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I melted into a pile of goo, yet at the same time, awareness struck me. Everything made sense. The reason why Kipp hadn’t crossed over had nothing to do with finding his killer—he stayed to save Hannah’s young soul.
Many minutes passed before Hannah backed away from Kipp, wiped the tears from her face and took a seat on the bench resting in the gardens. I sat next to her and Kipp knelt in front of her.
“Are you okay to talk about what happened to you now?” he asked.
Hannah nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay now and thank you. I’m sorry I fell apart.”
“I think you’re entitled,” I said. “Actually more than entitled to fall to pieces, but we need you to focus just for a little while. Can you tell us anything at all?”
Her expression showed what I’d seen from most ghosts after I asked the question. She appeared puzzled. “I know I’m dead, and I know the man I loved killed me.”
“The man you loved?” Kipp repeated.
I understood his surprise. I hadn’t expected her murder would lead back to a man she’d been emotionally involved with. “Why would he kill you?”
Her eyes lowered with shame. “I made him angry.”
Kipp reached up, took her hand in his and his expression showed nothing less than complete sympathy. “What made him so mad?”
A tear ran down Hannah’s cheek. “I wanted to share a life with him and start a family. We were soul mates.”
“But…” Always a but.
She wiped her tear away. “He was married.”
Kipp’s eyes widened. “You were having an affair?”
“We weren’t having an affair, we were in love.” Hannah’s tone became sharp before her voice softened with immeasurable sadness. “He was angry because I wanted more from him.”
I couldn’t stop the question from blurting out of my mouth. “What did you want?”
Hannah’s voice sounded trapped in her throat. “I’d grown tired of the secrets. I told him I wanted him to leave his wife.”
“Apparently, it didn’t go over so well,” I retorted.
Hannah snorted. “Obviously not.”
The side of Kipp’s mouth arched before he focused back on Hannah. “Did he say anything to you when he hurt you?”
“Only that he loved me, but I’d ruin everything for him if I said anything. He just kept apologizing.”
Kipp studied her. “Who killed you, Hannah?”
“Percy Mills.”
“I’ve never heard of him.” He nibbled on his bottom lip. I did my best to not notice how sexy he looked.
Hannah made a face. “Why would you hear of him?”
“I’ll explain later.” Detective Kipp was down to business. “But for now I’ve got a couple questions for you, if you don’t mind answering.” At Hannah’s nod, he continued. “What does Percy look like?”
“Handsome.”
Kipp urged her on with a wave of his hand. “I need more than that.”
“Early thirties, clean cut, blond businesslike hair and the most stunning blue eyes known to man.”
“Businesslike hair?” Donald Trump, the President, Steven Spielberg—I couldn’t imagine the look.
