The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3 Read online

  The ghost nodded.

  “But he killed you. Didn’t he? He was arrested this afternoon.”

  “No,” Chet argued. “That isn’t right. My boy would never do that.”

  Tessa used the moment of distraction to edge forward again. “When I talked to Mark, he seemed pretty angry with you.”

  Sanborn reached up and scratched a spot in the ring of hair, just like he’d done routinely when he was alive. Tessa wondered if ghosts had itches or if they just retained the habits from their living days. “I didn’t say he didn’t have a right to do it. I just said he didn’t.”

  “Then who did?”

  Sanborn’s spirit made eye contact with Tessa. It caused a chilly feeling to run up her back. He shrugged. “I don’t know. I had a lot of enemies. I owed a lot of people money and didn’t play by the rules. Even the rules of criminals.

  “But my boy is innocent. And I’m just not ready to go.” In the blink of an eye, Sanborn dove into the street light’s pole and was gone.

  Tessa growled and clenched her fists. She hung around for ten minutes watching the orange glow of the light, figuring Chet would have to come out eventually. But her stomach started grumbling, and with another groan of frustration, she turned back toward the restaurant.

  Maybe she could still get Ricardo to buy her that beer.

  Chapter 12

  THE NEXT MORNING, TESSA was dragging. She had a blister on each heel from the stupid pumps. And that morning, she’d stepped in cat puke—of course Pepper had the gall to look innocent.

  Seriously, how hard was it to find an out-of-the-way, easy-to-clean spot to bring up a hairball? But, noooo. The cat had to leave it right beside the bed where Tessa was sure to place her first footfall of the day.

  Oh, and she hadn’t caught Chet Sanborn’s spirit, so the world was probably going to end soon. When it did, it would be entirely her fault.

  Talk about a bad week.

  That’s why she headed into the office on a Saturday. She couldn’t sleep, and the four walls of her apartment had seemed to be closing in on her. Or maybe it was the air there, threatening to constrict her throat.

  Tessa had to find Chet Sanborn’s spirit before it was too late. But at least she knew why he was still here. He wanted to tell Mark that he was sorry. And he probably wanted to know who had killed him—if it wasn’t Mark. Tessa realized she’d like to know that too.

  Tessa needed her space to cool off and think.

  The office was abandoned when she got there, so Tessa spent twenty minutes figuring out how to work the industrial-size coffee maker. In the end, she had to make a full pot, so now there was enough coffee for her to avoid sleeping for about a week.

  But coffee hadn’t even helped break her bad mood. She was on her second cup and sitting at her desk when even those four walls felt more confining than her apartment’s. On a whim, she went into her mother’s office to have a look around. Cheryl would probably call this snooping.

  There wasn’t much to look at. Its minimalistic décor was even more striking since Tessa was looking for something to occupy her mind.

  Then her gaze fell on the filing cabinet and she had an idea. She set her coffee on the desk and opened the cabinet. Her hand trembled slightly, hovering over the files as she hesitated. Then she flipped through to the Rs. Her heart pounded wildly as she went through the alphabet, looking for Randolph.

  But there was no file for Michael Randolph.

  “You’re looking in the wrong spot, Theresa.”

  Tessa whirled around to face her mother, who leaned against the door frame nonchalantly.

  “I, uh, I am?”

  Cheryl crossed to the desk, picked up Tessa’s coffee, and handed it to her. Then, she opened a desk drawer and pulled out a canister of wipes. She used one to wipe the spot on the desk where the coffee had sat.

  “I didn’t expect you to come in today,” Tessa said.

  “Well, I can see that,” her mother said. “I assume you wouldn’t rifle through my things if you expected me to show up at any moment. And I assume you’re looking for your father’s file.”

  Tessa shrugged and looked at her feet. “What makes you think that?”

  “Because there isn’t anyone else’s file you’d be interested in.” Cheryl paused and drummed her fingers on the glass desk. “His paperwork isn’t filed under his name.”

  “Why . . . why not?”

