Free Speak of the Devil by Allison Leotta

picture used to be. Jack inhaled sharply and placed the album on his desk, now touching it only by the edges. He held up the copy of the photo that had been in Psycho’s pocket. Nina’s hairstyle and radiant smile in that photo were identical to those on the rest of the page.
    The photo Psycho was carrying had been taken from this wedding album. From Jack’s study. Anna shivered with the realization that someone had been in the house.
    Jack turned to Luisa. Very quietly, he asked. “Do you know how anyone could have gotten this picture from this album?”
    She shook her head. “No, Mr. Jack. I don’t know.”
    “You’re home all day. I trust you completely. But I need to know who you’ve allowed in the house, for any reason.”
    She looked scared. “No one. I mean, Olivia’s friends come over for playdates, and their parents or nannies pick them up. Once in a while, a friend of mine comes over, but they do not wander the house alone.”
    “Tell me about your friends.”
    She listed a few women’s names, none of which Anna recognized. Jack wrote the names down. He looked at the paper, then back up at the nanny. “What about Benicio?”
    Benicio was Luisa’s sixteen-year-old nephew, who occasionally came over with her.
    “Sure, Mr. Jack, you know Benicio stops by sometimes. But he did not take this picture from your album! Why would anyone even want it?”
    “That’s exactly my question.”
    “Okay.” The nanny looked frightened. “There—there is something I wanted to tell you for a while. But I don’t want you to laugh at me.”
    “What is it?”
    Luisa bit her lip and looked at his bookshelves. “Sometimes, things move around in this house.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Like . . . little knickknacks. They’ll be in a different spot in the afternoon than in the morning. Or the papers on your desk will be sitting a little different.”
    “How long has this been going on?”
    “A year or two? I’m not sure. At first, I thought it was just me, being forgetful. Or it was all in my head. Now—I think it’s something else.”
    “What?”
    “The ghost.” Luisa took a deep breath. “Nina’s ghost. I’m afraid she doesn’t want you to get remarried.”
    “Nina would have loved Anna. There’s no ghost,” Jack said. “There’s something worse.”

12
    Forty minutes later, two uniformed MPD officers walked around the perimeter of Jack’s house, checking for signs of forced entry. A crime-scene technician dusted the photo album for prints. Detective McGee spoke to Jack and Anna downstairs while Luisa took Olivia upstairs so the girl wouldn’t see all the officers in her house. The uniforms came back into the house, shrugging. “Nothing we could see.”
    “Check the basement,” McGee said.
    Jack stood in his study, too upset to sit. Anna stood next to him, her hand on his arm. She hoped her touch was soothing, although it didn’t seem to be. His muscles were as taut as piano strings. McGee perched against Jack’s desk, a notepad in his hand.
    “Do you know when the photo was removed from the house?” McGee asked.
    “No.”
    “When was the last time you looked at the album?”
    “I don’t know. It’s been a while, at least since I started dating Anna, probably longer. Could be two or three years.”
    “So, far as you know, this photo coulda been stolen three years ago?”
    “It’s possible.”
    “Anything else missing in the house?”
    “Not that I know of.”
    “Any things moved?”
    “My nanny says things get moved sometimes.” Jack shook his head. “She thinks there’s a ghost.”
    “Mm,” McGee jotted on his notepad. “How well do you know this nanny?”
    “She’s been with me since Nina died. She’s helped me raise Olivia. I trust her implicitly.”
    “Sometimes it’s the people you think you know . . .”
    “No.” Jack shook his head. “Not Luisa.”
    “Does she have family?” McGee persisted. “Friends? People who come over here, visit with