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  “Tell me what you need,” he said, his face serious.

  “How did Spenser die?”

  He looked around, as if checking to make sure Mo wasn’t sitting behind us. The tables were filling up, but she wasn’t there.

  “He was killed by a hit and run driver one night out on China Hat Road. They found his body by the side of the road in the morning. Sad, huh? It was a while ago, like three years. Spenser was a lot younger than Mo, but I’m guessing they were really tight.”

  “So it was an accident,” I said.

  “Yep. The woman who hit him turned herself in the next day. She did a little time for it. Get this. She was talking on her cell phone at the time and said that Spenser just ran out in front of her. But Mo said she doesn’t believe the bitch. She says that she must have swerved into him as she was gabbing and didn’t pay attention.”

  A heaviness hung over us as I thought about what Mo had gone through.

  I glanced around. There were a lot more people now and they all seemed so happy, laughing and drinking, meeting up with friends. I wondered why some people were so lucky, while others weren’t.

  “I’m surprised she talks to you about it,” I said. “She was very clear that she didn’t like to talk about Spenser at all.”

  “Well, I have a little trick with that,” David said. “Alcohol. She only talks about things like that when she’s hammered. You know, I see her out at the bars a lot. We hang together sometimes.”

  He sighed, played with the paper wrapping from my straw.

  “But I promised her that I wouldn’t ever say anything about this. And now look at me. Big Mouth Jones. It’s your fault. You’ve filled me with beer and I’ve spilled my guts.”

  “I thought your last name was Norton.”

  “Norton. Jones. What’s in a name?”

  He was kind of kidding, but I could see that he also felt bad. He drained his glass.

  “Well, this is all on me,” I said.

  “Damn right it is, girlfriend,” he said, pouting. “And by the way, I’m not cheap.”

  He signaled the waiter and ordered another beer and some French fries.

  “I appreciate it, David. Really. Thanks.”

  “Look. Just leave her alone and she’ll come around and eventually return to the six words a day she used to say to you. That’s my best advice. Just don’t mention Spenser again.”

  I smiled.

  The young waiter came back with the food and David told him about how I was dating Ty.

  “I know Ty,” the waiter said, smiling. “You must be Abby.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “I’m John. He talks about you all the time. Good to meet you.”

  I smiled shyly, not knowing what to say. He left and I rolled my eyes at David.

  “What? Everybody in the place needs to know that BB is off limits,” he said. “There’s too many cute young things working here. I’m just looking out for you, Abby Craig.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh and I was glad the mood of our conversation had lightened up. And then I made a decision.

  “You see,” I said.

  It was an awkward start, but David was listening.

  “Well, I see ghosts sometimes. And I’ve seen Spenser and I’m just trying to help him.”

  I couldn’t look at David as I spoke, resting my eyes instead on the dog tied up outside to a chair. When I glanced back, he had a huge grin on his face and his energy danced around him.

  “That’s fantastic. But for reals? You’re serious? You’re like that girl on that TV show who wears those wigs and false eyelashes? I love her! Have you seen her new series?”

  “No. Yeah. It’s true. I see ghosts.”

  “Wow,” he said. “Just wow.”

  He leaned back and ate some of the fries, moving the plate over between us. I took a few.

  “So you think he wants to tell her something? Like the winning numbers for the Lotto?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s something serious. I don’t know what it is. Maybe there’s more to how he died and he’s trying to tell Mo. He’s sad. And lost.”

  “Oh, my God. Maybe something’s going to happen to Mo. Is it your experience that ghosts come back to warn people?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t really have that much experience with ghosts. Just three. And they were all so different.

  “I’ve only talked to a few of them. Maybe he just wants to say he’s sorry for something. Or that he misses her. If they were close, it’s probably something like that. That’s my guess, but I’m not really sure.”

  Kings of Leon poured out through the speakers. It was getting crowded. I looked at my watch. It was already close to four.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” David said, listening to the music as he eyed John from behind. “I wonder if these guys were thinking of a delicious little waiter when they wrote this song. Probably not, huh?”

  “David, please try to focus here. The bottom line is that I need Mo to listen to what I have to say. Spenser is around me because of her. And he keeps popping up.”

  “Scary.”

  “It is scary.”

  I told him about how Spenser showed up in the goal box when I was practicing soccer.

  “That doesn’t surprise me. He was a player on one of those club teams. The family was really involved in all that. Like, traveling all weekend, going to California and Idaho for tournaments. That’s what Mo told me once anyway.”

  “One more thing,” I said. “I know this is probably asking for the moon, but I hope you can plug that hole you have in your gut just this once. I really don’t need this getting out all over town, you know, that I see ghosts.”

  “For you, Abby Craig, I’ll stick a cork in it where the sun don’t shine.”

  “Too much information, David.Way too much information.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Kate was in the kitchen making dinner and I brought out my computer and sat in the living room googling Spenser McSorley to see what I could find out. When I saw all the stories on his accident, I kicked myself for not doing it sooner.

