Page 106 of Ghost Hunted

I scroll through his messages, each more asinine than the other, until I find the information that interests me.

Damien: I found the social worker’s address. I drove out there. Literally drove back six hours to that little dump of a town where the Solaros got chopped up.

Logan: Okay, and?!

Damien: Dead-end. Well, I did find some signs that a girl had been living with her. Typical teenage girl shit: some clothes lying on the ground, dirty dishes…

Logan: Nothing else? How the hell can a girl just disappear in thin air like that?

Damien: Must be genetic.

Logan: Damien!

Damien: Anyway, trying to figure out where she went. Who knew an idiot social worker could be so good with the disappearing act? Though maybe she didn’t actually disappear. It’s just those stupid police officers and their sealed documents… why the fuck would that shit be sealed? And why am I not able to get it unsealed? It’s like they don’t know who I am. It’s like they’re answering to new assholes. I told you, man. People are really thinking the Puicin Gang are more important than Devil, these days. Fuck me.

I skim the essay Damien just typed out, getting increasingly impatient at his whining.

Logan: Stop being such a little bitch. Anyway, we don’t even know if she’s really my daughter.

Damien: True. But I took some of those disgusting dirty dishes, so we’ll find out soon. Up for some sleuthing, Logan, as your other daughter would say? At least one of your girls will talk to you lol.

I grit my teeth at his last sentence because, of course, Piper—or rather, Quill—very much won’t talk to me. But at least I know she’s safe in Oregon. I’ll have time to deal with that situation once I’ve resolved the rest of this clusterfuck.

I look up at Lia, her head resting on the pillow, her curly hair forming a halo around her pale face.

God, she’s so beautiful. I really am a special kind of monster for treating her the way I do.

I don’t want to leave. But how can I allow someone else to find my daughter? It’s my responsibility.

And Lia did ask me to go…

My chest tight, I stand up slowly and turn away from my ghost girl.

My hand is on the door handle when I hear the sheets rustle behind me.

“Logan? Where are you going?”

I turn back around. “I’m leaving, Lia. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t answer, so I insist. “That’s what you wanted—no?”

I slowly walk back, staring at the tangle of wires that lead from her arms to the machine. A cold sort of dread fills my stomach. “Why aren’t you answering me? That is what you wanted. Right, Lia? You remember me… don’t you?”

She turns big, glassy eyes at me.

“Tell me you didn’t forget. Tell me, Lia.” I squeeze her hands. “What’s my name?”

She startles when my hands go from squeezing to crushing. “Ow, sorry. No. Please! Logan, please!”

Huffing out a sigh of relief, I press her to me, breathing in the feel of her trembling body in my arms.

“Logan… ow.”

“Sorry, Lia. Sorry, baby.” I pull her away from me, kicking myself internally when I remember the neck brace. “I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to help hurting you, can I?”

She lifts her lips into a tiny smile. “I guess I’m used to it.”

I stare at her, trying to make sense of the way she wants me gone one minute, then seems to change her mind the next. “Do you remember telling me to leave, Lia?”