Page 68 of If I Stopped Haunting You

“I’m looking at you. You didn’t really specify.”

She smiled as she nudged him toward one of the shelves. “Listen, as much as I loved making out with you and…otherthings, there’s this woman in an old dress dripping in rot justwaitingto do something really bad, so maybe get a move on?”

“Good point,” he said. Gripping the rung of the ladder, he climbed up a few steps, scanning shelves Pen would have considered out of reach. “But I’m happy to hear that youlovedmaking out with me, andotherthings.”

“If you tell anyone I said that, you’re dead.”

“We might very well be anyway if we don’t find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

She slammed the journal shut. “That’s not funny.”

“I mean, it kind of is.”

Shaking her head, Penelope flipped through the journal, her expression twisting with anger. “It’s not in here! No matter where I look, the woman’s name isn’t there. What are we missing?”

Sighing, she dropped onto the couch, hunching down until the only things Neil could see were her feet.

“We’ll find it,” he said with a chuckle as he climbed down the ladder.

“Will we?” she groaned. Her voice was muffled as she cried out, “I can’t write a book, and now I can’t even solve this mystery! I feel like if I can’t even do this, then what’s the point anymore?”

One of the drawers to the liquor cabinet shot out, making Penelope and Neil jump. She sat up as he crossed slowly toward it.

“Um, I think the ghost lady wants us to see something in here?” Neil pointed shakily. He stepped forward, goose bumps rising along his arms as he neared it. His fingers grazed the handle.

“Wait!” He jumped at the sound of Penelope’s voice as she sidled up next to him, the journal pressed to her chest. “You don’t think this is a trap, do you? Maybe she did kill someone. Maybe this is how she lures her victims.”

He stared at her. The woman they saw in the window clearly liked to toy with them, but was she malicious?

“Do youreallythink a drawer in the liquor cabinet is a trap?”

“You never know.”

“This thing was locked for a while. That could mean absolutely nothing, or—”

“Or it could mean it was holding something valuable.” She motioned to the drawer. “Okay, proceed.”

Neil snorted and stooped to lift the drawer from the cabinet, carefully setting it on the floor. Penelope knelt beside him, her arm brushing his, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Is it the ghost?” she asked, voice low as she peered warily over his shoulder. “Oh god, does that mean she saw us? Against the bookshelf?” Penelope covered her face, mortified. “I just got finger-banged and a ghost watched. I’m going to hell. Hell, where there is no finger-banging or books.”

Neil smirked. “We’re going to hell together. And she’s been dead, what, a hundred fifty years? I’m sure she’s seen plenty in this library. Besides, it wasn’t the ghost, it’s you. Always you.”

She blushed but said nothing, focused on the drawer.

Neil’s fingers combed over spoons and wine openers, checking in the narrow gaps between items.

“Anything yet?”

“You are so impatient.” Neil squinted as he bent closer. “Hold on,” he said. He pulled out a few utensils before his finger caught on a groove in the wood. “No way.”

He dumped the contents of the drawer unceremoniously onto the carpet before flattening his large hand against the compartment in the back. He lifted the lid away, exposing a small bundle wrapped in a scrap of white fabric.

“What do you think it is?” she asked.

Frowning, he pulled on the black ribbon tying it together, then peeled away the fabric. There, nestled into the compartment, wasa stack of letters bound together with a length of string. Folded and closed, with wax seals still intact, they’d been hidden here in this drawer of the liquor cabinet, waiting for someone to find them.

Or for aghostto help someone find them.