Oh no.
“I think we are being haunted,” Robert said as he swiped his hand down his face like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.
“Spirits aren’t exactly big news. There’s one hovering at your right shoulder as we speak,” I told him.
Robert didn’t even turn to look like most people would. He grabbed the glass and chugged it down.
“But I can’t see it?—”
“Him. Harry, to be exact,” I cut in.
“Right, Harry. But can he make things move? Lift people’s hair? Can he make people believe they are seeing walls of blood or sinking beneath the dark ocean?”
No, he couldn’t do any of those things. Ghosts were unable to move things. People felt their presence on a fundamental level—cold spots, the prickle on the back of your neck, goosebumps—but manifestations were extremely rare.
“Like Amityville?” Hudson asked. Horror movie fan. Weirdo.
“Or Titanic,” Dave added.
Modern day Laurel and Hardy.
Robert didn’t seem to hear us. He lifted his hand in front of him and turned it over like he was checking he was still here.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
He blinked and dropped his hand into his lap to focus on me. “I have this recurring nightmare where I’m on a spaceship. I gettrapped in an airlock and sucked out into space—right before my body implodes.”
Odd and terrifying nightmare, but I’m not seeing it as a prediction for the world ending.
Hudson leaned forward. “Aliens?”
Oh for fu?—
Robert shook his head. “That’s not what freaked me out. Well, it’s not the only thing. The nightmare I just experienced in the parking lot of the Pit was.”
“You fell asleep in the car?” I asked. He looked exhausted.
“No, I was awake. But that’s not why I’m sitting here in this crazy house spilling my weird encounter to almost strangers.”
“It’s okay. We’re good with weird here,” I coaxed.
“Understatement,” Dave grumbled.
Robert lost a little focus in his gaze. “I was answering a call at The Pit. Karen’s adamant a customer slapped her ass.”
Hudson shuddered. Karen was oddly terrifying for a human. Messing with her was like playing with fire. But I’d never known her to lie or spin tales. If she said someone slapped her ass, then someone slapped her ass.
“I went over to calm everyone down,” he stated. “I reviewed the CCTV with her, and it one hundred percent looks like someone slapped her.”
“But?” Hudson asked. Because there was most definitely a but in this butt story.
“Her skirt moved, and there was a momentary dent on her left cheek. But there was no one behind the bar but her, no one close enough to have reached over and committed the act.”
My gaze lifted to Harry.
He huffed. “I am a gentleman, Miss Roberts. Even if I could, I would not put my hands on unsuspecting women. I have a wife.” He blinked. “Had. I had a wife. If I’d found a way to cross the divide, I would be with her.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I told him.
