“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” Marner asked as he pulled out of the gravel parking lot.

We were alone in the car—no Ryan or Hannah—which was a relief, since I felt like I was about to be scolded.

“This isn’t like when you said you were writing a book and started asking questions around the police station you had no business asking, is it?” he continued.

He was never going to let me live that down. It was a good cover. I stood by that. No one questioned if you were actually writing a book or not. “I wouldn’t lie to you,” I said. I might not tell him the whole truth, but I wouldn’t lie to him.

“Good. Because I’m so angry with you right now I don’t know what I would do if I thought you were lying to me.”

That made me bristle. “Why are you mad at me? I didn’t ask to find a body. Don’t make me feel guilty because I discovered a corpse! If I wanted to be made to feel bad, I would have called my mother instead of you.”

He actually laughed. He had the nerve to laugh. I was being serious and he was amused, yet he didn’t appreciate my earlier crack? “I’ve seen your mom in court. She is kind of a hard-ass, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is. And I’m a disappointment to her.” She had wanted a daughter who was either like my sister, a Mother Mary type super mom and crafting queen, or a career woman like her. I was a career woman with my own business, “Put It Where?” but home staging wasn’t a track my mother could respect. To her, it wasn’t important or impactful. It was frivolous, unlike her own job as a prosecutor. I couldn’t argue that putting bad guys in prison wasn’t hugely important, but it wasn’t my cup of tea. I needed to make the world pretty. Sue me.

“Why, because you’re not a bad ass? That’s what I like about you.”

“You like that I’m a wimp?”

“No. I like that you’re caring and compassionate. You feel things hard. Deep.”

Was it just me, or did that sound dirty? “Thanks.” I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but I think the only thing that would accomplish that was sleep.

Marner sat next to me at the station while two more detectives questioned me and filled out a report. I didn’t have much to tell them. I just repeated my ham story, shuddering when I remembered the moment that I realized it wasn’t someone’s dinner hurled down the hill like a discus.

I suddenly had a thought. “Can I file a missing person’s report while I’m here? Or see if someone else has?”

Marner gave the world’s heaviest sigh. “Who is missing, Bailey? And why are you just now mentioning this?”

“Well, here’s the thing. Remember Ryan’s friend, Hannah? She’s not answering her phone.” I immediately realized that was a stupid thing to say. I hadn’t called Hannah and phone records would show that. I didn’t even know where she lived, so I couldn’t claim to have gone over to her apartment.

The man on the other side of the desk, who was in his fifties, thick-necked, and balding, paused and eyed me in amusement. “If I had to file a missing person’s report for every woman who doesn’t answer my calls or texts, I would be knee-deep in reports.”

“I guess you’re right,” I demurred. “I’m just wiped out and I’m not thinking straight. I just freaked out a little because she has a history of drug use.”

“Then she’s probably at a crack house and doesn’t want to be disturbed. Or she’s not answering you solely because she knows you’ll be on her ass about it.”

He was clearly making the assumption Hannah and I were friends, and I didn’t correct that. “You’re right, thanks. Sorry to take this off track.”

I could feel the weight of Marner’s stare, but I refused to look at him. I concentrated on his knee, exposed beneath his shorts. He had knee hair. Did all men have knee hair? Why had I never noticed that before? It looked odd for no reason, which meant I was well and truly punchy. I needed a bed, stat.

We finished up and left the station. I breathed deeply, needing to drag some fresh air into my lungs. I could still taste the scent of death in my mouth. “I can’t wait to sleep for ten hours. Can you just drop me off at my house? I’ll go get my car tomorrow. I’m too tired to drive tonight.”

“I’m taking you to my place.” Marner pushed his remote to unlock his car.

“Excuse me?” Marner was getting awfully heavy-handed for a man I’d never had sex with. “Why would I go to your house?”

“You need sleep. I need sleep. I can’t sleep knowing you’re home alone. And you won’t be able to sleep being home alone. The minute you close your eyes you’re going to see body parts.” He opened the door for me. “Seeing your first corpse does that.”

