Chris was about to start the coffee maker when the knocking started. She looked around the kitchen and sighed. Except for Miss Kitty, she was alone for once—Ron and Joe were apparently either sleeping in or enjoying some alone time of their own. Chris had looked forward to a morning of quiet time to catch up on some work without any distractions.
Frowning at the lost opportunity, she flipped the switch on the coffee machine and went to answer the door, pushing past the sense of dread that accompanied her suspicion of who it would be.
It had been a week since her confrontation with Brandt. She hadn’t heard a peep from him, despite Ron’s daily visits with Jimmy and her certainty that Derek was about to crack. That was, of course, unless you counted the late night phone calls. When they started, she’d had her suspicions, which Ron had confirmed. Chris had gone along with it, but after getting woken up in the middle of the night for a solid week, enough was enough. If he called again, she was going to tell him she knew what he was doing and to knock it off.
A peek through the curtain told her she might not have to. Chris bit her bottom lip as she grasped the door knob, pausing to consider what she might say. Preferably, it would be something clever and disarming that would diffuse his anger, throw him off balance, and give her the upper hand. But all that came to mind was, “What the heck do you want?” and she didn’t quite think that would do the trick. Taking a deep breath to brace herself, she opened the door.
Any greeting she might have come up with would’ve died on her lips anyway at the sight of him. He stood there with a hang-dog expression, balancing a box of donuts and two coffees in his hands, and suddenly, she was the one who was disarmed.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
Chris looked him up and down warily, taking in how tired and haggard he looked. And yet he exuded a sense of energy and excitement as he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, a look of hope hiding behind his contrition. She caught herself smiling. Jimmy must’ve finally cracked him.
She stepped back and opened the door more widely to admit him. He paused in the entryway as she shut the door, then she motioned wordlessly for him to follow her to the kitchen. Once there, he set his bundle on the table.
“I didn’t know how you like your coffee,” he said, setting a cup in front of her, “so I got black. I figured you could doctor it here.” He stood back and motioned to the donut box. “I couldn’t find any humble pie this early in the morning. But I can assure you that the cream-filled ones are chock full of humility.”
“So I take it Jimmy finally got through to you?”
He blew out a long sigh. “Yeah.” He pulled out a chair but hesitated before sitting down. “May I?”
“Be my guest.”
He sank into the chair and sat there a moment, drumming his fingers on the table. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it again as if not knowing what to say. Finally, he said, “I owe you an apology. Actually, I think I owe you several, going all the way back to college.”
Chris took up the cup of coffee, removed the lid, and blew on it. “So you do remember.”
“Yeah. Although to be fair, you looked a lot different back then.”
She smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I guess I was going through my Avril phase at the time.”
“Anyway, I know I behaved like a jerk. Then and now. Although, for what it’s worth, I had good reason to be skeptical.”
“There’s skeptical, and then there’s willfully blind to what’s right in front of you. Not to mention refusing to give good people the benefit of the doubt.”
“Yeah, well, I’d already given someone like you—who claimed to be like you, at any rate—the benefit of the doubt, and it backfired. Big time. I know that’s no excuse for how I treated you, but it’s my only defense.”
Chris considered this. She knew there were a lot of phonies running around out there, giving people like her a bad name. They would’ve seen Derek as a prime target. She wondered what they’d done to him to make him so distrusting.
Making up her mind, she reached over and flipped back the lid on the donut box. She took out a glazed and took a bite. It was still warm and fresh, and she closed her eyes and savored the sweet, melty, doughy goodness. Then she opened her eyes and nodded.
“Apology accepted,” she said before washing it down with a sip of coffee. She caught him watching her and suddenly felt self-conscious. She set her cup down and went to grab some plates and napkins, making sure she didn’t have donut glaze stuck to her face once her back was to him. Returning to the table, she sat across from him and said, “So.”
He sat up a little straighter and fiddled with his napkin. “So, I also came to ask for your help. For Jimmy.”
“I kind of figured. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
She finished her donut slowly as he told her about the night before. “Scrabble tiles,” she said appreciatively when he finished. “That’s inventive.”
“I was up all night, but only part of it was spent talking to him. He seemed to run out of strength after a couple of hours.”
Chris nodded. “It takes a lot of energy for them to communicate like that. They get spent and need time to recover.”
