Haunted Love Read Online Free

away.
    She looks stricken, like the child she is. “But . . .”
    I lighten my tone. “I mean, you’d best be getting home.”
    I watch her walk up the aisle, fuming, and disappear out the door.
    Then a disembodied voice — soft, musical, and furious — whispers in my ear, “Murderer, murderer, murderer.”
    Later, at my uncle’s ranch, I walk to his unmarked grave behind the barn. I buried him deep, wrapped in a Mexican blanket. The ground is bare, packed hard. I try to tell myself it’s more fitting that he’s here instead of at the old cemetery in town. Uncle Dean loved this land as much as he was capable of loving anything.
    The grave unsettles me, though. No stone, no cross. He may not have been a good man, but he was my mom’s big brother.
    As dawn approaches, I shake off the guilt and go inside.
    Now, I’m surfing the Web at the dining-room table, drinking microwave-heated blood and researching ghosts. Sonia’s history does track with what I’ve learned so far. Her death was traumatic. Her murderer was never caught. In the spirit world, that’s textbook “unfinished business.” A reason to haunt. And it’s clear that Sonia wants me to know who she is — writing her initial and giving me the diary are clear enough hints.
    According to the newspaper article, though, Sonia was a sweetheart. She used to teach Sunday school and run errands for her elderly neighbors. A quick skim of the diary — peppered with initials — confirms that she was a good-hearted girl with loopy handwriting and typical teen angst: homework, a boy (“D”), a rival girl (“K”). She adored Elvis (“E”), had a kitten named Peso (“P”), and collected toys at Christmas for the poor.
    Maybe Sonia thinks I’m a threat to Ginny, and she wants me to know she’s onto me. I’m not sure why she attacked Ginny, though. Maybe in her ghostly state, Sonia’s confused. Or maybe she’s trying to protect Ginny by scaring her off.
    I guess there’s always the possibility that the Old Love is home to more than one ghost. Katherine, the girl who went missing, is probably K. According to the diary, she and Sonia didn’t get along in life. But there’s no hard evidence of more than one entity, and the singing voice that lead me to Sonia’s diary in the break room matched the accusing one that whispered “murderer.”
    Besides, how many dead people could possibly be hanging around the place?
    In any case, I can’t overlook the lipstick message or the fact that Ginny was injured. If I can’t somehow convince Sonia (or whomever) that I’m not dangerous, I’ll need to force her out. Either that or my effort to resurrect the Old Love is over.
    The question is, how? I’m in no position to be calling a minister or priest.
    Worse, the ghost who spoke is right. I can be lethal. I have killed once before.
    I take another swig of blood and notice that my caller ID is blinking. Ben Mueller. He didn’t leave a message.
    Why would Ben call here? Does he seriously think Ginny came home with me last night? It’s not like I’ve got any kind of rep with girls. Then again, he knows Ginny better than I do, and considering the way she kissed my neck . . .
    Still, calling after the way they fought earlier, that’s stalker behavior. Maybe Sonia’s right to fret Ginny’s safety, only she’s worried about the wrong guy.
    The following evening, patrolling the theater hallway, I don’t hear any singing. I don’t step into a cold spot. I don’t see a fresh letter
S
written anywhere.
    Today I was the one who fetched refreshments. I also made some calls, ordered a regular shipment of candy, popcorn, and Coke. Tonight I have to put Sonia to rest.
    Ginny comes bounding into the lobby at 7 P.M . sharp. She’s wearing a different white shirt, its sleeves down and buttoned at the wrists.
    “How’s your arm?” I ask from the concession stand.
    Ginny shrugs. “It looked worse than it was.”
    “And Ben?” I press. “Has he bothered you