Ghostly Interests (3 page)

“I like her hair,” Harper said. “She’s young. When you’re twenty-one you should have odd hair. That’s when you can pull it off without judgment.”

“She’s representing your company, though,” Eric reminded her. “Doesn’t it bug you that people see a … hippie … when they look at her?”

Harper shrugged. “Not really,” she said. “People already look at me funny. I run a ghost hunting business,” she said, chuckling harshly. “People are always going to think I’m crazy.”

“I guess,” Eric said. “She should still present herself in a professional manner.”

“She’s an unpaid intern,” Harper reminded him. “She can dress how she wants. I can’t make demands on her appearance if I’m not going to pay her. She’s not technically an employee.”

“Right,” Eric said. “Why is she here again?”

“Because she wanted to learn the ropes and she has great computer skills,” Harper replied, not missing a beat. “I don’t understand why you can’t be nicer to her.”

“She’s always … staring at me,” Eric said, his dark eyes serious. “It makes me uncomfortable. It’s as if she’s undressing me with her eyes.”

Harper knew exactly how he felt. It was an emotion near and dear to her heart whenever Eric got that moony look on his face where she was concerned. She enjoyed the local tech guru’s company – and even found him attractive – but there was no sexual chemistry there. Eric didn’t appear to recognize that, though.

“She has a crush on you,” Harper said. “You should be flattered. In ten years, you’re going to wish a twenty-one-year-old with a body like that had a crush on you.”

“Her body isn’t that great,” Eric argued.

Harper arched an eyebrow. “I would kill for her body.”

“Your body is so much better,” Eric said. “I’ll bet you look great without your clothes on.”

Harper’s cheeks burned under Eric’s earnest expression. The man fancied himself “bad to the bone,” even riding a motorcycle to cement his perceived reputation. The problem for Eric was that he was much more Fonzie on
Happy Days
than Jax on
Sons of Anarchy
. He just didn’t seem to realize it. “I … um … thank you,” Harper said, hoping to steer the conversation back to a safer topic. “Did you get anything from the capture at Undercurrents?”

“It’s going to take some time to go through the data,” Eric said. “It’s too soon to tell what we’re looking at. I got some good thermal video, though. I’m not sure what we have yet.”

“Well, don’t worry about rushing,” Harper said. “We don’t have another client today so you can spend the rest of the afternoon going over your data. I know how you love those little chart things you do.”

Eric scowled. “Chart things? I’ll have you know … .”

“That those are vital statistical analysis tools that will propel our knowledge of the hereafter into uncharted territory,” Zander said, breezing into the room as he mimicked Eric’s voice. “We know. You’ve told us a zillion times.”

“Then how come you keep forgetting?”

“My memory isn’t what it used to be,” Zander deadpanned. “It was probably all that pot I smoked in high school.”

“I’m so underappreciated,” Eric muttered.

“I appreciate you,” Harper said, shooting a dirty look in Zander’s direction. “Can you please not poke the bear? He’s going through some files for us and we should respect him because neither one of us wants to go through all of that information.”

“Data,” Eric corrected.

“Data,” Harper said, pursing her lips as she tried to ignore Zander’s vigorous eye rolling. “It’s very important data and Eric deserves your respect.”

“Whatever,” Zander said, sighing with resigned exasperation. “I don’t suppose you would give me the respect I so richly deserve and take me to the lunch you promised, would you?”

“It’s still early,” Harper protested.

“My stomach doesn’t agree,” Zander said, lifting his shirt and pointing toward his eight-pack abs. “My stomach says it’s feeding time.”

Harper snorted. “You lifted your shirt because you like to show off your abs. Admit it.”

“I’ll admit nothing of the sort.”

“If you don’t admit it I can’t buy you lunch,” Harper said.

Zander exhaled heavily, one of those extended gusts that only long-suffering best friends can get away with. “When you work out as much as I do, you should be able to show your body off without people commenting.”

“I thought you wanted people to comment?” Harper pressed.

“You don’t have the right parts to comment,” Zander corrected. “Even if you did, though, you’re like a sibling to me. I don’t care how hot of a guy you would make, I’m not into the incest thing.”

