I shook my head. “If you stay, maybe we can find a way to—”
“Someone's going to run the numbers soon, like the Order did when they sent your dad to investigate. Too many hauntings, too close together. It raises a red flag with the statistics they track, I guess. He covered for us last time, but it'll happen again, and I'm betting we won't be as lucky with whoever they send to investigate.”
Actually, given what I knew about the Order and the dwindling number of those qualified enough to be considered full members, he and Erin might be safer than they thought just from the Order's sheer lack of manpower to investigate things like wonky statistics. But that wasn't what caught my attention. “Too many hauntings? Why would you have any control over that?”
He looked uncomfortable. “I thought you understood. She's the only one I can see.”
I still wasn't getting it.
“I can't go out and find business on my own,” he said with exaggerated patience. “She passes messages along from those she finds, but sometimes making a connection between a ghost and someone who lives locally and is willing to come in… It's a bit iffy.”
In other words, Erin didn't feel like doing the work, and without her eyes and ears, he couldn't do it for himself.
“So, sometimes we have to help things along,” he said, studying the carpet with more intensity than it deserved.
Wait. I sat up straight in my chair. “Are you saying she haunts people to drive business?”
“Only when we need the money,” he said defensively. “And it keeps her busy.”
Jesus. Pieces of this began to fall into place. Misty thinking Alona was haunting her. The letter/coupon that his testimonials had mentioned. “You send Erin out to haunt someone if they know someone who died recently?”
“Depends on what the newspaper says,” he mumbled.
And Misty had probably been featured prominently in the articles about Alona's tragic, untimely death, as her distraught best friend.
“What, like, if they have money?” Misty didn't have money, but it wouldn't take much research to figure out her parents were probably doing okay.
He didn't respond, just shifted his weight awkwardly.
“And then once you've scared them, you send them that stupid letter and coupon, bringing them right to your door.” It was brilliant. And utterly creepy.
“Do you think this is fun for me?” he demanded. “I'd have a regular job if I could, but she won't let me! Besides, it's not your problem anymore,” he said pointedly. “As soon as Erin gets back, we're leaving, remember?”
So they could inflict this scam on innocent people in some other town? No way. Not if I could stop it. “Where is Erin, anyway?” If she couldn't stand to go a minute without being heard or seen by a living person, as he claimed, then she'd been gone for a while now.
He grimaced. “I couldn't tell her we were leaving. It… it would upset her. She's out visiting clients.”
“You mean, she's haunting people.” I shook my head in disgust. “I can't believe I was feeling sorry for you, and you're—” I stopped, struck by a horrible, awful thought.
“Who is she 'visiting' today?” I asked, forcing the words out, caught in the inescapable conclusion that I could see barreling toward me.
He appeared taken aback by the intensity in my voice. “I… I don't know.”
I stood up and shoved him against the shelving. “Think!”
“We don't have that many on the line right now,” he said, his voice shaking. “Just Mrs. Baxter, the guy who owns the dry cleaner's, and the girl.”
Misty. Which was exactly where Alona happened to be at this particular moment. Damn it. If Erin tried to claim “Ally,” that would be bad. I didn't know what would happen. It would be worse, though — much worse — if Erin figured out what made Ally so different. A powerful ghost who wanted nothing more than to be alive again in the presence of a body she knew was currently occupied by a spirit?
Not good.
I let go of Malachi/Edmund and ran for the back door. “You stay here,” I called to him over my shoulder. “We're not done yet.”
I just hoped the same could be said for Alona and Lily.
“I figured you wouldn't be able to stay away,” the blurry spot continued. It took a second for the full implication of her words to sink into my brain. She recognized me. She knew.
My breath caught in my throat.
Up until now, I'd been assuming whoever was pretending to be me to haunt Misty was someone who'd decided to take advantage of “Alona's” absence to have a little fun at “her” expense, maybe a ghost from the list who'd gotten pissed at something I had (or had not) done for them.
But this… this was not that. This spirit, whoever she was, obviously knew exactly who I was. She'd been waiting for me. Me, as in Alona Dare.
Crap.
“Took you long enough, though,” the ghost said. “Listening to those two jabber on all night was almost enough to make me want to kill myself again.”
Movement at the top of the blurry spot gave the suggestion of someone tossing her hair in disgust. In fact, if I squinted hard enough, I could almost make out a face in the haze before me. God, this would be so much easier if I could see her.
“Not that I killed myself in the first place,” she added. “Whatever. You know what I mean.” She waved dismissively. Or at least, that's what it looked like. A smaller piece of the blurry area moved in a half arc.
I shook my head, my brain whirling with possibilities. Will was the only one who knew what had happened with Lily's body. So who was she? Someone who'd eavesdropped on Will and me and heard too much? Her voice didn't sound at all familiar, so she couldn't be someone I'd talked to on a regular basis.
But more important, what did she want? I was afraid I didn't want to know. You don't go to this much trouble to set up a power play without a really good reason.
I swallowed hard against the rapidly developing pit of dread in my stomach.
“What is it?” Misty whispered. “You see something, don't you?”
I'd almost forgotten about her in the room behind me. “Misty, go downstairs,” I said over my shoulder as calmly as I could. “I'll handle this.” How, exactly, I wasn't quite sure, and for the first time I wished Will was here. Not that he could have done anything, but he definitely had more experience with being defenseless in the presence of ghosts and might have had some tips. But with or without Will, one thing was certain: I couldn't have Misty up here listening to me as I tried to talk to this… faker.
“But what if you need me?” she persisted. “What if she wants to talk to me? She was my friend.”
“Oh, how sweet,” the ghost purred, oozing closer.
My pulse spiked, and I backed up, giving the ghost room to exit the bathroom. I didn't know who she was or what she wanted, which was bad enough. But if it turned out that my presence gave her physicality — you know, like the ability to hurt me — that would be much, much worse. I didn't know for sure if I had that aspect of the ghost-talking “gift,” but now didn't strike me as a particularly good time to find out.
“If I need you, I'll call you,” I said to Misty. “Just go, please.” I dared another glance back to make sure she was listening. Figuring out what was going on and who this was would be tough enough without worrying about blowing my cover.
With an unhappy expression, Misty started for the hall but stopped to linger in the doorway.
I gritted my teeth. “Seriously? I'm trying to do my job here.” Or at least pretend to, anyway. But I was rapidly losing patience with Misty and her softheartedness. True, she had no idea what was really going on, but even so, this ghost had been haunting her, terrifying her for who knew how long, and she wanted to hang around and have a chat?