Reading The Dead: Fidelis In Aeternum

By Cameron Jon Bernhard

The second volume of the Reading The Dead - The Sarah Milton Chronicles series.

A frantic phone call from the wife of her former partner plunges LAPD police detective Sarah Milton and her teenage poltergeist sidekick, Anna Nigma, into a deadly mystery involving one of their most dangerous foes, the convicted "Fancy Dress Killer," Harry Sands. The Violent Crimes Unit is in the hotseat to find the copycat serial killer responsible for a recent string of murders plaguing the city, leaving Sarah scrambling to understand the bizarre, otherworldly aspects to this latest murder spree.

Enemies from her past conspire with a new, even deadlier foe, in a thrilling adventure that threatens not only her life, but also the fate of those she holds dear, culminating in a supernatural showdown against an evil entity that ultimately tests the limits of her faith and courage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cameron Jon Bernhard
• Release date: Feb 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310742880

Cameron Jon Bernhard

Published since 2013, J.B. Cameron was forced to rebrand under the name "Cameron Jon Bernhard" to avoid conflicting with an identically named self-published writer. Though born in New Brunswick, Canada, his work shows more influence from an upbringing of American TV than his maritime roots. A writer who generally plays loose with the constraints of genre, Bernhard's dark style and black humor typically places fun, exciting characters in situations of suspense or urban horror, making an exciting roller coaster ride to both chill and amuse readers. Author of numerous novels, novellas and screenplays, his first published novel, "Reading The Dead - The Sarah Milton Chronicles," introduces a supernatural detective series unlike anything you'll find elsewhere.

Book preview

READING THE DEAD

THE SARAH MILTON CHRONICLES

FIDELIS IN AETERNUM

Cameron Jon Bernhard

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, events, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living, dead, or otherwise), events, locales, etc. are entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Cameron Jon Bernhard. All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781310742880

TABLE OF CONTENTS

DRESSING UP DEATH

GHOSTS OF THE PAST

PERIL IN PERDITION

AFTERWORD

Dressing Up Death

CHAPTER ONE

1

The musty smell of nostalgia clung to the attic. A set of rusted handlebars sprouted from a mound of dusty cardboard boxes. A garish billboard from Senator William H. Milton's election campaign slowly faded into a yellowing Warhol image of his smiling, younger face. A frayed quilt of cobwebs adorned Emily Milton's favorite rocking chair. The detritus piled in containers of all shapes and sizes strained in precariously stacked towers towards the rafters.

Sarah took a moment from her search to cast her eyes about the room. The sight of mementos from her childhood in Tilford, now abandoned and forgotten, deeply saddened her. Not since her mother's funeral did she feel such an overwhelming bout of melancholy. When she climbed up into her family's attic in search of a relic from her mother's past, she had no idea that it would feel so much like grave robbing.

From outside, the squeal of violins faintly disrupted the almost sacrosanct stillness permeating the air. The soft music was a gentle reminder of the continuance of life flowing all around her.

Sarah brushed off a spot of dust from her bridesmaid's dress and returned to her search of the many boxes containing her nearly forgotten past. Somewhere amongst this seemingly endless mountain of remembrances, she would find a trinket that once held her mother's fondness.

What will they do with all of those flowers? a young voice piped with curiosity.

Sarah glanced up from the container at a blonde child in her early teens. Anna Nigma, as Sarah named her many years ago, stood at a large window looking out over the backyard. Rays of sunlight effortlessly gleamed through her red dress and comely features. The ethereal child shimmered as she basked in the light, almost angelic in her aspect. The spirit cast no more of a shadow behind her than the glass through which she observed the wedding preparations happening outside.

The girl's real identity remained as much a mystery to them both as it was when they first met over twenty years ago. In all that time, Anna never changed, aged, or ceased in her constant wonder of the world from which she perpetually remained apart.

The child's ghost shot her blue eyes towards her companion, shaking Sarah from her reverie.

Sorry?

The flowers. What happens to them after the wedding's over?

Sarah returned to rummaging in the box between her legs. It contained a neatly folded assortment of old clothing, but none that might have once belonged to her mother.

Thrown out, I guess.

Oh, Anna replied sadly. She returned to her view of the ceremonial preparations assembling below. Seems a shame. They're pretty.

Sarah ignored the sentiment. Nothing lasts forever, she muttered dismissively.

