He figured Carey and Vannah must be pretty important for them to even care. Lives weren’t predestined the way people thought. Free will cut short plans. Warped and changed the best-laid paths. It was rare that they’d step in and change the course of things. He wanted to know more, but it was one of the stipulations of returning. As were keeping his mouth closed about the afterlife and remaining in the dark about what was going on. The temptation to alter things might be too great.
He ran a hand through his hair.
It was lonely here in the in-between. Most spirits who lingered around these parts were angry or worse, dark. He missed his friends. Think of it as being a secret agent. The concept did nothing to ease his pain. Vannah was even more beautiful than he remembered her. The gangly limbs of youth had gained curves. Her round face had slimmed and matured. It was very different from the one he remembered. He’d wasted all the time hiding his feelings because he was terrified he’d ruin their friendship. Today, he’d do anything to go back and tell her. The next time we’re alone together, I’ll come clean.
Decision made, he shoved his hands into his pockets and wandered into the twilight.
Chapter Four
Savannah blinked, wincing at the gritty feel of sand behind her lids. She’d been scouring over the databases and come up empty-handed. The search was still too broad. Time to take a break.
Since she’d officially reopened the case they’d set her up in Carey’s office. Being confined in a small space with him was strange. It wasn’t a situation she was prepared for. In one swoop she’d gone from running away from Carey and Clark to running beside them.
Clark. Even as an apparition he had the same effect on her. Caring, sensitive, and quirky, the man—ghost—whatever the hell he was made her melt. Her body didn’t seem to differentiate the difference between alive and not, and the constant arousal was driving her to distraction. Frustrated, she pushed away from the desk.
“You okay?” Carey’s concerned voice caressed her in places long-ignored. Her self-imposed celibacy was on shaky ground.
“Yeah, I just need,” she gestured toward the door, “air.”
“Sure, take your time. You’ve been at the computer for a while. Why don’t you pack it in for the night?”
A glance down at the black sports watch on her wrist told her it was almost midnight. Keeping things simple, she’d told her parents she had a case in Dale she couldn’t talk to them about. No sense in forcing them to relive the horror a second earlier than they had to. They seemed excited to have her home for a bit, and were respectful of her wishes. Though she hated to admit it, it was nice having the both of best worlds. Family closeby and her job.
“You know what? I think I will.” Closing out of the databases, she logged out, locked her computer, and shut it down. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Come in late. You look like you could use some sleep.”
Inside, the words made her flinch. No woman wanted to hear she looked like shit. On the outside she smiled.
“We’ll see.” She lifted her bag from across the back of her chair, placed it over her shoulders, and left.
She waved at Rodriguez who was manning the front desk.
“You out of here for the night?” the caramel skinned woman asked.
“Yep.”
“Have a good one.”
“You too.” Fifteen minutes later she was in her bedroom stripping off her sports coat and draping it on the arm of her computer chair.
“Vannah?”
The soft spoken words startled her. She spun to face a bashful-looking Clark. Her hormones surged and she silently cursed her biological make-up. Technically he was still twenty-on,e which made her a bit of a cougar. The thought thrilled her instead of dissuaded. Fuck.
“Clark.” Awkwardness set in and she shifted her weight. “H-How are you?” She forced herself to look at him, boxing with the urge to look away. Seeing him still felt wrong, and interacting with him made her feel a bit crazy. It wasn’t so bad when Carey was there to act as a buffer. The irony of the role reversal didn’t escape her. Carey had never been the one she went to for com
fort or understanding.
“I’ve been better.”
The hint of sadness she picked up on cut through her internal cluster-fuck. He’d suffered atrocities straight out of Saw in life, only to come back to warn them and be tortured in the process.
“What’s wrong?” Whatever form he took he was still Clark, her best friend and the potential love of her life that got away. She couldn’t let him bleed out if she could patch the wound. She walked over to stand beside the six-foot-one male. Reaching out a hand, she stopped millimeters from touching his arm, snatching it back before it made contact. Can I even touch him?
“We’ve left things unsaid between us for far too long.”
No, please don’t do thi,s Clark. It’ll make your leaving even more painful.