He seemed to let this sink in. “Anyway,” he went on, “of course, I wasn’t going to get any sleep after that, so I spent the rest of the night trying to figure out what I’d say to you.”
She felt the corners of her mouth turn up. “Yeah, that donut line sounded a little rehearsed.”
A grin flashed across his face. She only caught a glimpse of it before he ducked his chin to hide it, but it was enough to make something deep down inside do a little flutter. Or maybe that was just the sugar and caffeine at work. She took another drink of her coffee.
“I know you’ve already spoken with Jimmy. You and somebody named Ron?”
“My sister. It’s short for Veronica.”
Derek nodded, but his face screwed up in confusion. “I thought your sister died last year.” At her quirked eyebrow, he admitted, “I did some digging. For my story,” he added hastily, giving her a sheepish glance.
“She did,” Chris said. “Hence how she was able to speak with your dead brother.”
“Oh. Right.” He still looked confused, or maybe he was just wigged out by all the dead people. For Chris, talking to the dead was simply her life. She had to remember that this was new territory for him, and probably not a little mind blowing. “Anyway, Miss Wilson—”
“I think, by this point, you can just call me Chris.”
There was that grin again. And there was that flutter. It felt familiar. Frowning, she grabbed another donut, with sprinkles. Sprinkles would make anyone’s insides flutter, right?
“I guess if we’re on a first name basis, that would make me Derek. So, Chris—”
“Yes, Derek?”
He laughed. There it went again. It definitely wasn’t the sprinkles. She put the donut down and stared accusingly at it.
“How much do you know? About what happened to my brother, I mean?”
“I know that he was murdered in a home invasion, and they never found who did it. And I know you were just a kid when it happened. That must’ve been really hard.”
He shrugged. “Not as hard as getting killed and stuck in limbo for fifteen years without anyone to talk to.”
“No, I guess not. I know that you were the main reason he stuck around, though.”
“Great. More guilt.”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” She sat up straighter and suppressed a sudden urge to reach across the table and touch his hand. “He just didn’t want to leave when he knew you were so vulnerable. He didn’t want you to blame yourself. He still doesn’t.”
“Yeah.” Derek rubbed his face, but the weariness clung to it. “He told me all this last night.”
“And he’s still here?”
“Yes.” He frowned and amended, “At least, I think so. We talked for a while after that before he had to stop. I didn’t hear or see anything else from him after that.” He looked at her with an alarmed expression. “Do you think he might be gone? I mean, forever?”
“I don’t know. Probably not, if he didn’t say goodbye.” He relaxed a little and stared thoughtfully at the table. The silence stretched out between them. Before it could become too awkward, she offered, “I could come over later and make sure. If he’s still there, we can all talk and figure out what he needs to move on.”
“Move on? You mean, like, to heaven?”
“If that’s what you like to call it.”
“I never really thought about it,” he said. “I mean, our parents took us to church and all that, but after what happened that night, I kind of gave up on the idea of God.” Suddenly, he scooted his chair back and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Man. This is all so . . .”
He shook his head, letting the sentence hang in the air. Chris mentally filled in the blank with what he must be thinking. Bizarre. Insane. Hard to believe. Scary. Finally, he finished by simply saying, “Much.”
She nodded. This was true. “I know. It takes some getting used to.”
He leveled his gaze at her. “I’m really sorry I thought you were a fraud.” His sincerity caused something inside her to melt a little, but then she remembered how publicly he’d made those thoughts known.
“That’s okay,” she said. “It’s all the other people you convinced who are the problem.”
“Yeah,” he said, drawing out the word as he sat upright. “I plan to do something about that.”
“Really? What?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure something out.” He seemed to think about it for a moment, then added, “Hopefully, something that won’t damage my career too badly.” Then he glanced guiltily at her. “Although I suppose you think that’d serve me right.”
“Not now that you’ve plied me with sugary confections,” she said and smiled. “Seriously, I don’t want you to lose your job over it.” She realized as she said it that she really meant it. “I’m sure it will all blow over.”
“If it makes you feel any better, our ratings have been flagging lately. So not everyone in town watched my segment.”
