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She looks at the screen again and sighs. “They are, aren’t they?”

“So, what else did you do? Go anywhere? Do anything fun?”

Lynn puts her phone on the couch. “I went into town. You know that cute K-9 cop we saw outside the police station?”

I lean back into the chair. “Yep.”

“I ran into him, and we grabbed a coffee together. His name is Jeff Donavan.”

Wait. What? “With the dog?”

She laughs. “No, silly. He was off duty. I was walking and window-shopping, and he came up to me. He said he remembered seeing me before. He asked how we knewyourdetective.”

“Really?”

She pokes at her food. “Yes, but no worries. I didn’t give anything away. I told Jeff you and Jake were friends in college but lost contact over the years. When you ran into him the other day, we stopped by to say hello.”

My stomach clenches. “Did he believe you?”

“Yes, I think so. Why wouldn’t he?”

Uneasiness prickled at my neck. “Hmm...”

“Hmm, what?”

“Nothing. Just be careful. I’m probably overthinking everything. So, how was it? The coffee date, I mean.”

“It wasn’t really a date. We just walked into the place and ordered coffee, talked for a few minutes, and then he had to go. He’s nice, though he seemed a little shy.”

“Shy?” I didn’t get a shy vibe from him.

“Yeah, he asked how long we were staying in town and how we liked it so far, but none of the questions guys usually ask when they want to get in your pants, you know?” She waves her hand as if I know what she’s talking about.

“No, not really.”

She huffs. “You can read objects and talk to ghosts, but you can’t tell when a guy wants to sleep with you?”

“You know I’m not good at that stuff.”

She rolls her eyes. “They look at your body, make excuses to touch you, ask questions with sexual innuendo, you know, stuff like that.”

“The guys I dated before didn’t do any of that.”

Her sigh is loud and dramatic. “You’ve got to stop going out with those stuffy museum types.”

I point at myself. “Hey! I’m a stuffy museum type.”

“No, you’re far from it.”

I scrunch my nose. “So . . . this guy didn’t ask questions like that or check you out?”

“Nope, he was pretty generic and polite. A little distant even. Oh, well, his loss. He’ll never know what all of this”—Lynn gestures at herself—“can do when properly motivated.” Her eyebrows wiggle. “Now, go take that nap. You look exhausted. I’ll clean this up, and then I’m going to watch rom-coms on Netflix.”

“Rom-coms sound good. I could watch some with you. I’ll probably fall asleep halfway, though.” I don’t want to be alone right now. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts or my mind filled with memories that don’t belong to me. And definitely not images of dead women calling for help. I’m drowning all over again. Barely keeping my head above water. And this time, I have to save myself.

“Okay then. You pick something, and I’ll clean this up. Be there in five.”

I drag myself to the couch and find the remote control. Scroll through the listings, trying to find a movie we haven’t watched yet. I’m already half asleep when an icy coldness envelops me like a wet blanket and a voice rings loud and clear in my ears.