“You didn’t plant that IED,” Joe said.
The Arabic woman snorted.
She knew, Noah thought. She knew.
He wanted to walk away. He didn’t want to see the shock or the disgust or even the pity that would be in Grace’s eyes.
But his throat felt tight. He was going to have to talk to them. To Joe, the woman, the kid. And what could he say? How could he apologize for everything he’d done and failed to do?
First things first, though. Like it or not, he needed to say good-bye to Grace. No stomping straight off to his truck like a surly teenager, no matter how much he wished to.
As he rested one hand on the car roof, waiting for her to get out, a dark blue sedan drove into the parking lot and pulled into a parking spot a few spaces down. Two people emerged: a man that he’d never seen before and a familiar copper-haired woman. Sylvie Blair.
“Hey, my mom and dad are here,” Dillon said.
Grace stepped out of the car. She turned toward Noah, opening her mouth, and spotted the new arrivals. A multitude of emotions flurried across her face — recognition, exasperation, annoyance — before she replaced them with a polite neutrality.
“It appears my brother has reprioritized his workload,” she said, adding quietly, “We’ll talk later.”
Noah appreciated the reprieve. But at the same time, he wanted to tell her that there was nothing to talk about. If he was haunted because of his guilt, no words would ever change that reality. He couldn’t go back and fix the past.
Meanwhile, her brother was striding toward him, hand outstretched, Sylvie following a few steps behind.
“You must be Noah Blake,” he said. “Lucas Latimer.”
Warily, Noah shook hands, nodding in acknowledgement. What had Dillon said about his father? That he was some kind of psychic, Noah knew, but he couldn’t remember if Dillon had mentioned specifics.
“What are you doing here, Lucas?” Grace demanded, before nodding toward his partner in politer greeting. “Sylvie.”
“Grace,” Sylvie murmured back, a Mona Lisa smile on her lips. “And Mr. Blake. It’s a pleasure to finally see you again.” She put the faintest emphasis on the word “finally.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. If she’d told him more, maybe he’d have arrived sooner. Or not. Maybe if she’d told him more, he would have rolled his eyes and stayed far away.
Maybe that would have been better.
“Your mom is really young,” Sophia said. “And your dad is hot.” She sounded disapproving.
“Ew,” Dillon said. “That’s my dad.”
“He is pretty dreamy,” Rose said cheerfully. “Such luscious hair.”
“He is a very attractive man,” Nadira agreed. “You have his eyes.”
“You should like that, though. You would have looked just like him when you grew up,” Rose added.
Noah bit back his sigh. Really? Did he seriously have to listen to a bunch of invisible girls crushing on a hot guy? At least they weren’t talking about him this time.
Lucas blinked at him, a tint of color rising in his tanned cheeks. He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.
“Did you finish the job you were working on?” Grace asked pointedly.
Lucas turned his attention to her. “Not exactly, no.”
“What exactly does ‘not exactly’ mean?”
Noah put his hand over his mouth, rubbing his chin to hide his smile. It was the same voice she’d used earlier with the guy at the security station, Jensen. It had the same frosty edge, composed of two parts perfect enunciation and one part southern belle, and he liked it. It made him want to kiss her until she melted, until she was disheveled and laughing and breathless, and pulling him closer and kissing him harder.
Lucas looked pained. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, shook his head, then put his hand over his eyes.
Sylvie stepped forward. She looked like she was smothering a smile, but she said, “Is Dillon here?”
“He is, yes,” Grace replied. “Is that why you’re here?”
Sylvie stole a look at Lucas who still had his hand over his eyes. “More or less.”
“Is it more or is it less?” Grace said. She turned her attention to her brother. “You have responsibilities, Lucas. It was your choice to take those responsibilities on. We have a reputation to uphold. We don’t walk away from jobs half-done. Isn’t that your policy?”
Damn, but she was pretty when she was pissed off.
Noah shifted, feeling a stirring that he was just as glad she was in no position to see. It was more than a little awkward to be lusting after a gorgeous woman in front of her brother, no matter how much the feeling was reciprocated.
And he knew it was reciprocated. That moment in the kayak, when their eyes had met… if there hadn’t been a crowd of ghosts around them… In a split-second flash of imagination, he saw himself leaning forward, taking her lips, her enthusiastic response, the kayak spilling, the two of them in the water. She’d wrap her legs around him…
“Oh, God,” Lucas muttered.
Sylvie was quivering, her lips tucked together as if she were holding her breath. Noah frowned at her. Was she trying not to laugh?
“We need to talk,” Lucas said.
Noah wasn’t sure who the words were directed to. Lucas wasn’t looking at anyone in particular, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere over the kayak. Could he be talking to Dillon?
