But this place, this time, was different on every order. When she opened herself to the spirits, they not only came, they did so with unreal force. They didn’t whisper snippets. They practically shouted at her. She would have to remember to encircle herself with a protective light next time she came out. She wasn’t entirely sure all the spirits that descended upon her like ravenous lions had good intentions. There was evil here, and she didn’t want it following her when she walked out the door.

Tonight, she’d had a very specific task to perform, and the spirits had come through in spades. Or more like clubs that had done a number on her gray matter. Her head was pounding.

Who needs the NSA? If I can find a way to harness this energy outside this house, I can make a fortune working for private snooping agencies.

She wanted to be out of here and back in her hotel so she could rest. There was just no way a person like her could get a moment’s peace out here.

Every molecule in the air around her was alive, a dark insistence that scratched and clawed like a cat begging to be let inside. It was so damn draining.

“If you’re right—” the man started.

“When I’m proven right, you have the details to wire my next deposit.”

His lips curved into a smile that fell quite far from his eyes. “Very well. I’ll have Paul take you back.”

As anxious as she was to leave, she forced herself to take her time, leisurely walking through the sparsely furnished house. She didn’t want them to think she was the least bit…perturbed.

Even though there were several other people in this house, a place with no carpets and old, wood flooring, the mansion was as silent as death itself. Such a strange house. It looked like something from a haunted amusement park on the outside, yet the interior was impeccable.

There was a lot riding on this. More than she suspected her hosts had even considered.

Nina wasn’t about to make a single move that could screw it up.

Jessica surprised herself by crying when she said goodbye to Angela at the security line. For her part, Angela wiped her own tears away and tried to diffuse the sadness by saying, “Build your little house, then get your ass home for a while, you hear me?”

They hugged fiercely.

“I hear you,” Jessica said into her friend’s neck, her tears rolling down to her collarbone. She hadn’t told her on the drive about her call to Eddie. No need to spoil a perfectly good parting.

Angela pulled back a bit so they could be face-to-face. “You better not be lying, because I’m going to need your help.”

Jessica sniffed, rubbing a tear away with the back of her hand. “Oh yeah, help with what?”

Breaking into an enormous grin, Angela said, “I’m pregnant.”

The news hit her like ten car pile-up. Her brain short-circuited, refusing to send words down to her mouth.

“Boarding for flight three fifteen to New York. All rows, please proceed to the gate.”

“Sean Peters is the father, he knows and is thrilled, as are all our parents, and the wedding will be three months after the baby is born because I don’t want to be a fattie in a wedding dress.” The words tumbled from Angela as fast as an auctioneer as she struggled to slip her bag over her shoulder. “You need to come home and put those newfound skills to work building a crib and help me plan my wedding since you’ll be the maid of honor.”

Jessica croaked, “You wait until now to tell me?”

Angela pinched her cheek. “Now if you want to hear the rest, you have to get your ass to Long Island. It’s called a tease. We’re women. We created the art form. Now, tell me you love me and wish me a safe flight.”

She couldn’t help but giggle with excitement. “I love you and have a safe flight. Oh my God, I’m going to be an aunt…sort of.”

“And not a wandering one, either.”

Angela blew her a kiss and hustled to the security line.

Did that just happen?

Feeling like she was in a dream, Jessica walked to the big viewing window and stayed there until the plane pulled away, headed for the runway. Her face muscles cramped from the smile that hadn’t left her lips since Angela spilled the news. She walked against the throng of people heading to vacations and business trips and overdue visits home. Passing a store window, she spied a tiny green and yellow Green Bay Packers T shirt. She went inside and bought it, along with a Packers onesie, pink I Love Wisconsin footie pajama set, three teddy bears and two rattles.

She had to cover her bases, at least until she knew the sex of the baby. Unless it was twins, a boy and a girl!

It was hard to remember the last time she felt this happy.

I’m going to be an aunt. I’m going to be a maid of honor.

The frenetic pace of the airport couldn’t penetrate her cocoon of sudden bliss. It took some searching to find her car in the short-term parking lot. Her mind was on other things.

Does Aunt Eve already know? Angela only lives four doors away. She has to know. Is that why she’s been so desperate to get in touch with me? Why have I been such a loser, doing everything I can to avoid her?

Time to grow up, Aunt Jessica. Wow, that sounds weird. Wonder what it sounds like if I say it.

“Aunt Jessica. No, wait, Auntie Jess.”

Still weird.

Her Jeep wove in and out of traffic as her mind prepared a list of things she’d need to get and do. It was staggering.

Sean Peters. He and Angela had been dating off and on for a year. Well, it sounded like things were definitely on now.

As she pulled into the hotel parking lot, her cell phone blasted AC/DC for an incoming call from an unlisted number. She’d hoped it was Eve.

“Hello.” She cut the engine.

“Is this Jessica Backman?” The woman’s voice at the other end sounded reticent, with a touch of an indefinable accent. Hell, she was in such a good mood, she’d even be nice to the lady. She tried to guess the coming sales pitch.

“Yes this is Aunt Jessica Backman.”

“You don’t know me, but I believe you’re the only one that can help.”

Jessica’s cloud nine burst into gray particles, plummeting to earth in a death spiral.

Chapter Six

Eddie was nervous. He had the same queasy stomach, rubber knees and dry mouth that had bedeviled him the day he asked Carly Dolan to the eighth grade dance. The theme was shore leave. He’d been such a wreck, trying to summon the courage to ask Carly with the curly strawberry hair and red freckles, he wished he were an imaginary sailor lost at sea, days of pulling into port the stuff of memories.

He survived that, along with her curt rejection, and he’d survive this. Doing so without barfing was still up in the air.

Sitting on the stoop of the sprawling, aged Victorian house, he scuffled down a step to get a full blast of sun on his face. It was good to get out of his third floor apartment. Birds twittered, their tiny claws scratching the aluminum gutters overhead. A pair of squirrels chased each other around the massive oak tree in the front yard.

So idyllic.

What only he could see were the dozen or so spirits gathered around the oak, soundlessly glaring at him. He was tired of telling them to leave him alone in his mind and worried that if he said it aloud, someone passing by would think he’d lost his marbles.

One-two-three-four-five men, all of them in pretty good shape except for that obvious car wreck dude. One-two-three-four women, that one in the poodle skirt exceptionally attractive (you have lost your mind!). Aaaand, stop, I don’t want to know how many kids.

Of course, the perfect women were there as well, standing in the driveway, eyes black as coal, desperation emanating from them like heat off blacktop.