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"Okay," he said. "We're done here, which means we're Miami bound." He looked at me. "Right?"
When I didn't answer fast enough, his eyes narrowed.
"We had a deal," he said.
"I know. And I'll honor it. I just thought maybe we should--"
A hiss from the bed made me jump, cutting me short.
I pointed. "I think she's waking up."
Adam looked at the comatose figure. Then he looked at me, brown eyes blazing under hooded lids.
"That's not funny," he said.
"Help . . . ," Maura whispered.
He looked from her to me, then back.
"You heard that," I said. "Right?"
He grunted and moved up beside her. Then he leaned down and laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Maura?" he said. "Can you hear me?"
"Help . . ."
The word came out on a hiss of breath through barely parted lips. Those lips hadn't moved. No part of her had moved. I walked to the other side of the bed.
"Maura?" I said.
"Savannah . . . ," she whispered.
My chin jerked up. I stared at Adam.
"Did you hear--?" I began.
He nodded. "I don't think that's Maura." He motioned for me to close the door, then leaned over the comatose woman. "Gary? It's Adam Vasic. I'm here with Savannah Levine."
Gary Schmidt? How would he--?
I answered my question before I could ask it. Schmidt was a necromancer. If he'd been here, he'd be able to communicate with his wife's soul--Jaime had done it with comatose patients. But what if he was on the other side? Could he speak through his wife's body?
"Savannah . . ."
"I'm here," I said, hurrying back to my spot. "Is this Gary Schmidt?"
"Yes . . ."
Question answered. More than one. Still, I asked, "Are you . . . Did you pass over?"
"Dead." The word came harsh. "Yes."
"How--?" I began.
"Don't know. Not important."
He didn't know how he died. Not unusual for ghosts, especially the newly dead. Communicating this way was obviously a struggle and he wasn't going to waste it on that.