My stomach clenched and I knew that he was right. Being alone in a quiet house, I could already picture myself checking and rechecking my locks. I couldn’t count on Ryan appearing, because he was unpredictable, and even if he did, he couldn’t protect me. I didn’t think a killer was after me, but I hadn’t thought that yesterday either, and Tim Jensen had pointed a gun in my face. All those thoughts would rob me of sleep, despite my sheer exhaustion. “You don’t mind?” I said.

But even as I said it, I knew he didn’t. Marner was the type of guy who didn’t share his feelings, but he was also instinctively protective. He wasn’t selfish, not like Ryan. Ryan was a fun, laugh a minute, charming, handsome bull-shitter. Marner was quiet, gruff, intense, with a moral compass that pointed due north at all times.

“I don’t mind.”

That’s all he said and all he would say. I knew that from experience.

When we were both in the car and driving west I asked, “What happened to that person? Do you think the police will find the rest of his body?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. They’ll be out there all night, scouring the area, maybe dragging the river. A hand is good in that they can pull prints, but not everyone’s prints are on file. Dismemberment isn’t all that common in murders. It’s a lot of work, messy. Usually the killer doesn’t want the victim to be ID’d, so the fact that the hand was just lying there is odd.”

I reflected on that. “Did it wash up from the river?”

“No way it could get that high unless animals dragged it, and it didn’t look mauled, or waterlogged. It wasn’t a fresh kill, yet I suspect the parts were dumped very recently.”

“Wouldn’t someone see body parts being tossed down a hill?”

“Not necessarily.” He gave me a sidelong look. “Some people go for walks by the river.”

Okay, I wasn’t touching that. “So why wouldn’t they just throw them in a dumpster or something? I mean, I realize there’s surveillance everywhere anymore, but no one would think anything of someone tossing trash bags. Just hurtling body parts down a hill carries a much greater risk of getting caught, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do. Which makes me think the killer got annoyed that no one found his handiwork where he first tossed it. Either that, or he’s been holding on to them as a trophy and had to get rid of them in a hurry.”

That made me shiver. “You make it sound like it’s the work of a serial killer, not just a random murder.”

“I’m not concluding anything. Just thinking out loud.”

He pulled into the driveway of a double in Lakewood, a suburb just west of Cleveland. It was an area of hundred-year-old homes ranging from million dollar houses on the lake, single family houses and duplexes, to apartment buildings. Once an area of affordable starter apartments, the market had changed in recent years. It was a hot neighborhood with cool local businesses and an influx of restaurants. A great place to hang out, like my neighborhood in Ohio City, yet more family friendly. I’d known Marner lived in Lakewood, but I had never been to his apartment. He had the upstairs unit and we climbed onto the porch, then up the hardwood stairs.

Inside, I wasn’t that surprised to see he was tidy. He had demonstrated an efficiency and respect for orderliness in the past. We were very much alike in that regard. He had framed photos in black and white of the downtown skyline, the house that was used in A Christmas Story (leg lamp and all, currently open for tours), and the baseball stadium. He had a wine rack that was fully stocked and an actual legitimate espresso machine in the small kitchen. It sat there dominating the countertop, a nod to his Italian roots. There were pictures of his family on the table in the living room. Mom and Pop and nieces and nephews.

He was very normal. It made me wonder why he wasn’t married.

“You can take my bed. I’ll sleep in the other room.”

For some reason, that made my extremities feel warm, despite the air conditioning cranking full blast. “That’s okay. I can take the other room. I don’t want to put you out.”

“Don’t argue with me.”

I wanted to, but I didn’t. I let him lead me to his room, which was small, but again tidy. His bed was made. He gave me one of his T-shirts and a pair of gym shorts to sleep in, then showed me washcloths and a brand new toothbrush in the bathroom. I brushed and washed and padded back to the living room where he was reading a book. “Thanks, goodnight.”

“Goodnight. I have to be at work at eight, is that okay? I’ll take you to your car first.”

