“Okay,” she said. “If you break a pinky swear, you have to cut your finger off.”

“That’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to tell me before you make me do it,” North said.

“Then you shouldn’t have done it without asking,” Alice said, and since that was an argument he’d often used in court, he nodded.

“You’re right. Pinky swear.”

Alice lay back down again, frankly surveying him now. “You were here before. When Daddy died. When Aunt May was here.”

North nodded.

“You never came back.”

“I know.” All the rationales he’d used-they were in good hands with their aunt, he didn’t know anything about kids, somebody had to run the practice-looked pretty stupid in the light of Alice’s direct gaze. “I was wrong. I was a Bad Uncle.”

“Whoa,” Andie said, and Alice looked at her. “Bad Uncle doesn’t say he’s wrong very often. Well, ever.”

“I’ve said that.”

Andie looked at him, exasperated. “When?”

Right offhand, he couldn’t think of an example, so he said to Alice, “I brought you something.”

“Books,” Alice said, and yawned again.

“No.” He opened his overnight bag and pulled out the soft, furry, long-eared, pear-shaped little bunny that had felt squashy in his hands when he’d picked it up after seeing it in a store window. He’d put it on her bed in Columbus so she’d have it when she moved in and then grabbed it on his way out the door with a vague idea that there should be gifts when he arrived. Kids liked gifts. “I thought since your name was Alice that you should have a white rabbit.”

“Huh?” Alice said, and then looked at the rabbit as he held it out to her.

“Alice in Wonderland?” he said and looked at Andie, who shook her head.

“She doesn’t know it,” she told him and then said to Alice, “There’s an Alice in a book who chases a white rabbit and has adventures.”

Alice looked at the rabbit, and North could tell she wanted it, but something kept her from reaching out.

Andie took it instead. “My God, this is a great rabbit.” She squeezed it, her strong hands holding it up in front of the little girl. “Alice, it’s squooshy. And really soft. And it’s smiling underneath its fur.”

Alice stuck her chin out, clearly trying to resist but watching the bunny anyway.

“And the tag says ‘Jellycat.’ Do you think that’s its name?”

“No. Its name is…” Alice frowned and then held out her hand. “Let me see.”

Andie gave the bunny back to North. “It’s from your uncle North.”

Alice looked exasperated. North held out the bunny to her, and she took it, knocking Jessica off onto the floor as she reached for it, her eyes widening as she held it up in front of her and felt how soft it was.

“What do you say for the nice gift?” Andie said.

“Thank you, Bad,” Alice said automatically, still staring at her bunny.

“You’re welcome,” North said, ignoring the “Bad” to watch her stare at the toy. Nobody he’d ever given a gift to had ever looked like that, all that unashamed naked wonder. Then Alice hugged the rabbit to her, and he felt his throat close in, completely blindsided by the little girl and her vulnerability. And he’d left her alone down here with a bunch of idiot nannies and some asshole who was faking ghosts to keep her there. “Bad Uncle” was exactly what he deserved.

“Good present,” Andie whispered beside him, and he remembered she was there, too.

He looked back at Alice, rocking the bunny, her cheek on its head, and cleared his throat. “What’s his name, Alice?”

“Her,” Alice said, frowning.

“Sorry. What’s her name?”

Alice pulled back to look at the bunny. “She has a pink nose. Her name is Rose Bunny.”

“Not Pinky?” Andie said.

“Pinky is not a real name,” Alice said sternly, and lay back down in her bed, Rose Bunny jammed under her chin.

“Good point,” North said. “Rose is a fine name.”

“Did you get Carter one?” Alice said, around a yawn.

“No, I got Carter something else.”

“What?”

“Colored pencils. In a case. Will he like that?”

Alice’s eyes closed as her lips curved in a smile that could break a heart. “Yes, he will.” She snuggled deeper in her bed, looking normal now, no trace of her hysterics left except for the smudges of her tears, now mostly rubbed off on her pillow.

“Good night, Alice,” Andie whispered. “Good night, Rose.”

“Good night, Andie,” Alice murmured back. “Good night, Bad.”

“Good night, Alice,” North said, and then when Andie nudged him, he added, “Good night, Rose,” and watched Alice smile, half asleep.

“You did good, Bad,” Andie whispered.

That’s a start, North thought. “You coming downstairs?”

“I need to stay with her,” Andie said, looking back at the sleeping little girl. “She’s not deep asleep yet. I don’t want her to wake up and be alone so soon after everything else. And there are… things that show up sometimes. I don’t want her alone.”

“Ghosts.”

She stuck her chin out. “Yes.”

He got up and went over and turned on the gas fireplace, checking to make sure it was safe before he turned back to her. “Your medium-”

“Isolde.”

“-Isolde said that ghosts don’t like fire. She said if you kept the fire going, the ghost wouldn’t come in the room.”

Andie shook her head. “Don’t gaslight me. You don’t believe in ghosts.”

“No, but you do, and your expert says that this fire will keep Alice safe.”

“And you think we’re nuts.”

“No,” North said, surprised to find that he didn’t. “I think something’s going on here. I called Gabe and left a message for him to come down tomorrow. We’re going to go over this place until we find out what’s really happening.”

“There really are ghosts.”

“Then we’ll find those, too. And when we’ve gotten rid of whatever the problem is, the kids will come back with us.”

“With us,” Andie said, doubt on her face.

“I’m not leaving without you,” he told her, surprising himself and her.

Andie blinked. “Wow. You’re serious. You realize that could be weeks?”

“Yes,” North said, thinking, Christ, I hope not. “I’m going downstairs to see what fresh hell has broken loose, but I’ll come back soon and check on you.”

Andie turned her face up to his and smiled, and he thought, Oh, hell, and fought the urge to bend down and kiss her.

He turned to go and then remembered. “Will wants to talk to you.”

“The hell with him,” Andie said. “I told him not to come down here, he pulls this crap with Alice, and now he wants to talk to me. I don’t think so.”

“I’ll let him know,” North said, and went downstairs feeling more cheerful than he’d thought possible since he’d heard Andie say, “There are ghosts.”

The party in the living room was in full swing when North walked in, although “full seethe” might have been the better term. Flo and Lydia had their heads together over in the corner, probably planning on killing Kelly O’Keefe and dumping her body in the moat. Lydia was generally sane but her sons were being threatened, and nothing North had learned about Flo in the year he’d been married to her daughter gave him any hope that she’d be a voice of reason.

Over on the couch, Southie was sitting between Isolde and an annoyed-looking middle-aged man with a jowly face. “Well, I think both ways of looking at this are good,” he said, and both the jowly guy and Isolde looked at him with contempt.

Meanwhile Kelly O’Keefe had her head bent close to Will, listening to every word he said. Her cameraman lurked behind her, looking equal parts angry and fed up.

It wasn’t a question of if something was going to go wrong, it was a question of which one of the time bombs gathered there was going to detonate first.

“North!” Southie called, desperation under his voice, and North went over to the couch. “You have to meet Dennis, the ghost expert I told you about.”