Free Ghost Killer by Robin D. Owens

up-and-up, that’s
     for sure.”
    Shaking his head, Zach said, “Tough job. Sorry you have to do it.”
    “That’s the work.” His gaze went to Zach’s cane, then away as a man walked with even
     more authority toward them. “Can I help you?” he asked in a peremptory tone.
    Zach toughened his own stance into one that said he’d been on the job. The guy’s eyes
     narrowed, he dipped his head. He was a couple of inches taller than Zach and thinner
     and younger. “Or do you think you can help me.” Not a question.
    Zach figured talking about an evil ghost would get him nowhere. “Sorry to interrupt
     your work, Sheriff,” Zach said, offering his hand. “Zach Slade, in town for a while.”
    “Mason Pais. You’ll be here how long?” The man’s grip was firm, the shake was short.
     His fingers felt a little cool.
    Zach didn’t say he’d be there as long as it took. “A week maybe.”
    “Enjoy Creede,” the sheriff said, dismissing him.
    “Thanks, I will. I’ll leave you to it. My lady and I can check out the Bachelor Loop
     tomorrow.”
    “Have a good stay,” Linscomb added.
    “We’ll do that.” He gave them a half-salute, and walked back to Clare, swinging into
     the old cop stride, no matter that it tired his leg.
    He figured either Linscomb or Pais would check him out, maybe before he and Clare
     got to the LuCettes.
    Zach sure as hell hoped he didn’t see any more sets of four crows, but he doubted
     that hope would come true.
    He told Clare briefly what had happened, but made it evident that he wanted to think
     about the situation and discuss it later. He got the impression that she did, too.
     He reversed to the last large turnaround spot, then drove back into town.
    The LuCettes’ motel was a medium-sized U-shaped building of dark wood that had been
     treated to withstand the mountain elements. What looked to be a small swimming pool
     behind a fenced area had been covered for the season. A boy sat swinging in a little
     playground, watching their car as they pulled into the sparsely populated parking
     lot.
    Zach heard Clare catch her breath. “Caden.”
    “Looks like.”

SEVEN

    ZACH PARKED AND they exited the car. He took the time to stretch the kinks out. The boy stopped swinging
     and came to the edge of the grass. He squinted at Clare, glanced at Zach sideways.
     Without looking at the kid, Zach bent down and massaged his left calf and ankle, adjusted
     the brace a little. When he straightened, the boy was staring at Clare and taking
     small steps toward her. Definitely Caden. Cute kid with something of Mrs. Flinton’s
     bone structure he’d have to grow into.
    Clare said, “Mrs. Flinton sent me.”
    Caden bulleted into her, hugging her tight. Clare’s hands fluttered, she held the
     boy for a moment, then crouched.
    “Gram sent you. She
did
! And you’re like me, aren’t you?”
    “I’m a ghost seer,” Clare said so quietly that Zach could barely hear her. “And, yes,
     I’m here to help you.” Though she put force into the words, Zach caught the edge of
     doubt, hoped the kid didn’t.
    Caden gulped. “You won’t let it come after me? Won’t let it eat me?”
    “Absolutely not.”
    With a sigh, the boy stepped back.
    Zach caught a movement through the window of the motel check-in, and said, “Let’s
     keep who we are quiet. Tell your parents if they ask. And, yeah, we’ll help you. We
     have a ghost-killing knife.”
    As expected, the boy came around to greet Zach. “Can I see it?”
    “Caden?” The door opened and a short, curvy, blond woman came out.
    “Hi, Mom!” Caden’s cheer sounded forced to Zach. “Our new guests are here.”
    “I see that.”
    Clare turned to the woman and held out her hand with one of her professional smiles
     on her face. “Clare Cermak.” She tilted her head in Zach’s direction. “My partner,
     Zach Slade. We have reservations.”
    The word
partner
had zinged to him, actually to his dick. Clare might mean it in a