Kindred Spirits Read online

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Derek swore under his breath and took another drink. He set the glass down and gripped it, fixing his gaze on it. “I should have stayed home. I should be there for him—”

  “Hey.” Chris reached over and touched his arm lightly. As she did, she couldn’t help noticing the way his rolled-up shirtsleeve accentuated the lines of a well-sculpted forearm. She caught herself wondering what else about him was well-sculpted and yanked her hand away. “Ron and Joe have both been through this,” she said, ignoring the quizzical look he gave her. “They’ll help him through it. And they won’t force anything if he’s not ready.”

  Derek nodded at this, but then he drained his glass. He waved to the bartender to bring him another. “How do you get used to this?”

  “I don’t know. This is just my life.”

  “It’s always been like this?”

  Chris nodded. “Since I was eight.”

  His brow furrowed as he considered that. “Wasn’t that around when your mom passed away?”

  “Yeah. Actually, it started right after that.”

  He studied her a moment before asking, “Did it start with her?”

  “I think so. I mean, I didn’t actually see her. But one night, I woke up and it was like I could just feel her there. After that was when the sightings started.”

  “Did that scare you?”

  “A little,” she admitted. “The first time, Ron and I were staying with our aunt up in New England, and we were visiting a historical cemetery with our uncle. This guy in a red coat and a tri-corner hat came up and started talking to me. At first, I thought he was just someone in costume who worked there, but then I realized he was covered in blood, and also that nobody else could see him. So that was a little intense.”

  “Yeah, I’d say so. So what did you do?”

  She shrugged. “I asked him what he wanted. He told me his name and said he wanted to go home. I told my uncle about him and amazingly, he didn’t think I was crazy or making things up. He had his friends at the historical society look into it, and it turned out that this unidentified British soldier was buried there. They exhumed the remains and found enough DNA to match him to the name I was given.”

  “Wow. So what happened?”

  “They shipped him back to England for burial. I never saw him again.”

  Derek gazed intently at her, as if wishing he could crack open her head and examine her brain. It made her a little uncomfortable, so she focused on her Scotch. “That’s incredible,” he said.

  She sipped her drink and set it back on the counter with a shrug. “I guess.”

  Derek sighed. Chris looked up at him, but his gaze had drifted back to his own drink. “I thought I met someone like you before, you know. Someone who could do what you do, I mean.” He gave her a sidelong look. “I’m pretty sure there’s nobody else quite like you out there.”

  Chris took a deep breath to calm a raging case of flutters and did her best to ignore his flirtatious comment. “Let me guess. They were faking?”

  “Yeah. It happened a few months after my dad died. This guy approached my mom and me, claiming to have messages from both him and Jimmy. He said he could help us solve Jimmy’s murder. Of course, both Jimmy and my dad had been covered pretty extensively in the local news, so we were skeptical. But he seemed to know things, stuff that only dad or Jimmy could know.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like what sat on the mantel over the fireplace, the name of the dog we had when Jimmy was little, my dad’s favorite food, that sort of thing. Anyway, my mom was still skeptical, so she called the local news and convinced them to investigate the guy. It turned out that he had an accomplice, this sweet-looking middle-aged lady who posed as an Avon sales rep to get into our house and chat up my mom. She managed to get all kinds of convincing details for the guy to use in his scam.”

  “Wow. No wonder you thought I was a fraud.”

  “Yeah, well. For what it’s worth, I’m still sorry about that.” He let out a bitter laugh. “The funny thing is, I wanted to hear from Jimmy after he died. I wanted to believe that he was still around, watching over me. I even prayed for a sign. But there was nothing.” When his gaze met hers again, it was filled with pleading. “I swear, Chris, there was nothing. If I had known—”

  “Hey, no.” Before she even knew what she was doing, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He held onto it and didn’t let go. “It doesn’t work like that. Not everyone has this ability, and the fact is that there are a lot of frauds and scam artists out there making it harder for the rest of us. You never would have been sure without Jimmy himself making contact. It’s not your fault he didn’t know how until now.”

  He looked down at their hands, still not letting go. “Thank God your sister decided to haunt me.”

  Chris laughed. “Don’t let her hear you say that. But I guess it’s a good thing you goaded her by doing that story on me.”

  He cringed and released her hand. “I want you to know I intend to make that up to you, if that’s possible. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to talk to my producer about a retraction.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I don’t think it did too much damage.” Of course, this was the first time she’d been in public since the QuikTrip incident, but so far, it was going well, and her answering machine that afternoon had been full of supportive calls from past clients. “It’ll blow over. Don’t risk your job over it or anything.”

  “As long as you don’t sue for defamation, my job should be safe.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “You’re not planning to sue, are you?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  “Phew.” He mimed wiping his brow. Getting serious, he said, “I mean it, though. I’m going to make it right.”

  Chris smiled at him. “I believe you.”

