Page 5

“You,” the ghost said, low and vicious. “Leave.”

Nate turned his attention to the fireplace tile.

A hairline crack ran from the edge of the hearth toward the floorboards.

He jotted down a note about that.

Sandra was somewhere behind him. “Of course, the room would need some cosmetic work, but that’s where your talent comes in. I’ve watched your videos. You have such a calm way of explaining things.”

Nate only nodded.

The ghost leaned in until his face was inches from Nate’s.

“Do not touch my house.”

Was that a threat?

Nate’s pen moved smoothly.

His pulse did not.

He looked up at the ghost and met his gaze. Not for long, just long enough for the ghost to know. I can see you. You do not scare me.

The room went very still.

Nate let the moment sit between them for a breath, then he looked back down and added possible flue inspection to the list.

The ghost made a vaguely offended sound.

Nate allowed himself the smallest smile as he rose and turned to Sandra. “What’s next?”

Sandra’s smile brightened as if Nate had just asked to see a wine list instead of the next expensive problem.

“The dining room is through here.”

She crossed toward the double doors on the far side of the sitting room and reached for the recessed handle.

“Don’t you go in there!” the ghost yelled.

Nate ignored him.

Sandra was already tugging at the door, and the wood was making a tired groan. She pulled harder. The door slid open about a foot, then stuck. “The door’s a little stiff.”

“Track’s probably warped,” Nate said.

The ghost’s eyes narrowed.

Sandra squeezed through the gap. “Just needs a little patience.”

Nate stepped after her—or he tried to anyway.

The ghost shifted to block him.

For one ridiculous second, they stood almost chest to chest, separated by nothing but the technical inconvenience of one of them being dead.

The ghost glared. “You’re not listening.”

Nate stepped around him.