“When was that?”
Jess points at the Art Deco arch I spotted earlier. “That’s around 1900 or so.”
“That’s too late,” I mutter. “Geoffrey said Jane died in 1838. This would be almost seventy years later.”
Jess shrugs. “Maybe her family organized it? A remembrance thing? Better than those weird brooches we—”
I hold up one hand. “Yep, I remember. Thanks.”
“Or maybe another, later relative had the same name? Or she had a memorial unit in an older building and they kept the name when they moved to this one?”
“I guess.” I feel a pinprick of, I don’t know, something. I can’t put my finger on it, but it seems like we got lost this way on purpose. “Jess, do you, ah. . .”
“Do I what?”
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
Jess hoots a laugh and links my arm to pull me gently onwards. “Come on. We want to get to the station before Detective Moran finishes for the night.”
I give myself a little shake. She’s right; we need to see Detective Moran and tell him what we know. I let Jess pull me back down the corridor and over the threshold into the newer building, leaving the spectres in the dark.
“What do you mean, Will’s gone missing?” I ask. Jess hands me a cup of strong tea in a chipped mug. I check my watch; I need to be at the museum in an hour.
“He just vanished.” Jess lowers her voice so Ruth, who’s hovering protectively behind the library counter, can’t hear her. “I heard Mum talking to Detective Moran and she said there’s been no sign of him at all. It’s like,poof.” She makes exploding little fireworks with her fingers. “The police can’t find him anywhere.”
“Weird.” I chew the plastic cap on the end of my pen. “Do you really think it was him who attacked Tasha?”
“I think so. You saw the marks on his hands. We know he’s been in the antique books section. Yeah, it makes sense. Plus, what Tasha said about the smell – he really did smell like that. Not bad, but, like, woodsy or something. Like the tree air freshener in my dad’s car.” She eyes me. “Why, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I’d definitely feel better if we knew where he was.”
“I think Mum would, too.” I can barely hear her now, her voice a wraithlike whisper. “She’s been beating herself up pretty badly, said she always thought she was a pretty good judge of character.”
“It’s not her fault he’s a total sociopath.”
“No. But try telling her that.”
We both watch Ruth pretending to look busy at the computer, though we know she’s only there to keep an eye on us. Jess won’t say anything, but I feel as though Ruth has gone off me a bit. I wonder if she’s worried about me and Jess spending time together after all that’s happened.
“Are you coming for dinner tonight?” Jess’s voice is back to normal. “Dad’s making his famous jerk chicken with rice and peas.”
“Sounds amazing. I’ve been living off pot noodles for the last three days.”
“I hope you can handle spice. Do you want to stay over? We can pretend to be normal, do Korean facemasks and watch something cheesy on Netflix.”
I hesitate for a second, before Meghan’s voice in my head tells me to stop being so pig-headed and accept help once in a while. “You know what, that sounds perfect.” Jess beams at me. “As long as your parents don’t mind?”
“Don’t be silly! Mum might actually relax if she knows you’re in the next room.”
“She’s worried about me?”
“Of course she’s worried about you!”
“Well then, I guess I’ll have to stay.” The thought of being in a real house, eating a real, home-cooked meal, is the kind of excitement I need in my life right now. “Anyway, I’d better go, I’m doing the afternoon shift at the museum.” I gather up the notebook I haven’t usedagainand shove it in my bag. “Can we come in tomorrow so you can show me the old newspapers on the microfilm thingy? I need to do some actual research if I’m ever going to write this essay.”
“Yep, no probs. We can have a lazy morning and come in later. It’s always quiet on the weekend.”
“Cool.” I swing my bag on to my shoulder and push away from the table. “Meet you back here later?”