“That’s fine. I have a client appointment at ten I need to prep for.” It was easy to forget I had a business with all this paranormal activity and murder going down around me.

I hovered for a second because I wasn’t sure what else to say or do. It hadn’t been that long ago that Marner had kissed me, but he showed zero sign of repeating the project, so I went to bed.

It took an hour to fall asleep, acutely aware of the crisp coolness of Marner’s sheets, the hush of his bedroom, the increased racing of my heart, and the horrific image of both the barrel of a gun and that swollen thigh dancing before my eyes. When I did finally drift off, my mind giving into the needs of my body, my dreams were filled with claw-like hands reaching out to strangle me. I woke up repeatedly, gasping for air, grabbing for my throat to pry that killer grip off of me to save my life.

I woke up as exhausted as when I had gone to bed, knowing that never again for the rest of my life would I eat ham.

Dragging butt after Marner dropped me off at my car, I went to the drive-thru for a coffee the size of my head and sipped it with a sigh. Hot coffee, despite the heat, was like a magic elixir. I never got into the iced coffee phenomena. And it was a good thing I had it, because Ryan was suddenly in the passenger seat beside me.

“Morning, babe. You look like crap.”

Ryan was fond of pointing out when I looked like garbage. I was still smarting from when he had said I had a flat ass. Today I knew he probably had the right of it and I honestly didn’t care. I needed a shower and a day without death. “Yeah, well, I’m sick of seeing you in that same flannel shirt. It’s August. You look ridiculous.”

He glanced at his shirt in surprise. “I guess that’s true. But this was what I was wearing when I kicked the bucket, so I’m stuck with it. I don’t get hot. Or cold. Or hungry.”

“Where’s Hannah?”

“She’s being processed into Purgatory. She’ll probably be around later. She’s been assigned to you.”

“What? Why?” I really didn’t understand how I was even on purgatory’s radar. I couldn’t get a date, yet the afterlife was monitoring me? Not very encouraging. “I barely know her. We talked for ten minutes once. About you.”

“You’re a point of contact. Not everyone can see dead people, you know.”

“Lucky me.” I pulled into my narrow driveway and parked the car. I turned to Ryan. “What am I supposed to do, solve her death too? How do we know she didn’t just OD or something and she’s confused about being strangled?”

“Because she’s filed upstairs as a homicide. Like me.” Ryan was preoccupied, trying to tap the glass of the window with his knuckle. He had managed to move the gun in Tim’s hand the day before, but I think it was a fluke. He hadn’t been able to move objects before that, and today, he was back to having his hands pass right through solid masses. Maybe it had something to do with elevated emotions. When he had seen me in danger, his energy had increased.

“So what am I supposed to do? It’s going to look really weird if I’m poking around asking about Hannah. I don’t know her and the police already think I’m a serious quack.”

“I think the first thing to do is to go to her apartment and see what we can find. Her key is under the mat.”

“People really do that?” I was way too paranoid for that. If I got locked out, I had to call my mother or my best friend Alyssa for a backup key. I wasn’t leaving a key out in the open or in an obvious hiding spot.

“Yes. Do you have time to go there now? It’s in Lakewood.”

“I just left Lakewood. I need a shower before I drive back there.”

I realized the second the words left my mouth Ryan would know precisely where I had been. He grinned like a fool. “Oh, is that right? I see where your bread is buttered. I thought I warned you that Marner is like an Asian sun bear. Covered in hair.”

“It’s not really any of your business, but it was strictly platonic. He didn’t want me driving home alone after the day I had.”

“Sure. Whatever. None of my business.” He made a very casual and incredibly immature sexual gesture.

“You’re twelve,” I said shortly. “And it’s annoying. Wait out here for me. I’ll be back in forty minutes.”

“I have to wait in the car? Come on. Can’t you turn the TV on in your living room for me? I’m going to die of boredom.”

“You’re already dead.” I got out and slammed the door shut with my wedge heel. I took a huge swallow of my coffee and grappled for my house keys.

