ENTANGLED by Jennifer Estep, Cynthia Eden, Allison Brennan, Dale Mayer, Lori Brighton, Liz Kreger, Michelle Miles, Misty Evans Edie Ramer, Nancy Haddock, Michelle Diener Page A

old cell phone.
     
    “I don’t suppose you had that running while you were, um—”
     
    “Forcibly restrained by your ghost? No.”
     
    “Too bad. I’ll bet Da had plenty to say.”
     
    “Anything I’d want to hear?” Brick teased.
     
    I waved away his attempt at levity. “Just turn the recorder on now, please.” He pushed a button and nodded. “Da, front and center. I need to ask you about the town ghosts.”
     
    “What about them?”
     
    Da answered even as he materialized between Brick and me. Brick put his hand out to feel the cold spot Da brought with him, and nearly stuck his hand through the middle of my great grand-ghost’s back. With a violent shiver, Brick wisely stepped back.
     
    “The spirits in town seem to be stirred up. Even afraid. Do you know what’s wrong with them?”
     
    Brick frowned, but I kept my focus on Da’s craggy, semi-transparent face.
     
    Da poked a thumb over his shoulder. “Do you want me to answer so he’ll hear me on that gadget?”
     
    For the sake of the gadget, I responded in full. “Yes, speak into the recorder.”
     
    Da half turned. Considering he hadn’t been a tall man but Brick was easily six-five, that put Da’s mouth right about at recorder level.
     
    “All I’ve heard,” he said, carefully enunciating, “is that there’s a raid afoot. An attack, girl. An attack targeting spirits.”
     
    “What could possibly hurt ghosts?”
     
    “There are dead who feed on earthbound souls. Not many of the dastards, but this one must be a doozey.”
     
    I reached for his aura. “Are you afraid, Da?”
     
    “Not me. I’m safe with family. That’s what most of the others are missing.”
     
    “Family, huh? Okay.” I shifted my gaze to Brick. “You can turn off the recorder now.”
     
    “What’s this about ghosts being threatened?”
     
    “Go on back to Martha’s and listen to the message with your team.”
     
    “You aren’t coming with me?”
     
    He stepped nearer, close enough smell a hint of his cologne and a lot of clean, virile man. My pulse stuttered, then sped.
     
    “Brick, I’m tired. I want to clean up, change clothes, and grab a bite of dinner. I’ll meet you in thirty minutes.”
     
    The muscle in his jaw ticked again, but he gave me a short nod, turned and left the house. I collapsed on the sofa to still my erratic heartbeat.
     
o0o
    My right foot had no sooner hit the bottom porch step when Martha Harrison opened the door of her magnificent Victorian home.
     
    “About time, young woman. You must speak to Zavier and get him to leave altogether.”
     
    “Mrs. Harrison,” I said carefully as I reached the porch, “I explained to you that Zavier is tied to the old Spanish coins and snuff box you inherited. I can’t expel him if he doesn’t want to leave, and I refuse to lie to you about that.”
     
    Her arthritic hand gripped the cane she’d begun using after her fall. “Even if it would be kinder to fib?”
     
    “Even then.”
     
    For a moment, Martha looked every one of her years and more. Then she sighed, straightened her shoulders, and stepped aside to let me enter.
     
    “Then come in and tell him to cease making that racket upstairs.”
     
    Right off the foyer to the left, I spotted Brick and his crew crowded in the formal dining room entrance. What? Had they expected to catch me scamming the old lady? The thought made my temper simmer, but I flashed a smile.
     
    “You remember my team?” Brick asked.
     
    “I remember,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as grim as I felt.
     
    Who could forget Dan, Don, Deidre and Melody? None of them had shown a lick of respect for my sensitivity any more than Brick had. More, blond, bossy Melody had given off jealous vibes the last and only time I’d worked with Brick’s team.
     
    “Ghost woman! You must help us!”
     
    The urgent male voice made me whirl toward the wide doorway on the opposite side of the foyer. The parlor lay beyond, but Martha’s ghost