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than others, and a few times they picked up on different feelings or<br />
images, but that was about it. <strong>The</strong>re was <strong>no</strong>thing else tangible to<br />
work with, and I was beginning to realize what Tucker meant when<br />
he said that most of the time they didn’t get anything at all.<br />
One day, he called me right after I got off of work. “Hey,<br />
Chelsea. I sent the report to the Masons last week, and they want us<br />
to come back in for an investigation. When are you available? We<br />
really want you to come back in with us since our evidence was<br />
focused around you last time.”<br />
I was flattered by the request. “I’m only working until four<br />
on Friday. Could we do it then?”<br />
“Absolutely. Listen, since you’ve never gone into a place<br />
more than once, there are a few things you need to be aware of. Are<br />
you around before Friday to go over it?”<br />
We hadn’t hung out, just the two of us, since the night at his<br />
house. This was mostly due to me trying my best to steer clear of<br />
him because I wasn’t sure how to keep myself in check without an<br />
investigation to distract me. But if there were more things I needed<br />
to learn, I didn’t really have too much of a choice. “I’m around<br />
<strong>no</strong>w.”<br />
“Perfect. I’m just closing up. Do you want to come over to<br />
my house?”<br />
And ravage your body? “Yeah, sure. I’ll be right over.”<br />
As soon as I hung up, a<strong>no</strong>ther call came through, this one<br />
displaying the name “Michelle” on my screen. I stared at the phone<br />
for a moment as the heavy double bass of my ringtone filled the<br />
interior of my Honda. We hadn’t exchanged more than a casual but<br />
undeniably stiff check-in text since we’d butted heads over the ghost<br />
hunting issue.<br />
Immediately, shame smacked me in the face, coloring my<br />
cheeks red as I clicked the button to answer the call. This was my<br />
best friend. I didn’t need to hide what I was doing from her.<br />
Still, blood was pumping loudly in my ears as I answered<br />
and quietly went, “Hey.” Guilty. My voice sounded like a wife<br />
who’d been periodically sneaking out for a midnight rendezvous<br />
with a man who wasn’t her husband.<br />
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