  There wasn’t really too much beyond what David had told me, but there were a lot of articles covering the basics. Straight forward crime accounts about how a student from High Desert Middle School had been killed in a hit-and-run accident. I also found some photos. It was nice seeing Spenser without scars and smiling. I found his sixth grade school portrait, pictures of him with his soccer team, and shots of him with his family that showed Mo as I had remembered her from high school.

  Spenser McSorley seemed like a happy kid, posing for the camera like he had his entire life in front of him.

  I wondered if he had had Olympic soccer dreams too. He was a good athlete. He played goalkeeper on a club team that had gone on to win the State Championship. It didn’t surprise me. I could tell he knew his stuff that day when we played together on the field. Even though his ghostly hands now put him at a decided disadvantage.

  Judy Elgin had confessed to hitting Spenser on a foggy night in March at about 10 p.m. She pleaded guilty to manslaughter, admitting that she was on her cell phone at the time but insisting that it wasn’t the cause of the accident. She said that Spenser darted out in front of her suddenly, running out from an open field onto the quiet road.

  She was given an 18-month sentence but was released after serving three.

  “Dinner is ready,” Kate said.

  I walked over to the kitchen and helped bring out the plates and silverware. It was simple, a roasted chicken and a salad, but it hit the spot.

  Later I filled her in on what I had found out. I told her as we opened up boxes of ceramic tile that had been stacked in the corner next to the door.

  “Now I remember,” she said. “It was such a terrible story. It was only about a month or so after your accident. Kyle covered it and had to go out and interview the parents. It was heartbreaking. Poor Mo.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wonder if Ben was working in the
emergency room that night.”

  “Maybe, huh.”

  “Did you read Kyle’s story?”

  “No. I tried to get some of those stories off The Bugler website, but they wanted a credit card first.”

  “Yeah. Pretty stupid policy,” Kate said. “We get a lot of complaints about the pay wall, but the editor refuses to lift it. Caveman thinking there. Maybe with the newspaper going bankrupt last year they need the money.”

  I laughed.

  “Just let me know what you want and I’ll get it for you from the online archives.”

  But I had what I needed and told her. Kate held up a tile and studied it.

  “I love those,” I said.

  “Me, too. I’ve never put in tiles before. It should be interesting.”

  “Do you want some help? I was going to watch the Monster Man finale, but I could just record it.”

  “Not tonight. I wasn’t going to start putting them in yet.”

  “Okay, just let me know,” I said.

  “So you have a day off tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Promise me you won’t go in, even if Mike calls. You’ve been working too much lately.”

  I had already decided to let the phone go to voicemail if he called, but it was nice that Kate suggested it.

  “Promise.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I’m not really sure. Soccer practice. Drop by the bank. Not too much beyond that, really.”

  She was quiet and I walked over to my computer and closed it.

  “Abby, I want you to tell me the truth.”

  I stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out what she was talking about and where the conversation was headed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why aren’t you taking those sleeping pills?”

  “I don’t know. They scare me a little, I guess.”

  “But do you ever sleep at night anymore? I hear you walking around all the time out here. And you look exhausted.”

  I looked at her, a little sheepishly.

  “Sure I sleep.”

  She shook her head.

  “No you don’t.”

  “I take a lot of naps. And I sleep late in the mornings. I’m okay. Really.”

  “I think it’s time to take them.”

  That was all. There was no long, drawn out discussion or insistence. But it was in the way she said it, her voice steeped in worry, full of dread. Like she saw something I couldn’t.

  Like she saw what was coming.

  CHAPTER 24

  “I’m going to get some more beans from the back,” David said to me in a low voice. “I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.”

  That seemed like a crazy long time to fill a container, but we weren’t that busy so I didn’t care. Maybe David was going to take his break back there.

  I was relieved that he hadn’t called me a ghost whisperer or something like that when I came in to start my afternoon shift. Actually he had been really cool about my secret so far, not once acknowledging that I saw ghosts. He didn’t even make any jokes about it when we were alone. I didn’t know how long it was going to last, but I was hoping that me telling David would pay off in the end and that I wouldn’t get burned.

  The afternoon hours flew by quickly and it was already almost seven. I was uneasy when I thought that after he left, Mo and I would be by ourselves. I caught her glancing my way a few times, but she still hadn’t spoken to me. Maybe I would just have to get used to it.

  I finished cleaning out the large brewer and then rang up a few orders. We said goodbye to David and I packed up all the used grounds, thinking about whether I should bring them home for Kate. She was planning on doing some serious gardening now that she was almost done painting the house.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mo walking toward me.

  “Let’s talk after we close,” she said.

  “Sure, okay.”

  Her energy was more relaxed, not as dark, and calmer than it had been all week. I wondered if David had said something to her.

  A new round of customers came in, got in line, and ordered. The next time I looked up at the clock it was almost time to go home. We started our cleaning routine, Mo counting the money. By 9:10, everybody was gone and we locked the doors.

