Inspector Specter by E.J. Copperman

out something about Martin, you’ll need to call me on my personal cell.” She gave me the number, and I dutifully entered it into my phone. “If you do call, don’t tell me anything about the case over the phone. Just say that you have some information, and I’ll tell you a place to meet. Okay?”
    I nodded. “But you could have called me with this,” I told her. “Why did you need to see me in person?” I looked over at Melissa and Wendy, who were deep in “conversation,” although the exchange appeared to be taking place by text. These kids today, am I right?
    â€œThere’s more,” the lieutenant answered. “I need to give you something.” She produced from her top drawer a thumb drive with the logo of the borough of Harbor Haven on it. No doubt they made great holiday gifts. “Take this and keep it safe. It’s a backup of Martin’s case file from the Seaside Heights PD. If I need it, I’ll get in touch.”
    I took the drive from her hand and put it carefully in my hip pocket. “You act like you’re going undercover with the mob for six years,” I said. “Is all this cloak-and-dagger necessary?” I left out the part where I was honored that she’d chosen me to protect the case file. I was, but saying so would not be within the code of behavior McElone and I had established.
    â€œIt’s precautionary,” she answered. “I don’t expect any problems, but I like to be prepared. And there’s something else.”
    As I waited, Melissa walked over to me. “Okay if Wendy and I head outside for a minute?” she asked.
    Before I could answer, McElone stood up. “Why don’t we all go outside?” she asked.
    That seemed telling, so I nodded, Liss turned back and beckoned toward Wendy, and the four of us headed for the door.
    Once outside, we started walking—slowly—toward the Stud Muffin. The girls pretended to be hanging back so McElone and I could talk freely, but I knew that Melissa could, and would, listen to every word we were saying.
    â€œThe truth is, I don’t want you to know everything,” McElone said. “That’s partially because I don’t
need
you to know everything. The ghost thing, well, I probably shouldn’t have asked. I was emotional. I was upset. But it’s out there, and it’s too late to take it back.”
    â€œIt can be helpful, Lieutenant,” I said. “You can trust that any information I get for you will be accurate, I promise.”
    â€œMaybe. It still seems crazy, like one of those things that seems like a really good idea at three in the morning. I should have waited until I’d had a couple of cups of coffee before I decided to go ahead with it.”
    I could feel Melissa’s eyes on my back; she is very serious about our ghost connections and impatient with those who treat it as a silly figment of our imaginations. But she wouldn’t say anything, especially to the lieutenant. I’d have to hear her fury later, when we got home. It’s all part of the service of being a mom.
    â€œNo turning back now,” I told her. “What else is there that you want me to know?”
    â€œThe Seaside Heights department’s decision doesn’t feel right. It’s too fast; it’s too soon. It’s like they wanted to get this out of the way as quickly as they possibly could.” McElone was staring straight ahead again, in full detective mode. She is a very efficient cop and normally doesn’t allow emotion to play a role in her process. This situation must have been extremely difficult for her.
    After all, she was talking to me.
    â€œI don’t know anything about the personnel there,” McElone went on. “I wasn’t in constant touch with Martin after I left Seaside, and there has been some turnover since then.”
    â€œYou two seemed friendly enough when I saw you