“Good to know.” Though it was still enough of the population for her to get told off by a random stranger while in line to buy coffee. She decided to keep that part to herself for now. Derek already seemed to have enough guilt on his plate. She didn’t want to add to it at this point. Which, if she was honest, surprised her a little. And also made her feel a little proud of herself.
Before she could break an imaginary arm mentally patting herself on the back for her maturity, Derek stood up. “I guess I should be getting back. I don’t want to take up your whole morning.”
“But you haven’t eaten any donuts.” She motioned to the box.
“That’s all right. You enjoy them.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Do I look like I can pack away an entire dozen all by myself?” Not that she couldn’t, under the right circumstances, but she hoped it wasn’t obvious.
“What? No, I didn’t mean—you look great.” He put a lot of emphasis on the last word, then stopped and cringed. “I mean—”
“Relax. I was kidding.” She couldn’t help smiling at the compliment, even as she took pity on him. “Here.” She took an old-fashioned out of the box and placed it on the napkin next to the half-eaten chocolate sprinkle. “I’ll keep one for later. Take the rest home.” She closed the box and handed it to him.
He still looked embarrassed as he took the box from her. “Thanks.”
They stood there awkwardly for a moment, then she remembered she had something that could help him and snapped her fingers.
“I have something else to send home with you. Follow me to my office.” She started out of the kitchen, and Derek followed right behind. As they reached the doorway, Ron suddenly appeared right in front of her, startling her and causing her to jump backwards into him. She felt the corner of the donut box dig into her back right before lukewarm coffee splashed against her arm.
As she tried to straighten herself back up, she somehow tripped over her own feet and stumbled sideways. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her as Derek’s voice spoke into her ear. “Whoa there. You okay?”
Back on her feet, she put a safe distance between herself and Derek before she had time to think too much about how his arm felt around her, or consider whether her heart’s escalation from a flutter to a full-on pounding had more to do with that or the near fall. “Ron!”
“Sorry!” Ron looked from Chris to Derek and back. “Everything okay down here?”
“Ron?” asked Derek, his gaze darting around the room. “Your sister?”
Chris took a breath to compose herself and released it in a long sigh. “Yes. Derek, meet Ron. Ron, you’ve already met Derek.” As Derek furrowed his brow in the direction she’d motioned in, Chris supplied, “Just imagine a perky blonde in plaid capris standing next to me.”
Ron gave her a sharp look. “Perky? Really?”
Chris shrugged. “That’s the impression you give at first glance.”
“Um,” said Derek.
Chris turned to him. “Sorry about this. Hazards of living in a haunted house.” She pointed him down the hall. “My office is right down there, through the French doors. I’ll just clean this up,” she said, indicating the spilled coffee, “and be right there.”
With a nod and another furtive glance in Ron’s general direction, he carried his donuts off down the hallway. Chris went to grab a paper towel and wipe off her arm. Darn it,” she muttered, examining her sleeve. “It got on my clothes.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” said Ron. “I guess you were distracted.” She looked down the hall in the direction Derek had gone, then at the table, and raised an eyebrow. “He brought donuts?”
“He apologized for everything. Jimmy finally made a connection with him last night. He’s here to ask for my help.”
“And your forgiveness, I hope.” Ron gazed longingly at the donuts on the table.
“That, too.” Chris grabbed another paper towel.
“Good,” said Ron, an annoying amount of satisfaction creeping into her voice. “Everything is working out.”
“Don’t think this lets you off the hook for meddling,” Chris said as she crouched next to the spill on the floor.
Ron rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Where would you be now if I hadn’t meddled?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe actually enjoying a quiet morning all to myself?”
“You’d be sitting and stewing over that story. And Jimmy would still be on his own. And you wouldn’t have donuts.”
“You give yourself a little too much credit,” Chris said as she went to toss the used paper towels.
“Pfft. You know I’m right. Besides, I think you like him.”
Chris halted on the way to the trash bin. “What? Who?”
“The hot reporter waiting in your office.”
“His name’s Derek.”
“Uh huh.”
“Shut up. I just got on non-shouting terms with the guy.”
“Uh huh. And he likes you, too.”
Chris chucked the towels and leveled a look at her sister. “Now you’re just insane.”
“Hey, I’m a romance writer, remember? I can tell about these things.”
“I think that fall down the stairs damaged your brain before it killed you.”
