“Let’s walk. Tell me what you see?”
I huffed out a breath, but began walking again. “Maybe you’ve had some sort of brain aneurysm,” I said, more to myself than to him.
“What do you see, Audrey?”
I looked about. “I see the road. Cars. Trees. Houses.”
“No. Closer. Immediately in front of you. What do you see.”
“The footpath?”
“What’s on the footpath?”
“Can you just tell me because I really don’t know what you want me to say!” I burst out, puzzled by what he was trying to get me to discover.
He stopped walking, so I did too. I looked to where he was looking. At our shadows. But…there was only one shadow. Mine.
“What the hell?” I yelled, blinking rapidly, then rubbing my fists into my eyes as if to clear my vision. I danced around in some sort of crazed jig, and my shadow followed, as you’d expect it to.
“You see it—or rather, don’t see it?” Ben asked, voice so incredibly calm. How could he not have a shadow? My brain hurt trying to figure it out.
“Where’s your shadow? What’s going on?” I heard the note of hysteria in my voice and dragged in a ragged breath, my pulse skyrocketing. Ben began pacing—minus his shadow. He paused and cocked his head my way, one brow arched.
“You…you…” I gulped. He had no footsteps. He was walking, moving, yet making no sound. I swallowed, raised a shaking finger to point at him. “Are you…you can’t be…”
He stepped right up to my finger, not quite touching.
“Dead? A ghost?” he supplied, still sounding outrageously calm. “I think I might be.” And then he stepped forward and my finger, hand, and forearm disappeared through him, where his body should have been, an icy coldness. I snatched my arm back and staggered backward, clutching my hand to my chest. I watched as my best friend—correction, the ghost of my best friend, stared solemnly back at me.
“I can’t remember what happened because last night? I died.”
My eyes rolled into the back of my head and my legs gave out. As darkness rushed in all I could think was Ben couldn’t be a ghost. And if he truly was, why the hell was he haunting me?
I woke with a start, heart pounding, head thumping. My cheek rested against the cold, hard, gritty ground. Prying open an eye, I discovered I was on the footpath and quickly lifted my face off the disgustingly dirty surface. Gross.
“You okay?” It was Ben, crouched in front of me. Moving to my hands and knees, I glanced around. No one was about; no one had seen me faint. No one had seen me talking to a ghost. Except for Juliette. What she said made sense now. She’d thought I’d been talking to Ben via Bluetooth. Because she couldn’t see him. Because he was a ghost. A spirit.
“How long was I out?” I croaked, struggling to my feet. I felt dizzy and my legs wobbled. Ben reached out a hand to steady me, then dropped it, a rueful grin flitting across his face.
“Not long. A few seconds.”
I nodded, sucking in several deep breaths. My heart rate steadied back into its normal rhythm. Brushing myself off, I picked up my bag and resumed walking. Ben fell into step beside me. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“Well, I still need to get my car,” I pointed out, doing my best not to sound hysterical, “and then I’m going to your house to find out what the hell happened.” I didn’t know what else to do. Who do you call to say “I think my best friend is dead because his ghost is here with me now”?
“Good plan.” He nodded.
I snorted, ignoring him as I stomped along the sidewalk, anger starting to blossom and take hold. Anger that Ben had died. Anger that he hadn’t known he’d died. And anger at myself for not realizing I’d been talking to a dead person all morning!
“Audrey?”
“Don’t even,” I muttered. “I’m going through some emotions right now, Benjamin Delaney, and I just need you to be quiet while I process.”
Two people waiting at the bus stop turned their heads to look my way as I approached. Right. Talking to myself, again. He mimed zipping his lips and my lips twitched in response.
The bus was packed, the nine-to-five crowd on their daily commute. After a fifteen-minute ride spent with my face pressed into the unpleasant armpit of a guy decked out in construction gear, I jumped off at Main Street and hustled to where I’d left my car. Unlocking the door, I slid in behind the wheel.
Ben stood on the passenger side, bent to look through the window at me, and said, “Check this out!” I gave a startled yelp when he moved right through the door and seated himself in the passenger seat.
“Cool, huh?” He grinned, nodding his head, apparently immensely pleased with himself for this ghostly feat.
“I wonder why you’re a ghost,” I commented, turning the key in the ignition, pulling on my seatbelt, and shoving the car into reverse.
“Dunno. Unfinished business I guess?”
“So…your…uh ...body? It’s at your house?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what had happened to Ben. Part of me was worried that if I reunited his spirit with his body then he might disappear for good and I hadn’t come to terms with any of this yet. Coming to the end of Elm Street, I flicked on the signal to turn left onto Washington. Ben lived in a nicer part of town than me. A lovely four-bedroom house in a quiet neighborhood, right next door to the woods.
His years on the police force had paid well, and he’d been smart with his money as soon as he was old enough to know digging under the sofa cushions could pay great dividends. Plus, as an only child, his folks had helped out with a deposit to buy his own place. I wondered what would happen to it now. Did he have a will? I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was staring straight ahead, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Ben?” I prompted.
“Yeah,” he finally answered. “I don’t know. I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t remember anything. I truly don’t.”
“I wonder if you had a heart attack?” Even I was surprised that I was having such a conversation with him.
He chuckled, placing a big hand across his chest. “I’d be surprised. Had a yearly medical on the force and they never picked up any potential heart issues.”
“Oh.”
“Hey, no need to sound so disappointed!” he protested.
I cast a glance at him before directing my attention to the windshield. “It’s just that…a heart attack seems the least gross way of dying. If you’ve fallen down the stairs and broken your neck and your head is on backward I’ll never forgive you!” It was a valid worry. The closer we got to Ben’s house, the more my anxiety grew.
“I’ll go first,” Ben said now, patting my knee. Only, of course, I couldn’t feel his touch, just a cold blast of air that raised goosebumps on my skin. “If it’s … bad, I’ll come tell you and we can work out a plan.”
“A plan?”
“Well, you’re gonna have to call the cops and explain to them how you found me. So at some point, you’re actually going to have to find me. Yeah?”
“Oh. Right.” Of course. Getting into Ben’s house was easy—I had a key. It was attached to my keyring, hanging out of the car’s ignition. Likewise, Ben had a key to my apartment. Which was why I hadn’t been surprised to find him sleeping on my sofa this morning. I touched the key and sighed. “I just wish…”