  Cheryl paused and pursed her lips. It alarmed Tessa because her mother didn’t usually have to stop and think about what to say. Words came easily to her, and she didn’t put her foot in her mouth like her daughter did routinely.

  Finally, Cheryl let out a long breath. “Because he wasn’t supposed to die that day.”

  She’d spoken so softly that Tessa wasn’t sure she’d heard right. Her voice cracked when she asked, “Did you say Dad wasn’t supposed to die?”

  Cheryl didn’t look up. She only nodded.

  Tessa sank into the opposite chair. “What does that even mean? How does that . . .” She thought for a minute. “Was he murdered or something?”

  But even as the words slipped out, she knew that wasn’t right. Chet Sanborn had been murdered—and reaping his spirit had shown up as an assignment for Tessa. So, even murders were expected as far as the universe was concerned.

  Her mother verified her thought process with a shake of her head. With her lips pressed tightly together, she finally made eye contact with her daughter. She leaned forward. “Your dad took someone else’s place.”

  “Whose?” Tessa felt a sinking feeling like a weight had been flung inside her belly.

  Cheryl paused, wincing as though the words were causing her physical pain. “Theresa, you were slated to die that day.”

  Over the years, Tessa had heard the phrase about feeling like the air was being sucked out of the room, but before then, it had just been a saying. A cliché without real meaning. Until that moment.

  Tessa felt as though she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. They burned like she’d run a marathon. She gasped and choked. This was worse than her apartment ever dared to be.

  Cheryl looked sympathetic. Beside the wipes in her drawer, she found a box of tissues. She took one for herself and passed Tessa the box.

  “I saw it on another reaper’s schedule by accident. You were supposed to get electrocuted by our stupid, old toaster—if you can believe it. I was totally distraught. I told your father, and he was calm. He grabbed my hands and said it was all going to be okay. Then he went into the kitchen and grabbed the toaster. He took it into the garage and beat it with a hammer. He asked me to distract you, so I made some pancakes and took them up to your room.”

  Tessa remembered those pancakes like they were the last vestiges of happiness in her life.

  “Then, your dad told me to stay out of the kitchen,” Cheryl continued. “He didn’t want me to get in trouble at work for what he was about to do. But I peeked around the door frame without them knowing. I saw it all. When Sylvia, the reaper who was supposed to take you, arrived in our home, your dad opened his arms wide and begged her to take him instead. At first, she refused. But eventually, she agreed.”

  “Why?”

  Cheryl looked so sad as a small smile tilted up her lips. “She was a mom too.”

  “So, he exchanged himself for me?” Tessa said, amazed she’d found the air to speak. “That’s allowed?”

  Cheryl shook her head, and her tone was sharp. “No. It isn’t allowed. Sylvia almost lost her job, and there was a big to-do over it. You don’t even want to know all the red tape it created. It’s still not completely settled.” She reached across the desk and squeezed Tessa’s hands. “But you’re here. It’s what your dad wanted.”

  So many thoughts swirled through Tessa’s mind that she couldn’t seem to catch one. Her dad wasn’t supposed to die. She was. She shouldn’t be there right now, talking to her mom and feeling the throb of blisters on her heels. She should be on the other side doing . . . whate
ver spirits did there. Float around and wax philosophical, maybe? Watch their loved ones struggle on earth and send healing energy?

  She had no idea how to feel about what she’d just learned. She just felt lost. A new form of grief washed over her. Guilt.

  “That paperwork you were looking for is still under your name,” Cheryl said. “If you’d looked a bit beyond the Ms to the Ts, you would have found it. But it’s not really something you need to read.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Cheryl shook her head. “Michael asked me not to. And I didn’t see any point in adding that pain to your plate. Losing your dad was hard enough.”

  She was right about that. Tessa wanted to take the box of tissues and cry in bed all day.

  But Cheryl stood up and spoke more firmly. “And I don’t want you to start feeling guilty or anything like that. Parents make sacrifices for their kids. Your dad was happy to make the one that he did. He loved you. I love you.”

