The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3 by Paula Lester (best ereader for comics .txt) 📗

a harried look on his face. His clothes and hair were rumpled.

Over his shoulder, Chet hovered.

Tessa could see glimpses of books on the shelves behind him through his half-transparent body. He glared at Tessa, shaking his spirit head from side to side. “I’m not ready.”

She opened her mouth to reply but snapped it shut fast. Chet could speak without the others hearing him because they couldn’t see spirits. But they’d hear her answer him clear as a bell—and think she was crazy.

Instead, she shot a quick glance back at the ghost before tearing her eyes away from him to focus on the live people in the room.

“Honey, this is the woman from the life insurance company and . . .” Mary shot a quizzical look at Silas.

“Her partner,” he drawled, grinning. “Silas St. Onge.”

Mark gave them a weary look. For a moment, recognition flitted across his face. “I’ve met so many people the past few days. I could swear you worked up at my dad’s apartment complex.”

“My, uh, my brother does.”

Silas wasn’t as good a liar as he’d claimed.

Mark shook his head. “Whatever. Nice to meet you. What can I help you with?”

Tessa itched to leap forward, open a way to the other side, and drag Chet Sanborn through it. But then she looked at his face. The glare was gone and in its place was an expression that looked almost begging. “Not yet. I’m not ready,” he repeated, but this time, it sounded like a plea.

“Mr. Sanborn, I just need to get some information from you. As you can probably understand, your father’s life insurance disbursement to you isn’t valid if . . . well, if you killed him.”

Mark nodded as if he expected this line of questioning.

“Can you please explain why you were released from jail?” Tessa couldn’t keep her eyes from flitting to Chet periodically. She didn’t trust the spirit to stay put.

“He didn’t kill me,” Chet argued.

“Shh!” Tessa admonished.

Mark looked confused. “What?”

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I, um, have some ear ringing that bothers me sometimes. Please . . . go ahead.” She ignored Silas’s gaze on her.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to ask the cops?” He shook his head. “They cross-checked my cell phone records and location stamps against my digital time clock at work. It proved I was at the office when Dad died—just like I told them.” He ran a hand over his face. Exhaustion radiated from him like heat waves from concrete in the summer.

“Told you so,” Chet sneered.

Tessa pressed her lips together and forced herself not to glare at her mark. “Thanks for the information, Mark. And you’d be willing to sign something attesting to that once we have the lawyers draw it up, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You have to give me a little more time,” Chet pleaded. “I have to make sure my son understands that I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

Everyone looked at her, bewildered expressions on every face.

“I mean, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Sanborn. I don’t think I had enough coffee this morning.” She laughed nervously.

Mark nodded. “I get that. And it’s no sweat. I don’t mind signing whatever I need to. At least I’m getting something back from the guy who had the nerve to steal from his own son.”

“Your dad stole from you?” Silas sounded shocked.

“That’s why I’m sorry,” Chet whispered.

Mark nodded. “He gave me a Hank Aaron rookie card when I was a kid. It was my most prized possession. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I thought it meant something—I thought it meant my dad loved me.”

“I do love you,” Chet said.

“Then, when he ran into some trouble with gambling debts, he stole it while he was over here eating my wife’s famous lasagna.” Mark’s face twisted in disgust. “I guess he didn’t love me after all. Or at least, he loved gambling more.”

“I didn’t realize he knew I’d taken it.” Chet sounded miserable. “I never meant for him to know.”

“I’m sure your dad was sorry about that,” Tessa tried to help things along.

“I’m sorry about everything. Not just stealing the card but being a horrible father most of his life. I always thought the way to show him I loved him was to make lots of money and leave it to him. So he wouldn’t have to work the way I did. But it turned out he would have rather had me spend time with him.” He hung his ghostly head. “I returned the card. It’s here—in the armoire.”

Tessa’s mind raced. How could she get Mark to find the card without revealing she could talk to spirits? She cleared her throat. “Your father took out an insurance policy on that card in your name. If it’s not here in your home, then we’ll need to file a report.” Her heart pounded as she fought to keep from biting her lip. Silas was watching her carefully. Funny how overwhelming the urge was to nibble on it.

Mark’s head jerked up. “It’s not here. I checked a week ago.”

“Maybe you should check again. Just in case? If it is missing, I’ll need to draw up the paperwork.” Tessa held her breath. It looked like Chet’s spirit was holding his too, though she was the one who needed oxygen.

Mary moved to the armoire in the corner, opening one side. She dug around for a minute and then pulled out a cardboard box. “This is where your cards are, right, honey?”

“Yeah. But the rookie card isn’t in there.”

Mark squirmed in his seat and reached for the box. He pulled off the cover and gasped.

“Seriously? It’s here. I don’t believe it.” He pulled out the card and set it on the desk. It was in a plastic protective case. Attached to the underside of the case, there was a sticky note. Mark scanned it. When he looked up, his eyes were filled with tears. “It’s from Dad. It says he’s sorry.” He handed the note to his wife and wiped his eyes.

“Well, I’m glad you found it.” Tessa turned