One could hardly fault her for having such a blasé attitude when it came to such matters. Over the years, the specter of Death was so familiar to her that it might as well be giving the bride away. All it took to remind her of its continued presence in her life was a glance at the dead child smiling at her from across the room.

How she could interact with the dead continued to be as much a mystery to her now as it was months ago, when she first realized she possessed this power. Laboring much of her life under the mistaken belief that Anna was nothing more than an imaginary friend, the truth came as a shock to them both. Her ability faded of its own volition shortly after her mother died, fifteen years ago, but then returned with a vengeance after her own recent brush with mortality. Anna Nigma was the not so living proof of that.

Sarah slapped the lid on the box she perused and pushed it out of her way. Another one down. Another fifty to go. Somewhere, buried in this pile of holiday decorations, frayed clothing, and bric-a-brac, she was bound to find something of her mother's.

Unfortunately, patience was not a familiar virtue to Anna. She uttered a deep sigh of exasperation and turned from the window to consider the cluttered room.

Did you find what you're looking for yet? All this dust is starting to affect my allergies.

Sarah flipped open a fresh, unmarked box, sparing only a flicker of a glance at the impatient child. You're a ghost, she reminded her wearily. You don't have allergies.

I could have allergies. You don't know, she maintained. I can touch things with my hands and freeze stuff when I get angry. It's pretty clear that I'm not like other ghosts. Why couldn't I have allergies?

Because the last time I checked, you don't breathe.

In a low voice, she squeaked, Yeah. There's that.

Sarah grunted softly. Anna took a perverse pleasure out of being difficult, for no reason other than it helped to pass the time. Sarah found her personality grating at times - more often than not, to be perfectly honest - but it wasn't as if she could do much about it. Whether they liked it or not, the two of them were stuck with each other. At least until Sarah could figure out her identity and help her to move on to wherever souls are supposed to go after they die.

In any case, I'm still looking, Sarah insisted. I know mom's stuff has to be here somewhere. We gave a bunch of her clothes away after the funeral, but we just couldn't part with her more personal items. I just wish we had thought to label something.

Is there anything I can do? Anna asked hopefully.

Sarah figured that her offer of assistance was genuine, at least in part. She guessed that it had more to do with her desire to end her current tedium than any real interest in finding a meaningful memento once belonging to Emily Milton. In any case, she couldn't accept the girl's help if she wanted to. Momma Wojan believed that a touch from her spectral companion could disrupt any psychic resonance contained in her mother's former belongings. If that happened, the item could no longer serve as a conduit for contacting her mother in the afterlife.

Sarah was still quite new to this whole paranormal business, so if there was even a remote chance the old medium was correct, she wanted Anna as far removed from any of her mother's possessions as possible. Not only did the prospect of seeing her deceased parent again fill her with excitement, but also the years of questions that weighed heavily upon her mind, regarding Emily Milton's senseless murder, demanded answers.

Just keep a watch in case anyone comes, all right? This is the first moment I've had since stepping off the plane that wasn't occupied with wedding duties.

Are you planning on hiding up here until the honeymoon is over?

Sarah resealed a box of her father's mayoral election buttons and patted the lid. A hint of a smile teased her lips.

I probably would if I could, she confessed. My dad's fiancé and her family seem nice enough. I'm just not sure how I feel about them becoming part of the Milton household.

Sarah slid the box aside and reached for another. She could plainly see why the boredom was getting to Anna. The exercise felt like assembly line work.

I, for one, am happy to see life restored to this old house, Anna admitted, gazing out at the festive decorations adorning the back yard in preparation for the ceremony. It's been an empty tomb for far too long. Ever since your mom died, you and your dad have been going out of your way to avoid this place. She considered Sarah in her ruffled pink dress and couldn't resist a final dig: Though, granted, he hasn't gone nearly as far as you.

Sarah threw her a sideways glance. Are you trying to say something?

It's just that you don't seem very pleased to be back here at long last. It's been years since you set foot in Tilford. This should be a happy time, with cake and ice cream and stuff. Instead, you're skulking around up here like... She searched her memory, stuffed to capacity with years of television. That humpback guy in the tower. Whatshisname.

With the hundreds of books she read in her lifetime, Sarah couldn't even remember the last time she read Victor Hugo's classic. Her memory was far less spotty when it came to the story itself. Some things you just never forget. Unless, of course, you've been reared by TV sitcoms and possess the attention span of a gerbil.

