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line, but all the cops had been reassigned after six weeks. The case wasn’t closed, but it wasn’t anyone’s priority, either.
    Her phone rang again, and as she turned to answer it, she let out a little cry of surprise.
    And fear.
    Someone was there, watching her. A woman, transparent and ethereal.
    Oh, God, no! Not again.
    She’d fought so hard for her sanity. She’d thought she was finally done seeing people crying out to her for help—dead people—done with longing to help them when she couldn’t. After the massacre, she had seen images, dreams, ghosts, ectoplasm—whatever. She had seen them in hospitals; she had seen them on the streets. Strangers who had stared at her beseechingly and, even more terrifyingly, her own dead friends. She’d had therapy, lots and lots of therapy. But now she was regressing, seeing things again, no doubt because her world was changing. No, she told herself. She was stronger than that. She did not see things! Or if she did, then if she was strong, then they would fade away.
    Her throat constricted, her muscles tensed, and then she blinked and the image was gone. She laughed nervously at herself; she must have seen the drapes reflected in the mirror.
    She had stopped seeing ghosts long ago.
    They were nothing but remnants of the fear and trauma.
    A decade had passed, and she was fine. She was just imagining things because of Colleen.
    She still felt shaken.
    She left the window and went to stand over the phone, waiting for the answering machine to pick up. When she heard Victoria’s voice, she grabbed the receiver.
    “Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”
    “Are you ready?”
    “Am I ready for what?”
    “Third Sunday of the month. Meeting of the Fighting Pelicans.”
    “Oh. Yeah, of course. I’d forgotten all about it. You didn’t mention a word last night,” Chloe told her.
    “Last night. Well, last night was just weird,” Victoria said.
    “I’ll say.”
    “I’ll be by for you in twenty,” Victoria said.
    “All right.” Chloe hung up and headed straight for the shower.
    They had been meeting Brad and Jared at an old breakfast place out on the Rickenbacker Causeway since forever, when they had all attended a magnet high school for the arts out on Key Biscayne. They called themselves the Fighting Pelicans because even though their school had no sports teams, it had been overrun by pelicans, since it sat right on the water.
    Chloe showered and threw on a long casual halter dress, then headed down the stairs. She keyed in the code to open the gate in the fence that surrounded the property, and waited on the sidewalk for Victoria. She thought back to the ghost she’d thought she’d seen and gave herself a shake to banish the memory.
    She saw Victoria’s little Subaru sweep into the cul-de-sac and hurried out to meet her. As she slid into the front seat, she asked, “Are you sure Brad and Jared are showing up today? I’m not sure I’m ready to be awake, and they were still at the party, last night, when I left.”
    “What’s wrong with you?” Victoria asked her. “You look as if you’d seen a ghost.”
    It was just an expression, Chloe told herself. And here, inthe bright light of the sun, sitting next to Victoria, the memory seemed absolutely ridiculous.
    “I’m fine. So what do you think? Are they going to make it?”
    Victoria shrugged. “They were talking to Myra when I left, but it looked like they were getting ready to leave, so I imagine they’ll drag themselves out of bed.”
    “I like Myra,” Chloe said. “When you think about her position, it’s pretty amazing. She’s not cold or snobby or any of that.”
    “Yeah, but she can be hard as nails, too. You should see her when she’s negotiating,” Victoria said. “Watch out, that’s all I can say.”
    “Well, I know she was questioned intensely when Colleen Rodriguez disappeared, and the cops were impressed with her.”
    Victoria glanced over at her. “And you know this