Killing Me Softly. Maggie Shayne

      Her hair was still long. Still its natural shade of dark honey and amber gold, perhaps with a few lighter high lights, no doubt thanks to the California sun. But her face had changed. Grown thinner. Her cheekbones were more prominent than before, which might be partly because she was older now, but he thought it might also be that she’d lost weight. Hell, she was so damn thin. And the tender skin underneath her eyes seemed pink and puffy. As if she’d been crying.

      Over him?

      Hell, who was he kidding?

      He wondered, briefly, what she was seeing as she stared at him. What changes was she noticing? He imagined he’d changed quite a bit, too, in the course of five years.

      Finally she said, “Hey, Bryan. How are you holding up?”

      Just like that. As if there wasn’t a week-long conversation that should happen before that casual hello. He shrugged. “Damned if I know. I don’t think it’s all had a chance to sink in yet, to tell you the truth.” He moved toward her, but not too close, just enough to reach out and take the suitcase from her hand. “How about you?” he asked. “You look…tired.”

      “Gee, thanks.”

      He shrugged, not overly concerned that he’d sort of insulted her just then. Hell, she’d done worse to him, hadn’t she?

      “It was a long flight,” Beth said quickly. “Naturally she’s tired.”

      Bryan could see the worried looks passing between Beth and Josh from the corner of his eye, though he couldn’t really take his eyes off Dawn. “You’ve lost weight,” he said.

      “That doesn’t sound like a compliment, either,” she replied.

      “It wasn’t.” He sighed and lowered his head, turning toward the stairs. “You didn’t need to come, you know. There’s not a damn thing you can do.”

      “Hey, don’t think I didn’t try that argument, Bry. Beth didn’t buy it, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I’m here. Deal with it.”

      He was halfway up the stairs when he replied, “I’ve got enough to deal with already, thanks.” He finished climbing the stairs, avoiding the muttering going on behind him. The three of them discussing his mental state, no doubt. Then he was out of range, at last. He headed down the hall to the room Beth had chosen for Dawn and set her suitcase just inside the door. Then he kept going, to the next room, his room, and once inside, he closed the door, sat on his bed and lowered his head to his hands. Damn, damn, damn. He hadn’t wanted to snap at her. He’d wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hold her, just hold her, for a long, long time. He’d wanted to feel her right there, against him, warm and alive, more than just a memory.

      Which made it even more irritating that she, apparently, had no such sentimental notions about him.

      “I’m sorry,” Dawn said. “I should have—maybe I—”

      Beth hushed her. “You two have a lot to talk about, to work through. It’s high time, Dawn. It’s past time. Adults do not just stop communicating with people they care about. They talk it out.”

      Dawn pressed her lips together more tightly to avoid saying anything that might sound rude, since several snotty rejoinders were knocking against her teeth in an effort to escape.

      Josh closed a hand on her shoulder. “He was glad to see you, hon. I realize it didn’t seem that way to you, but I know him better than anyone else in the world. He was glad to see you, and more than that, he needs you. He needs you more than he needs anything or anyone right now. So I’m asking you to swallow your pride and be there for him.”

      She nodded, not believing a word of it. It would have been nice to believe it, but it just didn’t make any sense. Bryan hated her. And she couldn’t blame him, because he had every reason to hate her. That made sense. But she didn’t argue with Josh. She just said, “I’ll try my best.”

      “Good.” He smiled. “I think I jumped ahead a little, though.” And then he hugged her. “Welcome home, Dawn.”

      “Thanks, Josh.” She relaxed and hugged him back. “Thanks. It’s good to be back.”

      “It is?” he asked.

      She smiled at him and shrugged. “Well, it might be too soon to tell. But it feels good at the moment.”

      Beth said, “It does my heart good to hear that.”

      Dawn felt bad. Her lack of enthusiasm had probably hurt her mother’s feelings, and that wasn’t what she’d intended. “I think I’ll go on upstairs,” she said. “I’d like to take a shower, freshen up before dinner. It was a long flight.”

      “Food’ll be on the table in an hour.”

      “All right.” Dawn hugged her mother. “Thanks for picking me up.”

      “Thanks for coming. Just take it slow, okay? Just take it nice and slow.”

      Dawn nodded, unsure what it was her mom wanted her to take so slowly, but not wanting to open the can of worms she thought lay behind that comment. So she headed up the stairs, but slowly. With every step she took, she half expected to see some shady, vaporous apparition, or to hear some disembodied voice. Most of all, she expected to encounter her long-dead father, demanding that she accept her “gift.” Her “calling,” as he’d referred to it.

      She hadn’t seen or spoken to a dead person since she’d spent her first night in San Bernadino. Maybe that was due to the Ativan she’d been prescribed by the first doctor she’d trusted with the truth. Or maybe it was something to do with the distance, as little sense as that made. She only knew she didn’t want to come back here and face the ghosts again. She didn’t want the damn gift that had become so twisted and corrupt it had rotted her father’s mind, turning him into a murderer who honestly believed he was doing God’s will when he killed.

      She didn’t want any of it.

      She entered her room and stood there, just inside the open door, looking around but seeing nothing. No ghosts. “If I hear even one peep, see even one misty shape in the night, I’m out of here. I hope you’re getting that.”

      “Loud and clear.”

      She nearly jumped right out of her skin as she spun around to see Bryan leaning against the door frame. One hand on her chest, she closed her eyes slowly and willed her heart to slow down.

      “Sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a heart attack.”

      She took a deep breath. “It’s okay. Come on in, Bry.”

      “You sure?”

      She nodded and stepped aside to give him room to pass. He walked in, looked around the bedroom. “You, uh, you alone in here?”

      She smiled. “Yeah, I’m alone.” Bryan had been matter-of-fact about her “abilities” ever since she’d first told him about them. He hadn’t doubted her. Hadn’t thought she was crazy. Hadn’t been all weirded out about it. It had barely fazed him, except that he worried about her. And in return, she’d walked out and left him a note that really didn’t say a damn thing.

      “So, uh, no ghosts in California, huh?”

      “Not for me, at least. I haven’t…heard from any of them since I first got there.”

      “Why do you suppose that is?”

      She lowered her head, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know. Distance. Medication. Vodka, when the other two aren’t enough.”

      When she glanced up again, he was frowning, studying her face and probably getting ready to comment on her methods of ghost-dodging. But he seemed to change his mind. “And now that you’re back?” he asked.

      “Nothing yet. I hope to God there won’t be.”

      He nodded, sighed heavily. “You told Beth it wasn’t me you were