Quasimodo.

"Gesundheit, Anna chirped. See what I mean about the dust?"

I'm not skulking. Sarah threw open the lid of a new box. It rewarded her efforts with an assortment of napkins with the title Milton '04 on them. She jerked her head in frustration and slapped the top back down. Thanks to her father's contributions, her family attic felt more like campaign headquarters.

I'm searching. There's a difference. It's not like I'm not happy.

Obviously.

Sarah shoved the container aside and peered up at her young friend. Anna eyed her doubtfully.

I am! she swore. I'm glad dad finally found someone. It's nice to see him moving on.

"I'm hearing but voice."

"But I'm not him. I'm a homicide detective. My mother is a murder victim. If there's a chance that I can find something in these boxes to help me catch her killer, I owe it to her to keep looking."

You're her daughter. I'd think she would rather have you happy than obsessed.

I already said I'm happy, didn't I? Sarah growled, growing irritated by the girl's nagging. She reached for another box from the pile, showing no more enthusiasm towards opening this one than she had for the dozens that preceded it.

Don't know how I could have possibly doubted you, Anna sniffed, and returned to her window view.

Aunt Sarah? a child's voice called out. Sarah snapped her head towards the open trapdoor leading downstairs.

Anna immediately broke into a snigger. "Aunt Sarah."

Shut up, you, Sarah hissed at her. Her protest only sweetened Anna's delight.

Having grown up an only child, the maternal wiring necessary for dealing with nieces and nephews was simply not part of Sarah's original programming. Now, suddenly, thanks to her father's unexpected wedding plans, she found herself in the uncomfortable position of inheriting one of each. Her future mother-in-law, Claire Hennesey, was mother to a married son approaching his forties. Though his rebellious teenage daughter, Samantha, wasn't keen on this blessed union of her grandmother to a greedy, warmongering, political fat-cat, her younger brother maintained an intense fascination with the notion of having a big-city police detective as a relative. To five-year old Todd Hennesey, the only way Sarah could have been any cooler was if she moonlighted as Wonder Woman.

I'm up here, Todd, Sarah shouted. In the attic.

Tiny shoes clambered up the wooden rungs of the collapsible ladder telescoped to the second floor hallway below. An inquisitive boy peeked over the open hatchway, his dark hair combed straight for his role in the upcoming nuptial.

What are you doing up here? the child wondered.

Before Sarah could respond, Anna voiced her opinion to his deaf ears: Hiding.

I'm looking for something.

Can I help? he volunteered.

Sarah regarded Anna. The girl beamed at the helpful child.

You'd better not, Sarah considered. It's awfully dusty up here. I wouldn't want your mom to get mad at me for ruining your good suit on the big day.

The look of disappointment on the child's face bordered on tragic. Aw! he moaned. Well, what are you looking for? Is it buried treasure? Oh! Is it gold double-loons, like in the pirate movies? My daddy says they're worth a pretty penny. Do you think pennies are pretty? I do. He must too, 'cause he works with money all day long.

At this, even Sarah couldn't subdue the grin from splashing across her features. She and Anna exchanged looks of shared affection for the child. Her new brother-in-law, James, the accountant, struck her as a little snobby. However, his wife, Francis, was an absolute dear. Luckily, Todd took after her.

I'm looking for some old things that used to belong to my mom, she divulged with a smile.

Like what?

Sarah flipped open the lid of her latest time capsule. As soon as she spotted the familiar handbag inside, she knew that she finally found the box for which she was searching. Excitement lit her features as she rummaged through the contents, sorting through gloves, scarves, and other frippery, until finally locating an unexpected treasure.

Like this.

Sarah removed her hand from the box, holding a thin metal chain between her fingers. At its end, a silver, heart-shaped locket reflected the sunlight as it emerged from its cardboard sarcophagus.

Your mom's locket, Anna recognized.

I haven't seen this since I was nine years old.

Todd craned his neck from the trapdoor, anxiously trying to catch a glimpse of the shining wonder dangling from his aunt's hand. Is that a double-loon? he squealed.

Sarah rose to her feet and joined him at the trapdoor. Even better. See? She pressed a clasp on the locket, flipping it open to reveal a photo of herself and her mother, taken when she was a child no older than Todd's age.

That's me when I was just a girl. And that's my mother.

What's that writing?

Sarah examined the inscription on the inside of the locket. "It's Latin. Fidelis in Aeternum. I think it means Eternally Faithful."