I love my house. Built in 1890, it had been renovated down to the studs before I bought it, though the construction firm who had done the work had meticulously kept the original details in place. The floors were original, the woodwork and trim had been restored, and they had kept the clawfoot tub in the upstairs bath. This house was my respite, my calm sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. When I’d thought that Ryan had committed suicide I’d spent a lot of time hiding in this house, trying to make sense of something that made no sense.

Now that I knew the truth, that Ryan had gotten in over his head and had been murdered, and that he was essentially the same in death as he had been in life, the house felt more cheerful again to reflect my healing vibe. I was healing, moving on, and I refused to let the events of yesterday derail my progress.

After a shower that felt like I was being caressed by a hot water deity, I put on teal-blue skinny jeans and a black-and-white striped top with ballet flats. If I was poking around Hannah’s apartment, I needed to forgo the heels for once in case she had downstairs neighbors who would find the clicking suspect. I ran through my emails on my phone, making sure nothing was urgent, and checked my social media. I had a direct message from Nick Petrillo, Balcony Guy.

Just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay. I know that was a horrible thing to find.

Huh. That was interesting. I wasn’t sure if it was thoughtful or creepy. I’d told him my name and it wasn’t like it was difficult to find someone online, but it still seemed just a bit…much. Yet I could hear my mother squawking at me not to be rude so I shot him a quick reply.

Thanks, doing okay. It must be crazy down there still. So much for your river view.

I added an emoji with the tongue sticking out.

Then I headed back out to my car and Ryan, who was pretending to snore, his head propped in his hand. I had to admit I was actually kind of amused. He couldn’t seem to take anything seriously. At times, that was seriously annoying. At other times, it kept me from spiraling into hysteria. “So what’s the plan, Sleeping Beauty?” I slammed the car door shut behind me.

“What, huh?” He pretended to jerk awake. “What year is it? You were gone forever.”

“Just give me Hannah’s address and tell me what in the world I’m supposed to be looking for as I creep around her apartment.”

“Well, the first is obvious—her body.”

I slammed on the brakes in the midst of backing out of the driveway. “Wait, what? Hold up. I thought her body was supposed to be down by the bridge, which it wasn’t.” Yesterday, I hadn’t been thinking straight. I don’t know what I thought I was doing traipsing around in search of a corpse, but I think it just hadn’t seemed real. Hannah’s ghost looked solid. She had been sitting in my kitchen, then standing beside me. I hadn’t really considered the ramifications of finding her in who knows what condition, dead. All she could tell us was that she had been strangled, and that was bad enough. Her eyes were probably open. Bruises on her neck. The thought made me shudder.

“Which means it’s somewhere. What’s surprising is that no one has found her yet. We’re going on fourteen, fifteen hours now.”

Sighing, I took my foot off the brake. That probably did mean she was in her apartment, otherwise someone would have seen her. I couldn’t just ignore her body. I wouldn’t want someone to leave me there for potentially days on end. I didn’t know anything about Hannah’s personal life or her employment history. How long would it be before someone got concerned that they hadn’t heard from her?

Hannah lived in an apartment over a Hungarian bakery. It smelled like yeast in the narrow stairwell to the second floor over the store. There were only four doors. Ryan gestured to the front right one, with a mat in front of it that said, “Hello, bitches.” Not my welcome mat of choice, but it suited Hannah. Under it was the key and a whole lot of dirt. No one cleaned this hallway ever.

I wiped my hand on my jeans and tried not to be a germaphobe. The door creaked, but opened easily. There were no sounds coming from the neighboring apartments, which made me feel the need to tiptoe. My presence felt loud in the small space. It had low ceilings, chunky woodwork in a dark stain, and a very dated, very tiny kitchen tucked in the corner. It was like linoleum had come here to die. Butter-yellow countertops, busted cabinet doors, a brown floor in a diamond pattern. In general, the whole place was gloomy and dark.

