scribbling in his notepad and slid the menus out of our hands. “Your appetizers and salads will be out shortly.” He sauntered away, waved and smiled at someone across the room, and disappeared into the kitchen with a flair.
“Some people like their jobs way too much,” I said.
“Agreed.”
“So, where was I?”
“You were telling me about the first time you saw a ghost.”
“Oh, that. Well, I saw a little girl in the bathroom at school.”
He sat there, waiting for more. Finally, he asked, “That’s it?”
“Yep.”
“How did she die?”
“She was murdered.” I started messing with the rolls in the basket, squishing my finger into one and pulling it apart.
“Oh, that’s all.”
“Well, she disappeared a few days before I saw her. At the time, we thought she was just lost or something.”
“Obviously. Because little girls usually wander off, lost, for days at a time.”
“Look, I was just a little kid, myself. I didn’t know any better.”
“I know, I know,” he said, reaching for my hand, which I dodged by shoving a piece of bread in my mouth. He pulled his hand back and let it rest in his lap. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
I shook my head, exasperated. “It’s okay. I just hate talking about it. Isabella was really sweet; she didn’t deserve what happened.”
“I’m sorry.”
“When I saw her in the bathroom, I told my teacher. She looked for her, but Isabella had disappeared. Besides, Miss Melody wouldn’t have been able to see her, anyway. She didn’t have the mark.”
“What happened when she couldn’t find Isabella?”
“She dragged me to the principal, who called the police and my mother. I could handle the other grownups not believing me, but my mother? She ripped into me something fierce, when she found out I was ‘lying’ about seeing Isabella.”
“Did you tell her the truth?”
“No way. One thing you couldn’t tell my mother was the truth. Why waste the energy?”
“Sounds like a great lady.”
A server brought our salads and appetizers to the table. We busied ourselves with reorganizing the table so we had enough room for everything, then got down to serious eating. I watched his strong hands moving the fork from plate to mouth, and wished to Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy that I could be a fork. Just for one night.
“—in the end?” he finished. Crap, what did he just say?
“Sorry, I was thinking about something else. What did you say?”
He stopped eating, tilted his head to one side, and peered closely at my face.
“Are you always this distracted?”
“Who, me? Distracted?” I asked in my best mock-insulted voice. He laughed.
“Fair enough,” he said, laughing. “What I asked was ‘did you find out what happened to her in the end?’”
“Oh, yeah, it’s a sad story. Somebody took her and killed her. A stranger. They still don’t know why he did it. I don’t think he knows why he did it.”
“He’s still in prison?”
“Prison for the mentally insane. The guy was a patient at the county mental hospital; got dumped out on the streets a few days before he took Isabella.”
“Don’t tell me. Lack of funding?”
“Well, if you don’t want me to tell you...”
“You didn’t, you know, um…. see it, did you?”
“No, it doesn’t work that way for me. I just see the ghosts, they talk to me and tell me their story, that kind of thing. Sometimes, they can’t talk, so we have to play the ‘guess what I’m trying to tell you’ game.”
“So, he was wandering around, homeless, insane. Then he saw a little girl and took her?”
“Unfortunately, yeah. It was that random and simple.”
“That pisses me off and scares the hell out of me, all at the same time. My daughter is seven right now, and all I can think about is her playing in the yard and some creepy crazy guy snatching her and hurting her.” He put his fork down, pushed his plate away. “I guess I’m done with this.”
“Now it’s
“Some people like their jobs way too much,” I said.
“Agreed.”
“So, where was I?”
“You were telling me about the first time you saw a ghost.”
“Oh, that. Well, I saw a little girl in the bathroom at school.”
He sat there, waiting for more. Finally, he asked, “That’s it?”
“Yep.”
“How did she die?”
“She was murdered.” I started messing with the rolls in the basket, squishing my finger into one and pulling it apart.
“Oh, that’s all.”
“Well, she disappeared a few days before I saw her. At the time, we thought she was just lost or something.”
“Obviously. Because little girls usually wander off, lost, for days at a time.”
“Look, I was just a little kid, myself. I didn’t know any better.”
“I know, I know,” he said, reaching for my hand, which I dodged by shoving a piece of bread in my mouth. He pulled his hand back and let it rest in his lap. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
I shook my head, exasperated. “It’s okay. I just hate talking about it. Isabella was really sweet; she didn’t deserve what happened.”
“I’m sorry.”
“When I saw her in the bathroom, I told my teacher. She looked for her, but Isabella had disappeared. Besides, Miss Melody wouldn’t have been able to see her, anyway. She didn’t have the mark.”
“What happened when she couldn’t find Isabella?”
“She dragged me to the principal, who called the police and my mother. I could handle the other grownups not believing me, but my mother? She ripped into me something fierce, when she found out I was ‘lying’ about seeing Isabella.”
“Did you tell her the truth?”
“No way. One thing you couldn’t tell my mother was the truth. Why waste the energy?”
“Sounds like a great lady.”
A server brought our salads and appetizers to the table. We busied ourselves with reorganizing the table so we had enough room for everything, then got down to serious eating. I watched his strong hands moving the fork from plate to mouth, and wished to Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy that I could be a fork. Just for one night.
“—in the end?” he finished. Crap, what did he just say?
“Sorry, I was thinking about something else. What did you say?”
He stopped eating, tilted his head to one side, and peered closely at my face.
“Are you always this distracted?”
“Who, me? Distracted?” I asked in my best mock-insulted voice. He laughed.
“Fair enough,” he said, laughing. “What I asked was ‘did you find out what happened to her in the end?’”
“Oh, yeah, it’s a sad story. Somebody took her and killed her. A stranger. They still don’t know why he did it. I don’t think he knows why he did it.”
“He’s still in prison?”
“Prison for the mentally insane. The guy was a patient at the county mental hospital; got dumped out on the streets a few days before he took Isabella.”
“Don’t tell me. Lack of funding?”
“Well, if you don’t want me to tell you...”
“You didn’t, you know, um…. see it, did you?”
“No, it doesn’t work that way for me. I just see the ghosts, they talk to me and tell me their story, that kind of thing. Sometimes, they can’t talk, so we have to play the ‘guess what I’m trying to tell you’ game.”
“So, he was wandering around, homeless, insane. Then he saw a little girl and took her?”
“Unfortunately, yeah. It was that random and simple.”
“That pisses me off and scares the hell out of me, all at the same time. My daughter is seven right now, and all I can think about is her playing in the yard and some creepy crazy guy snatching her and hurting her.” He put his fork down, pushed his plate away. “I guess I’m done with this.”
“Now it’s
Similar Books