“This conversation is taking a gross turn,” Eric said.

“He’s right,” Harper said. “Fine. I’ll buy you lunch on one condition … .”

“That I lift my shirt and wow the male waiter so we can get free dessert?” Zander asked.

“No,” Harper said, her tone dry. “That you never bring up incest again. It makes me feel … uncomfortable.”

“Fine,” Zander conceded. “Can I still lift my shirt to wow the waiter?”

“Go nuts.”

Three

“This place has the best clam chowder in the world,” Zander said, dipping his spoon into the thick white soup as he brandished a warm roll in Harper’s face. “Why aren’t you eating your lunch?”

Harper was lost in thought, her mind on the afternoon’s ghost hunt instead of Zander’s wild food proclamations. Ever since she was seven years old and her grandfather visited her after his death, the willowy blonde knew she was different. She screamed to the high heavens that her grandfather visited her that night – but no one believed her. They thought she was a sad little girl making up stories.

When she was in middle school and the lunch lady’s ghost told her that her body was behind the Dumpster in the parking lot, everyone said Harper made a lucky guess but thanked her for helping put Darlene to rest before her body was covered with snow and possibly lost until spring.

When she was in high school and Tori Owens came to her after drinking too much beer at a keg party and Harper led police – and Tori’s distraught parents – to the spot where panicked classmates dumped the teenager’s body so they wouldn’t get into trouble people started to look at her in a different way … and it wasn’t a friendly one.

It wasn’t until her senior year that Whisper Cove lived up to its gossipy name, though. That was when a St. Clair County woman’s ghost begged Harper for help and led her to the site of a car wreck – where her three-year-old daughter was still alive – that people started to realize that Harper Harlow was not a normal girl. She was … special.

The big cable channels aired the story – and begged for interviews – but Harper declined every request. She wasn’t looking for accolades. No, what she wanted was answers. They never came.

She had no idea how she sent spirits on their merry way. She simply knew that’s what happened when she stomped her foot on the dreamcatcher and the bright light engulfed her. In that split second of illumination, she was caught between two worlds and she could see hints of movement from beyond before returning to Earth. She never saw faces, but she did immerse herself in the warm feelings. The money was nice, but it was the emotion of the other place that helped fuel her.

“Harper, what are you thinking about?” Zander asked, exasperated.

Harper forced her attention to her best friend. “I … um … what were we talking about?”

“I was going on and on about how great the soup was – and how hot the waiter is – and you were lost in another world,” Zander said. “That’s it, isn’t it? You were thinking about that other world you see whenever you release a ghost, weren’t you?”

“I can’t help it,” Harper admitted. “It’s always such a … great … feeling. It takes me a few hours to come down. You know that.”

Zander smiled fondly at her. “I do know that. Still … we’re here to talk about me. Do you think I should ask the waiter out?”

Harper glanced over her shoulder, studying the waiter in question for a moment. Donahue’s Pub was Zander’s current favorite place to eat thanks to the recent staff addition. He was young, buff, and openly flirtatious whenever Zander and Harlow visited. As much as she liked the soup, Harper was starting to yearn for more variety when it came to their lunchtime food choices.

“I think you should definitely ask him out,” Harper said. “That way you can go on two dates and then break up with him for whatever nonsensical reason you come up with this time and we can go back to a few of the other restaurants in town.”

“I do not have nonsensical reasons for dumping people,” Zander argued. “My reasons are always sound.”

“You broke up with the guy from the garage because he smelled like gasoline,” Harper said. “What was his name again? Chet, right? You should’ve known he would smell like gasoline because he worked in a garage. That relationship was doomed from the start. Who names their kid Chet?”

“That was a family name,” Zander said. “I didn’t realize the smell of gasoline gave me a headache until it was too late. That was completely out of my control.”

“What about the guy you met at the gym?” Harper asked.

“Don’t bring him up.”

Harper ignored Zander’s admonishment. “You cruised him for a week straight,” she said. “You even joined a water aerobics class because he was in it. You worked overtime to get him and what happened then?”