  They locked gazes, and his smile made those flutter-inducing crinkles around his eyes. Chris’s heart accelerated from a flutter to a racing engine as a pleasant warm feeling that she was pretty sure wasn’t the Scotch rose up from deep within. She sat frozen, mesmerized, as his gaze drifted down to her mouth. He leaned toward her. In a panic she turned away, grabbing her drink and bringing it to her lips.

  Derek leaned back. “Ah,” he said, his voice filled with resignation.

  Chris felt her cheeks flush. “I’m sorry.” She set her drink down. “It’s just that I—”

  “No, don’t apologize. I’m an idiot. I’m still the jerk that might have ruined your career and then threatened to file a restraining order on you for trying to help.”

  “Derek, that’s not it. I just… it's complicated.”

  “Are you seeing someone?” He shook his head and picked up his own drink. “Of course you’re seeing someone. Someone like you couldn’t possibly still be single.”

  She frowned, not certain whether he’d meant that as a compliment. “Someone like me?”

  He glanced sideways at her, and waved a hand up and down like Vanna White showing off a prize. “Beautiful, smart, gifted…”

  “Weird, spooky, awkward, complicated,” she finished for him, though his version was much sweeter, and it made her wish they could rewind a couple minutes and do that moment over again.

  He gave her a hard look. “I don’t think you’re—”

  “Hey, man!” Someone on the other side of Chris cut him off. She turned to see a frat boy type in a Polo shirt pointing at Derek. “You’re that guy.”

  “Yeah, I’m him. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

  “No, man, you’re that reporter guy. What’s his name? Don’t tell me.” He leaned over, practically in Chris’s face, reeking of Jack Daniels. He snapped his fingers and pointed. “Brady!”

  “Brandt.”

  “Right, right! Dirk Brandt! Hey, my mom loves you.”

  “That’s great. Give her my best. Listen, we’re trying to have a private conversation here, if you don’t mind.”

  “Whoa, hey.” The frat guy leaned back and held up his ha
nds. “So sorry, Mr. Big Shot TV reporter.” He started to turn back around, but then he looked at Chris, recognition dawning on his face. “Hey, I know you too! You’re that lady.” He closed his eyes and snapped his fingers as if that would force her identity to come to him. Apparently, it worked, because he opened his eyes and stuck a finger in Chris’s face. “You’re that psychic with the haunted car.”

  “I’m not actually a psychic,” Chris told him.

  “Didn’t this guy expose you as a fake? What are you doing here having drinks with him?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Hey, now. No need to get feisty.”

  Derek got up from his stool and moved between Chris and the frat guy. “She said this is none of your business. But just for the record, I was wrong about her.”

  Chris stood up. “Don’t bother with this guy.” She fished some bills out of her handbag and dropped them on the counter, enough to cover both their drinks plus the tip. “I think it’s time to call it a night. We should go see if they’ve finished with Jimmy.”

  “All right.” Derek kept an eye on the guy as he backed away. The frat guy remained on his stool. Derek turned to follow Chris out. “For what it’s worth, I was planning to buy the drinks,” he said as he opened the door for her.

  “Consider it payback for the donuts.”

  He sighed. “At least let me walk you to your car.”

  She paused on the sidewalk and looked up at him. “Really? You’re not in a hurry to get away?”

  “No. Why would I be?”

  “It was kind of a disaster in there, wasn’t it?”

  He glanced back at the bar. “I admit, I’ve had better dates.” He looked down at her, and winked. “But I’ve also had worse.”

  “So this was a date.”

  He seemed taken aback by that. “Or not. Or it could still be…”

  “Seriously?”

  “Hey, I didn’t get where I am by being someone who gives up easily.”

  “That makes two of us.” They stood there a moment. He seemed to be waiting for a cue from her, but she wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen next. Finally, she blew her bangs out of her eyes and jerked her head in the direction she needed to go. “Let’s go.”

  They started down the sidewalk, her mind racing as they walked in silence. When they reached the corner, she stopped and turned to face him. “Derek, back there, what I was trying to tel—”

  “I know!” Dudebro’s voice shouted at them from down the sidewalk.

  “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Derek turned back toward the guy. “You know what?”

  Chris put a hand on his arm. “Just ignore that guy. Let’s go.”

  His face as he looked down at her reminded her of that first morning he’d pounded on her door. He sighed. “Fine. You’re right. Let’s get you to your car.”

  As they rounded the corner, though, the guy caught up with them. “I know what you two’re doing here together. You’re gonna sleep with him to get him to take back his story.” As they both spun to look at him, appalled, he grinned. “Am I right?”

  It turned out that Derek had an impressive right hook. It didn’t flatten the guy, but judging by the blood gushing out his nose, he might be wishing it had. “You broke my nose!” the guy hollered as Derek shook out his hand and winced.

  “Yeah, well, I think your nose broke my hand.”

  Chris took hold of his hand and examined it. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “I can’t either. But you can’t tell me he didn’t have it coming.”

  “There’s a cop!” the frat guy shouted. “Don’t you move. I’m pressing charges. Officer!” He flagged down a passing patrol car.

  Chris stared after him in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Great,” Derek muttered as the car stopped and a uniformed officer got out. “This is all I need.”

