The Departed

later and nothing he did could block them out.
    Why weren’t you watching her?
    Elsa—he was at school .
    Taylor closed his eyes, resting his hands on the cool wrought-iron balcony, staring out of the family estate. Fuck, he hated this place. He should just sell it. Not that it would sell easily.
    Never mind the fact that it was one big-ass piece of land, with a big-ass house. Never mind the fact that the real estate market was still struggling out in these parts. Never mind that it was in the middle of nowhere.
    But he couldn’t sell the manor—couldn’t walk away.
    His dad hadn’t been able to, either. He’d stayed here, searching for Anna, waiting and hoping, until he just withered away after Taylor went to college. It was like he’d held on just long enough to make sure his one remaining child would be taken care of and then he’d given up. The doctors said it was a heart attack, and yeah, Taylor could believe it.
    A heart attack—a broken heart…weren’t they sort of the same?
    Both he and his father had adored Anna.
    A pretty, wide-eyed little princess, too precocious, too smart for words.
    The knot in his chest swelled, threatened to destroy him. Savagely, he swore, lifted his hands to press against his eyes. The breeze drifted by, blowing his hair back. It was cold, carrying that sharp scent unique to fall, and it was another blow. It had been a day just like this when she’d disappeared. Just like this—
    “Shit.” He passed a hand over his mouth. He had to stop this, had to. If he didn’t, it was going to drive him insane. It was worse this year for some reason, even worse than last year.
    And he wondered if maybe Gina hadn’t been right, if maybe there wasn’t something of his mother’s weakness, or worse, inside of him. If maybe one of these days he wasn’t going to look in the mirror and decide it would just be better if he gave up—on everything: on himself, on the mission, all of it.
    A year ago, he wouldn’t have even considered asking himself that question.
    But lately…
    No .
    Shoving a hand into his pocket, he gripped the golden necklace that had become his talisman. His strength. No. He wasn’t going to get that close to the edge. He wasn’t there now and he wouldn’t be. Carefully, he pulled the chain out, opened his palm so he could stare at it. Focus on it.
    He was fine. Or as close to fine as he’d ever be.
    He was just fucking fine. And maybe if he said it often enough, he’d even believe it.
    SHE hadn’t even been in the little town of French Lick a full day and she was being led around by the nose, it seemed. By a ghost. So what else is new? she thought glumly.
    “Why are we here ?” Dez demanded as she climbed out of her car and stared up at the hotel.
    Actually, hotel didn’t seem quite the right word to describe this place.
    It was a huge, sprawling wooden affair, made to look more rustic than it was, designed for people with money, she imagined, people who wanted to pretend they were roughing it while they took a weekend away with their kids. They’d use the child care offered by the hotel while they went to the casino and gambled, let their kids swim while they sipped cocktails by the pool.
    You’re being cynical, she thought. A screeching child went running down the sidewalk, whooping with laughter and chased closely by a grinning, if exasperated, father.
    Tearing her eyes away from the sight, she looked at the boy with her. The ghost. The only children she had in her life—the only children she’d likely ever have.
    “Why are we here?” she asked again.
    Tristan grimaced. “They are doing it here . ”
    “Doing what here?” She crossed her arms over her chest and hoped, prayed this boy was wrong. So many of the dead were—it was easy. They confused things and it was understandable. Life, death, fiction, reality, it all became a blur for them.
    But some of them had a better grip on reality than others—some had a core of pure steel and this boy, this boy who had been so close to being a man, who never would be…
    A core of steel? Hell. Think titanium. Sighing, she looked at him. He wasn’t wrong.
    Tristan stared at her. “I already told you. They are going to kill her. They might already be doing it…or have done it.” For once, the composure, the certainty on his face cracked and he looked scared, confused. He looked like a kid and he broke her heart. “I don’t even know how much time has passed, because I can’t