“No,” Lucas said, eyes shifting to Noah.
“My dad reads minds,” Dillon volunteered. “He knows what you’re thinking. My mom’s an empath. She can tell what people are feeling. But when they’re together, they’re both stronger. It’s like they’ve got a double super-power when the other one is around.”
Great.
That was just great.
“That would suck,” Sophia said, sounding horrified. “You could never get away with anything.”
“Man, that would be hard,” Joe agreed. He sounded more awed than appalled. “No little white lies. No claiming traffic was bad when really you were just goofing off.”
“Lying is the source of all sin,” Nadira said. “You shouldn’t do it anyway. All the same, I would not like to live with someone who knew my every thought.”
“Nah, you get used to it,” Dillon said. “It’s not so bad. And it’s really fun sometimes, too. I used to try to make him laugh at the wrong places when we were at the movies.”
Deliberately, Noah forced his attention away from the ghostly voices. Maybe he should mentally start reciting the alphabet or the Military Code of Conduct. Or maybe he should sing.
“You’ll have plenty of chances to talk to Noah,” Grace said, moving around to the front of the car. “He starts work on Monday.”
Not “Kiss the Girl,” though. That wouldn’t be a good choice. The reminder of the kid singing sha-la-la-la had Noah fighting to maintain a straight face. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sylvie losing her struggle not to giggle.
Lucas, however, wasn’t laughing. “What?” he said to Grace.
Her smile was not friendly. “Noah starts work on Monday. With the security team, for the moment.”
Noah stuffed his hand in his pocket, wrapping his fingers around his truck key. He didn’t want to disagree with Grace and he didn’t want her brother reading his mind. But he wasn’t so sure…
Sha-la-la-la, he thought, as loudly as he could.
Sylvie snorted.
“We discussed that,” Lucas said to Grace. “I told you my position.”
“Your position is an opinion.” Grace folded her arms across her chest. “And your opinion is irrelevant.”
Lucas took a deep breath. Maybe he was counting to ten.
Sylvie put a hand on his arm. “Maybe we should all go inside and talk. We can hit up one of the vending machines for a snack along the way. It’s been a long day.”
“It’s been a long week.” Lucas glared at his sister as if he blamed her for that.
“Dillon was missing for weeks, plural.” Grace moved her hands to her hips. “Shouldn’t that have meant for some long months?”
“Oh, don’t you start with—” Lucas’s tone was heated.
“Nope.” Sylvie’s gentle touch turned into a firm grasp.
“Uh-oh,” Dillon said, sounding guilty. “Are they fighting about me?”
“Did you let them know where you were?” Rose asked him.
Sylvie began tugging Lucas toward the door of the building. “You are not doing this. Not like this. We’re going to get a snack and maybe a drink, hit the restroom, and then we’ll sit down and talk like civilized people. No saying things you’ll regret later just because you’re tired and hungry and worried.”
Lucas let himself be towed along.
“I sent them some texts while I was away,” Dillon said. “Told them I was fine.”
“Parents like to know more about their children than that,” Nadira said. “You’re as bad as Noah. Never calling his mother. Hmph.”
Ouch. Noah winced. Over the years, Nadira had commented caustically on his behavior more than once. More than a few times, in fact. He’d thought of her as the voice of his conscience sometimes. But it was different now that he knew she was another person, not just his subconscious.
“I’ll text them,” Dillon said. “Right now.”
Grace let her hands drop, eyes searching Noah’s face. “Don’t worry about Lucas. He likes to think he’s in charge, but he’s not.”
“I’m not worrying.” He needed to tell her that he wasn’t sure about working here, about working for her. It would be a mistake.
And it should feel like a mistake to her, too, he thought, closing his hand around his truck key. He’d just told her that he’d killed three people. Shouldn’t she be rescinding that job offer right about now?
“He’s over-protective,” she went on. “It’s not personal, really. He just thinks that anyone who worked for AlecCorp is… well…” She shrugged.
“A killer?” Noah said gently. It was not untrue. “Or traumatized? The returning vet as ticking time bomb?” He didn’t blame her brother, but a hint of the bitterness he felt at life post-Iraq seeped through. People were quick enough to thank him for his service, but it didn’t help him fit in any better.
“It’s not the military he has issues with,” Grace said. “He was investigating AlecCorp for months. He’s not a fan.”
“He’s not the only one,” Nadira said. “Those people…”
He could imagine the disapproving shake of her head and her pursed lips, and his own lips twisted into a wry smile.
“Eh, they weren’t so bad,” Joe said, before adding a reflective, “Well…”
Noah knew exactly what he meant. AlecCorp had been a mixed bag. There’d been some guys there that he’d want to keep his little sister away from, too, if he had one. “It’s not a problem. I understand. But…” He should tell her he didn’t want the job. Instead he found himself saying, “I should go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Things to do, places to be.” He kept the words light, but the key was digging into his palm. He forced his fingers to relax.
