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“Noted,” she grumbles.
Tiptoeing, I head down the hall, and as soon as I reach the corner of the living room, I pause and take several deep breaths. And then I turn the corner with my stomach in my throat.
I suck in a breath, more afraid now than I was when the music was playing.
“Well?” I hear Tori ask.
“No one’s there,” I answer as I step farther into the living room. I tiptoe through the rest of the house as she suggests it, peeking around corners, but again, no one’s here. I tell her as much.
“I swear to god, you have a ghost problem.”
“A ghost that plays the piano?” I ask as my eyes wildly search the house on my way back to my bedroom.
“Hey, I’m not God. I don’t make the rules.”
I curse as I enter my room and slam the door. Breathing out a breath, I lean my back against the door and work like hell to convince the adrenaline to leave my body. I have no idea how I’m going to go back to sleep like this.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I admit, “I can’t believe this is happening to me.” All those years working in a funeral home, and not once did I bring back a ghost. Move across the country and into a house like this, andboom. I have myself a Casper.
Naming him does nothing to calm the edge of my frayed nerves.
“Well, I mean . . .” She clears her throat. “At least he hasn’t tried to hurt you. A ghost that plays the piano? That sounds like a friendly one.”
“Or one that wants attention,” I say as I drop my hand back to my side. My eyes zoom to the picture of Neil by the cheval mirror. I tilt my head. Stuck to it, partially tucked in the frame, is a rose petal. I frown as I stride to it.
Plucking it off, I bring it to my nose and take a whiff. I roll it in my fingers. It’s still soft and smells fresh.How the hell did this get here?Finding them around the house is . . . well, it’s not normal, but it’s explainable. But stuck into a picture? I sure as hell didn’t put this here.
Tori is saying something in my ear, but I don’t listen. Instead, something shifts in the reflection of the mirror, and it gathers my attention.
From where I stand, in the reflection of the mirror, is the pasture. It’s dark, and even though the moon isn’t bright, I can still see him, the man standing by the patch of wild-growing roses. Arms loosely at his sides. His body turned in the house’s direction. His eyes solely on me.
“Are you even listening to me?” she asks impatiently.
“Tori,” I say on a breath as if it was knocked from my lungs. Fear so great spikes through me that it makes every hair on my body stand on end and every nerve ache. It may be a little bit of a distance, and it may be full of shadows from the maple trees, but I see him clear as day. The man in the picture. The man whose stepbrother thinks is missing. The man whose stained blood is all over my living room floor.
“What?” she asks after a moment.
A quick glance at the picture, and I know I’m looking at Neil Wordon. But when I look back, he’s gone.
I scramble away from the window and scream.
A fist bangson my front door, and I shoot off the old couch and dash to the door when Tori’s voice directly follows.
“Tegan!” she yells as I fumble with the lock.
I swing the door open, and immediately, she shoves herself into the house and wraps her arms around me. “Are you okay?” she asks quickly. With her chin jiggling on my shoulder, I can tell she’s wildly searching my living room. “Is he here? Have you seen him again?”
As I shake my head, we release each other. “No. He’s been gone since we were on the phone.”
Her little fingers turn into tiny fists at her side, and she gets a determined look in her sleepy eyes. She’s still wearing her nightgown, and her short hair is in disarray, but she doesn’t seem to care about her appearance as she demands, “Let me see the blood.”
I swirl and take her to the edge of the rug where I bend and lift it up. We look together, and eventually, she huffs a breath she must have been holding. “No one would survive that.”
“You doubted me?” I drop the rug and stand back up with a scowl.
“Well!” She throws her arms up. “I had to see it for myself. I mean, no one could still be alive after losing all that blood.”
“The FBI agrees with you,” I say as I rake a hand through my hair.
