“You can hear them?” I said.
“Can’t you?”
“No. I can only see them. I didn’t think they could speak.”
“At least you knew they were there. I thought something was wrong with me. I always thought people were talking behind my back. Tricking me. I used to get so angry about it, but after high school it just got exhausting to be so angry all the time. It was—itis—distracting.” She flattened the hem of her shirt. “I don’t think Mom ever knew.”
“She didn’t,” I said. “If she had, she would have explained to you what it was.”
Sadie looked down at her fingers now, nodding.
“After all this is over, I could help you,” I went on. “Like, we could do some tests. Find a ghost, talk to it. If you want to. Maybe if you know who and where they are, hearing them won’t be so distracting.”
“I’d like that.” She looked up. “Dad doesn’t know about any of this, does he?”
“I... I think he might. At least part. The ghost-seeing part.”
“And he’s okay with it?”
“We didn’t talk about that.”
“Do you think we should tell him?”
“Maybe. Maybe... after the dangerous part is over.”
Ask for forgiveness, not permission. Grand Slam Sadie’s old motto.
Sadie left for work. Artemis came down after finishing with her hair and joined me on the couch.
Aunt Greta swept around the corner from the kitchen. Her hair bounced in ringlets of Hallmark glory, her shoes clip-clipping on the hardwood floors. She had her purse over one arm and her car keys in her hand. “I have to go into town to speak to Chief Rivera about what happened last night.”
“I thought you already gave her your story?” Artemis said.
“I told her what happened,” said Greta. “I didn’t give an official statement. After that I have errands to run. I’ll be outfor most of the day. You’ll be safe by yourselves. Don’t open the door for anyone.” She clip-clipped past the couch and out the front door, only pausing to look back at us, look back atme, for a second. Then she locked the door behind her and disappeared down the front walk.
Artemis turned to me. “Where are we meeting the others?”
“Wherever Bach is going to be.”
“And how will we know that?”
I held up her phone. “Already texted him. Your passcode is really easy to guess, by the way. Two-four-six-eight? We’re going to meet him at the cemetery.”
She swiped the phone back, sullen. “The cemetery? In the middle of the day?”
“When was the last time you saw someone in that cemetery? Even Pastor Keller?”
“Well, I don’t go there that often, so—”
“Exactly. No one goes over there anymore; it’s creepy as hell.”
Artemis held her phone to her chest, the sullenness giving way to worry. “Are you really sure it’s safe to involve Bach in this? You’re sure he’s on our side?”
“Bach will help us. Forester won’t. And as long as Forester’s in the picture, Bach’s not safe, either. But I have a plan for that.”
“That sounds promising.” Artemis leaned her head back on the couch, stretched her legs in front of her, and let out along, weary sigh. “I’m missing a calculus exam for this.”
“You’re fucking welcome,” I replied.
