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“Oh, the irony,” Mallory said. “The county put Riley’s name on Padgett’s grave to keep mock witches from disturbing Padgett’s remains. Instead, someone used real magic to disturb Riley’s remains and ended up raising Padgett. Where’s Riley now?” she asked.
“The forensics folks don’t know,” Catcher said. “They’ll have to do a full audit of the cemetery, which they’ll be starting very soon. Burial records aren’t treated nearly so casually now as they were then, and this won’t sit well with the press.”
There was a knock at the threshold. Kelley stood in the doorway, her straight dark hair a waterfall across her shoulders and a striking contrast to her pale skin.
“They’re back,” she said, a glimmer in her wide dark eyes.
“They?” Ethan asked.
“The ghosthunters. There are two of them. They say they’re missing a bag, think it might still be in Tunnel Three.”
“Did we find a bag?”
Kelley smiled indulgently. “Per your request, we locked the doors and haven’t been back inside.” She glanced at me. “Did you see anything?”
I frowned, trying to remember. “Not that I recall, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a bag down there. We left it in a hurry and a mess. You?” I asked Catcher.
“No, for the same reason,” Catcher said.
“As I’ve learned through our esteemed guard captain,” Ethan said, “their equipment is pricey, and Robin was concerned about money. They wouldn’t want to lose something expensive.”
“Or they just want another look,” Mallory said.
Ethan rose, nodded. “Let’s see what they have to say.”
• • •
Matt and Roz stood in the foyer, once again in CPAN shirts. They’d brought back some equipment, but not nearly the bulk they’d carried in earlier.
Matt’s expression was blank. Roz’s features were pulled into angry lines, as if she’d eaten something sour.
“Ms. Leary,” Ethan said pleasantly. “Mr. Birdsong. I understand you left something here.”
“A gray backpack,” Roz said. “It’s our property, and we’d like it back.”
Ethan nodded, his expression utterly calm and composed, a man with eternity in front of him and no reason to rush. “Where’s your colleague?”
“He . . . wasn’t comfortable coming back here,” Roz said.
Ethan arched an eyebrow at that, but let it go. “You can stay here,” he said, “while we look.” Disappointment shadowed their faces, but they stayed put.
“Put them in the second parlor,” he told Kelley, “and keep an eye on them.”
• • •
We stood outside the tunnel for a full minute, the four of us waiting for any indication Padgett had become active again. But there was no buzz in the air beyond the usual faint hum of magic from the vampires on the floors above us.
“Let’s go in,” Ethan said, unlocking and pushing open the door. “Mallory, stand guard in the hallway, if you would, in case he appears and tries to make a run for it.”
She nodded, locked her legs, and crossed her arms, a pixie with an attitude.
We stepped inside. The room was just as we’d left it. Shattered glass, spilled wine, shelves of splintered wood.
We each took a different direction, scanning the debris for the backpack. I half expected not to find anything, thinking they’d only wanted a second run at the ghost and the glory of capturing him. But then I spotted slate gray canvas among the rubble.
; “I don’t get it,” Mallory said. “Why is Riley’s number on Padgett’s plot? Padgett died first and would have been in the ground longer.”
It only took a call to Mallory’s and Catcher’s new forensics friends to explain that. They hadn’t recognized the remains, and hadn’t found the alternate entry. But once Catcher pointed it out, they’d understood the reason for the discrepancy.