  As the cop conferred with the other guy, Chris leaned in. “For future reference,” she said, keeping her voice low, “I don’t need you to go around punching idiots for me.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t all for you. I got a lot of satisfaction out of decking that guy.”

  “You also got a bruised hand.” She released his hand. “I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure it’s not broken.”

  “Good. Then it won’t hurt as bad when they cuff me.”

  “Surely they won’t—” she began but was cut off by a shout of, “Hey, it’s that guy from the news!” A crowd had begun to gather around them. People pulled out their phones and pointed their cameras at her and Derek. “Oh no.”

  “Looks like I’m about to be the news,” said Derek. “My station manager’s going to love this.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Chris, and he gave her a quizzical look.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, I just feel responsible somehow.”

  “Don’t. It was my own idiocy.”

  Just then, the officer came over, pulling a pair of handcuffs off of his belt. “Sir, could you please turn around?”

  “I don’t believe this is happening,” Chris muttered as the officer put the cuffs on Derek. “I’ll follow you to the station and post bail. They won’t be able to keep you for long.”

  “No, you should go. I’ve got someone I can call.”

  “But—”

  “I need you to do me another favor. Let Jimmy know what happened. Tell him I’ll be all right and I should be home by morning. You’ll find a spare house key underneath the sunflower urn in the flower bed. The alarm code is 4108.”

  “Okay.” She watched the cop give Derek a quick pat down. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  “I will be.” He glanced around at all the active cameras. “Can’t say the same about my job.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

  “Stop it. Get out of here.” With that, the cop led him over to the squad car and stuffed him inside. Chris watched, feeling stupid and helpless. Then she looked over at the guy who’d started all the trouble, watching with satisfaction, recording Derek’s arrest on his own phone.

  She was suddenly overcome with an urge to march over there and slug him herself, square on his broken nose. But the cop was going back over to him. With one last look at Derek looking humiliated in the back of the patrol car, she huffed a sigh and turned down the alley that led to the parking lot.

  If this night could’ve gone more wrong, she was hard pressed to think how. She only hoped Ron and Joe had gotten something useful out of Jimmy. Maybe then, this disaster of an evening would have been worth it.

  Chapter Ten

  As days went, this one probably qualified as one of the weirdest in Derek’s life. It definitely made the top five.

  Standing against the wall of a jail cell, doing his best not to make eye contact with any of the other inmates, Derek reflected on the trajectory that had gotten him here. Discovering he was haunted by his long-dead brother, having to eat crow and get on Chris’s good side, learning about a whole world full of spirits that existed alongside his own, drinking too much Scotch and making a complete fool of himself by trying to kiss a woman whom he’d tried to ruin—twice, even—and then capping it off by getting himself arrested for assault.

  On second thought, he was pretty sure this day had secured the number one spot for strangest day ever.

  The arrest was bad. He’d be lucky if his boss didn’t suspend him as soon as he learned of it. And with all the witnesses who’d recorded the incident, his boss was bound to find out. The whole thing was probably already posted online.

  There was a good chance that his career was toast. That bothered him, but surprisingly, not as much as it bothered him that he might have thrown away his only chance to tell his viewers he’d been wrong about Chris.

  Of course, what bothered him even more than that was that stupid kiss. Or, rather, his embarrassingly and spectacularly botched attempt at one. Derek closed his eyes and rubbed the bri
dge of his nose as the memory of how she’d dodged him flooded back. What on earth had possessed him to do that?

  It was easy to blame the booze, but he’d only been on his second drink and he was no lightweight when it came to fine Scotch. He could also blame the way she’d been looking at him, the connection he’d felt that had been impossible to ignore. That had certainly tempted him in the moment.

  But the truth was he’d been thinking all day long about what it would be like to kiss her.

  He wasn’t sure when exactly that had started—wait, yes, he was. It had been at her place, when she’d handed him her card. Even after everything he’d put her through, all the things he’d said to her—not to mention all the things he’d thought and said about her. She didn’t know the half of what a jerk he’d been—she’d been willing to forget it all, and to help him. Or at least, to help Jimmy.

  He’d realized two things in that moment. The first was that he liked her. Not just that he found her physically attractive—heck, even back in college he’d thought she was incredibly cute, even though he’d believed she was either a fraud or a deluded flake. He even remembered briefly hesitating to write that story for the college paper because it would destroy his chances of ever asking her out.

  But that morning, in her kitchen, he had also learned that she was smart and sweet and funny and someone he’d be happy to go on talking to for hours.

  The other thing he’d realized was that if he didn’t get out of there fast, he was either going to have to kiss her then and there or his head would explode.

  So it was inevitable, really. His humiliation had been sealed in that moment.

  “Brandt!” someone called. Derek looked up to see a guard waving him over. “You made bail.” The portly guard let him out of the cell, then led Derek down a corridor. “So how’d a crime reporter end up in the tank?”

  “If you want to know, watch the news. I’m sure you’ll see the whole thing.”

  The guard chuckled as he opened the door into a waiting room. “No need. Already saw it on YouTube.”