The Departed

needed to be away from him for a while. From all of this.
    When this is over, I want to go to Tahiti. For a month. Someplace warm and sunny. And if she was lucky, she could find a deserted strip of beach where no ghosts would linger, where she could be alone inside her head.
    Not that she would.
    She’d find another lost soul, another one of the departed, another ghost. Somebody who’d pull her into a mess and have her give everything she had. And then another and another.
    Until eventually, there was nothing left of her to give. Until she wasn’t much more than a shell…just like them. She might still be alive, but she was turning into a ghost herself, she suspected.
    * * *
     
    WATCHING her walk down the hall, her head down, shoulders slumped, Taylor stared at her. She looked so tired. He reached into his pocket, touched the necklace as he stared at her retreating back. Then he groaned and looked back at the machine and considered the poison it spitted out as a poor excuse for coffee.
    She never used to drink that much coffee. She’d lost weight, too.
    Just leave her alone, he told himself.
    But he didn’t. He got the coffee, but laced it liberally with cream and sugar, hoping maybe they would provide a buffer to keep the coffee from eating at her stomach lining. Then he fed a couple of dollars into the various vending machines. He knew Dez. She liked her sweets. She could get a Hershey bar. If she ate a damn apple first.
    She needed several hours horizontal, not that he expected she’d take them here. Probably better off if she didn’t. But she could damn well get some food in her belly and she could sit down, stop pacing, and try to relax. He’d see to it. Assuming he could find wherever she’d disappeared to.
    It wasn’t that hard to find her, in the end. It seemed he could always find her. She was tucked away inside the small chapel, her knees drawn to her chest, her eyes locked on the cross hanging above the dais. “Leave me alone, Jones,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
    “Then don’t talk.” He held out the candy bar.
    Her gaze locked on it the way a shark might stare at a seal, he supposed. With hungry, intent focus. But when she reached for it, he pulled it back. “Eat this first,” he said shortly, pushing the apple at her.
    She glared at him. “I don’t want a damn apple.”
    “You’re swearing in church,” he said mildly.
    “And you’re teasing a woman over chocolate. Both are probably akin to tempting fate.” Then she made a face and glanced toward the front of the church. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
    He smiled as he realized she was blushing. “Eat the apple, Dez. Then you can have the chocolate.”
    She groaned and then reached out, snatching the apple from him. She crunched down. After she’d swallowed the first bite, she said, “You know, we’re not supposed to eat in here.”
    “What are they going to do, arrest us? And somehow, I don’t think Jesus cares if you eat in here. Isn’t there a passage in the Bible that says ‘Feed my sheep’?”
    “I’m not a sheep.” Sighing, she just took another bite. “Besides, I don’t see why you care if I eat or not. Haven’t we already established we’re not…whatever?”
    “Do we need to be…whatever for me to care whether or not you’re eating? Whether you’re sleeping?” He curled a hand over the back of her neck, stroking his thumb over the sensitive skin under her ear. “You don’t sleep much, or you haven’t lately, at least. I can tell. And you’re losing weight. When’s the last time you took a break, Desiree?”
    With a brittle smile, she said, “Three weeks ago. Before I took a case in Arkansas. I was going to take one after that case but this one came too hard.” She took another bite and then, in a singsong voice, added, “Too bad, so sad.”
    “And how long was that break?” Three weeks wouldn’t have her looking this drawn. While he didn’t do it if he could avoid it, he’d had her work cases close together before. They’d never worn on her this hard.
    She swallowed and lowered the apple. Her head dipped and she sighed. “Just a weekend.” Abruptly, she slammed the apple into his lap and stood up. “If you want me to eat, you’d be better off saving the interrogation until I’m done, you know.”
    “Okay. A weekend. And before that?”
    She paced in front of him, her hands tucked in the back pockets of her jeans. But she didn’t answer him. Putting the