Page 41 of Ghosted

“Yes.”

“That’s ugly wording.”

“Ugly or not, it’s accurate wording.”

“Come on, Alice. You didn’t really think you were the only one allowed to do research, did you?”

Her eyes narrow. “Research?”

“Mm-hmm.” I nod toward her camera. “You study people. I study people. Yours just comes with a little strap and college credit.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“No?” My smile widens. “You point that thing at strangers when they don’t know what you’re looking for, then take pieces of them home and call it art.”

Her mouth tightens.

Good.

“I read patterns,” I continue. “Where people go. What doors they take. What they reach for when someone gets too close. What they pretend not to care about.” My gaze drops pointedly to her hand still near the camera. “You, for example, are very protective of your work.”

“You’re researching me.”

“Look at that.” I press a hand to my chest. “Pretty and quick.”

“That’s stalking.”

“Stalking sounds desperate.”

“It is.”

“Then it can’t be what I’m doing.”

Her brow lifts. “Because you’re not desperate?”

“Because I’m having fun.”

She studies me like she wants to decide I’m joking and can’t quite manage it. Smart girl. I am joking. I’m also not. That’s where people usually get lost. They want the bad thing to announce itself properly. Stop smiling. Lower its voice. Make the threat easy to point at later.

I prefer plausible deniability.

I pull out the chair across from her and sit. Alice stares at me like I just put my feet on the table and asked for a bedtime story.

“I didn’t invite you,” she says.

“I know.”

“So leave.”

“In a minute.”

Her expression tightens. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

“Good. I hate those.”

She exhales through her nose and glances toward the stairs. Nobody is coming down. The upper floors are probably full of students pretending to study while refreshing their phones and flirting badly. Down here, it’s just us, the shelves, the dust covered books, and the dead body diagrams Alice apparently considers a good time.

I take my cigarette pack out of my jacket.