Free Requiem for the Dead by Kelly Meding

investigation ended with the apartment in Parkside East. We've never had any of these conversations."
    He shifted in the booth. "Well, technically I've never met Chalice Frost, have I?"
    "No, you haven't." Something felt off all of the sudden, and I couldn't figure out why. He was being too careful with his words, and that made me nervous. "But you have met someone who looks a hell of a lot like her."
    Milo stiffened. "Mentioned that fact to anyone lately?"
    Reilly didn't reply, and a cold wash of dread raised goose bumps on my arms and shoulders. He didn't look guilty, exactly, just way too serious. And he hadn't denied Milo's question.
    "When I was sixteen, my older sister Linda disappeared," Reilly finally said, about two seconds before I was apt to hit him. "She was a sophomore in college, smart and popular, but also prone to depression. There was no sign of a struggle, no suicide note, she simply left her dorm one night and was never seen again. Our parents went crazy with grief."
    I gripped the edge of the table, afraid I'd lash out physically at him as my sense of dread and anger grew. I saw the ending to this story coming, but could do nothing to change it. The activity of the diner dimmed into the background as his words became my whole world.
    "We never knew what happened to her," he continued. "To this day. Our parents died not knowing. Linda's the reason I became a cop, and she's the reason I find the answers other people can't."
    Mouth dry, I swallowed hard before my tongue worked. "You sympathize with the Frosts," I said.
    "Very much."
    "Have you spoken to them in the last twenty-four hours?"
    "I have."
    I shoved the business card into my pocket. "Move. Milo and I are leaving."
    "Ms. Stone—"
    "Now."
    "Evy," Milo said. He was looking over his shoulder, toward the front door of the diner.
    My mouth fell open. A few steps inside the door, Stephen and Lori Frost were clutching each other and glancing around with eager expressions.

Chapter Five
    7:15 am
    I sank down in the booth until the Frosts were out of my view, hopefully putting me out of theirs, and I resisted the urge to punch Reilly in the face for this little ambush. "Son of a bitch," I whispered. All the trust we'd been building between us these last few weeks crumbled.
    "I didn't tell them about you," Reilly said, lips barely moving. "I asked them to meet me here."
    I had to get out of there, but Reilly was in my way and slithering under the table like a child wasn't in my repertoire of tricks. I could use my Gift and teleport, but there was nowhere to go. No hiding places inside the coffee shop itself, and teleporting into the street was too dangerous. I could end up half inside someone's car. And Reilly didn't seem keen on providing a useful distraction.
    Shit!
    "What do you want to do?" Milo asked.
    "Chalice!"
    My stomach flopped to the floor. I remained hunched in the booth, at a complete loss as to what to say to the distraught parents bearing down on our table. In person, Lori Frost was an older, lighter-haired copy of her daughter, right down to a dark smattering of freckles on her nose and cheekbones. Next to her, Stephen was a thundercloud of anger and disbelief, and I had the oddest little-girl urge to hide under the table from his temper.
    Some small parts of Chalice had remained behind when I took full possession of her body—images and physical memories of her life. Most of it had faded in the last few months until only vague traces surfaced in my dreams. But looking at them here, standing front of me, I felt a strange warmth in my chest. A tug that I didn't understand.
    Lori hovered at the edge of the table like she was contemplating her ability to climb over Reilly and hug me, which made me extremely grateful to have Reilly as a buffer. She stared at me with leaking eyes, from my face down to—
    I shoved my hands into my lap, heart thudding against my ribs, hoping she hadn't noticed the fact that my left hand was missing its pinkie