He waved the bartender over and ordered two beers. “I noticed you weren’t much of a Tom Collins girl.”

She winced. “That was disgusting. I’ve never met a mixed drink I like, with the exception of that Cosmo at my aunt’s place. That bartender is like a magician.”

The beer glasses were frosty, trails of foam sliding down the cold glass. Eddie made a toast. “Here’s to EBs everywhere, especially on Ormsby Island.”

They clinked glasses. Jessica downed half of her beer in one long gulp. “I was thirsty,” she said.

Eddie made a half-turn in his seat to face her. “So, what did you think of our hosts?”

She chuckled. “I think they could be not-too-distant cousins of the Addams Family.”

“With Paul as a fuzzy Uncle Fester,” Eddie laughed.

“I find it hard to believe he’s in any way related to Daphne. Maybe they have different fathers.”

“Or mothers.”

“Or that.” She finished her drink and ordered another. “On a more serious note, how many EBs did you see out there?”

He tipped his glass back, finishing his beer so he could keep up with her. “Too many to count.”

“How many EBs can possibly be on that island? It’s a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things.”

Eddie shook his head, recalling the wall of EBs at the dock, as well as the wispy children in the library. “I don’t know how, but they’re all there. I was so blown away, I couldn’t get a proper reading on a single one. It was like trying to zero-in on your favorite flame in the middle of a bonfire. I’m hoping I can focus a little better tomorrow.”

She clapped him hard on the back. “You passed the first test. You really didn’t read anything about the island?”

“No, you told me not to.”

“Exactly. I wanted you to go in there with a blank slate. The more you know, the better chance to color your take on things.”

“Do you know the history?” he asked.

“Some of it. That reminds me, I have to ask Swedey to get more intel for me.” She pulled her phone from her back pocket and started texting. She’d told Eddie about Swedey, her European web designer who was also a cyber P.I. on the side. Even though she never met the man, she trusted him implicitly. It was a difficult relationship to decipher.

“What are you asking him to look up?”

The tip of her tongue darted in and out of the side of her mouth as she typed. “I want him to see what he can get on Tobe, Daphne and Paul. That and anything else he can dig up about Maxwell Ormsby and the island itself.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me anything tonight,” Eddie said.

“Nope. We’ll see what comes to you tomorrow.”

“You want something to eat?”

“Hell yes. I’m frigging starving.”

Eddie reached over the bar, grabbing a couple of menus and knocking a few lime wedges to the ground. Luckily, the bartender didn’t notice.

“You know what I can’t get over?” he said, his face buried in the menu.

“The way the interior and exterior of the house don’t match at all?”

“That’s another thing—that and the pervasive chill that never seems to go away. No, what I’m talking about is how nice you’ve been to me through all of this. Last time we spoke, you told me to, and I quote, ‘stay the fuck away from me’. And now here we are in South Carolina having beers at a bar before heading off to an island for a week to deal with another person’s haunting issues. I know it can’t be the bleached hair that made this turnabout.”

She lowered her menu and he was sure she was going to hit him with it.

Why do you always push your luck with her?

“Let’s not discuss this now,” she said. “Things change. People change. I’m working on it.”

He slapped his menu down on the bar. “Works for me.” Catching the bartender’s attention, he said, “Can we place our order?”

She added, “Plus, I’m worried about those kids. I know what it’s like. If I can somehow shield them from the same crap I went through, it’ll be worth it.”

When the food came, he noticed how some things didn’t change at all. The heat of the day had knocked the appetite right out of him. He drove his fork into his Cobb salad, wishing he’d settled on beer for his meal.

Jessica’s appetite was as strong as ever. Her plate was filled with barbecued ribs, mashed potatoes, green beans, a side of pinto beans, two biscuits that were fluffier than a new pillow and slathered in butter, and a side bowl of cole slaw. She dove in like a woman at the end of a hunger strike.

“You’re a man’s dream dinner date,” he said.

“What do you mean?” The corners of her mouth were stained red from barbecue sauce.

“It means any guy who takes you out to dinner can enjoy the meal he really wants to eat and not the paltry one he thinks his date expects him to eat.”

She twirled a clean rib bone in the air. “Just doing what I can for equality among the sexes.”

Twenty minutes later, they were both done. Jessica patted her flat stomach. “I can only imagine how good the southern cooking is outside of a cookie cutter hotel. Too bad we’ll be stuck on an island this week. I didn’t get the impression that the Harpers have spent much time in the kitchen.” She checked her text messages and tucked the phone back into her pocket. “So, let’s get to the most important part. Tell me what you can about the kids. Are they really like me?”

The entire time he’d been in Ormsby House, he tried to cleave through the white noise of the horde of EBs, seeking what he called the psychic pulse of the children upstairs. He’d caught enough snatches to confirm the initial impression fed to him by the dead before he reconnected with Jessica.

He took in a deep breath. “From what I can tell, yes, they do have an innate ability to draw the dead to them. It’s nothing like yours, but they’re still kids. Adolescence will be the time when things really kick in. Teen years are a drag for more than just pimples and voice changes.”

Perfect, not perfect.

The voice was his own, but he had no idea why it had flitted into his head. He was suddenly aware that he hadn’t seen the weeping blond women, or the other dead that had been his constant companions since leaving his apartment. He’d heard them say it so many times, it had become a song that looped in his brain.

Jessica played with the ends of her hair. “Do you think their parents are aware of it?”

“It was impossible for me to tell. I’d hope not. What kind of parents would use their own children as bait?”

“There are shitty parents everywhere, Eddie. Right now, some kid is getting a cigarette burned into his arm or a beating with a belt buckle. Tobe and Daphne don’t seem like the type, but you never know.

“I need you to spend as much time with them as you can tomorrow,” she said. “We’re either going to make this place safe for them or convince Tobe and Daphne to get them the hell out of there. Every internal meter I have was going off when we were in that house. No doubt there’s something hanging around. We just need to find out who and why.”

Sighing, Eddie said, “It’ll be a lot of whos, I can tell you that much.”

They sat quietly for a while, both lost in their own thoughts.

Best to tell her now, Eddie thought. They were going to put themselves into the center of a storm in the morning. It was unfair to keep her in the dark about his problems.

“Jess, there’s something I need to tell you.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Looks like it’s serious.”

His stomach twittered with anxiety. “I’m broken.”

Jessica leaned back, staring at him with skeptical confusion. “What do you mean by broken?”

“I can’t shut them out. Ever since New Hampshire, I’ve steadily been losing control. For the past couple of years, the dead have been smothering me. Most times, it’s like living in the middle of the stock exchange. I can’t even get to sleep at night without a few drinks. When I touched that pedophile’s spirit—”