“I like her.” Isabella’s voice sent my heart into my throat. She was at my side, watching the woman as I turned.
“Where’ve you been?” I kept my tone quiet. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
“You were having a conversation with that charming woman over there. I wasn’t about to pop out and make you appear all crazy.”
“Can she see you?”
“You’re the medium, Mary.Onlyyou can see me.”
“Why can I see you and nobody else? Your body isn’t here?”Yet.We both flinched at the word left unsaid.
Isabella snorted. “Why would I know how your power works?”
I pressed fingers to my forehead and massaged it. “Okay. Look, I’ve decided I’m going to help you figure out who killed you.”
She flicked her hair and sniffed. “Finally.”
“You’re welcome.”
She threw up her hands. “Yes, thank you. But honestly, isn’t it rather heartless to know you’re the only person who can help someone and then deny that aid?”
I gaped at her. I’d never met a person so entitled, which was quite a statement, considering I had Lydia as a sister.
Isabella bent over and reached behind a headstone, lifting a black cat. “Oh, and I found her. She followed you in. Isn’t she delightful?” The feline stared back at me with large yellow eyes, though it held a vague translucent quality to it.
I gazed at it in shock. “A ghost cat?”
Isabella snuggled the furry creature, and it purred. “You are so adorable. Yes, you are.”
“Is it… yours?”
“Not mine. Most fae avoid black cats. Too associated with witches.”
I sucked in a breath. I hadn’t noticed the cat trailing behind me, but could it have come all the way from Netherfield? “Does she have a white mark on her back left foot?”
Isabella checked, her eyes growing wide. “How did you figure that out?”
I frowned, unsure if I could handle any new mysteries in my life. “Can you tell me what you recall about the night you were murdered?”
She stroked the cat nestled against her. “I don’t remember what happened.”
“Nothing at all?”
“I recall going to bed the night before.”
“That’s it? You don’t remember anything from that day?”
Isabella shook her head.
“What about the day before you died?”
She shrugged. “It was like any other day. I woke up, got ready, helped my parents in the shop, ate lunch, hung out with friends, and went to bed.”
This ghost was anything but helpful. “You don’t knowanyonewho might want you dead?”
“If I was aware of someone who wanted me dead, don’t you think I would have told you that straight off?”
“Fine then, tell me about the day before.”
