He believed she’d swindled a man she never met. His opinion shouldn’t bother her, but it rankled her from the inside out.
She rubbed at the headache forming behind her eyes, even as the sun sank behind the trees. She had less than an hour to get to Rosalind’s house, and she still had one more stop to make. Well, two if she counted the copious amounts of coffee, she’d need to stay awake to catch the stalking ghost.
Ryley drove to the cemetery across town. The parking lot deserted. The sacred grounds were cast in shadows where night threatened to enter. She got out of her vehicle and rooted around in her trunk.
Bundles of sage and lighters were in one of her bags next to the bottle of tar water. An unopened pack of tarot cards in another. Toys from years ago, fake flowers. She’d tried to be prepared for almost any entity she might encounter.
Sometimes spirits just wanted to be remembered, to be mourned or missed. Other times they had a message to pass along.
She’d help if she could. Sometimes it was something much harder to deal with.
She grabbed her bag and shoved a toy inside, along with a pad of paper and a pen. When she slammed her trunk shut, the noise echoed off the asphalt and bounced off nearby tombstones.
Her gaze was fixated on her destination. Making eye contact with any other spirits that might be lurking would only delay the inevitable.
The little boy was no longer in the tree.
The silence was deafening; no sounds of cars, no sounds of birds, no sounds of life. Ryley settled on the seat in front of the grave and took out her pen. On a sheet, she wrote down the names etched in the stones.
It was a family plot. The little headstone read Adam Bell. Two larger stones with the names Rose and Lucas Bell stood on each side as if surrounding and protecting the child even in death.
She flipped the sheet to the next page and wrote out a message.
I can help you.
Ryley ripped the page free and slipped a toy racecar out of her purse. If there was one thing she knew, it was that all kids, no matter what generation they lived, liked to play with toys.
She put the note in front of the grave, using the car to hold it in place.
The evening breeze kissed her skin as she sat on the hard bench for as long as she could with no response, before she stood to leave.
“I’ll be back again and again and again until you talk to me,” she called out, knowing the little boy must be watching from afar. She had another ghost to go catch. One that, if what Rosalind said was true, wasn’t going to get the same welcoming invitation, just an order to leave.
Chapter 15
Ryley stopped for coffee before parking on the driveway, next to Rosalind’s Jag. The lights shone through the living room, casting a glow into the evening beyond. The heavy curtains were only partially closed.
A doctor like Rosalind knew the crazies in the world.
Ryley strolled to the door and knocked. Rosalind answered with a blush on her cheeks. “I’m so sorry my son tried to arrest you last night. He’s just overprotective.”
“Thanks, and don’t worry about Jake. I’m actually glad he was watching your house and taking the threat seriously.”
“Please come in.”
Ryley stepped inside. Rosalind closed the door behind them. She turned toward the kitchen, leaving the door unlocked with her suitcase sitting next it.
“Do you always leave your doors unlocked?” Ryley asked, not moving from the spot.
“Not always, but I wasn’t sure if you were staying or just stopped by to tell me I’m on my own thanks to Jake’s shenanigans.”
Ryley locked the door and followed her into the living room, where Rosalind had a partially empty wine glass sitting on the table next to the couch. A manilla file sat next to the liquor.
She gestured for Ryley to sit. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Ryley held up her coffee cup. “I’m good.”
Rosalind sat down with a sigh and picked up the file, passing it to Ryley.
The thick file was heavy. Ryley flipped it open. A picture of a smiling woman was attached to the inside flap. She was pretty, probably in her forties. The laugh lines around her eyes showed she’d enjoyed her life. The diamond necklace suggested she had money. She was holding the arm of a man wearing a tuxedo. There was an unmistakable look of love in his eyes as he stared at her.
“She looks happy,” Ryley said.
“That’s Kitty Lynch. She may have looked happy in that picture, but she was a master at deceiving and hiding her true emotions.”
Ryley flipped through Rosalind’s notes, scanning the entries without getting into the technicalities of it all.
Kitty Lynch was depressed and paranoid. “She thought people were out to get her?” Ryley asked.
“Yes.”
Ryley scanned further down the page. “She also thought her husband was cheating on her. Was he?”
“She also claimed the maids were aliens sent to steal from her to get her DNA,” Rosalind said. “She’d become unstable until I got her on the right medications. She was making significant progress. She started leaving the house, where before treatment, she wouldn’t. In the end, she’d been volunteering at a nonprofit. That radiant look returned to her eyes, only I believe that it was real.” Rosalind gestured to the file.
“She was happy and in love. I bet that made her husband happy.”
“I don’t believe it was him that brought the spark back into her life.”
“And you think she didn’t commit suicide? Do you think the husband thought she might be cheating, seeing the light in her eyes, and he was the one who committed the crime?”
“No. I mean, yes. I believe it was murder, but I don’t think he did it.” Rosalind picked up her wine glass and drained it before disappearing into the kitchen. She returned
