Haunted Read Free

it.
    They shed their shoes, then climbed the small set of stairs from the landing to the kitchen. Savannah headed straight for the fridge and started grabbing sandwich fixings. I walked past them, through the dining room, into the living room, and settled into my favorite spot, a butter yellow leather armchair.
    I’d done the right thing, sending Savannah to Paige. Quite possibly the smartest thing I’d ever done. Of course, if I’d been really smart, Savannah wouldn’t have needed anyone to take her in. I wouldn’t have been in such a hellfire rush to escape that compound, wouldn’t have gotten myself killed, wouldn’t have endangered my little girl—
    Yes, I’d screwed up, but I was going to fix that now. I’d promised to look after my daughter, and I would…just as soon as I figured out how.
    Savannah and her friend took their sandwiches into the dining room. I leaned forward to peer around the corner, just a quick check in case…In case what, Eve? In case she chokes on a pickle? I silenced the too-familiar inner voice and started to settle back into my chair when I noticed a third person in the dining room. In a chair pulled up to the front window sat a gray-haired woman, her head bent, shoulders racked with silent sobs.
    Savannah brushed past the woman, and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. “Did you hear Ms. Lenke might not be back before the city finals? She’d better be. Callahan doesn’t know the difference between a dead ball and a free ball.”
    The boy snorted. “I’d be surprised if that moron could tell a basketball from a football. At last week’s practice…”
    I tuned them out and focused on the woman. As I drew near, I could hear her muted sobs. I sighed and leaned against the dining room doorway.
    “Look,” I said. “Whatever happened to you, I’m sure it was bad, but you have to move on. Go into the light or click your heels three times or whatever. Get thee to the other side, ghost.”
    The woman didn’t even look up. Only thing worse than a stubborn spirit is a rude one. I’d seen her here at least a dozen times since the kids had moved in, and not once had she so much as acknowledged my presence. Never spoke. Never left that chair. Never stopped crying. And I thought I had a lousy afterlife.
    I softened my tone. “You have to get over it. You’re wasting your time—”
    She faded, and was gone. Really. Some people.
    “Where’s that new stereo you got?” the boy asked through a mouthful of multigrain bread.
    “In my room.” Savannah hesitated. “You wanna go up and see it?”
    The boy jumped to his feet so fast his chair tumbled over backward. Savannah laughed and helped him right it. Then she grabbed his hand and led him to the stairs.
    I stayed at the bottom.

    A moment later, music rocked the rafters. Nothing I recognized. Dead three years, and I was already a pop-culture has-been. No, wait. I did recognize the song. “(Don’t Fear) the Reaper”…but with a techno beat. Who the hell was this? Not Blue Oyster Cult, that’s for sure. What kind of crap—? Oh God, I was turning into my mother. I’d avoided it all my life and now—
    A man walked through the wall. Two inches taller than me. A decade older. Broad shoulders. Thickening middle. Thinning blond hair. Gorgeous bright blue eyes, which followed my gaze to the stairs.
    “And what does our daughter desperately need your help with today?” he asked.
    Kristof Nast’s contribution to “our daughter” had been purely biological, having not entered her life until just days before the end of his. My choice, not his. After I’d become pregnant, I’d skedaddled. Took him thirteen years and a mortal blow to the head, but he’d finally caught up with me.
    He cocked his head, listened to the music, and pulled a face. “Well, at least she’s out of the boy-band stage. And it could be worse. Bryce went through heavy metal, then rap, then hip-hop, and at each phase I swore the next one couldn’t be