Haunted in Death
breasts. “Good things, small packages.“
    “Oh yeah? Is that what I should say about your equipment?“
    “Insult upon insult.“ Laughing, he slid his hand around to her back to hold her more firmly in place. “You have a lot of apologizing to do.“
    “Then I guess I’d better get started.“
    She put some punch into the kiss, swinging around to straddle him. It would take some agility as well as vitality to pull off a serious apology in his desk chair, but she thought she was up to the job.
    He made her feel so many things, all of them vital and immediate. The hunger, the humor, the love, the lust. She could taste his heat for her, his greed for her as his mouth ravished hers. Her own body filled with that same heat and hunger as he tugged at her clothes.
    Here was his life – in this complicated woman. Not just the long, alluring length of her, but the mind and spirit inside the form. She could excite and frustrate, charm and annoy – and all there was of her somehow managed to fit against him, and make him complete.
    Now she surrounded him, shifting that body, using those quick hands, then taking him inside her with a long, low purr of satisfaction. They took each other, finished each other, and then the purr was a laughing groan.
    “I think that squares us,“ she managed.
    “You may even have some credit.“
    For a moment, she curled in, rested her head on his shoulder. “Ghosts probably can’t screw around in a desk chair.“
    “Unlikely.“
    “It’s tough being dead.“
    At eight-fifteen in the morning, Eve was in her office at Central scowling at the latest sweeper and EDD reports.
    “Nothing. They can’t find anything. No sign of electronic surveillance, holographic paraphernalia, audio, video. Zilch.“
    “Could be it’s telling you that you had a paranormal experience last night.“
    Eve spared one bland look for Peabody. “Paranormal my ass.“
    “Cases have been documented, Dallas.“
    “Fruitcakes have been documented, too. It’s going to be a family member. That’s where we push. That and whatever Hopkins may or may not have had in his possession that his killer wanted. Start with the family members. Let’s eliminate any with solid alibis. We’ll fan out from there.“
    She glanced at her desk as her ‘link beeped – again – and, scanning the readout, sneered. “Another reporter. We’re not feeding the hounds on this one until so ordered. Screen all your incomings. If you get cornered, straight no comment, investigation is active and ongoing. Period.“
    “Got that. Dallas, what was it like last night? Skin-crawly or wow?“
    Eve started to snap, then blew out a breath. “Skin-crawly, then annoying that some jerk had played with me and made my skin crawl for a minute.“
    “But kind of frigid, too, right? Ghost of Bobbie Bray serenading you.“
    “If I believed it was the ghost of anyone, I’d say it was feeling more pissy than entertaining. What someone wants us to think is we’re not welcome at Number Twelve. Trying to scare us off. I’ve got Feeney’s notes on the report from EDD. He says a couple of his boys heard singing. Another swears he felt something pat his ass. Same sort of deal from the sweepers. Mass hysteria.“
    “Digging in, I found out two of the previous owners tried exorcisms. Hired priests, psychics, parapsychologists, that kind of deal. Nothing worked.“
    “Gee, mumbo didn’t get rid of the jumbo? Why doesn’t that surprise me? Get on the ‘link, start checking alibis.“
    Eve took her share, eliminated two, and ended up tagging Serenity Massey’s daughter in the woman’s Scottsdale home.
    “It’s not even seven in the morning.“
    “I’m sorry, Ms. Sawyer.“
    “Not even seven,“ the woman said testily, “and I’ve already had three calls from reporters, and another from the head nurse at my mother’s care center. Do you know a reporter tried to get to her? She has severe dementia – can barely remember me when I go see her –

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