It's lovely. Did your father buy it for her as a present? Anna inquired.

I think so. She never said.

Todd peered up at her silently, catching only her side of the conversation with her ghostly companion. The boy simply figured she was speaking to him, and took it in stride.

I rarely saw her wearing it, now that I think about it, Sarah rattled on. She would just take it out of her jewelry box on occasion to stare at it, usually while dad was gone for long stretches of time. Feeling nostalgic, I guess.

"What's nostragic mean?" the boy peeped.

"Nostalgic? That means when you're much older and you think back on this moment with a happy feeling in your heart."

I'm happy now.

Sarah brushed the child's wayward bangs with her finger. Me too, she smiled warmly. I'm all done here. What say we go find your sister and see how she's making out with her dress?

Todd turned up his nose at the thought. She's such a booger.

Anna chuckled. I think this kid might actually be related to me.

You be careful climbing back down.

He was already a third of the way down, scaling the rungs with the practiced experience of a seasoned climber. I will.

This ought to be fun, Sarah muttered to herself. She felt like a giant, pink marshmallow in her bridesmaid's dress. On the plus side, if she did slip climbing back down, the ruffles would probably cushion her fall as effectively as an airbag. She noticed Anna stifling a smirk and threw her a stern expression. No laughing.

No promises, Anna retorted with a shrug and a grin.

I'm down! Todd called out from the floor below.

Okay! Back out of the way, then. I'm coming down. One way or another, she thought.

Sarah, do you think Momma Wojan will really be able to contact the spirit of your mother using that locket? Anna pondered.

Honestly, I have no idea. I only ever saw her try something like it once, and that didn't work out so well.

Holding the chain tightly in her hand, Sarah swung her legs over the edge of the hatch and dangled her feet until they made contact with the ladder. She fluffed her puffy dress through the opening as she started down.

I have nothing to lose by trying, though. Right?

You have nothing to lose by giving your new family a try, either. You know?

Sarah nodded and flashed the girl a smile. She then carefully ventured down the ladder in a click of heels and a swish of silk.

"Aunt Sarah, Anna snorted. Yeah, that's not going to get old anytime soon."

2

Sarah was beginning to feel the pinch. It may have been the stress of the wedding drama playing out, or perhaps it was just the snug bridesmaid's dress rubbing her the wrong way. Whatever the case, she was getting antsy to have the ceremony finished, and her family home emptied and silent once more.

Presently, it felt like that would never happen. In typical fashion, her father was running late. Sarah sighed at the door to his study, rubbing her brow. The man was perpetually late for something. She had no doubt that there would come a day when his body would be tardy arriving for his own burial.

She waited outside his upstairs study with Anna by her side, while the household bustled with activity under her feet. Claire, the blushing bride, was in the master bedroom with the maid of honor and a few close friends. Given a choice, Sarah would almost rather be with them. However, for some reason, the groom chose this moment to lock himself away in his study. It fell to her to get the wedding back on track.

Dad? What are you doing in there? she called out, knocking on the door.

There was no response. Sarah gave her ghostly friend a puzzled expression. What's he doing in there?

Anna poked her head through the door, disappearing up to her neck. The image of a headless girl propped against a wooden guillotine blade was deeply disturbing. Thankfully, nobody but Sarah could see her; otherwise, this would really be a wedding to remember.

The spirit pulled her head from the wood a moment later, without so much as a hair out of place. He's on the phone. I think he's talking to someone named Bill.

Sarah expressed a frustrated grunt and rapped on the door again. Dad! You're getting married. Whatever bill you're trying to get passed can wait until after the honeymoon.

The door to the master bedroom opened. A rotund woman in mauve looked out and spotted Sarah at the source of the commotion. Edith Crombie, the maid of honor and sister to the bride, frowned at the racket caused by her noisy bridesmaid.

Is everything all right? she asked.

Everything's fine. Don't worry.

Fourteen year-old Samantha Hennessey emerged from the bathroom between them. She fidgeted with her uncomfortable, pink bridesmaid's dress with one hand, while checking messages on her phone with the other.

Is your father not out yet? Edith checked. He's not getting cold feet, is he?

He's getting cold feet? the bride squealed from the bedroom.

Does that mean the wedding's cancelled? Samantha inquired hopefully. Can I get out of this stupid dress now?

The wedding's cancelled? the bride cried in horror.

