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To put Caleb off-balance, she thought then, although that theory didn’t feel quite right, either. It would be one thing if Ty was still in the tournament, but he’d dropped out the first day. There wouldn’t be much point in making Caleb lose when there was no chance in the world that Ty could win.

Then again, maybe this was just some sort of petty revenge. If Ty couldn’t win, then possibly he thought that playing head games with Caleb was one way to make sure his former opponent didn’t get any farther than the quarterfinals.

She didn’t see that happening, though. For all his mercurial nature, Caleb Lockwood could be very focused when he needed to.

So she gave a very visible shrug, then walked out of the living room toward the back of the house, where the kitchen and attached family room were located. Homes had been a lot more compartmentalized back when this place was built, and clearly, whoever had spent money on upgrading the flooring and the lighting hadn’t wanted to pop for the expensive beams required to tear out walls and still keep the structure from collapsing in on itself.

More signs of updating here, from the quartz countertops and backsplash to the smoothly plastered fireplace. However, she wasn’t here to look at the improvements…even though her real estate agent’s eye went unerringly to those very details.

No, she needed to see if this house truly was haunted.

So far, she hadn’t felt a single thing. But she’d been focused on Ty Carter for the past couple of minutes, which could explain why she hadn’t sensed any ghostly vibes in the house.

There, out of the corner of her eye. Just the faintest hint of movement, something that disappeared just as soon as she tried to turn and see what was there.

At the same time, though, an icy little chill ran down her spine, and she knew she wasn’t alone back here. Ty had remained in the front room, and Delia hadn’t heard a peep from over there, so she knew that odd little blip at the edge of her vision hadn’t been him.

“I’m here,” she said quietly. The entity she’d just barely sensed already knew that, of course, but sometimes it was better to open these dialogues with something neutral, something a spirit wouldn’t see as threatening.

Now she knew she wasn’t imagining things, since that odd little shimmer of movement became more solid, resolving itself into the form of a girl who looked like she’d probably been in her early teens when she died. Judging by the shirt slipping off one shoulder and the baggy rolled-up jeans, she must have left this plane soon after the house was built. That outfit just screamed early nineties.

What had happened? The girl looked healthy and whole — well, for someone who was halfway transparent. Then again, not all ghosts manifested the cause of their deaths, unlike the people who walked the afterlife in the Beetlejuice movies…the same movies that had provided the inspiration for Delia’s name.

“Was this your home?” she asked next.

To her surprise, the ghost shook her head. She pointed toward the second floor and the stairs, and then put her hands against the side of her cheek as if to mimic someone sleeping.

Clear as mud. But Delia knew she had to do her best to puzzle out what the spirit was attempting to communicate. “You were at a…sleepover here?”

A nod, and the ghost girl pointed at the stairs again.

Now this was starting to make sense. “And you…wanted to come downstairs for something?”

Another nod, followed by the ghost lifting her hand to her lips, then tipping it backward as if in imitation of someone drinking from a glass.

All right, now they were getting somewhere. “You got up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, but you tripped on the stairs?”

While the ghost didn’t smile, something about her expression seemed brighter, as if she was glad she had finally found someone who understood. She rolled her two index fingers around themselves, making a motion like someone tumbling head over foot. Then she leaned her head to one side at an angle that should have been impossible for anyone who was still alive, and for just a second, Delia thought she could see a bone sticking out of the back of her neck.

Ouch.

So she’d come to a slumber party not long after the family who’d lived here back then had moved in, and, moving around in the darkness in an unfamiliar house, she’d lost her footing on the stairs and fallen to her death.

“Did anyone know you were here?”

A very small shake of the ghost’s head. It seemed she’d been the quiet sort of spirit, the kind that hovered in the background but didn’t participate in any kind of actual haunting.

So how in the world had Ty Carter been aware of her presence in the home?

A mystery that would need to be cleared up later. For now, it seemed better to focus on helping the girl’s spirit to go on to a better plane of existence.

Very gently, Delia asked, “Do you want to stay here?”

Another shake, more emphatic this time.

“I can help you move on.”

The girl’s gaze met hers, hopeless and sad, and her shoulders lifted.