  She turned down Larry and his Flask, one of the local bands. She went over to a table by the window and waited. I finished putting away the milk, took off my apron, and sat down across from her.

  “Tell me what you saw,” she said, slouching back in the chair.

  “I’ve seen your brother,” I said. “Three times now. Once on a hike. Once at Big Sky Park. And then over there at that corner table like I told you. I think he wants to talk to you.”

  She pushed out the chair next to her and put her feet on it, but didn’t say anything. I waited while we stewed in the uncomfortable silence.

  “So did David talk to you?” I said, not being able to take it anymore.

  “About what?”

  “Me.”

  “Only that I should ease up on you. I don’t know what business it is of his. Typical.”

  She sighed and I could see that it wasn’t easy for her, talking to me. But we were making progress. I tried to think of something to say.

  “I figured you wouldn’t ever want to talk about this with me.”

  She sat up in the chair.

  “So what changed your mind about listening to what I had to say?” I said.

  “Well, he is my brother. Seems only right. Plus, what you said. About what he was wearing. The Guns N’ Roses T-shirt.”

  “Yeah, he’s had it on every time I’ve seen him.”

  “That band rocked his world. He used to do a pretty cool Axl impression.”

  She smiled briefly, but then it disappeared.

  “And I don’t know how you would know about his favorite rock band,” she said. “I mean, that seems like proof. Although I guess you could have seen him way back when we were in high school. But I don’t think so.”

  “I barely remember you, let alone your brother.”

  Even if Mo had been in my class, I doubted I would have known her that well. We traveled in different circles.

  “I remember you. I saw you play once. You were all right.”

  “Thanks,” I said, a little surprised.

  “And you were right about that other thing you said too. I do remember your accident. It was right before Spenser’s. When you started working here, I knew who you were.”

  I leaned in toward her.

  “Mo, can you tell me about that night? It might help.”

  She looked off and we hit another few minutes of dead air. But I was patient and didn’t rush her. I knew the pain of going back to bad times and remembering things you would rather forget.

  “I was home watching TV when he was killed,” she said. “It was all so stupid.”

  She stared at me for a moment and blew out a long breath before continuing.

  “Our folks were in Seattle that week and I had their car. I told him to call me and I’d come pick him up. He said he would call if he was coming home, but he might spend the night at his friend’s. When I didn’t hear from him, I didn’t think too much about it. He stayed over there sometimes. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “Over to Devin’s.”

  I thought back to the photo of Spenser’s soccer team. I had looked carefully at the faces and names listed underneath to see if I recognized anybody. I didn’t recall any Devin.

  “Did Devin play soccer?” I asked.

  Mo laughed for a second.

  “No way. He wasn’t, isn’t that kind of kid. Spenser met Devin in school that year.”

  “So Spenser was walking home from Devin’s house and then was hit by the car? I thought he was found out in the middle of nowhere, on a country road or something.”

  “Yeah. Devin lives out there. It’s a
bout three miles from us and Spenser liked to run it. That’s what he did the night he died. He ran over to Devin’s house, wouldn’t let me take him. I don’t know what they did all night. Normal stuff I guess. Probably video games or just listened to music for hours and then headed back home. Or tried to, until the bitch took him out.”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a package of cigarettes, taking one out and playing with it between her fingers. She was still composed, but she was on edge. I could tell she was done.

  “I’m going to step out for a minute,” she said.

  I watched as she went out to the curb and lit a cigarette, the smoke striking against the black sky. I finished cleaning behind the counter and called Kate to let her know I was leaving soon. Mo came back in.

  I grabbed my coat. We turned out most of the lights and stepped outside. She locked the door.

  “So how do we do it?” she said. “How does he talk to me?”

  “I don’t really know. The ball’s in his court. I’m sure he’ll let us know.”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pen.

  “Hold out your arm. Here’s your first taste of ink.”

  She wrote her phone number on my skin.

  “Call me right when you see him. I’ll come and find you.”

  CHAPTER 25

  I looked up at the sky. In the distance, black clouds clustered together and looked like they were coming our way. But we had some time.

  I dribbled out toward the center circle, turned, and took it in. Ty was back in front of the goal.

  He was a natural athlete. He biked, skied, rock climbed, and ran on trails. He did triathlons and had run a marathon.

  But he sucked at soccer.

  “Goooooaaaaallllllll!” I shouted out as I threw up my arms and ran in circles around him. He laughed, retrieving the ball from the back of the net.

  “I wasn’t even ready yet. Go again.”

  The crowd in the next field cheered and I glanced over to see one of the teams celebrating. We were at Big Sky and a group of Hispanic men was playing nearby, their families watching on the sidelines.

  I saw them out here sometimes. Over the last few months I had gotten to know a few of them, enough to say hi. They had even invited me to join in on their practices. I hadn’t done it yet, but decided that the next time they asked I would play with them. They had some sweet skills, some with moves I had never seen before.