No! Nobody's getting cold feet! Sarah insisted. The wedding's still on! He'll be out any minute. She turned back to the door and gave it another rap with her fist. Right, dad?

Edith took note of Samantha as the girl passed by. Ah, you look like an angel in that dress, sugar plum.

The girl wouldn't dignify the compliment with a response. She kept her head down, texting as she continued for the stairs. Sarah caught her muttered words as she passed by, I look like something the Pink Panther just crapped.

Small feet hammered up the stairs. A child-sized blur in a dark suit almost collided with her as they met at the top of the stairway.

Watch it, squirt! she shouted indignantly.

Todd Hennessey didn't stop to exchange insults or offer apologies. The call of nature was too strong.

Gotta go! Gotta go! Gotta go! was all he wailed as he sprinted for the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

There's no way I'm related to that, she grumbled as she headed downstairs.

Halfway down the stairs, she ran into Father McKay, who was climbing up to check on the happy couple. She almost didn't notice the young priest's friendly smile, in her efforts to text her angst to all of her friends.

Hello, Samantha. All set for your grandmother's big day, I see.

It's not like I have a choice.

Dad? Everyone's waiting, Sarah tried again, both her voice and her fist becoming more insistent.

What's happening up there? Father McKay inquired. Is there some kind of problem?

Ugh. No problem, Samantha groaned. "Gran's all set. We're all just waiting for El Presidente to grace us with his presence. Maybe he'll do her a favor and not come out."

She continued downstairs, her meticulously painted face now complete with a veneer of boredom and apathy. The priest watched her leave, before coming upstairs to offer his assistance.

Dad, hang up the phone. You're embarrassing me, Sarah cried.

Whatever is he doing in there? Edith mumbled to no one in particular.

How's everything up here? Are we almost ready to begin? Father McKay asked cheerfully.

The groom's not coming out, Edith disclosed.

Oh? Is there anything I can do to help?

Can you pick a lock? Anna asked.

Dad! Sarah slapped the door.

Todd emerged from the bathroom, looking anxious. Aunt Sarah, the toilet's broke.

Senator Milton, can you hear us? Father McKay called.

Sarah's face was beet red. I'll kick this door in! Don't think that I won't!

Is he all right in there? Maybe you should do that, Father McKay suggested.

Kind of makes me glad that I don't remember my own family, Anna murmured.

Maybe he climbed out the window, Edith speculated. I was at this wedding once...

He climbed out the window? the bride shrieked.

Father McKay crossed himself. Lord have mercy.

Water's leaking on the floor, Todd added.

Is he ever going to come out? Edith barked. My sister's–

Sarah felt like screaming. She whirled to face the others, her eyes wild.

Lady, she bellowed at Edith, go back inside or I'll handcuff you to a bedpost. Father McKay, please take Todd downstairs. We'll be right down. There is going to be a wedding today...

She turned back to the door and hammered it several times with her fist.

...even if I have to drag my father away from work by his heels.

With a shocked expression, Edith slammed the bedroom door behind her in a huff. Father McKay led Todd downstairs by the hand, taking him a safe distance away from the unstable woman darkening the upstairs hallway.

I take it back, Sarah, Anna said softly. Maybe you were right to stay hidden in the attic.

Dad!

The door suddenly swung open to a tall, distinguished man in his mid-fifties, wearing a tuxedo as naturally as if it were his second skin. Senator William Milton snapped his phone shut as he ran into Sarah in the hall outside. He was a picture of serenity, especially when compared to his frantic offspring.

What's all the fuss out here? he queried.

You're getting married, remember?

Of course I do. So why are you carrying on like you're the one walking up the aisle today?

Don't even joke about that! After today, one wedding in this family is plenty, Sarah huffed. Not even catching criminals is this stressful.

Does that mean you still haven't found yourself a man?

Actually... Anna started, suddenly animated.

Now is not the time, Sarah grumbled, vaguely wondering how it was that her father managed to suddenly turn her anger around and place her on the defensive. You can go back to nitpicking my life after the ceremony, okay?

You're not going to find yourself a man in those books you read, her father disputed. What about some of your fellow police officers? Any of them showing an interest?

Anna jumped to respond again. Now that you mention it, there's...

Look, I'm happy with the way things are, okay? I have my friends and my dog. That's all I need.

You're not a child anymore. It's time you got over this compulsion to keep everyone at arm's length. I could understand it when you were younger and...

