Today was trench digging day by the water’s edge. The idea was to carve a downward sloping canal from the water to a big rock embedded in the earth. Once they got the water to the rock, they would build waterways around it and beyond. When it was long enough, they could race leaves or paper boats or, in a pinch, even-sized twigs.

The dirt was damp and soft and easy to dig through. At one point, Alice came across an old canvas sneaker. Brushing the filth away, she read the logo aloud. “Jason, what are Pro Keds?”

He looked at the sneaker. “I don’t know. I guess it’s a kind of shoe old people used to wear.” He tossed it into the water. Treasure found, treasure lost.

After an hour, they’d made very good progress. They would have been further along if Jason hadn’t insisted on making the canal so deep. Alice’s arms were getting tired.

“Time out,” she called, dropping the rusted trowel she’d found behind the house and resting against the rock that came up to her hip. “I need to rest my arm.”

Jason remained on his knees, digging furiously. “You’re such a girl.”

“You’re such a girl,” she said, too tired to get into a proper row. Water from the harbor ran over Jason’s hands as he reached in deep for another scoop of earth. He pulled up a struggling worm.

“Look Alice, breakfast.” He hung it over his open mouth. She knew he’d never eat it. She just hoped he was too engrossed in canal building to chase her around with it.

“I wish we had bigger shovels,” she said.

“I looked everywhere. We’re lucky we have these.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. If you don’t believe me, go look for yourself.”

Jason had never been very good at finding things. He was too quick to give up the search, even for things he really wanted. There was always another place to go, another thing to see. She bet he barely looked in the dilapidated shed beyond the patio. It smelled like gasoline and old oil and something rotten. She didn’t like the shed, but if it had a decent shovel, it would be worth a look.

“I will,” she said.

“Bring back two if you find any,” he said, eyes fixed to the task at hand.

Alice pushed off from the rock, turned and stopped.

Were those fireflies?

But it was late in the morning. Fireflies didn’t come out until night. Dozens of tiny floating lights danced in the air.

“Jason,” Alice said.

“What?”

“Look.”

“Look at what?”

“Just come over here.”

With a heavy sigh, he dropped his trowel in the water.

One of his muddy hands gripped her shoulder.

“Alice, what are they?”

“I…I thought they were fireflies.”

They studied the pinpricks of light as they winked on and off.

Jason said, “They look like eyes.”

The lights made tight, agitated swirls. He was right. If she stared real hard, she thought she could see pupils. It was hard to be sure because they kept disappearing and reappearing.

“They can’t be eyes. Eyes don’t float around without heads and bodies,” Alice said.

“I know that. I’m just saying what I think they look like.”

She held out a hand, wondering if they would come closer.

The soundless lights crept closer, keeping a short distance from her hand. Pretty soon, the lights were all around them.

“It’s so pretty,” Alice said.

“Shh,” Jason said.

“Why?”

“Do you hear voices?”

As the lights drew nearer, Alice thought she did hear voices—faraway voices, like a conversation heard from the deck of a departing ship.

What are they saying?

They listened as hard as they could, still marveling at the cocoon of light being spun around them.

Chapter Nine

Eddie stayed in the guestroom that night. Sitting on the bed, trying to immerse himself in Craig Johnson’s latest Longmire mystery novel, he spotted a pale figure flit past the open doorway. It was late and he could hear Jessica snoring across the hall. Liam was in his room listening to music on his headphones, a dull, static buzz bleeding into the hallway.

He put the book down, leaning forward to see who it was. He watched the wispy woman pad down the hall silently, the curls at the end of her hair bobbing with each step. She wore a nightgown that ended just above her knee.

The woman walked down the hall, through the door leading to Eve’s room, the master bedroom. Although she’d never revealed her face and he had no way of knowing what she looked like, he knew who the mysterious woman had to be.

Jessica’s mother.

He waited, ready for her to come to him like metal filings to a magnet. Once souls detected his presence, knowing he could see and hear them, they always came. Whether it was to ask him to pass on a message, scream at him for interrupting them, ask him questions or just talk, they came.

She didn’t.

It was like watching a video playback, a well-worn recording of something she did time and time again when she was alive; the simple act of changing and going to bed. Did he just witness the motions of her last night of life, the final moments before she lay down to sleep, never to wake up?

I have to tell Jessica.

His bare feet touched the carpet, and he paused.

What if I’m wrong? And what good will it do? She was mad at me before when I lost contact with her father. Where did you go, John Backman? Are you here too? Can you see your wife, or are you on separate planes?

Eddie considered using the meditative method he’d been taught at The Rhine Research Center to locate Jessica’s father in the endless transom that was the afterlife. It had worked remarkably well years earlier, bonding them to the point where John Backman was able to guide Eddie to find his daughter and help her when she needed it most. Maybe being in the place where he planted the seeds of his family would strengthen his signal.

Don’t interfere.

I’ll only upset her. The last thing she needs before this trip is to be upset.

He pulled his legs back onto the bed, waiting for the woman to reemerge from Eve’s bedroom.

He wondered how Eve would react if she knew she was sharing the room with Jessica’s mother. Would it bring her comfort, or fear?

Best to keep it to yourself.

There were no other phantom visitors. In fact, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen any all day, ever since Jessica had picked him up.

He used to be so certain of his abilities; the head of the class who had the world on a string. Now, nothing made much sense.

Maybe, just maybe, he needed Jessica more than she needed him.

“Nah,” he said, picking up the Longmire book. He gave the door a slight nudge with his mind, shutting out the hallway.

“Let me pay you for the ticket,” Eddie said as they pulled into JFK Airport’s long-term parking lot.

“They cost like nothing,” Jessica said. “It’s no big deal, even if it was first class to Australia.”

“I just don’t want people to think I’m a kept man,” he said with a wide grin.

“You can pay me back by carrying my bag.”

The skies were overcast and the air smelled damp with oncoming rain. She hoped it wouldn’t delay the flight to Charlotte.

Taking the Air Train to the terminal, Eddie said, “It feels kind of weird, us heading out to help a family with their ghost—I mean EB problem.”

She stared out the window, watching cars come and go, walkways teeming with people dragging suitcases around.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Right back into the fire. But Eddie said there were kids. Kids who may have the same strange ability as me, only they’re too young to understand.

The entire process from parking the car to getting on the plane was a stark reminder why she preferred to drive everywhere. Flying was for the criminally insane.