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Chapter Three
After much searchingin the city’s archives, Bella and Karl went to the bookstore, armed with something they were certain would help solve the mystery. It was the last address of record for Rebecca Andrews.
A few minutes later, Fiona stood behind the counter of her cozy bookstore, surrounded by the comforting scent of old paper and leather. The soft glow of a small reading lamp illuminated the shelves around her as she listened intently to the group gathered before her. Bella, with her wavy raven hair cascading down her back, wore an expression of concern that mirrored the green in her eyes. Karl, his tall, muscular frame leaning against a bookshelf, crossed his arms over his chest as he listened. Layla and Jake exchanged worried glances.
“Clarissa Harrington’s ghost,” Bella said, her voice low, “we all know she’s been hanging around lately, and I can’t help but feel uneasy about it.”
“Uneasy?” Karl snorted. “She caused nothing but trouble when she was alive. Why would death change that?”
“Karl has a point,” Jake chimed in, his usual confidence wavering. “We don’t know what she wants, and considering her past, we have every right to be suspicious.”
Fiona, her warm brown eyes filled with understanding, raised a hand for silence. “I understand your concerns, truly, I do,” she began, her voice steady with wisdom. “But I believe Clarissa may hold valuable information about the kidnappings. She might be able to help us.”
Bella frowned, her brow furrowed. “How can you be so sure, Fiona? She’s never shown any interest in helping others before.”
“Clarissa’s actions were often driven by pain and jealousy,” Fiona replied, her gaze steady on her friends. “But now, I sense something different in her. A desire to make amends, perhaps. And if she knows something about the kidnappings Layla keeps seeing in her visions, we cannot afford to ignore her.”
“Are we really considering working with a ghost?” Layla asked, her voice tinged with doubt. “We barely know anything about her, and what we do know isn’t exactly reassuring.”
“Sometimes,” Fiona said softly, her eyes locked on Layla’s, “we have to face the unknown if we want to uncover the truth. I believe that Clarissa’s knowledge could be the key to solving this case, and as frightening as it may be, we need to keep an open mind.”
The group exchanged hesitant glances, their doubts still lingering, but Fiona’s conviction in her words was undeniable. With a collective nod, they agreed to hear what Clarissa had to say, their curiosity and determination to solve the kidnappings outweighing their reservations.
“All right,” Bella sighed, her voice firm. “We’ll give her a chance, for now. But if she tries anything—”
“Then we deal with it,” Fiona finished, a determined gleam in her eyes.
As the group stood in Fiona’s cozy bookstore, their eyes nervously scanning the room, a sudden draft sent shivers down their spines. The dimly lit space seemed to take on a darker hue as the air grew colder, and they could feel the unmistakable presence of something otherworldly.
“Clarissa,” Fiona whispered, her breath visible in the frigid air. Clarissa was one ghost who had never made an appearance at the bookstore.
In an instant, the ghost appeared before them, her raven-black hair cascading over her shoulders like a silken waterfall. Her chilling gray eyes bore into each of them, sending icy tendrils of fear snaking through their veins. She wore an elegant gown that seemed to float around her like mist, accentuating her ghostly beauty.
“Hello, darlings,” Clarissa purred, her voice sultry yet cold as the grave.
Bella’s heart raced as she stared at the spectral figure, her green eyes wide with trepidation. “Fiona, are you sure about this?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly.