  Tessa didn’t answer. It was too late. Guilt had already crept its way into her from every angle, like primordial black, tarry ooze, invading her peace. She shouldn’t be alive. Her dad had missed out on over half his life. And for what? So his daughter could be a waitress with no prospects—living paycheck to paycheck in a crappy apartment?

  “Reaper work is complicated, Theresa,” Cheryl said, studying her daughter’s face. “There are a lot of nuances to it. You’re already learning that lesson well with Chet Sanborn. Sometimes, things don’t go the way they’re supposed to. All facets of life are complicated. Even death. It’s best not to overthink all the whys and wherefores. Just keep on doing your job. And right now, for you, that means finding your mark before he sets off a fracture between the worlds.”

  Chapter 13

  TESSA STOOD OUTSIDE of work trying to get her lungs to work properly again. The news about her dad had left her shocked and exhausted. She wasn’t sure what to do next. It was as though her day—her life—had gone completely sideways.

  She allowed herself to wallow for a few minutes while the sun beat on her face. It had already chased away some of the spring morning chill, and sunlight glared off Linda’s windshield.

  Tessa straightened her shoulders and marched toward the car. The thing about her dad was going to take a while to process. She was pretty sure sleep was going to be a thing of the past for a long time coming. But there were other things to do in the meantime. Like find Chet Sanborn’s spirit.

  She was still confused about whether not finding him would cause some kind of demon apocalypse or if Gloria was right and it was no big deal. She didn’t really want to find out, and beyond that, she wanted to finish the job she’d set out to do.

  After that . . . well, she wasn’t sure. Something had begun to niggle at her mind. Anger. She was angry with the reaper who took her dad instead of her. Angry at all reapers in general.

  She didn’t think she wanted to be one after this. But that was a decision for another day.

  Linda must have caught on to Tessa’s black mood because she didn’t cause any trouble, starting right away. In fact, she sounded like someone had given her a whole new engine. Tessa nodded in satisfaction. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” She patted the dashboard. “Good girl.”

  For a minute, she bit her lower lip and wondered where to go next. She glanced at the clock. It was lunchtime.

  She headed to Frank’s Bar and Grill. She wasn’t sure why—except that it was the last place she’d seen Chet Sanborn’s spirit. She knew he wasn’t likely to be there again—not since the wake was over. But it was as good a place as any to start her search anew.

  Plus, after Ricardo had talked them up, she had a craving for one of Frank’s cheeseburgers.

  Speak of the devil.

  Ricardo sat at the bar again, hunched over his meal. Tessa was surprised—she’d figured the creepy guy would spend most of his time at the casino. The night before, she downed her beer fast, paid her respects to Mary Sanborn, and left.

  Maybe she should spend a bit more time talking to Ricardo this time. He seemed like he hadn’t been telling her the full story.

  She sat next to him, earning herself a big, missing-tooth smile. She forced herself to smile back. “Oh, hey. Fancy meeting you here again.”

  “Right back at ya, girlie. You’ve been here more lately than when you worked here.” He guffawed at his own joke, sloshing a little beer out of his glass. He wiped his hand on his pants. “Oh, hey, you want another beer?”

  Or course she didn’t. It was barely noon. Still, she’d had a rough morning, so she did give it some thought.

  “No. I think I’m going to have a burger. Then I need to get going.”

  She ordered from the bartender and then sipped the ice water he’d dropped off.

  “Ya know,” Ricardo began, “I was surprised to see you at Chet’s wake last night. I never saw you hanging out with him or anything before he died.”

  “He was my neighbor.” She shrugged. “Hanging out isn’t the right term for our relationship. But I felt compelled to pay my respects.”

  “Compelled, huh.” Ricardo took a gulp of his beer. “That’s one way to think about it.”

  Tessa paused and then decided to see if she could get some information flowing. “Yeah, well, it’s true. I’ve learned some interesting things about Chet these past few days.”

  “Interesting how?” Ricardo took the bait.

  “Melinda Chino told me Chet owed the casino money. Do you know anything about that?”