“Are you going to talk to Avery?”
“The sooner the better, I guess.”
“Well, don’t… don’t do anything drastic, okay?” Grace’s eyes shifted around the parking lot. Maybe she was addressing Dillon.
“I’ll send a text,” Dillon replied. He sounded quite cheerful.
“He’ll text you,” Noah told Grace.
“That’s…” She sighed. “Yeah. Okay.” She glanced back at the door to the offices. “I should go deal with my brother. Unless you want me to come talk to Avery with you?”
“I think I can manage a conversation.”
“Right.” She looked at him, eyes searching his face. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Was she trying to convince him or herself? Noah couldn’t tell, but he gave her a nod that he hoped was reassuring.
Back at the bed-and-breakfast, Noah found Avery sitting on the back patio, with a sadly depleted plate of cheese and crackers on the table before them and a glass of wine in their hand. Empty glasses and crumpled napkins gave evidence that at least some of the guests had enjoyed the cocktail hour, but Noah was grateful to find Avery alone.
Grace had assured him that Avery would be perfectly comfortable talking about ghosts, but Noah wasn’t sure he was comfortable bringing the subject up.
Ghosts.
Was he living in the Matrix?
But if he was, there was a computer-simulated voice that very much wanted to be heard talking over his shoulder. The stream of words that were probably not Chinese had continued almost non-stop ever since the other ghosts had started trying to communicate with Chaupi. Noah might as well give in to the construct.
“Ah, welcome.” Avery stood. “Tail end of the snacks, I’m afraid, but I can still offer you a drink. Wine? Beer?”
“I’m good, thanks.” Noah waved off the invitation. “Sorry to disturb you.”
“Oh, no, no, not at all.” Avery set their glass down on a side table and began gathering up the used glasses, setting them on a tray.
“I would like to talk to you, though.” Noah dropped down onto the bench. “Do you have a minute?”
Avery paused. “Of course.”
“So, Grace tells me…” Noah started. Then he stopped. How exactly was he going to ask this question?
“Just say it,” Nadira said encouragingly.
“Spit it out,” Sophia added.
“Do you want me to send a text?” Dillon asked. “Avery knows about me. Everyone does in Tassamara, pretty much.”
“Guys, if you could maybe just let Noah talk,” Joe said.
“Yes?” Avery repositioned the ice bucket, shooting a glance at Noah.
“I have to ask you…” Noah ran a hand through his hair, shifting his gaze away. “I’m sorry. This is uncomfortable for me.”
“Yes?” Avery repeated, but their tone was warier.
Noah blew out a breath. Why was this so damn hard? But the idea was so absurd. And he’d hidden his secret for so long. He’d rather go on a thirty-mile forced march than tell a stranger that he heard voices. But finally he said flatly, “Grace tells me that you believe in ghosts.”
“Oh!” Avery’s eyebrows arched in surprise. They tilted their head to the side. “That was not what I was expecting.”
For a second, Noah was confused. Then he realized Avery must have been anticipating a more personal question. A corner of Noah’s mouth lifted in wry acknowledgement. Everyone had secrets, didn’t they? And of course, their own secrets were always the ones they cared about the most.
Obscurely comforted, he said, “I hear voices. I’m told they belong to ghosts.”
“They do belong to ghosts.”
“We are ghosts.”
“Told?”
“Do you still not believe in us?”
“Right. Yeah, I heard about that,” Avery said casually.
Noah stared at them. “You heard about what?”
“Oh, not the details.” Avery continued clearing up desultorily, picking up a napkin, moving a small plate to the tray with the glasses. “Just, you know, that you had a gift.”
“I wouldn’t call it that,” Noah muttered. How the hell could Avery have learned about the ghosts? Not even Grace had known until he admitted it to her and he’d been with her until he’d left her at General Directions. Had she called while he was driving here, trying to smooth the way for him? He supposed he shouldn’t be annoyed with her if she had — she must have meant well — but he didn’t like it. “Did Grace call you?”
“No.” Avery must have heard the annoyance in his voice because they shot him a doubtful look. “My next-door neighbor told me. She works at the spa.”
“The spa?”
“Sure, down the street.” Avery gestured vaguely toward the fence.
“It’s hard to keep a secret in a town of psychics,” Dillon said.
“It’s hard to keep a secret in Tassamara,” Rose corrected him. “Always has been.”
“Small towns. Alike the world over,” Nadira said, voice dry.
Noah leaned back against the bench.
Okay, weirdest day ever.
