Page 1 of Jasmine Street Blues

1

Summer had moved into Seawolf Beach with a vengeance. It brought brutal sunshine, wicked storms, and tourists. Lots and lots of tourists. The days grew longer in more ways than one, filled with July heat, the occasional storm, and more excitement than was normal for the Police Chief of this small town. Then again, what qualified as excitement here was worlds away from his years as a detective in New Orleans.

At least the madness of the 4th of July was past. Barely, but that was usually the worst of it.

Mac walked into Hart’s Vinyl Depot with his eyes on the coffee bar. A pregnant Anna Hart manned that station, a smile on her face as she served lemonade to a couple of tourists, an older man and a woman who was probably the wife. They had the look long-time couples often did, as if they’d started to morph into one being. From short gray hair to sensible tennis shoes, they were a matched set. Anna looked his way and offered a sweet, low, “Hey, Mac.”

He returned the greeting, wondering if newlyweds Colt and Anna would ever look and act like a matched set. That was tough to picture. They were opposites in so many ways. Anna was blond and cute and friendly. Colt would look ridiculous as a blond, and he could be prickly, at times. At least, he had been before getting with his new wife.

And then there was the big difference. Colt saw ghosts; Anna didn’t.

Instead of walking straight to the coffee, as he’d intended, Mac headed to the checkout desk where Colt was finishing up with a customer who seemed thrilled to have found some record or another. When Colt saw him, he handed counter duties over to Helen, an older woman who’d been working here for years, and nodded toward the back room.

After a short hesitation Mac followed. Ever since the wedding, he’d looked at this old depot in a different way. He hadn’t believed his friend last year when Colt had confessed that he saw ghosts, but on his wedding day everyone had seen them. Including Mac.

Since then he’d been wary of walking into the storage area at the back of the depot. The space was dim, the walls and floor old and creaky, and there were cardboard boxes everywhere. The smell of old paper and ancient wood made for an eerie perfume, of sorts. What might be lurking in one of the many dark corners? If he was a ghost, this is where he’d spend his day.

He didn’t want to linger here, so he got right to the point. “Have you seen her?”

Friend or not, Colt refused to call a spirit to him for any reason, no matter how insistent the request. He wasn’t sure that would work, anyway, but since he wouldn’t even try they’d never know. He’d said he’d keep an eye out. That was all he could — or would — do.

Colt shook his head. “No, sorry. Things in the ghost department have been pretty quiet around here lately, which suits me just fine. I don’t know exactly what happened at the wedding, but I’m calling it an anomaly so I can leave it behind. For all I know the increased activity sucked some of the ghost-friendly energy out of the place.”

“You’d like that.”

“I would,” Colt admitted. “I wish I had more to tell you, I do, but maybe it’s time for you to…”

“Give it up?” Mac interrupted. They’d had this discussion a few times, so he knew how it was going to go.

Colt sighed, glanced over his shoulder then back to Mac. “It’s been almost four months. If your ex-wife’s ghost was going to come back to the depot I would’ve seen her by now. She’s either near the site where she passed, or she’s where she’s supposed to be.”

“Heaven,” Mac scoffed.

“Call it whatever you want, there is a place where the spirits are at peace, and as I have told you before, I won’t try to pull any one of them out of it. Not even for you.”

For years Mac had kept his pre-Seawolf Beach life private. Not just private, secret. His life before he’d come here was nobody’s business but his own. His ex-wife, his stepdaughter, his mistakes, they were his and his alone, and he saw no reason to share.

He stood near the entrance to the storage area, ready to make a hasty escape.“Confess. If this was some kind of elaborate trick to make sure everyone remembered your wedding, just tell me. I don’t know how it could be done, but you’re a smart guy.” It was a joke, and also a wish. Colt would have no idea what Kylie looked like or how she sounded, no matter how much smoke and mirrors he might call upon. Mac could wish what had happened that day had been a trick, a con. If only he could fool himself into accepting that scenario. It would be better than reality.

Ghosts. Ghosts everywhere.

Colt only looked a little insulted. “Do you really think I would do that to you, or to anyone else? Even if I could?”

The resident Seawolf Beach ghost whisperer was many things, but he wasn’t cruel. “I’m just looking for answers. She needs what?” Kylie’s ghost had asked him to find their girl. Kylie’s daughter, Mac’s stepdaughter, the little girl who’d grown into a troubled young woman before she’d disappeared. Carrie would soon be twenty-one.

As a law enforcement officer Mac had all the resources required at his fingertips, so why the hell couldn’t he find her?

Colt looked as if he understood, but did he? “I wish I knew. I do wish I could help.”

“Telling me to give up isn’t helpful,” Mac grumbled.

“Sorry. If I thought there was a way I’d be right there with you, but you’ve been looking for this girl for five years without any luck. You’ve done everything you could, I know it.”

“I haven’t done enough.” The story of his life…

“You know, I expected my life would blow up after the secret came out, but it didn’t. Not at all. A surprising number of the wedding guests accepted what they saw. They aren’t weirded out that I see ghosts all the time. Others explained away what happened by blaming mass hysteria and overly active imaginations.”

Mac glared at his friend. “I don’t have an imagination.”