Striker came over for dinner again that night. Honestly, I was starting to wonder if seeing him so often was a good thing. Not that I didn’t enjoy his company. I did, perhaps too much. See, up until the last couple of months, we’d been pretty much on-again, off-again. Now, we were in an “on” phase—very much “on.” And don’t get me wrong, I liked Striker. A lot.

But there was a big secret I was keeping from him—namely the fact I could see and communicate with ghosts. To most men, that would be a deal breaker, so I hadn’t told him. Hadn’t told anyone except Pepper. Once I did come out with the truth, things with Striker would be over. I was sure. I guess I just wanted our little bit of normal to last a tad longer.

He texted me to let me know he was bringing pizza, and I sent back a thumbs-up emoji. Good thing because all I had in the fridge was cottage cheese and whipped cream in the can. For such a small town, Mystic Notch had some great eateries, and Debrazzi’s pizza was one of my faves. I set out plates and napkins on the kitchen table then settled into a corner of the sofa to wait. Honestly, before Striker had offered to come over, I’d planned on spending my night with a fresh pot of dandelion tea and Albert’s ghost. After speaking with the Schumer family and, later, Barney, I really wanted to get more information directly from the source.

Seeing as my fridge was empty and my stomach was growling, however, I changed my mind. Besides, I could always hold a powwow with Albert after Striker left. If Albert would appear. If he didn’t, I guessed I was on my own.

I was scrolling through my emails when a loud, outraged hiss emanated from the porch, followed by a muttered, masculine curse and a dull thud. I rushed over to the door and opened it to find Pandora scampering to the far end of the wooden porch while Striker pulled himself up from the floor, the pizza box precariously balanced on one hand. I took the food from him and held the door until he was inside. He was limping slightly, and I frowned. “What happened?”

“Your cat tripped me. That’s what happened.” He hobbled over to the table and plopped down, rubbing his sore knee. Pandora squeezed through the crack in the door before I closed it, giving me an innocent look as she passed. I knew better.

“I’m so sorry.” I took the pizza into the kitchen. “Is that the same knee you banged earlier?”

“Yeah, hurts like heck.”

“You’re in luck. Pepper gave me some tea earlier that’s supposed to help with joint pain. My leg was killing me this morning, and I will say it did help. Should get your knee back to normal in no time.”

“I don’t know, Chance,” Striker said, grimacing. “I’m not much of an herbal tea guy.”

“Trust me, you’ll like this. It’s made from dandelions. Go lounge on the sofa, and I’ll bring this stuff in.”

Striker did as told, and I filled my kettle with water, set it on high, then brought the pizza back into the living room along with the plates and napkins I’d put out earlier. I set it all on the coffee table before us. I figured we could eat here and be cozy, and I could save Striker the pain of moving around until his knee felt better. “So, how was your day? Any big doings in Dixford Pass?”

“Nah. Couple of missing chickens I tracked down this afternoon. And a loitering charge filed against a college kid who’d gotten a little too besotted with his sweetheart and was hanging around her front yard too much. The dad wanted to teach him a lesson, so I got called in. No harm done.” He cracked open the pizza box, and the succulent aromas of melted cheese and rich tomato sauce filled the air. He’d gotten pepperoni and mushroom, my favorite. After serving us each up a slice, Striker closed the box and sat back to eat.

I did my best to ignore the enticing way his navy-blue T-shirt stretched over his muscled chest and arms or how the deep-blue color brought out the stormy gray of his eyes.

“How about you, Chance. Hear any more about Albert?”

I opened my mouth to answer but was halted by the screech of the kettle in the kitchen. Talk about saved by the bell. I excused myself and hurried off to fix us each a mug of tea. Knowing its effect on me, I didn’t want to drink too much in front of Striker for fear I’d start seeing my undead friend again. He bravely tried his, declared it “not so bad after all,” and promptly downed half a cup. I refilled it for him then settled in to eat.

“I haven’t heard anything new, really, about Albert’s case,” I said around a bite of food. It wasn’t completely the truth, what with the conversations I’d had, but I didn’t want to say too much because Gus had told me to stay out of it and I knew that my sister and Striker talked on a professional basis. “Pepper and I did go see the Schumer family this morning, to pay our respects.”

