* * *

Jack puzzled over Megan’s pink cheeks and guilty look, but he brushed it aside as not important enough to push. He took her hand and enjoyed the feel of her fingers twining with his. Her slim fingers were as soft as silk. Hard labor wasn’t part of the lady’s life.

“What do you do, Megan?” he asked as he held the door to the Jeep and she hopped inside.

“I’m a research librarian at the university.”

He shut the door and walked around to the other side. Sliding into his seat, he buckled his seat belt and started the engine.

“What does a research librarian do?”

He slowed as the iron gate opened for his approaching car, drove through, and headed down to the main road.

“Mostly, I help people research. Students come to college having used Google and computers and think research is just asking a computer voice-activated device the answer to all of their questions.”

He laughed. “I take it, it isn’t that easy?”

She giggled, and his heart raced at the happy, carefree sound. His goal for the day was to keep that happiness going.

“You have to know the right questions to ask to get the answers you want. Let’s use your field of expertise for an example.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about my work today,” he interrupted.

“Don’t worry, nothing serious. Just making a point. On one of those ghost shows they used flashlights to speak to the spirits, right?”

He nodded, wondering where this was going if they weren’t supposed to be worrying about that otherworld today.

“They used the two flashlights for basically yes and no. Sometimes just one with on for yes and off for no.”

“Right,” he agreed, knowing the experiment. Ghost Releasers didn’t use it, but lots of paranormal investigators did.

“Well, obviously they can’t ask ‘why are you here’ or some other complicated question. They have to ask questions that can be answered by yes or no.”

“Yes,” Jack said, concentrating on the traffic-packed freeway. “Like are you a boy or a girl? Or was this your house?”

“So, if you ask a complicated question, you get nothing or such a confused reading it means nothing. It’s the same with research at a library. I get students in there who are writing papers and want to know why we had Nazis. They get frustrated looking for an instant, overall answer.

I explain that they first need to research what Germany was like before Hitler. What brought a man like that to power. What changes he made. Why no one stopped him. All of that before you can know why we had Nazis.”

“Wow,” he said. “I could use someone like you to research houses and places for Ghost Releasers. There is so much history in some of the old places we investigate we don’t know where to start. How far back do we go? Is it the building itself or the actual land it is sitting on?”

“You can come by the university anytime you want. I’ll try to help if I can?” She reached her hand to cover his on the console.

“No way,” he replied, holding her hand. “You are staying far away from the paranormal. You’ve had more than enough spectral business in your life.”

She sighed. “So true. I just wanted to help.”

“I know you did. I just want you safe.”

“Safe is so boring.”

He laughed, and she joined in as he drove into the parking lot of the Sacramento Zoo. Crowds of kids spilled from giant, yellow school buses. Families with strollers followed the crowds to the front gates.

Grabbing their stuff, Jack and Megan joined the throngs and trundled through the entrance. The crowds dissipated as groups went to the left or the right to find their favorite animals. Straight ahead, a marshy area held the flamingos.

Megan stood and stared in awe. “They really are pink.”

He laughed and flung an arm over her shoulders and pulled her in close. “What color did you think they were?”

“I don’t know. It just seemed such an impossible color for an animal to be. I mean, I’ve seen black, white, gray, and lots of shades of brown. But pink?”

She looked content to stand there all day, but Jack managed to drag her away for the rest of the animals with a promise they would stop back here last and take a picture with the birds.

Megan grasped his hand and leaned into his side as they walked. The sun heated their heads and the scent of a tropical island wafted from her hair. He sniffed. The scent was perfect for her. Sweet and lush and bright.

She leaned in and whistled at the birds exhibit and the creatures sang back to her. A group of schoolkids gathered round as Megan hit the notes the birds trilled until she was singing along with them. Pausing for a breath, the children clapped, and Megan blushed a pink bright enough to compete with the flamingos.

Pulling his arm, she rushed from the birds and headed to the exhibit with the kangaroos and other Australian animals. Her hands fanned her face until the pink receded. He watched her as she laughed at the joeys peeking out of their mothers’ pouches. The kangaroos were his favorite as a kid. Shannon had lifted him in her arms, so he could see over the rock enclosure into the pen.

Megan turned and wrapped her arms around him, her face shining up at him. “Where are you? You seem a million miles away.”

“My sister and I would come here when we were little. We would beg mom and dad to bring us here. Several times a year we would manage to drag them here.”

Her hand reached up and caressed his cheek. Sweetness shone in her bright-blue eyes. “Those are such wonderful memories.”

Her hand reached further, around his neck, and pulled him in close. Her lips slid along his and heat rushed to all his body parts. Remembering the nearby children, he returned her kiss and moved back.

Jack grabbed her hand and pulled her further along the pathway. A wicked smile curved on her face and a knowing look filled her eyes as she gazed at the front of his jeans. He rushed to change to a safer subject.

“I’m sure you have some nice childhood memories.”

Megan laughed. “You don’t know my mother, do you? Any outings Andrea and I had was with our nanny and later with Marta.”

“Marta?”

“She was just supposed to be our housekeeper, but as my sister and I got older, Marta was in charge of taking us places and being there for us. She was a thousand times more our mom than our actual mother.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing her fingers, and feeling her hand curl around his.

“Don’t be,” she said, a frown on her face. “I’m not. I had a wonderful time with Marta. She was a sweet woman and taught Andrea and me so much about life and how to take care of ourselves. She saw us as so much more than privileged rich kids.”

He wanted the day to never end, but all too soon they strolled through the entire zoo and found themselves back at the flamingo enclosure.

“You promised to take a picture,” she reminded him.

“Of course,” he said, moving back with his cell phone until she was framed in the picture. “We have to document that you went to an actual zoo.”

She laughed at his comment, head thrown back, joy on her face. He pushed the button. Walking back to Megan, a group of kids rushed between them. Jack took the moment to glance at the picture he’d snapped.

A large black mist filled the space around Megan. A black hand encircled her neck. His head snapped up to verify she was safe. A breath whooshed out of him. She stood there all alone, a puzzled look on her face.

With a swipe of his fingers, he deleted the photo and pushed his phone off. He moved to her side. He showed her the black screen.

“Sorry about that. My phone died.”

She smiled. “Is that all? No problem. We’ll just have to come some other time and get some pictures.”

“Yes, we will. Maybe we’ll drag Andrea along.”

They both laughed at the idea of the dressed to the nines lawyer trudging through the zoo with swarms of screaming children.