Medium Chris Wilson is used to the dead, but the living Derek Brandt is her biggest challenge yet. As they hunt for his brother's killer, the wall between skeptic and believer begins to crumble. In a house full of restless spirits, their uneasy alliance might just become the one thing they can't live without.
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Christine readjusted the seatbelt around her sling as Derek consulted the GPS on his phone. “Thanks again for doing this,” she told him.
“I told you, don’t thank me until I actually get you home in one piece.” He glanced over at her. “But you know it’s no problem. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad you convinced your dad he didn’t need to stick around. I’d have had to wait in line otherwise.” The light changed. He set the phone in the seat between them and pulled forward slowly, but not before carefully checking the oncoming traffic.
“Would you like me to navigate?”
“No need. We’re almost there.”
He slowed the car and turned onto a side street, then he made another turn into a residential area. It was an older neighborhood, well kept, with houses that looked like they’d been built in the ‘Fifties. After a couple of blocks he took a left and pulled up in front of a gray house with pink trim and flowerbeds filled with pansies. They looked like they hadn’t been watered recently. Chris supposed that had been Marie’s job.
Cars filled the driveway and lined both curbs in front of the house. They had to go another half block before finding a place to park. Derek turned off the car and turned to her. “Sure you’re ready for this?”
“I’m never sure.”
He nodded and squeezed her hand. Then he got out and came around to help her out of the car, taking extra care with her injured side. Once she was on her feet, he let her take the lead.
They approached the house in silence. The front door stood open. They entered without knocking, finding a front room filled with people. They all stood around, speaking in hushed tones. Most ignored them. A few looked at them and nodded, offering sympathetic, teary-eyed smiles, apparently taking them for another pair of mourners.
On an accent table at one end of the room sat a large portrait of the woman whom Christine had promised to undertake this errand, surrounded by flowers and candles.
Christine pressed on, weaving her way through the crowd. She had no idea what Ben looked like. When she spotted an old man seated at the kitchen table wearing a look of shock as a line of people passed by, offering him their condolences, she was reasonably certain she’d found him.
She glanced back at Derek, who laid a reassuring hand on her back. He nodded, urging her forward.
“Are you Ben?” she asked when it was her turn in line.
He squinted up at her. “Are you a friend of Marie’s?”
“Sort of. I met her in the hospital. After—” She paused. There was no point in telling him it was after she’d died. “After you went to get something to eat.”
Fuzzy gray eyebrows rose slightly as realization dawned. “You mean you were there? You were with her at the end?”
Chris nodded. “She asked me to give you a message. She said it’s her turn to wait for you now, but that you shouldn’t be in a hurry to get to her. She’ll wait as long as it takes.”
The old man stared at her as her words sunk in. After a moment, he put his head in his hands. A heartbreaking sob tore its way out of his chest. Chris laid a hand on his shoulder.
At the sound of his crying, another man, somewhere in late middle age, hurried over. “Dad? Are you okay?” Christine pulled her hand back as he reached his father. He looked at her. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”
“I was at the hospital,” she explained. “I was with your mother. She asked me to deliver her last words to your dad.”
He seemed to accept this explanation, but a woman hurried over, her gaze shooting daggers at Chris the whole way. “Hold on, Bill,” she said, then pulled him down and whispered something in his ear. Bill’s face went from acceptance to anger as he straightened up. “You need to leave,” he told Chris.
Derek stepped between Chris and the older couple. “Now hold on.”
“No, you hold on. I know who you are. Both of you. And I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing—”
“Sit down, Bill.” It was the old man who spoke. His son stopped talking, and he waved him away. “It’s fine.” He looked up at Chris. “Thank you, young lady.”
Chris smiled. “Call me Chris.”
“Dad, this woman is a con artist—”
“She is not a con artist,” said Derek. “Listen to her.”
“You were the one who reported that she’s a con artist,” Bill pointed out. “And now you bring her into my father’s home at a time like this—”
Derek didn’t let him finish. “I was wrong about her. She’s only here to help. You should listen—”
Chris laid a hand on Derek’s arm. “I did what I came to do. Let’s go.”
He looked down at her, his frustration and anger evident. “But they need to know you’re not—”
“It’s fine,” she insisted. “Let’s just go. Leave these people in peace.” She turned to leave and found that all eyes were on her. She took a deep breath and headed back the way she’d come, trusting that Derek would follow. The crowd parted as she made her way toward the door.
“Just a minute,” Ben called out. “Miss—Chris!”
She stopped and turned back to see the old man on his feet, hobbling after her. “Yes?”
He seemed to struggle with his words. Finally, he asked, “Did she suffer at the end?”
Chris smiled and shook her head. “She was peaceful. She was sorry to leave you, but she was ready to go.”
He nodded and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wiped his eyes and nodded again. “Thank you.”
Chris returned his nod. Then she hurried for the door, avoiding eye contact with anyone else. Outside, she released the breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding and inhaled fresh air. Only then did she notice she was trembling.
A protective arm went around her shoulders and guided her gently away from the house. “I’m so sorry about that,” said Derek.
She tried to shrug and winced at the pain that shot through her injured shoulder. “I’m used to it. Some people are open to what their loved ones have to say, and some really don’t want to hear it. That’s hardly the first time I’ve been kicked out of a wake.”
“Maybe, but clearly, my story on you didn’t help matters.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she told him as they reached the car. “Just get me home. I’m dying for a shower.”
He smiled, but he didn’t appear convinced. Maybe that was because she wasn’t entirely convinced herself. She’d hoped his story would have blown over by now, but maybe it would have a more lasting effect on her work than she’d expected.
