Gone With The Ghost (Murder By Design Book 1) by Erin McCarthy

Author:Erin McCarthy [McCarthy, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SilverHart Publishing
Published: 2017-05-22T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 7

I still had work to do, so after Marner left I trudged inside my coral Victorian and into my home office. Spinning my chair in circles, I took in my idea boards, my inspirational art, my charcoal velvet drapes. I needed to concentrate, but I felt aimless. I needed to talk to Ryan and see what the story was. Someone was lying to me, and I had a sinking, horrible feeling it was Ryan.

Why wasn’t a ghost around when you needed one? So annoying.

Forcing myself to make a few phone calls, checking in on Alyssa and Jane at the Jensen project, and ordering some furniture online, I remembered what Ryan had said. I could call him. It had worked when he was standing next to me. Maybe it wouldn’t now, but it was worth a shot.

I swiped my screen and found his name. I called and held my breath, waiting for the ring. It worked, even though his phone had been turned off.

After three rings, he answered. “Yo, Bailey, what’s up?”

Relief and anger rushed through me simultaneously. “I need to talk to you.”

“Well, you called me. So talk.”

“Can you get down here?” Or over here. Or whatever we were supposed to call it.

“I’m kind of busy right now. I have exams coming up and they’re giving me crap that if I don’t pass I can’t move on to the next level.” His voice was low, like he didn’t want to be overheard.

“I thought once we solve your murder you’re supposed to be able to move on.” I stared at my screen saver until my eyes blurred. I didn’t know what to think anymore.

“I guess I have to pass the classes too.”

That made me frown. “You lied to me,” I said. “Marner said there were drugs in your system at the time of your death.”

The silence was so long I knew it was the truth. “They were from a doctor. I had residual pain from the stupid knee surgery. What difference does that make?”

I closed my eyes and tried to center my thoughts. Swallowing, I opened them again, determined to get this conversation over with. “Because it was way higher than any acceptable limit. Plus you were taking anti-depressants. Which is fine if you had a prescription from your doctor. But you can’t tell me with any certainty that you didn’t actually pull that trigger. You must have been high as a freaking kite.” I felt betrayed and I wasn’t even sure why.

Guilt was there too. That Ryan had been struggling with both depression and pain and an addiction to painkillers, and I hadn’t known. He had been battling his demons silently, with a cocky smile.

“I know what I know and I didn’t do it. It doesn’t matter that I was popping pills. It’s not like I was buying them off the street, and frankly, it’s none of your business.”

“So you weren’t buying them off the prostitute you were seeing?”

He got defensive. “And that’s really none of your business. That’s my personal life.

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