable assumption to me.”
Harper was surprised by the conversational shift, but she went with it. She wanted to keep the woman talking and this seemed like the best way to do that. “You have a daughter?”
“Yes.”
“What’s her name?”
“It doesn’t matter.” The woman let loose a sigh. “I lost track of her when I lost my life. It doesn’t matter who she is or what she does now. The things I wanted for her are ... unimportant. I guess they always were. I don’t know why I couldn’t see it.”
She seemed to be talking in a roundabout manner that Harper had trouble following. “Are you from this area?”
“Does it matter?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
She cocked her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said decisively. “Nothing matters.”
“Obviously something matters,” Harper argued. “If you no longer believed anything matters you wouldn’t be here. You would’ve simply faded from existence, allowed yourself to float to the other side. Something is keeping you here, and whatever it is, matters.”
The woman was silent for a beat and then held up her hands. “You would know better than me, I guess. You’re the one who deals with this on a regular basis.”
“I do, but I can’t tell you why you stayed behind. I need you to tell me that.”
“And what if I don’t know?”
“You know.” Harper was adamant. “You’re too angry not to know why you stayed.”
“That’s an interesting observation.” The ghost mimed scuffing her foot against the ground, probably something she did in life, and then lifted her chin to stare at the sky. “This isn’t my home.”
Harper nodded encouragingly. “Okay. You’re not a local. Can you tell me your name?”
The woman ignored the question. “I’ve never been one for the great outdoors. In fact, I