“Hmm.” Striker gave me a narrowed glance. “I hope for your sake that’s all it was, Chance. I don’t like you putting yourself in danger in a murder investigation.”

I nodded and sipped more of my tea, noticing Pandora sitting on the armchair across from me. She was staring at the crystal globe paperweight on the table as if hypnotized. I looked too and spotted strange, muted colors reflecting in the glass. If I squinted, it almost looked like there was some kind of letter trapped inside, the writing faded and looping. I set my mug of tea aside and leaned forward for a closer inspection, but as I did so, wisps of smoke began to gather in the corner opposite me.

Oh no. Albert!

My eyes widened, and I bit my lips. It wasn’t like I could just tell him to come back at a more convenient time. I tried jerking my head in a not-so-subtle gesture for him to beat it, but no such luck.

“Everything okay, Willa?” Striker asked, watching me with a concerned expression. His gaze darted from me to the corner where my attention was focused, and he got a funny look on his face. Probably realizing what a weirdo he was dating. “Uh, hey, is that a band of turkeys out there?”

“What? Where?” I looked out the window where Striker was pointing but didn’t see any turkeys.

“Forget about the turkeys, and listen to me. My death was no accident.” Albert’s ghost swirled up in front of us, blocking the window. Great, now he wanted to tell me all about his death. Perfect. Too bad I couldn’t ask him how he knew that and who was behind it with Striker in here. I made a face at Albert, hoping he’d get the message, but when Striker turned in my direction, I plastered on an innocent look.

“Oh wait, is that a deer?” I pointed out the other window, hoping to distract Striker long enough to make some get-lost gesture that Albert would understand.

“I don’t see anything…”

Albert swirled in front of us again. “What is wrong with you people? I need your help.”

Striker took my hand and pulled me up from the couch. “On second thought, that might be a deer. A whole herd of them. Let’s go out and see.”

I seized the opportunity, scrambling to my feet. “Yes. Fresh air would do us both good, I think.”

Luckily, it was unseasonably warm that night, since neither of us seemed particularly worried about coats.

“Uh, yeah. Fresh air,” he mumbled, distracted. Striker opened the door and all but shoved me out onto the porch then stumbled outside with me. “I, um, thought I saw a moose at the edge of your property when I pulled up,” he said, his voice quiet and distant.

What was wrong with him? He was acting odd… Shoot! This was it. He’d realized I was too strange for him and was breaking it off. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

We both turned to gaze out at the darkening tree line of my property. A warm breeze scented with decaying leaves and dirt stirred. I remained silent while I waited for him to drop the bomb. After a while, when he didn’t say anything, my pulse began to slow and my tense shoulders relaxed as the warm breeze drifted past us. Maybe he couldn’t figure out how to word it. Knowing Striker and the nice guy that he was, I thought he was probably trying to figure out how to break it to me gently.

Maybe I should help him out. But I didn’t have time to think about how to do that because just then, Albert’s ghostly form materialized through the wall of the house to stand near us on the porch and I nearly gagged on my tongue. Albert gave me a peevish stare and said, “If anyone cares, I was shoved.”

Striker grabbed my shoulders and turned me away from Albert. Here it comes, the big breakup.

Albert glided over beside Striker, and Striker turned me in the other direction. “The moose was right over there.”

“Oh.” I looked in the direction Striker was pointing. Maybe he wasn’t breaking up with me.

We only had a few seconds of peace, staring off into the woods, before Albert swirled before us again. I grabbed Striker’s hand. “Maybe we should go back inside.”

Striker was staring at the woods still, right through Albert’s ghost. His face was pale, his jaw tight. “Yeah, we should go somewhere…”

“Listen! I’ve had enough,” Albert yelled in his spooky spirit voice, somewhere between a deep, bellowing gust and a foghorn. “You both need to stop and listen to me! Right now!”

Even Striker seemed taken aback at Albert’s loud proclamation. Wait a minute… Striker… taken aback? But how could that be? And then I realized what Albert had just said.

“Both?” Striker and I said the word at the same time.

Albert nodded. “Both.”

Striker slowly met my gaze, his eyes filled with wariness and wonder. “Both.”