“He only left because of Erin,” he said, once we were back in the car. “If he thinks she’s gone, even temporarily, he’ll go back. At least to let them know he’s okay. Trust me.” He signaled to turn on to the highway.

I made a face. “Maybe.” I wasn’t convinced that we knew Edmund half as well as Will thought we did. But then again, not much of this situation made sense to me, so what did I know?

I flipped through the pages we’d printed, looking for the article on Erin’s death again. “How weird is it that he can only see one ghost?” I asked, more to myself than to Will, but he answered anyway.

“On a scale of one to ten? Fifteen.” He shook his head. The Dodge started to tremble as he pushed it to its maximum speed, which was still less than the legal limit on the highway. “I think it has to do with the twin thing.”

“What, some kind of psychic twin connection or something?” I asked, trying not to scoff. I was, after all, a spirit communicating with him based on a similar sort of premise.

“Maybe.” Will hesitated. “I don’t think he’s really a ghost-talker, at least not in the way we understand it. He said that Erin doesn’t have physicality around him. She can’t touch him.”

“That is so weird.” I shivered. I didn’t like her. And not only because she was hella powerful and a bully. She was operating outside the principles that I knew guided our little shared space between the living and the dead. Did. Not. Like. It made me feel unsettled. “The Order never mentioned anything like this?” Will’s near conversion was still a bit of a sore spot with me.

“No,” he said, his mouth tight.

“Really? Because I would have thought they’d be all over this, recruiting twins so they could kill one off and—”

“If you recall, I only spent about twenty-four hours in their favor. I didn’t exactly have time for the full initiation and tour.”

Huh. Perhaps I was not the only one feeling a bit sensitive about that whole ordeal. Or maybe Will was thinking how having them as an ally—which we didn’t—would have been pretty useful right about now. Up to a point, like the one in which they would probably let Lily die and box both me andErin.

Whatever. I shrugged and returned to browsing our printouts. I finally located the page I was looking for at the bottom of the stack, behind our MapQuest directions.

It wasn’t her official obituary—that was a different page. This was the blurb that had appeared in the Peoria Journal Star’s Web site archives with details about her accident. I’d read it once over Will’s shoulder but wanted to review it again. According to the article, Erin had been at a spring break–themed Halloween party at a fraternity at ISU. She’d had too much to drink and had tumbled off the roof of a porch in the middle of—dear God—a limbo contest. Apparently, any other day she might have walked away with a few scrapes and bruises—the porch wasn’t that high up—but the frat brothers had just laid paving stones to make a walkway in the yard, right where she fell.

In reading it again, I was struck once more by how…ordinary, albeit sad, Erin Harris’s death had been. Aside from the limbo part. That was just kind of ironic, I suppose. Death by limbo and you end up in limbo?

I suppose not all of us can be so fortunate as to have a bus provide us with a dramatic exit from the living world. Ha-ha. But aside from her being a twin, nothing about Erin’s demise had been particularly surprising. That, in combination with the fact that she didn’t seem to have any specific unfinished business to address, was…odd. I grant you that most spirits with sudden access to a body will take advantage of the opportunity to live wild and free. But that she had been aiming for that even before she got hold of Lily? I wouldn’t have thought that was a strong enough reason for her to be stuck here. I mean, who doesn’t wish they had more time alive? Who wouldn’t wish to have a few more days of Krispy Kremes and shopping? But if that was the only requirement, this in-between place would be a lot more crowded.

No, we had to be missing something.

“Was there anything else Edmund said about—” I began.

Will’s phone rang, and we both jumped.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, Will leaned back to reach into his pocket for his phone, and I felt the teeniest return of lust, despite everything that was going on. He looked in control and lean and strong… Hello.

The sensation wasn’t nearly as powerful as it had been when I’d been Ally, but it was enough to make me wish Will and I were on better terms and not in such a hurry. I mean, if these were my last hours, why not make them fun, at least?

He glanced up from his phone, and some of what I was thinking must have shown on my face. He hesitated, faint color rising in his cheeks, and said, “It’s my mom.”

And there went that moment.…“Don’t answer it,” I warned. “She’s probably—”

He ignored me, clicking the speakerphone button. “Mom?”

“—talked to Mrs. Turner,” I said with a sigh.

“Will, where are you?” Will’s mom sounded like she was in full panic mode, in a way I hadn’t heard since first meeting—well, seeing—her a few months ago.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Is Lily Turner with you?” Her voice was tight with worry.

“I told you,” I said in a singsong voice.

He glared at me.

I shrugged.

“No,” he said to his mom.

“Do you know where she is? Corine Taylor seems to think you do.” I heard her breath catch, as if she were close to tears. “William, she’s talking about trying to get the police to issue an AMBER Alert. Lily’s underage, and with her medical issues…”

Will shot me an alarmed look. “Mom, she’s not with me. I did give her a ride this morning, but she asked to be let out about a block away from Misty Evans’s house. I have no idea where she is now.” A succinct description of our problem, if nothing else.

Will’s mom took a deep breath. “Okay, I knew there had to be an explanation. Just come home and we’ll talk to Corine.”

Oh.In spite of myself, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of intrigue. I turned to face Will. Now, this is going to be interesting.Not just in an academic sense but also in a making-the-wrong-choice-here-could-really-screw-us kind of way. Will rarely, if ever, defied his mother. He dodged, he avoided, he fibbed—but out-and-out refused? No way. Back when I first started talking to him, a few days after I’d died, he’d almost let himself end up in a mental institution because he wanted to avoid outing himself as a ghost-talker to his mother and upsetting her.

Which, in my opinion, was crazier than talking to dead people ever could be.

So which would win out? His super-over-the-top loyalty to his mother or his responsibility as a ghost-talker?

I resisted the urge to hum the theme from Jeopardy!A) because it wasn’t really appropriate, and B) because I already knew the answer. His mom always came first. I couldn’t blame him, no matter how much it frustrated me at times. After his dad killed himself, they’d had only each other.

Will’s head sagged for a second before he straightened up and took a deep breath. “Mom, I’m sorry. I can’t.”

My mouth fell open, and I swear, I got chills. He’d actually done it. He’d told his mom no. Somewhere along the line, Will Killian had grown a mother-proof spine.

“I’m in the middle of something important right now,” he continued, “and I can’t walk away.” The determined set of his jaw spoke volumes. He wasn’t backing down on this one. Color me stunned.

On the other end of the phone, his mother seemed as flabbergasted as I was. “Will…I don’t…You need to understand. This is serious.”

“I know. And I do understand,” he said. “But I have to do this.”

“Honey—” she began.

“Tell Mrs. Turner to call the police. That’s fine. Lily is not with me, and they should be looking for her.” He looked to me for confirmation, and I shrugged. At least if they caught her and brought her home, we would eventually find out about it and be able to try to fix this. Maybe. Of course, in the meantime, Erin would wreak havoc within the Turner household, the very idea of which made me flinch. Blah. There was no good solution here.