Free Cold Summer Nights by Sean Thomas Fisher, Esmeralda Morin

rolled over onto her side and studied his profile. “You think I did it, don’t you?”
    “I don’t know what to think, but something crazy is going on.” His grandma, standing at the foot of his bed, flickered in front of him. Then she was gone.
    “I’m scared,” Summer said faintly, as if she had seen the same ghostly image.
    Nick turned to her. “Maybe we need to lay off the coffee before bed.”
    Her jaw dropped. “You do think it was me!”
    “Well it's either paranormal activity or somebody is sleepwalking.”
    She grunted and turned her back to him and just like that, he guessed the week night visits were finished.
    “We need to set up a camera with night vision.”
    She snorted. “Camera?”
    “To catch whatever is going on here. Plus, we could make our own movies.”
    She tried not to laugh but it slipped out anyway. “Are you ever serious?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.
    “And we will both be starring in a movie I like to call The Lucky Burglar ,” he said, pushing a hand across the air in front of them like he could see the theater marquee now.
    “What?” she said, cracking up.
    “I’m gonna need a black ski mask. And some rope.”
    She took a deep breath and turned to him with doe eyes. “If that’s the case, we should probably start rehearsing.” Her lips sinuously found his as her cold hand disappeared beneath the sheets.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
     
     
     
    The office was already bustling and Nick was late. He power walked to his office, keeping his head down as he passed the cubicle farm he was, thankfully, no longer a part of. A couple of rookie agents said good morning and he nodded without slowing. The door frame to his small office grew closer and he had to resist the urge to take a quick look around. At this point, he didn’t really care if Bill saw him or not, but preferred dodging his boss’ barbs today. Bill was an ex-military guy and punctuation was everything. If someone wanted to be a real ass kisser, they came in ten minutes early every day, loud and proud.
    Nick glanced at his watch and grimaced with his head still down, staring at the grey speckled carpet unfolding beneath his black dress shoes. Twelve minutes late, which, in Bill time, translated to twenty-two minutes late and counting. He turned into his office and released a pent-up breath, hurriedly setting his laptop on the desk. Now if he could just make it to the coat rack and back to the desk chair he was home free. His coat slipped off his shoulders into his hands, which swung it around and dropped it onto one of the big wooden hooks. Halfway back to the desk, he released another sigh of relief. Home free.
    “Did you have a good weekend, Nick?”
    Nick flinched, his heart beating sharply out of rhythm. He knew Bill had seen him jump and probably wasn’t satisfied with it. If his boss had his way around here, he’d be in Nick’s face spitting profanities and making him drop and give him twenty. Nick made it to the desk and sat down in the high back chair on wheels, looking up to see Bill leaning in the doorway with steam rising from a Morton Realty coffee cup in his hand. His large frame cast an enormous shadow into the room.
    “It was a long one,” Nick replied, trying to smile.
    Bill flicked his watch out from beneath his crisp white shirtsleeve and took a good look at the timepiece. “Bet it was,” he said, lifting his eyebrows and dropping his arm. “Bet you had a lot more going on than the rest of us who had all the time in the world to come back to work today on time, because we don’t have nearly the exiting life you do, so it’s understandable that you need preferential...treatment.”
    “Actually,” Nick started, clearing his throat. “My grandma died on Saturday.”
    Bill’s eyebrows dipped.
    “And things got a little…”
    “The one in the nursing home?” Bill asked, in a much softer tone.
    Nick nodded with thin lips.
    “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Nick.