A month had passed since the Booth House case.
The Sci Fi Channel special was set to air in two days but early buzz, Dr. Madison’s word of mouth, and Eddie’s gruntwork had assured that the firm’s phone was on a steady ring. Not just cases—big and small—but interviews with national and foreign publications.
Scott and Eddie were in the den having a drink when Eddie picked up the remote and turned the TV on, flipping channels until he stopped on Crossing Over with John Edward.
“Why do you watch this?” Scott demanded.
Eddie grinned. “He makes me laugh.”
“People tune in to see this guy, then turn around and act skeptical over our Wake Up San Francisco appearance,” Scott said. “It’s frustrating.”
“Blame it on Hollywood,” Eddie said. “We’ve seen Spider-Man swing through Manhattan on a web. Keanu Reeves contort his body and dodge bullets, a nuclear explosion taking out Baltimore, so when we see people moving things with their mind, we think it’s all special effects.”
“But what about Anjali and mind reading?”
“That’s easy,” Eddie said. “No one will ever believe it’s possible until it happens to them.”
“So Anjali has to read the mind of every person in the United States?”
“Pretty much.”
The front door opened and closed with a bang. Quick footsteps came down the hall and Anjali entered the room. Scott stood up feeling the same jolt of pleasure he always did when he saw her. She was wearing a lacy brown skirt and a silky multicolored sleeveless top.
“Hey guys,” she said with a smile and hugged Scott.
“So how’d it go?” he asked.
Anjali’s parents were in town and she’d shown them the Sci Fi special advance copy.
“They were impressed,” she said. “I think my dad’s finally coming around. Then again, he’s on blood pressure medicine and needs to remain calm.”
Scott laughed and sat back down. Anjali curled up next to him. “Where’s Coulter?”
“Getting ready for his date,” Scott said. “How’s your sister doing?”
“Well, Vijay found out about her secret crush on Coulter and they’re in marital counseling. But let’s talk about something else.” She smiled at Eddie. “What are you up to on this lovely Saturday night?”
“You know the owner of that shop in Union Square—the Psychic Tea Leaf? Well, I asked her out to dinner and she accepted.”
“So Eddie got his groove back,” Coulter said walking into the room.
“You look great,” Anjali said. “You should wear black more often.”
Scott decided he’d take Coulter apartment hunting tomorrow.
“Do we have any pizza left, Wilder?”
“I think you finished it.”
“Damn, I’m starving.” Coulter flopped down in the recliner, running his hands through his shower-damp hair.
“Don’t you have dinner plans?” Anjali asked. “You’re going to spoil your appetite.”
“Impossible.”
“I hear you’re going out with the lovely reporter Diana Moss,” Eddie said.
“We’re going to some fancy restaurant for dinner and then to a party at Robin Williams’s house.”
“I want all the details,” Anjali said. Coulter lifted his brow, and she quickly clarified, “I mean about the party!”
Coulter sat back and folded his arms across his flat stomach. “Don’t worry, Angel, I’ll give you all the details.”
Anjali giggled.
Scott looked at her and she quickly cleared her throat.
Eddie grinned at Scott. “So you guys staying in?”
Anjali entwined her fingers with Scott’s.
“Yes,” he said.
Unfortunately, after a quick but very thorough kiss on the sofa, Scott put Anjali to work. She’d worn the silky camisole that gathered under the bust for nothing.
She was in the office staring at the computer screen. Spectral Digest magazine wanted a five-hundred-word essay from her on the pros and cons of being a telepath.
Pro, she wrote, knowing the punch line of a joke before it’s even told.
Con, I feel dead people.
Scott set a glass of red wine for her on the desk and read what was on the screen. She could hear the amusement in his voice. “I’m not sure that’s the angle they’re going for.”
“I have writer’s block.”
“I can help you with that.”
She swiveled in her chair and stood up, resting her hands on his chest, her voice seductive. “You can?”
“I’ll write up some points and you can fit them into the article.”
She frowned. Sometimes Scott was too literal. She picked up the wineglass and took a big sip. She was going to take another when he took the glass from her hand and laid it back on the desk. His hands gently cupped her face. “Or we could talk about work later,” he said.
That was the thing about Scott, he was a fast learner.
She was distracted for the next fifteen minutes or so, what with Scott pressing her up against the desk, one hand under her blouse, the other moving up her bare leg, pushing up her skirt. So she didn’t feel the presence at first.
But then the goose bumps came.
An icy finger traced down her spine and she was cold.
Scott pulled back and rubbed her arms. “You’re freezing.”
“Something’s here,” she whispered.
His hands tightened just as all the lights turned off, plunging them into darkness.
Slow, shuffling footsteps sounded down the hall.
“Do you hear that?” she asked. “Footsteps?”
“I don’t hear anything,” he said. “Let me get the flashlight.”
Anjali held onto him. “Stay here. It’s outside the door.”
He kept one arm around her and with the other dug in one of the desk drawers. He pulled out a flashlight and switched it on. The light jumped from corner to corner. “I don’t see anything,” he whispered.
“I do.”
A man stood in the doorway dressed in a military uniform. A dead man. He was young, probably in his early twenties when he died.
Anjali felt light-headed. She was going to faint.
Scott pulled her against him. “Take a deep breath. I’m here.”
She grabbed on to his shirt with both hands and tried to focus. So she’d never had a ghost actively seek her out before. No need to treat it any differently. Same rules applied.
“I’m going to throw up,” she said.
“Don’t look at it,” Scott said. “Look at me. Tell me what’s happening.”
“He’s standing in the doorway. He is…or was, a soldier.” She couldn’t help it. She had to look back. The ghost of the young man stared back at her with an expression so sad and defeated she felt her fear leave her.
Well most of it anyway.
She let go of Scott and took a step toward the door. What do you want? she asked. Why are you here?
He spoke and though she saw his lips move, it was as if his voice was inside her head. You must stop it.
“Stop what?” she said aloud. Scott looked from the doorway back to her.
The voice thundered in her head. The evil in the desert!
She cried out and clapped her hands to her ears. A gust of dry hot wind swept through the room.
The ghost of the soldier was gone.
Scott was sitting on the sofa, Anjali cradled against him.
If it hadn’t been for her body turning cold, the lights going out, and the sudden wind, he wouldn’t have thought anything was happening. And that disturbed him.
Spirits were tied to a location. They did not come calling. Even if certain movies suggested otherwise.
“Why are ghosts always so ambiguous?” Anjali asked.
“I don’t have any reference for this. I need to talk to Eddie.”
She looked up at him. “You don’t know? I think I’m going to faint.”
“I hate that I don’t know this. He looked like a soldier?”
“Don’t ask me if he was army or navy.”
“I can’t imagine what it must have been like…seeing him.”
“I hope this isn’t the start of a new trend. Feeling them is one thing, but if they start showing up here, at my apartment or the 7-Eleven.”
“I think your local 7-Eleven will be spirit free.”
“Why? Doesn’t anyone haunt a 7-Eleven? Wouldn’t they be attracted to the mummified hot dogs?”
He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “We’ll figure this out.”
“I hope so.”