“He shaved his armpits,” Zander argued. “I like a muscular guy and I like that whole metrosexual thing. I like a little manscaping. I don’t trust anyone who shaves their armpits, though. That’s just … wrong.”

Harper pursed her lips to keep from laughing out loud. This was a fun game. “How about the guy you picked up at the deli?”

“Oh, I knew you were going to go there,” Zander muttered.

“You were in love with him from afar because he always picked fresh produce and you were on a health kick,” Harper said. “Why did that relationship last for exactly three dates again? Oh, that’s right, you can’t trust anyone who is vegan because if a person dislikes cheese that’s the same thing as disliking America.”

“I’m a patriot at heart,” Zander sniffed.

Harper loved her best friend beyond reason, but his fickle nature irked her on the best of days. Two straight weeks of eating the same lunch on the same patio was getting old. She wanted Zander to ask the waiter out so he could dump him before the following week. She wasn’t having clam chowder for lunch again – not until the fall when soup was a welcome meal.

“Ask him out,” Harper prodded. “We both know you want to. Heck, he knows you want to. If you do it now we can go back to that place that has that great Creole shrimp dish next week. I’ve been dreaming about that.”

“You need to find a man so you can dream about something spicier than food,” Zander said, making a face. “Seriously, why don’t you go out with Eric? He loves you. He worships the ground you walk on.”

“There’s no sexual chemistry there,” Harper replied. “I’m not attracted to him. He’s a nice guy. He’s too young for me, though.”

“He’s three years younger than you,” Zander countered. “It’s not like you’re Mrs. Robinson … or that creepy teacher who got knocked up by her student twice and then ended up marrying him.”

“Thanks for
that
visual,” Harper said, shaking her head. “I’m not really in a place where a relationship makes sense right now. You know that.”

“I think you’re scared to be in a relationship because you’re only attracted to non-believers and they all think you’re strange when you admit you can see and talk to ghosts.”

“I … you’re a pain,” Harper muttered.

“And yet you love me anyway,” Zander said. “Eat your soup. Once you’re done I’ll hit on the waiter and we can get going. I’m ready to blow this popsicle stand. Yes, I heard the double entendre the second I said it. There’s no reason to comment on it.”

HARPER
busied herself on the beach while Zander prettied himself up in the bathroom, visions of getting busy with the waiter practically lifting like thought bubbles from his head.

Spring in Michigan was one of her favorite times of the year. The trees were budding, the grass was greening, and the air smelled of possibilities. Zander often fell under the spring’s thrall when it came to his dating life. That wasn’t a surprise. He liked the idea of falling in love more than the reality of having to put up with someone else’s quirks. Since Zander and Harper shared a house, Harper was often relieved Zander was incapable of settling down. While she knew they couldn’t live together forever, the idea of separating from her strongest ally was troubling.

It wasn’t something she was going to have to worry about today – or tomorrow even. It was inevitable, though. Sooner or later one or both of them was going to find someone to settle down with. Given Harper’s lack of a dating life, odds were that Zander was the one who was destined to be hit by the love truck first.

Harper was so lost in thought she didn’t notice she wasn’t alone until she caught a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye. She snapped her head up, an apology on her lips in case she was blocking someone from their path to the water, but the words died on her lips when she saw the ghost.

“Hi,” Harper said, sighing loudly when she saw the auburn-haired woman. She was dressed in simple jeans and a T-shirt, and her peaches-and-cream complexion glowed with the appearance of life even as her ethereal body was proof of death. “What are you doing here?”

The ghost widened her eyes in surprise. Harper had no idea how long she’d been wandering aimlessly, but it was clear she didn’t think anyone could see her.

“You’re dead,” Harper said, nodding sadly. “I … do you know how you died?”

The woman opened her mouth as if to respond and then snapped it shut, her ghostly hand flying to her lips as she absorbed Harper’s words.

“It’s okay,” Harper said softly. “I want to help you. If you tell me what happened I might be able to help you move on.”

The ghost remained rooted to her spot, immovable and silent as she tried to come to terms with her new reality. Harper realized the woman might be laboring under the delusion this wasn’t really happening to her – or she was dreaming. That meant her death was fresh … and possibly violent.