The Departed

need to go to her. And my gut tells me if I find her anywhere, it will be at your house, where she was happiest.”
    His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Happy? Shows what you know about our life. We weren’t ever happy.” But he started the car.
    * * *
     
    HIS hands were shaking, Taylor realized.
    This was something he didn’t want to do. Not just because of Anna, though. Anna, his father…his mother. Fuck, his mother. Even after all this time, he was still pissed off at her. She’d spent plenty of her time quietly whoring around, damn near all of her life in the bottle. And after Anna died, instead of trying to be there for the family she had left, she fell completely into that bottle, and ended up taking her own life.
    If ever he was likely to force Dez to meet a ghost, it was when he took her into his house. And he didn’t want her to bear the brunt of his mother’s misery, damn it.
    The ten-minute drive seemed to pass in seconds. If he could have figured out a way to change her mind, he would have. But no words would come. Usually, arguing with people, talking them around into doing what he wanted, came easy—and when that didn’t work, he just bullied them into it.
    Of course, he’d never had that luck with Desiree Lincoln.
    Why would it change now?
    As he pulled in front of the graceful old manor, his gut was in knots. “I don’t want you here,” he bit off, still gripping the steering wheel. If he thought it would do any good, he would have just driven off.
    He knew better, though. She’d just find a way to come back. Even if she didn’t get inside. If she was going to make contact with anybody here, he didn’t want her doing it alone.
    She was quiet, sitting next to him and just waiting. He looked over at her and said again, “I don’t want you here. I don’t want you in there.”
    “I was in there before.” She stroked a finger across his mouth. “Nothing happened. Besides, it’s not like I don’t deal with ghosts. It’s what I do.”
    “But these are my ghosts.”
    “All the more reason you should want me there…so we can put them to rest.” She rolled to her knees and leaned over, kissed him gently. “Come on, Jones. It’s not like doing this is going to make things any worse.”
    He caught her neck when she would have pulled away. With a hard, quick kiss, he muttered, “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”
    “Hmm. You’re probably right.”
    Dez stroked his cheek, a habit she’d developed that somehow managed to make his heart stutter. Then again, what about her didn’t do that?
    “Okay.” He pulled away and stared through the windshield toward the manor, dread curdling through him. “Let’s get this done.”
    * * *
     
    THE silence of the huge house was almost suffocating. Dez could hear the soft thuds of her booted heels on the floor, the softer sound of Taylor’s footsteps, their breathing…nothing else.
    She couldn’t even hear the sound of a heater kicking on, water in the pipes. Nothing.
    Just silence.
    And emptiness. It was a complete emptiness, too. She hadn’t lowered her shields completely but they were down enough to let her get a good, solid feel of things. And there was nothing here to feel. Nothing.
    After he’d led her through the house in silence, she looked at him. “Where was Anna’s room?”
    He didn’t look at her. His right arm hung at his side, the cast a stark white. His left hand was jammed into his pocket and, judging by the way his veins were popped out on his arm, he had it clenched into a rigid fist. When he spoke, his lips barely moved. “You want to see her room.”
    She moved to stand in front of him. Staring at him, she wished she could just tell him, Okay, let’s go. We’ll just leave…
    But she couldn’t. Whether he wanted this or not, he deserved better. Anna deserved better. She had to try. If she didn’t succeed, then she didn’t succeed, but she had to try.
    “Want to?” She shrugged. Did she want to spend time inside the room of a child who’d died so terribly young? No. But she knew she probably needed to. “No. I don’t want to. But I think I should.”
    Taylor closed his eyes. His voice was gruff as he whispered, “Second floor. Anna’s room was on the second floor.”
    * * *
     
    IT still looked the same.
    Standing in the doorway, Taylor stared into the pretty white, pink, and gold bedroom that had been his sister’s. Yeah, it had been where she slept, but it had his mother’s