He faltered, searching for a diplomatic word.

...confused, he continued, but you're all better now. You've outgrown your need for imaginary playmates.

Sarah looked past him at the ghost lingering by the wall. That's me, all right. A picture of mental health.

Could be worse, Anna offered. I could be twins.

Hearing a familiar voice in the hall, Edith cracked open the door again and peered out. She gave Sarah a quick frown, before turning her ire on the groom.

Are you still marrying my sister today, or what? she growled.

He clapped his hands together and smiled. Absolutely! Let's get this show on the road.

With a hop, he pranced past his daughter for the stairs. Despite his nagging and the voice in the back of her head reminding her that she was supposed to be cross for his tardiness, a smile tugged the corners of Sarah's lips. She couldn't recall the last time she saw her father so happy.

She fell in behind him as he headed downstairs, with her blonde shadow taking up the rear. Down the hall, Edith returned to the bedroom, satisfied that things were finally settling down.

Nobody noticed the sound of running water coming from the bathroom... at least, not then.

It wasn't until the bride and groom were in the middle of exchanging their vows, when a loud crash from the house drew everyone's attention. A deluge of water, wood, and ceramic poured in from the upstairs bathroom as the toilet crashed through the rotted floorboards.

As all eyes stared through the windows at the water pouring down from the second floor, attendees fell into a stunned silence. Still in high spirits, William Milton amended his vows on the spot, adding, I also promise to fix that, or possibly tear the house down and replace it with a new one, whichever's easier.

The statesman's levity lightened the mood and salvaged what had otherwise been a perfect ceremony.

Sarah didn't stick around to witness the conclusion of the wedding. The videographer they hired caught a great shot of her collecting the ruffles of her dress and making a beeline for the water valve, as fast as her heels permitted. She was just an unrecognizable flurry of tanned legs and pink taffeta.

At last count, the Youtube video, posted by someone named DEDGURL6357, was somewhere around fifteen thousand hits, and growing.

3

Sarah arrived back in Los Angeles a few days later, tired and exhausted from her long trip, but still warmed by the outpouring of acceptance from her extended family. Her father even took a break from pestering her about her lifestyle to hug and kiss her at one point. The marvel bore no equal in all of recorded history. Were it not for the purgatory that had become air travel in post-9/11 America, her claim of a perfect vacation might almost ring true.

She slipped into the apartment, closed the door behind her and fell lightly against it. Her luggage seeped from her fingers and lightly tapped the floor. Between the jet lag and the typical stress involved in flying cross-country, she felt completely drained. There were more bags in the car, but they could wait until she was sure that she wouldn't collapse from fatigue while trying to lug them up two flights of stairs.

The familiar sound of television played in the living room. It seemed odd to think that Anna reentered her life only a few months ago. Before then, she rarely watched television, preferring to find her entertainment between the covers of a good book. Now, the prospect of coming home to a quiet apartment just felt wrong to her somehow.

Anna? I'm home!

With footfalls as silent as the grave, the girl rushed out to greet her. Welcome back! she hailed enthusiastically. How was the flight?

It was a nightmare. Between airport security copping a feel and the fat guy sitting next to me constantly rubbing up against me, I feel like I need to scrub every inch of my body with peroxide. Now I know why it's been years since I last visited Maryland.

You could always try travelling my way, Anna chirped. You'd just need to lose about 140 pounds, first.

I'm at most 125 pounds, thank you very much. All the same, I don't think I'm ready to trade in perks like breathing for frequent flyer miles just yet, Sarah asserted. What's been going on around here? Anything exciting?

Someone keeps calling. Did you forget to tell lover-boy that you were going away?

Sarah checked out her answering machine, perched on a nearby table. She nearly doubled over in shock upon discovering that the display showed seven unheard messages. Based on her previous record all the years before, she would have sworn it wasn't capable of storing more than four at one time.

His name's Ryan. And, for the last time, we're just friends.

Does he know that? Because between his hormones racing and your biological clock ticking, I can barely hear the TV when he comes over.

Sarah gave the ghost a look that would have chilled the blood in her veins, if she had any. Leave my biological clock out of this. It's none of your business, she grumbled. In fact, do me a favor and don't mention Ryan to me again.

Fine. I'm just trying to help.

Well, stop.

If you and he-who-will-remain-nameless want to keep living in denial–

Anna!

Sarah mashed the playback button on