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“And he stayed in San Francisco?” I asked.
“As far as I know, he’s still there. I didn’t want to ask and poke at any festering wounds.”
No wonder Alicia found her way here. She had a beloved relative in her backyard—correction, my backyard. I didn’t blame her for wanting to keep that connection to her grandfather. I would do the same if the option existed. Pops didn’t stick around, though, which was likely deliberate. He probably thought it would keep me from moving on with my life. There were so many times I longed to seek his wisdom after he died. He was the only person on earth who knew everything about me, the only one who made me feel seen and heard. I couldn’t risk that kind of relationship with anyone else.
“I see Chief Garcia’s SUV outside the gate,” Nana Pratt said.
I’d been expecting a visit from the chief ever since I texted Fatima. I was surprised it had taken until now. No doubt the chief was still overloaded with work until she hired a replacement for Officer Lindley.
Chief Elena Garcia stood at five and a half feet and wore her brown hair in a no-nonsense, pageboy style. Her brown eyes were framed by thick lashes. Ample hips supported a black leather holster.
“Hey, Chief.”
She shaded her eyes for a better view of me. “I heard you were over at the house on Thoreau Street.”
I shrugged. “Nobody says no to Big Boss, apparently.”
“Big Boss can be very persuasive.”
“You call her Big Boss too? Doesn’t that imply that the chief of police answers to her?”
Chief Garcia laughed. “Everybody answers to Big Boss.”
“So I’m learning.”
Her smile faded. “Fatima said Bruce is dead. I tried to get into the house, but…” She grimaced. “I guess you know how that panned out.”
“His ghost is stubborn. I need more time with him.” It was a necessary lie; I couldn’t very well explain to the human chief of police that Bruce was a dragon shifter who self-combusted when I tried to enter his mind. Her knowledge of the world she inhabited was too limited.
“Any idea how long he’s been dead?”
“I’m neither a forensics expert nor a coroner, Chief.”
She fixed me with a hard look. “Didn’t his ghost tell you?”
She had me there. “His ghost isn’t forthcoming with the details. Like I said, he’s being stubborn.”
“Is that typical?”
I maintained a casual air. “It happens.” In actual fact, it never happened, not to me anyway. Ghosts had no chance against my powers.
“Did he at least tell you what happened to him?”
“He fell and couldn’t get up to call for help.”
Chief Garcia grimaced. “If that happened seven months ago, the house must smell delightful.”
“I don’t recommend breathing while you’re in there.”
She angled her head. “How did you get in?”
“Bruce let me in.”
“He can do that?”
“Not all ghosts are created equal,” I explained. “Some learn new skills, whereas others don’t learn anything at all. They simply exist between planes.”
“What other skills are there?” Ray asked.
