Chapter 11 · The Ghost Knows Her Name

The crash ghost is still in my shop.

I don't know why I notice him now. Maybe because Leah's gone and the place feels too empty. Maybe because Ink won't shut up about the red slots on my wrist. The ghost is sitting at the corner table, the one under the broken light I never fix. He's got his head down like he's reading something that isn't there.

"You see that?" I ask Ink.

Ink's perched on the espresso machine, one eye on the ghost, one on me. "The fake crash victim? Yeah. He's not leaving."

"He should've dissolved by now." Leah's illusion was cheap work. No soul anchor, no memory core. Ghosts like that fall apart in an hour.

But this one's been here three hours and he's getting sharper. I can see the brand on his jacket now. Some courier company logo. His hands are on the table and they're not flickering anymore.

"That's not normal," Ink says.

"No kidding."

I'm about to go over there when Vera walks through the front door. Walks. Not floats. She does that when she's trying to look alive.