Free The Lingering Dead by J. N. Duncan Page B

here.”
    Jackie closed her eyes for a moment and then turned back toward the diner. “Great. Nearly die, lose my job, fly hundreds of miles away, and we still run into the fucker.”
    Cynthia held the door open to the diner for her. “It was a hundred years ago. Surely it can’t be related to what’s going on now.”
    Jackie marched past her and into the diner. “Don’t bet on it.”

Chapter 7
    The coffee, somewhere between FBI swill and Nick’s decadent mud, soothed the tense knot in Jackie’s stomach. It still boggled her mind that they had somehow picked a case in a town where Drake had been. It could be nothing at all, but dozens of ghosts and a vampire who took pleasure in creating them did not seem coincidental to her at all, even if it was one hundred years ago.
    Shelby, the little wench, had pushed herself into the booth next to Cynthia, leaving the empty space next to Jackie as the only spot for Nick to sit. He had slipped in without a word and artfully kept his body from touching hers, though it did not matter. Even inches away, it felt to Jackie as though he was pressing up against her.
    â€œSo,” Shelby said, leaning against Cynthia and sipping her water, “what’s the agenda, boss?”
    How the hell was she supposed to know that? “I was hoping you had some bright ideas. I can get Hauser to dig up some info about this place, find out if anything out of the ordinary has gone on here. Maybe we can have a word with the local law enforcement.”
    â€œGet the law out of your head, babe,” she replied. “If you’ve got a place with ghosts, what are you going to hear?”
    Hear? Of course. “Ghost stories. This place should have a million of them. Speaking of which, where did Laur go?”
    â€œShe went poking around to see if she could talk to any of them,” Shelby said.
    â€œThat will be our best source,” Nick added. “Those that have been here a long time may not remember much of anything, but any recently dead should remember what happened.”
    The waitress, a forty-something woman with her hair pulled up and pinned with a pen, stopped by to refill Nick’s and Jackie’s coffees. “More ghosthunters, eh?”
    Jackie sat up straight. “We’re not ...” She took a deep breath. “We heard there were an unusual number of, um, hauntings in this area.”
    The waitress snorted. “You and every other freak with an EMF meter.”
    â€œLook, Miss—” Jackie clenched her fists. She was not about to get labeled as a group of circus clowns trying to prove the existence of ghosts.
    â€œMa’am,” Nick said with his charming half-smile. His hand rested on Jackie’s thigh, patting it a couple of times in warning. “We’re not here to run tests for paranormal activity. We already know there are ghosts here. We’re researchers. We’re here to find out why.”
    â€œOh!” Her terse face relaxed into a smile, not entirely friendly. “Well, I’ll give you a sound piece of local advice then.” She leaned over and topped off Nick’s coffee. “It’s wise to leave the Thatcher’s Mill curse alone.”
    â€œMolly!” The balding, bearded cook yelled out at them from the grill. “Quit your infernal blabbing. They don’t want to listen to your BS.”
    Molly frowned and whipped her head around. “Curse ain’t no bullshit, Tucker! Just advising the good folk here to do what’s best for them.”
    â€œLook like they can take care of themselves, woman. Take their damn order and leave them alone.”
    â€œSorry,” Molly said, shaking her head. “Old prick’s in a mood today. You all looking for some lunch or just sipping coffee while you figure out where to find your ghosts?”
    â€œAlready found them,” Jackie said, giving her best fake smile. “I’ll take a