  Ricardo’s bushy eyebrows traveled upward. “Nah,” he scoffed. “That’s gotta be a lie. If anything, it’s the other way around. Chet won the grand prize at the blackjack tournament just a couple weeks ago. I don’t know if he managed to get paid before he checked out.”

  Ricardo grabbed a handful of nuts from a bowl in front of him and munched away.

  Tessa leaned back to get out of range of any peanut dust that may fly out of the unpleasant man’s mouth. But what he’d said was interesting. Could Melinda have owed Sanborn money? If that was the case, why had she sent her goons to his apartment? And then to her apartment? Could she have been trying to get the prize money back?

  Her brow furrowed as she thought about it. None of it made any sense. Why would the casino put on a tournament and then try to steal the prize money back after it was awarded?

  Tessa could only think of one reason. She continued to lean back since Ricardo was still eating nuts. “Do you know if the casino is having financial problems or something?”

  The waiter dropped off Tessa’s burger while Ricardo looked longingly at his empty pint glass but didn’t order another one. He sighed and shoved the peanut bowl aside. “Not that I know of. I mean, it’s a casino. People are there spending money all day every day. How could they be low on money?”

  Tessa nodded. He made a good point.

  “I mean,” he continued, “Melinda Chino seems to be making a mint. She’s building a new house on fifty acres outside of town. The place looks like a mansion. You should see it—it’s only framed in right now, but it’s got two towers. One on each side. Regular Rapunzel towers. You know the type.” He chuckled and shook his head. “She must have more money than you or I would see in ten lifetimes.”

  Lifetimes. Tessa pondered the word. She couldn’t help thinking about her dad and the half a lifetime he’d wasted on her. She knew that, from then on out, she’d have to stop squandering it.

  Ricardo climbed unsteadily off the barstool. “I’ll be right back.”

  She chewed and watched him retreat toward the men’s room, mulling over what he’d said. Melinda was building a big, fancy house off her casino earnings. Was that normal for a manager? Tessa supposed the woman could be independently wealthy.

  But maybe there was a different explanation. Maybe she was siphoning money from the casino. Could she have killed Sanborn to steal back the blackjack money for herself?

  Deciding she needed to make a point to talk to Melind
a again, Tessa left some cash on the bar for the burger and hurried out of the restaurant before Ricardo could get back from the men’s room.

  It bothered her a tiny bit that she didn’t even feel bad about it.

  Chapter 14

  THE NEXT DAY WAS WARMER, and Tessa wore denim shorts and a red cap sleeve shirt to the office. She figured her mother would get after her about her wardrobe or, at the very least, raise a perfect eyebrow. But Tessa didn’t care. She was fed up.

  She’d spent the night sitting on the sofa, stroking a purring Pepper and thinking about reapers. The more she sat and thought, the angrier she got. What kind of job expected people to escort souls to the other side? It must be the absolute worst job in existence.

  As dawn got closer and Tessa dove deeper into her emotions, she began to realize she was angry at someone she really didn’t want to ever be mad at. Her father. She’d buried her face in Pepper’s soft fur and groaned. “Why did you do it, Dad? You still had a long life ahead of you. It was supposed to be me.”

  The cat looked at her with confusion plastered on her sleepy kitty face.

  Tessa couldn’t help but laugh. “Not you, fur ball. You’re okay.”

  Her phone had dinged, making both of them jump. It was an assignment.

  Tessa narrowed her eyes as she studied the screen. She didn’t want to be a reaper anymore. She’d made the decision. Someone else would have to take the assignment—maybe Gloria needed the extra money.

  Her phone had chimed again. This time it was a text from her mother.

  “I know it’s hard right now. But I gave you another assignment. You should get the notification any minute if you haven’t already.”

  Tessa rolled her eyes. Her mother acted as if she was doing her a favor. Cheryl could do it herself. Tessa was out.

  And if no one found Chet Sanborn’s spirit and the world ended in a war between spirits and live people, Tessa would lock herself in the apartment with Pepper and live on noodles and peanut butter until it was over. So, basically, nothing would change.