Page 14 of Ghostmaker

“Wait, hold on,” Cope said, “he doesn’t see the importance of solving cold cases? That makes no sense. Any idiot could see that there are families in pain who’ve waited years, sometimes decades, to find justice for their murdered family member. The only hope some of them have in finding a resolution are the four of you.”

“Well,” Strickland said from the kitchen door, “call me an idiot.”

“Mr. Strickland, my husband didn’t mean that like it sounded.” Jude felt himself starting to sweat. Cope calling the man an idiot in absentia might be what sank them all. “When did you get here? We didn’t hear the bell.”

“I was about to ring it when a little red-headed girl opened the door and invited me inside. She stared at me kind of funny.”

“That’s my daughter, Everly.” Ronan got up from his seat and returned with Everly in tow.

“Hi, Mr. Strickland. Sorry you thought I was weird, but I was having a conversation with-”

The oven timer beeped and whatever Everly had been about to say was lost. “Honey, why don’t you go in the living room and I’ll bring you all plates.” Jude tried to communicate through his eyes, but he didn’t think it was working.

“Okay, Uncle Jude. Can I have two breadsticks?”

“You sure can.” Jude pasted on a smile.

Ten minutes later, the kids were settled with their dinner in the living room, and the adults were passing around the salad bowl.

“So, Mr. Strickland, where are you from?” Cope asked, dumping blue cheese dressing on his salad.

“Don’t you already know?” Strickland pegged Cope with his stare. “I thought you were one of the psychics.”

“I am one of the psychics,” Cope began, “usually people find it unnerving if I just come out asking what it was like growing up in Cambridge with a single mother who ran a tenement house and rented to lawyers and doctors.”

Strickland froze at Cope’s words.

Jude couldn’t help getting a little thrill over Strickland’s reaction. “West doesn’t really believe in psychics and what you all can do.”

“That’s right,” Strickland said, most of the color had returned to his face. “It’s all a bunch of bullshit meant to part gullible people from their money.”

“That’s not what your mother thought,” Everly said walking into the kitchen. “Alice loved psychics and didn’t make a big decision without talking it over with her favorite, Geraldine. She doesn’t like what her death has done to you and wants you to know that she’s safe and happy.”

“Safe and happy?” Strickland asked, looking astonished. “Safe and happy! She was viciously murdered fifteen years ago all because I worked late instead of coming home on time to take her out to dinner.”

Career or no career, Jude was five seconds away from kicking this man out of his house. No one was going to speak to Everly like that in his house.

Everly was silent for a few seconds. “Alice says it’s not your fault, West. She says that if you’d gotten home on time, you would have been the one to find her. The cops wouldn’t let you into the house that night because they wanted to spare you the pain of seeing what that animal did to her.”

“You’re a little kid. How do you know this stuff?”

“I have gifts like my Dad.” Everly pointed to Tennyson. “The reason that I told you what I saw is because my Dads spend their days trying to help people and I want to do the same thing.”

“The cops wouldn’t let me see her. I never got the chance to say goodbye.”

“You’ve said goodbye in dozens of ways over the last fifteen years. Alice knows how much you love her. She wants you to find your smile, get married, start a family, adopt a dog named Ketchup.”

West barked a quick laugh. “We always joked I’d have a dog named Ketchup and she’d have one named Mustard.”

“Everly, do you know who hurt West’s mother?” Jude asked gently.

Everly shook her head. “Dad, I don’t understand why I can’t see who it is. It’s like something’s blocking me, like on the funny video show when a man splits his pants and they blur out his buns.”

Ten offered his hand to his daughter. His eyes slid shut. “You’re right. I can’t see it either. It’s like trying to see through glasses that are the wrong prescription. Cope, what about you?”

“Same. I can see what happened before the killer arrived and after that person left, just not what happened or who did it. I’m sorry, West, I wish I could see more.”

“If only you had some new friends who were experts at working cold cases, huh, West?” Everly shrugged and walked to the fridge. She grabbed a bottle of salad dressing and walked back into the living room.