Ghostfinders 01 - Ghost of a Chance

victims, who end up as ghosts. That’s why we do this.”
    “This is an unusually strong manifestation,” said Happy. “Try talking to her, JC. See if she’ll answer you.”
    “What’s her name?” said JC. “Do we at least have a name for her?”
    “Kim Sterling,” said Melody.
    JC moved in close beside the ghost, and she turned her head slowly to look at him with her lost, dreamy eyes.
    “Kim,” said JC. “Kim, what are you doing here?”
    “I’m an actress,” she said, in a warm sweet contralto voice. “On my way to an audition. It’s a good part, come right out of the blue; and I have a good feeling about it. This could be my big break, at last. I could really shine, in a role like this. I wish the train would come. It feels like I’ve been standing here for ages.”
    JC didn’t have the heart to tell her that the train would never come, for her. Kim smiled at him suddenly.
    “Do I know you? You look nice. Kind.”
    “I try to be,” said JC. “But it’s not always easy. I’m here to help.”
    “That’s nice,” said Kim. “But I don’t need any help. I’m fine.” She looked directly at him, and some of the dreaminess went out of her eyes. “Except . . . I have this feeling, that there’s somewhere else I ought to be.”
    “Yes,” said JC.
    “I feel so cold . . . and alone . . .”
    “You’re not alone any more,” said JC. “I’m here. We’re all here, to help you. I’m JC.”
    “I’m Kim. I shouldn’t be here, should I?”
    “No.”
    “Why are you crying, JC?”
    He hadn’t realised he was.
    “Are those tears for me, JC? No-one ever shed a tear for me before. No-one ever cared that much. I’ve been so alone since I came to London, despite all the people . . . I wish I’d met you before, JC.”
    “Yes,” he said. “I wish I’d met you before, Kim.”
    She reached out a hand to him to wipe away the tears on his cheek. But her fingers were already transparent by the time they reached his face; and when he put up a hand to hold hers, his fingers passed right through her ghostly hand. Kim Sterling faded slowly away and was gone, and JC was left standing alone on the edge of the platform, reaching out to no-one. And then Kim reappeared, standing at the end of the platform, next to the tunnel-mouth from which the hell train had appeared. She looked entreatingly at JC, then faded away again. JC turned savagely to Happy and Melody.
    “That’s it! She’s the key, the focal point, the start of this haunting! Solve her murder, and we solve this case.”
    “Slow down, slow down,” said Melody. “We don’t know anything of the sort. Yes, her murder might be the instigating factor, but . . .”
    “But nothing. Grab what you need; we’re going after her.”
    “Are you sure about this, JC?” said Happy. “I could feel what you were feeling. And this is very definitely not the time to fall for a pretty face.”
    JC glared at Happy. “Stay out of my head!”
    “It’s not my fault! In my current, well-medicated state, it’s like you’re shouting the whole contents of your head at the top of your voice, and I do wish you wouldn’t.”
    “She’s the key,” JC said stubbornly. “And we are going after her. Right now.”
    “Going where?” said Melody.
    “We follow her! She’s leading us somewhere.”
    “I’m not leaving my machines here, unguarded!” said Melody. “Anything might happen to them!”
    “Your machines can look after themselves; you’ve said so often enough,” said JC. “We have to go now; we can’t risk losing her!”
    “It’ll all end in tears,” said Happy. But as usual, no-one was listening to him.
    JC was already off and running down the platform, heading towards where he’d last seen the ghost. Happy and Melody looked at each other, shrugged pretty much in unison, and went chasing after JC and the ghost of Kim Sterling.

    The three ghost finders ran full tilt through Oxford Circus Station, chasing the ghost as she receded endlessly before them, appearing and disappearing and reappearing. JC led the way, pursuing Kim down the endless white-tiled corridors, dashing in and out of low-arched entrances and exits, onto station platforms and off again; and still she hung on the air before him, drawing him on like some ghostly will-o’-the-wisp. Sometimes she was directly ahead of him, so close he could almost reach out and touch her, sometimes so far ahead she was only a pale figure in the distance. She wasn’t moving of her own