“That’s sweet,” Ron said, her grin matching the tone of sarcasm in her voice. “Anyway, what happens now?”
“Now, I’m going to my office where Derek is waiting. You are going to stay here.”
“I meant, what’s the plan to help Jimmy?”
Chris shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I’m going over there later to survey the situation and figure out what he needs from me.”
“Cool. I’ll come too.”
“No, you won’t.”
Ron blinked at her. “What? Why?”
“You stay here. I’ve got this.”
“But I told Jimmy—”
“I said I’ve got this,” Chris insisted, ignoring her sister’s pouty look. “I’ll let you know if I need your help. Besides, you should spend some time with that hot guy you’ve got upstairs instead of taking off and leaving him high and dry.”
Ron folded her arms. “What are you talking about?”
“You should talk to Joe, is what I’m saying.”
“About what?”
“About how neglected and left out he feels.”
She glanced up at the ceiling, and frowned. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Oh, sure. He just loves being stuck here all alone, twiddling his thumbs while you go out and make new friends.”
Ron frowned. “It’s not like that. I was helping.”
Chris closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. “Ronnie,” she said, opening them again, “trust me. Just spend the day here with him, okay?”
She gave a little shrug as if to indicate she didn’t care much either way. “Fine.”
“Good.” Chris left her there and made her way to the office, where Derek perched on the edge of her desk, still clutching the donut box. “Sorry that took so long.”
“No problem,” he said, standing up. “Is everything okay with your sister?”
“It’s fine. She’s fine. Anyway, I wanted to give you this.” She went to the shelves at the back of the room, where all of her equipment was stashed. After a bit of rummaging, she took down a hard plastic box that resembled a radio and brought it to him. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“It’s called a ghost box. Jimmy can use it to talk to you.”
He set the donut box down and took the device. “How’s it work?” he asked, turning it over in his hands.
“It’s pretty simple. Just switch it on here,” she said, showing him the power button, “and set it in the room where you think Jimmy might be. It cycles up and down along radio frequencies, and as Jimmy speaks, it will pick up words that match what he’s saying.”
His eyebrows crept up, signaling that he was apparently still skeptical in spite of everything. Stubborn guy. “How is that even possible?”
“I have no idea,” Chris admitted. “I just know it usually works.”
“Usually?”
She gave him a small shrug. “This isn’t exactly science. Nothing is absolutely certain. But when a spirit is willing and able, this thing”—she tapped the box with her finger—“can give them a voice.”
“Well, at least we know Jimmy’s willing. If he’s still around.” He retrieved the donuts and started for the door. Chris followed to let him out. When they got there, he stopped short. “I almost forgot. When can you come by?”
“What time’s good for you?”
He glanced at his watch—a Seiko, she noticed. Nice, but not flashy. “I should probably try to grab a nap and a shower. What about after lunch?”
“I’ll be there. Oh! Just a sec’.” She ducked back into her office and retrieved a business card. Returning and holding it out to him, she said, “My number. If you run into trouble, just call or text or whatever.”
He balanced the ghost box on top of the donut box and took the card. As he did, his thumb grazed hers. The contact was purely accidental, but it sent a little frisson of something shooting through her.
Suddenly, she was eighteen again, a gawky freshman hiding behind pink hair and heavy black eyeliner, trying to keep her cool as she explained paranormal investigation tools to the cute junior from the college paper. Her flutters had been off the charts that night. Of course, that was before he’d eviscerated her and her club in his article. Remembering Ron’s accusation, and how history had repeated itself, she jerked her hand away.
He eyed her a good, long moment, the expression on his face inscrutable. Note to self: never play poker with this guy. Tucking the card in his jeans pocket, he asked, “Only if there’s trouble?”
She shrugged. “What else would you want it for?” That came out more clueless than flirtatious, and she wasn’t sure she’d intended it to be either.
He cocked his head a tiny bit to the side, as though considering the question. Then he shook his head. “I guess we’ll see what happens,” he said, and Chris wanted to ask exactly what he meant by that, but instead, she was opening the door and he was walking through it and heading down the steps.
She just stood there and watched him walk to his car, juggling his load as he unlocked it and put everything inside. He gave her a little wave before getting in. She returned it before shutting the door and leaning against it, her mind racing to decipher his words. And failing.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “I guess we’ll see.”