Say I Boo by Spellman Morgan

Author:Spellman, Morgan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Meadow Cat
Published: 2023-09-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Abby spent the rest of the afternoon trying to shake the memory of Dean reliving his death. But if three cups of hot chocolate, half a dozen freshly baked cookies, and a soak in a hot tub couldn’t do it, she was pretty sure nothing would.

“I don’t get it,” Lucas called over the gentle roar of the Jacuzzi jets. “Why are you so convinced Dean is our guy?”

Abby picked at the straps of the modest blue swimsuit Annabelle had loaned her. She shut her eyes and leaned back, savoring the warmth as chlorinated steam tickled her nose. “I just am.”

Lucas deserved a better answer, but Abby wasn’t ready to give it. How could she explain that everywhere she looked, she saw a ghost locked in their final moments? Sometimes that ghost was Dean, but sometimes it was Chelsea. Sweet, innocent Chelsea in her green sweater and handmade jewelry crying out for help as she was crushed by a storm of broken glass.

Chelsea had never dealt with the harsher side of life well. She had avoided stress as much as possible, skipping school on the days they had to dissect anything. She turned off sad movies before the end. She refused to drive on highways during storms, and after dark. By avoiding risky activities, she thought she was eliminating the potential to introduce negativity into her life. Imagining her death was painful enough—the thought that she could be reliving it was torture.

“What about the architect?” Lucas asked. “He seemed pretty upset about the renovations. You might not have anything to do with that, but Mrs. Kensington does.”

Abby sighed. “We can question him.” She reached for the walkie-talkie.

“Don’t get it wet!” Lucas jumped out of the water, grabbed a towel, and used it to snatch the walkie-talkie. Wrapping a plush robe over his swim trunks, he looked around for something—likely the binoculars.

Abby wiped her hands on a towel and held an open palm toward Lucas, indicating she wanted the walkie-talkie.

He shook his head. “We can’t just call up every ghost on a whim.”

“It’s not a whim. You made a good point about the renovations.”

“I know,” said Lucas. “But that doesn’t change the fact we can’t jump up and follow every idea that crosses our minds.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” Lucas flailed his arms. “That never gets us anywhere. We need to think this through. Make a list, check the facts, narrow it down to our top two or three suspects. A second ago, you were convinced it was Dean. All it took was a few words and you’re chasing after Archie.”

“I still think it’s Dean. I was humoring you.”

“Humor me with a list.” Lucas picked up his phone from a nearby table and began typing on it. “Our top three suspects—Dean, Archie, and…?”

He turned to Abby expectantly.

Abby leaned back in the hot tub with a sigh. She rubbed her forehead in an effort to clear the memory of Dean Johnson reliving his death, but it didn’t work. She shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

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