But there was definitely no body. The living area was so small the entire space could be taken in in one glance, and there were no hiding places. Not even a broom closet. Hannah didn’t have a lot of furniture. Just a futon and an end table. There were three pairs of shoes to the left of the door and a stack of mail on the brown carpet beside it. A box of crackers sat on the end table and I picked it up and shook it. Empty. In the kitchen there were dirty dishes in the sink and a frying pan on the stove with grease congealed in it.

It was obvious Hannah hadn’t left with the intention she wouldn’t be coming back.

“I’m going in the bedroom,” Ryan said. “You stay here.”

No arguments from me. Everything about the pokey apartment was depressing. It had the empty feeling of stagnant air. It was oppressively hot, the window unit air conditioner not turned on. It suddenly overwhelmed me to think that this was Hannah’s life. Her world. And she was gone. Even though I had seen her, spoken to her, she wouldn’t be returning to this apartment to live. The landlord would come in and clear out her stuff, giving it to her family, or if no one came to claim it, tossing it in the dumpster. Then he would rent it to the next person, and no one would ever remember there had been a woman with tattoos and jet-black hair who had eaten and slept and dreamed here.

I rubbed my eyes. I needed more sleep. Melancholy was starting to drag me under.

Ryan returned shaking his head. “Nothing.”

“Now what?”

“There isn’t anything here that’s been disturbed. And I don’t see a computer, no paperwork, no receipts. There is nothing to give us a clue. No cell phone, which would give us what we need. I’m guessing it’s with her body.”

I felt bad for him. This had been a woman he cared about. “Ryan, I’m sorry. This must be hard for you.”

He shrugged. “No big deal.”

I should have known better than to expect he would open his heart to me, but at least I could live with myself knowing I had offered sympathy. “What do you want me to do?” Then I had a thought. “Am I leaving my DNA all over a crime scene? Are the cops going to think I killed Hannah?” I felt all the blood drain from my face.

He rolled his eyes at me. “Take it down a notch, Killer. No one is going to think you were involved. Besides, there’s nothing here. Let’s go.”

Fine by me.

Ryan was quiet as I locked the apartment and slid the key back into its hiding place after rubbing it off on my shirt, just in case I had left fingerprints.

“You need to see if Marner knows anything. A missing person’s report filed, any homicides.”

I shook my head. “There is no way for me to do that without sounding weird. I mentioned it last night and I had to backtrack. It sounded off and I can’t tell him that I know Hannah is dead because I saw her ghost. He’ll have me committed.”

A door opened to the apartment next door. It was a man in his seventies, very thin, wispy white hair sticking up in all directions. “Who the hell are you talking to?” he barked at me.

I jumped at the unexpected intrusion. “Sorry, I was on my cellphone. I’m looking for Hannah. Have you seen her?”

He jerked his thumb at the door to her apartment. “Is that the name of the druggie who lives here?”

Ryan bristled, but I nodded. “Yes, I’m trying to get in touch with her.”

The old man snorted and scratched his chest. He had a giant tuft of white hair popping over the collar of his T-shirt. This man was the bear Ryan kept insisting Marner was. “You and everyone else. People knocking on her door all hours of the night the last few days. I’m thinking she crossed over from user to dealer and if it doesn’t stop, I’m calling the cops.”

“Maybe you should,” I responded, because it seemed a good way to get the police involved that had nothing to do with me.

I went back down the stairs, Ryan cursing and making pronouncements about judgmental assholes.

Back in the car, I pulled some hand sanitizer out of my purse and liberally squirted it in my palm. I couldn’t help myself. I’m a clean freak. That’s when I realized there was a man standing outside the back door of the bakery smoking and staring at me, his eyes narrowed. I shivered and broke the unexpected eye contact. “That guy is creepy,” I murmured, head down as I started my car.

There was nothing unusual about him. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. He had a beard, but it was trim and tidy, ditto for his hair. Average height and build. But something about the intensity of his stare made me uncomfortable.

I was getting paranoid.

Glancing in the rearview mirror for cars before I backed up, I let out an ear shattering scream, stomping on my brakes so hard my head went ricocheting.

The man smoking by the bakery door was in the backseat of my car.