His deep dark secret, the burden he’d been carrying for what felt like forever, was now gossip. Not even very interesting gossip, if Avery’s calm reaction was anything to go by.
“Were these ghosts messing with my television yesterday?” Avery perched on the edge of the bench across from Noah.
“Yeah.” Noah braced for their reaction.
“That is so cool.” The innkeeper clenched a fist over their heart. “I have a haunted inn. Oh my heavens, it’s like a dream come true. Can you stay? Can they stay?”
Noah blinked.
“I like this guy,” Joe said.
“She is not a guy,” Nadira said.
“They aren’t a guy,” Dillon corrected her. “They aren’t a she, either.”
“Right, right. Whatever. I like them,” Joe said.
“Actually, that’s not what I’m hoping for,” Noah replied. Behind him, Chaupi began speaking again, a fast blur of words that Noah couldn’t understand.
“I’m working on it,” Noah said. The voice — the ghost — didn’t slow down. Noah raised his hand, palm up and open, in a stop sign directed over his shoulder. “Give it a rest, man.”
“A ghost? Really?” Avery gave a shiver of delight.
For a moment, Noah thought about telling them exactly how many ghosts seemed to be following him around, but then he shook his head slightly. Even someone as excited about ghosts as Avery might not want to know that their home was currently infested with the spirits of the dead.
Instead, he said, “One of the ghosts haunting me doesn’t speak English. Do you think you could help me talk to him?”
“I would be delighted.” Avery clasped their hands together in front of them. “It would be an honor.”
Noah wanted to object. An honor? More like a nightmare. But he wasn’t going to argue with Avery’s willingness to help. With a nod, he said, “In your language, could you—”
“Which one?” Avery interrupted. “I know several.”
Carefully, trying to get each syllable correct, Noah repeated what Chaupi was saying.
“Quechua,” Avery said, and then rattled off several sentences at a speed that Noah had no chance of following. Chaupi obviously had no such trouble, responding eagerly. And far too quickly.
Noah sighed. This might be harder than he’d anticipated. “Maybe start by asking him to slow down.”
“Ari.” Avery nodded. “I mean, yes,” they added, before returning to Quechua for a quick couple of sentences. Finished, they waited expectantly for Noah’s next words.
“One of the other ghosts, Rose, says that you have a doorway, a path to the next plane of existence.” Noah felt like an idiot saying those words aloud, but Avery didn’t seem fazed. They translated eagerly.
“The other ghosts wonder why you haven’t used it and would like to join you when you do,” Noah continued.
Avery’s brows rose, but they spoke again.
For the next several minutes, Avery and Noah went back and forth, exchanging phrases. It wasn’t simple: the language was so unfamiliar to Noah that more than once he stumbled over Chaupi’s words while trying to repeat them for Avery, and had to ask the ghost to slow down and try again.
But finally he said, “I think that’s it.”
Avery waved a cocktail napkin where they’d scrawled a few notes. “So is this what you do? You find out what they need and help them move on?”
“I wish.” Noah took the napkin from Avery and smoothed it over his knee. He stared at the name and the address, the first things Avery had written. “They never do seem to move on. But…” He looked up and shot a quick grin at Avery. “I also didn’t know they were ghosts until I got here. This could be a first.”
“That is so cool. You could travel the world, helping spirits. You could be like that guy on television, the medium. The one who tells people how their relatives died.” Avery shook their head. “Like they need to know that. It would be so much more interesting if sometimes he could tell them things they don’t know, instead of just the things they do.”
Noah didn’t have the slightest desire to be on television. And he was not going to wander around the world looking for ghosts to help. But it would be nice if he could help this one specific ghost. He lifted the napkin. “How do you suppose I can find her?”
“Not a problem.” Avery whisked the napkin out of his hand. “I’ll call Grace.”
“Grace?” Noah wanted to grab the napkin back. If anyone was calling Grace, it should be him. But he resisted the impulse. Over the course of the past twelve hours — or maybe it was the past four days — his entire life had been upended. From the moment he’d seen Grace’s green eyes in the restaurant, the world had stopped being a place he understood.
And maybe he’d stopped being someone he understood, too. For so long, he’d felt trapped. Somehow his choices had turned him into a person that he’d never wanted to be, someone who couldn’t let go of the past, couldn’t move on.
He’d thought he knew what the world was. He didn’t believe in magic, he didn’t believe in miracles. And he knew himself, too — damaged beyond repair by what had happened to him, by what he’d done.
But now… it was like the world was a kaleidoscope and Grace Latimer had given it a good hard spin. All the pieces — everything he understand about reality, about existence, about who he was — they were spinning and shifting and he didn’t know yet where they were going to wind up, what the world would look like when the spinning stopped.