closing for ten minutes at a time. Unable to really sleep, and unable to really be awake.
How to find Gran, that was the question that kept swirling through my head.
I snapped my fingers and hurried upstairs.
Back in my room (okay, Gran’s room), I dug through my bag and pulled out the folder with the case files for Gran’s, Alan’s, and my parents’ murders.
I spread the papers out, trying to see a link between them beyond the obvious. Alan leaned over my shoulder, sending a cold wash of air through me.
“What are you looking for?”
I flipped through the pictures, few as they were. “I’m not sure exactly.” Then, swallowing my pride, I asked, “What would you suggest from a lawyer’s perspective?”
He leaned closer and motioned at the stack. Without a word, I spread the papers out farther so he could see them all individually. My bed was covered with the three different files.
As Alan studied them, frowning, I studied him. “Alan. You died here, is there anything at all you can remember about why you were here?”
He stepped back and frowned, brows creasing deeply. Rubbing at his forehead, he was quiet a moment before answering, “A business deal? I think . . . someone hired me?”
Holy schnitzel. “A client was here in NOLA?” This changed things.
Alan paced the room. “Yes, I don’t remember anything else like a woman—”
“And we both know that you hate anything supernatural, so this would not be your chosen vacation destination,” I said as I started yanking clothes on. Simple clothes from the closet, jeans and a tank top. From the looks of things the closet had clothes in a few sizes for whatever woman came through the safe house. The jeans were tight and the tank top loose, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Alan nodded furiously. “I remember . . . there was a large house, something very big like a mansion on a street corner. Three stories, I think?”
That wasn’t going to narrow it down for me, not here, but I kept my mouth shut as I laced up a pair of runners. I didn’t want to set him off. A ghost remembering anything about their death was a freaking miracle. “What else? Any detail could help.”
He blew out a long breath. “A sign on the house? I thought it was strange to meet there. Just a feeling.”
So maybe a tourist spot? That only slightly narrowed it down. “Color of the sign? Or a specific word that stood out to you?”
Alan left the room and started down the stairs. “I think I can find it.”
I followed him, leaving the files spread out on the bed. Before opening the door at the base of the stairs, which Alan had already glided through, I scrawled a note on one of the sticky notes on the foyer table. That went on the inside of the door, and away we went.
Going with Alan to do recon.
Yeah, like that wasn’t going to freak everyone out.
But Alan was jogging now, and I couldn’t lose sight of him. I hurried after him as he made his way off the coven’s property and deeper into the city.
I was quiet and let him take the lead. He’d stop at an intersection, sway a little like Robert, and then burst into action again, taking a left here, a right there, straight across. Because it was still so early in the morning, the streets were relatively quiet. The few people I saw? Well, I wasn’t even sure they were alive.
In fact, more than one person we passed had terrible wounds that bled onto their clothes, even though they were just going about their days. Ghosts.
I blinked, and more of them swirled into being, rising from the ground as I passed. Some wore modern clothes, others clearly had on clothing from long ago, history coming to life in front of me with hoop skirts and top hats.
I jogged through them, the coolness of their specters washing over me. I shivered and nearly lost sight of Alan.
But then I saw him, stopped in front of an oversized mansion with a big plaque out front that was supported on two wooden struts.
“Here. I was in here. He said it was fitting that we should meet here,” he whispered, turning to face me. I saw the fear in his eyes. “Bree. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to remember.”