A Match Made in Hell by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00125JOD6
Publisher: HarperCollins e-books
Published: 2009-03-17T00:00:00+00:00

"That is so cool," Kelly said. "You helped a woman from the late 1800s. It's like there's no time limit on this thing."

"This thing?" I wasn't sure what she was driving at.

"You know…" She waved a hand. "… how long a spirit can hang around after the body's gone."

Kind of a creepy train of thought, if you asked me. "I never thought about it," I said, and I really didn't want to now, either.

"Are you okay, Nick?" Joe's fingers gripped my thigh as I drove, his touch warm and reassuring. "Is this one over?"

I nodded a yes, keeping my eyes on the road. This encounter, this episode, was over. The look of peace on the woman's face as she walked into the Light assured me of that.

"It's over," I said. "I'm okay, except that I'm starving. It's almost one o'clock; let's get something to eat before we go to Bijou's."

"Fine by me." Joe glanced in the backseat at Kelly. "Are we expected at any certain time?"

"I just told Leonard we'd be there sometime this afternoon," she said. "I wasn't sure how long it would take us to get here."

We looked for a place to eat near the Old City Market. The smell of fried chicken lured us into a diner called Homebody's, where we pigged out on crispy chicken, mashed potatoes, and pot-likker greens. There was even fresh-baked corn bread.

Halfway through the meal Joe's phone rang. He checked the caller ID and sighed. "Sorry," he said. "I have to take this." Then he answered, "Dr. Bascombe."

I could tell by his expression that he was going to be a while. He confirmed it by putting his napkin beside his plate and rising from the table. "What does the MRI show?" he asked the person on the other end. He jerked his chin toward the window to indicate he was taking the call outside, then went out on the sidewalk.

Joe was being considerate. We both hated it when people yakked on their cell phones during a meal.

"It's weird how ham hocks can add such flavor to vegetables." Kelly sprinkled more salt on the last of her greens. "I'd love to learn how to cook like this someday."

"My mom used to make the best black-eyed peas you ever tasted," I mumbled through a mouthful of chicken. "And biscuits. She made the best biscuits."

Kelly said, "None of my foster moms were very good cooks."

The fried chicken suddenly tasted dry. I knew it wasn't my fault that she hadn't had the happy childhood I had, but still…

"What was it like, living in foster homes?" Might as well not dance around it. I took another bite. "How many were there?"

"Three, mainly. I don't remember the first one very well—I was a baby. They were nice, I guess. I was moved to a different foster home when I was four or five." Kelly put down her fork and reached for a glass of sweet tea. "The Bakers were nice people, too. I lived with them and a bunch of other foster kids until I was twelve or so.

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