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to be mad as he gently helped her into the car and gingerly kissed her bruised temple. “Let’s get you home, then,” he said and shut the door. As she watched him go around and get in on the other side, she knew what she felt for him was a long way from anger, but she bit down on the urge to tell him so.
Derek drove, barely paying attention to the traffic around him. He kept seeing the contempt for Chris on those people’s faces. Don’t worry about it, she’d said. But how could he not worry? He imagined her having to deal with that hostility every time she tried to do her job, knowing that he was the cause of it. He’d screwed this one up so badly, and there was nothing he could do to fix it.
Amazingly, she seemed to have completely forgiven him. By the time he’d gotten her home, she’d seemed completely over the encounter, smiling and cracking jokes.
He’d truly never known anyone like her, and not just because of her extraordinary abilities. Granted, there hadn’t been a lot of women in his life. He’d had flirtations and the occasional short-lived fling, but he’d never really let anyone get close. He’d always been too driven, too focused on his career.
Too obsessed with obtaining justice for Jimmy. As much as he liked his job, as hard as he’d worked to get where he was, it had really only ever been a means to that end.
Either way, it hadn’t left a lot of time for dating or relationships. Not that he’d ever met anyone worth making the time for.
But something about Chris had drawn him in from the beginning. Okay, maybe back in college she’d just been a cute but spooky goth girl. More recently, it had initially been that fiery red hair and those haunted green eyes. They did things to him that made him want more. Then it had been her sharp wit, her dedication to her mission, her determination to help Jimmy, whether or not Derek was on board.
But there was something else, too. A certain vulnerability that had touched something in him, awakened something deep down. It made him want to protect her, even as she seemed so determined to protect him. It made him want to be careful with her. It made him want to be the one to make everything okay.
But he only seemed to be able to do the opposite. First, he’d ruined her ability to do her job, then he’d nearly gotten her killed. Chris had been so reluctant to let him in, to put her faith in him.
Maybe she had a point.
As he took the exit toward his neighborhood, Derek remembered how she’d looked on that stretcher, so small and frail. How it had felt like part of his heart lay there, getting worked over by the paramedics. He drew in a sharp breath at the memory, at the realization of how quickly she’d come to mean so much to him. Maybe too quickly.
And then at the hospital, when he’d come upon her in the hall and watched her interact with something only she could see…on some level, he’d been aware that if anyone else could see her, she’d look crazy. But to him, it had looked right, like she was in her element, doing what she’d been made to do.
It was that rightness that scared him.
Then there’d been that morning with the old man. Derek’s frustration at the grief she’d gotten from the guy’s kids because of him, because of his story, had been momentarily swallowed up by something else. Something he wasn’t quite ready to name.
It had already been smoldering deep down, gradually gaining strength. Watching her work, the way she handled herself, the peace she’d brought to that grieving man, had sparked it to life and fanned it into a roaring fire. Derek didn’t think he could put it out if he tried.
Although something told him that maybe he should. He let out a bitter laugh at the irony as he turned down his street. She’d been bent on protecting him from the dangers of her supernatural life, but it was plain ol’ people—dangerous people—who’d nearly killed her because of their digging into Jimmy’s murder. Because of his digging.
He couldn’t stop digging. He had to do this for Jimmy.
But he could do it without Chris. She’d helped enough. Risked herself enough. As much as he hated it, he needed to keep his distance from her. The last thing he needed or wanted was another ghost in his life. Better to know she was safe and to finish this on his own.
He cringed at the thought of telling her. He’d gotten to the heart of her reluctance before the accident. She was afraid he wouldn’t be able to handle her life, that he’d turn tail and run. He knew she’d think that was what this was, no matter what he told her.
But it was only until he found peace for Jimmy. Then he could make it up to her. If she still wanted him.
In the meantime, there was something else he still needed to make up to her. He had an idea, but if he went through with it, he could go ahead and reclassify his “vacation” a “suspension” and kiss goodbye any chances of returning to work at Channel 24. For that matter, he could probably kiss his whole career goodbye.
Was she worth that? Was this unnameable thing growing between them worth that kind of sacrifice?
Was he really prepared to trash his career for her?
Derek pulled into his driveway and parked the car. He sat there a moment and mulled these questions over before killing the engine and making his way inside. As he tossed his keys on the entry table and disarmed the alarm system, images flashed through his mind. Chris’s sly smile. Her laugh. Her determination. Her passion. Her compassion. The taste of her lips, the feel of her body molded to his. They fanned the flame within him, and also his guilt.
He needed to fix this. Not just for her, but for himself as well. It was the right thing to do.
“Yo.” The ghost box crackled to life. “How’s Chris?”
“She’s fine.” Derek spoke to the room, not sure where Jimmy stood. “She’s home and resting.”
“Will she be over later?” Jimmy asked.
“No. I’ve got another appointment this afternoon, and she’s in no shape to drive anywhere right now. Actually, she may not be over again. At least not for a while. Not until I know it’s safe.”
“Safe?”
Derek sighed. He hadn’t told his brother about the hit and run or how it had looked intentional.
“Someone’s not happy that we’re digging into your case.”
“What about you?” Even though the ghost box pieced together words at random found along the radio dial, it still somehow managed to convey Jimmy’s worry. “Is this dangerous for you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Will you? I’ve enjoyed you being able to talk to me and all, but I don’t want you to end up like me. It’s not worth it.”
“Let me be the judge of that. I’m not about to let this SOB get away with your murder. Or nearly murdering Chris.”
“Derek—”
“I’ll be fine, Jimmy.” Derek held up placating hands, even though he didn’t know where to direct them. “I promise.” He blew out a breath and raked his fingers through his hair. “In the meantime,” he said as he moved into the living room, “I need your help with something.”
“Sure. What can I help you with?”
“Call it a side project. Something to help Chris.”
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