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“She doesn’t know him,” Chase said. “When she does, she’ll see.”
Steve shrugged. “For Della’s sake, I hope you’re right.”
As the guy walked out, Chase said, “Thank you.”
Steve kept walking but Chase heard his words. “You’re welcome. But I still don’t like your ass.”
* * *
“Perry feels terrible,” Miranda told Della as she dropped down on Della’s bed. Della had come back from Chase’s to read the DA’s file over and over. Hoping to find something that would help get her father off. Miranda’s footsteps on the porch had woken her from a dead sleep—only to face the dead.
Della could feel the fingers of cold getting closer.
“Did his cousin tell Burnett anything?” Della asked, looking around and hoping she was wrong.
“Perry said that Burnett hadn’t finished talking to him. He was called away on another case.”
Della tried to pay attention to the witch, but it was hard. She could hear Mrs. Chi in the living room. Here, kitty, kitty.
Socks came hauling butt into the room and jumped onto the bed.
“What’s wrong?” Miranda asked the cat and picked her up.
“Be careful,” Della warned. “She has sharp claws.”
“Don’t make her feel bad,” Miranda said. “She only scratched you because the dog was here.”
“Yeah,” Della said. “But she obviously doesn’t like ghosts either.”
Miranda’s hazel eyes widened. “Is there a ghost … here? Now?”
Della wanted to lie, for Miranda’s sake, but she saw the girl shiver. From the cold as well as fear, so she nodded.
“Oh, crap.” Miranda put the cat down.
Kitty. Kitty. Mrs. Chi’s voice echoed again. The eeriness of it caused fear to tiptoe down Della’s spine.
“Is it your aunt?” Miranda asked, and the witch’s breath sent a wisp of fog.
A thud sounded from the living room.
Socks flew off the mattress, hit the wall with a thump, twisted midair, then scrambled under Della’s bed.
If Della hadn’t been embarrassed, she’d have followed the cat.
Another thud sounded and Della turned her gaze to the door just as a bloody basketball rolled into the room.
Then Mrs. Chi appeared, looking lost and pathetic. Guilt chased away Della’s sense of fear. She’d been so worried about Chase and the DA’s file, she’d put her elderly neighbor out of her mind.
Mrs. Chi’s sad gaze met Della’s. Where’s Chester?
“That’s not Chester.”
“Who’s Chester,” Miranda asked.
“A cat,” Della answered, but didn’t take her eyes or heart away from Mrs. Chi.
“Your ghost is a cat?” Miranda hugged herself from the cold. “This is getting freakier and freakier.”
