Free 44: Book Six by Jools Sinclair Page A

retiring. Just getting out on the road with his bike and never coming back. Nothing is keeping him here.”
    “Yeah, yeah,” Jesse said. “He’s had that plan since I was a kid helping him in that old garage. He loves that place.”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “He seemed sincere about it. Not like he was just making small talk.”
    “Well, tell him I say to go,” he said. “It’s not like any of us have all the time in the world. If nothing else, I’m a good reminder of that.”
    I wondered if Jesse saw something, if he knew things, but I let it go. He started spinning the ball on his finger, the way he always used to do when we were in high school. After a minute, I tried grabbing it, but he kept it going, and just lifted it above his head and I had no chance.
    “Anyway, it’s good to go after your dreams,” he said. “There’s probably a lesson for you in there somewhere. Or not.”
    “Deep,” I said, knocking into his ghostly body and sending him off balance. He lost control of the ball and I picked it up and secured it firmly under my arm. We stopped at the bridge under the large tree with the bare branches reaching up toward the sky. Two ducks landed on the thin sheet of ice covering the river.
    “So I hear you’re heading back up to the mountain,” he said.
    “Where did you hear that?”
    “I have my sources.”
    I wondered if the ghost world was populated by dead Davids, phantoms with big mouths sitting around spilling the latest gossip to anyone who would listen.
    “You can’t read my mind, can you?” I said. “Because I think it’s only fair to warn me, so I can stop thinking bad things about you.”
    He laughed.
    “I don’t think so,” he said. “Anyway, remember to take your time and hook your boots in right. You were always lazy about that. Remember when your board flew off that time and you kept going?”
    “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, remembering the incident vividly. I had hit a bump, sending the board in one direction while I careened down the slope before flipping head first into the snow.
    We crossed the bridge and turned left, toward the concrete amphitheater.
    “So, what do you think about the visions?” I asked.
    I had filled him in when we first met. He told me he needed to think about it.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t seen any of these things you’ve described, Craigers. But now that I know about them, I’ll look into it. You say it’s over at Tin Pan Alley, where the murder is going to take place?”
    “Yeah. At least I’m pretty sure it’s a murder. It doesn’t feel like an accident.”
    “Well, you should know what an accident feels like.”
    I didn’t understand how he could joke about it. But that was Jesse. He didn’t take too many things seriously. Not even death.
    “But don’t you think that’s weird. Seeing something that might happen?”
    “Hey, five years ago I wouldn’t have thought this was possible. Me dead and still walking around talking to you. So, yeah, I think so. Just roll with it and do your best. Try to help but remember to protect yourself. I don’t sense any darkness around you like other times. But you should have a talisman just the same.”
    “A what?”
    “You know, a small something that you carry around that helps protect you. Something that you wear all the time. Like a photo of me.” He smiled. “Well, that couldn’t hurt. But, no, you know, like Native Americans do. A lot of cultures have those kinds of things. It’s an extra layer of protection. Look into it.”
    I nodded.
    “All right,” I said.
    “Because I think this, Craigers. I think this is what you’re supposed to do. I don’t like it, but it’s bigger than both of us. I think when people come to you for help, even in visions, even as ghosts, you are tied to them somehow. I’m not saying to help every ghost you pass on the street. But the things that show up in your visions are important.