Love, Like Ghosts: A Bay City Paranormal Investigations Story

to know Theo as well. He liked Theo a lot, but he didn’t feel comfortable with anyone other than Chelsea being privy to his relationship problems.
If they even were real problems and not just figments of his imagination. Which remained to be determined.
“Nothing much.” Chelsea took Theo’s hand and wound their fingers together. “So what’s up? I thought you had your improvisational theater class right now.”
“Yeah, but Leander had an emergency, so she canceled for today.” Theo traced the bones in the back of Chelsea’s hand with his thumb as if they fascinated him. “I was thinking if you’re done studying for now, we could go get a coffee or something.” He looked up and grinned at Adrian. “You can come too, if you want. No offense or anything, man, but you look like you could use some caffeine.”
Adrian let out a grim laugh. “No offense taken. I am tired.” He glanced at his watch. Plenty of time for a cup of coffee before he was supposed to meet Greg. On the other hand, he’d been meaning to search through the library’s UNC yearbook archives ever since he learned they existed a few days ago. This would be the perfect time to do that. “Thanks, but I think I’ll have to pass. I’m meeting Greg at the dining hall at six, and I need to get some things done before then.”
“It’s cool.” Theo nudged Chelsea’s leg with his foot. “What about it, Bugaloo? Coffee?”
“Yeah, okay.” Leaning over, she pecked him on the lips, then pried his hand off hers and stuffed her laptop into her green and yellow bag. She stood and slung the bag over her shoulder. “See you later, Adrian.”
“Tell Gregorio hi,” Theo added, pushing to his feet. He wound an arm around Chelsea’s shoulders. Adrian chuckled. “I’ll tell Greg you said hello. See you both later.”
They strolled off with their heads together, whispering. Adrian watched them with a smile on his face. They seemed like an odd match—rational, level-headed Chelsea and Theo who seemed to live in a bubble of his own personal reality—but it worked.
Kind of like Greg and me.
If they still worked.
The possibility that they might not made Adrian feel cold and sick.
Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, Adrian opened his laptop and went to the UNC library website. A quick search took him to a free digital archive of UNC yearbooks dating back to the late eighteen hundreds. He found the nineteen-oh-five yearbook, downloaded a copy and settled down to search through the document for any students with the first name of Cassius.
It seemed like such an obvious piece of research, he could’ve kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. Adrian blamed overwork and fatigue, since it hadn’t even occurred to him to search Lyndon Groome’s fellow students for the mysterious Cassius until halfway through Christmas Break. As soon as he and Greg returned from Mobile, Adrian had made a trip to the registrar’s office to try and find out if any students with the first name Cassius had attended UNC in nineteen-oh-five. He’d learned that student records weren’t available to the public, but an acquaintance on work-study there had told him about the online yearbook archives. Adrian had made up his mind to search the nineteen-oh-five yearbook at the first opportunity. If Cassius had been a student here, hopefully Adrian would be able to learn more about him, which might eventually lead to information useful to solving the mystery of Lyndon’s death. If Cassius hadn’t attended UNC, well, that knowledge could be helpful in its own right.
Cassius turned out to be a surprisingly popular name at Chapel Hill in that particular year. Adrian eventually found eleven students with that name—five seniors, two juniors, and four freshmen. Not one of them matched the picture in his head, however. He also discovered a faculty member among the ranks of the Cassiuses—Dr. Hilliard, a professor of divinity. That one gave Adrian a moment’s serious thought, remembering the vivid mental picture of the cross on the wall over Lyndon’s lover’s bed. But Dr. Hilliard, though young and dark-haired in the old photo, proved on closer study to have dark eyes, not light. He also possessed a crooked, angular jaw and a nose that looked to have been broken at some point. Definitely not the man whose image still haunted Adrian’s dreams.
With a deep sigh, Adrian stretched his arms over his head and arched his back against the chair’s cushions. Vertebrae