“I do trust you to a degree. I see the lengths you go for your clients. It’s noble. Stupid at times, but noble. But you’re right. I’m fairly certain I don’t like you. And I need to know.”

“If you like me?”

“If he did it. The kid. When I was— When I killed him, he swore he didn’t do it. Over and over. He swore he never touched my sister. But I’d seen the bruises on her. The blood. I also saw the mark she left on her assailant. She said she bit his wrist. He had a bite mark on his wrist days later. But I need to know the truth. I have to be certain.”

If he killed the guy, how was I supposed to find out the truth? Just how much did he know about me?

“I need to hear it from the dead kid, and you are just the person to ask him.”

I shifted in my chair, suddenly uncomfortable. Or, well, more uncomfortable. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know. Call him. Channel him. Do whatever it is you do.”

“That’s crazy talk,” I said, inching up out of my chair.

He didn’t move to stop me, but put a hand on the sidearm at his hip. “I’m an excellent shot.”

I plopped back down. “You’re psychotic, is what you are. I am so telling Uncle Bob. You want me to talk to a dead kid? Now who’s going to the nuthouse?”

“Spare me. I know everything.”

He couldn’t possibly know everything. Wait— “Did you bug me?” I asked, appalled. He’d done every other kind of surveillance. Surely he threw in a few bugs for good measure.

“A little.”

“That’s so illegal!” I bolted to my feet.

“So is framing you for crimes you didn’t commit. I think we’re beyond that right now.”

He had a point. And despite everything he just told me, I felt nothing malicious coming off him. I did feel an odd mix of emotions, but I doubted he harbored any ill will toward me. This was a means to an end.

“How do you know I won’t lie to you?”

“I don’t. So I’ll need proof. You talk to this kid, ask him how I killed him, then ask him if he did it.” He tossed another picture at me, only this one was an old school picture of a blond kid, about fourteen years old. “Do whatever it is you do to talk to dead people. Ask him.”

I gave in. “Captain, I can’t just talk to dead people.”

He glowered. “Don’t bullshit me. I will have you in lockup with enough charges to make your lawyer’s head spin before you can say frame job. And I might toss in some charges on kiddie  p**n  to spice things up. I will destroy your reputation in any way that I can.”

He was serious. He was actually serious, but again, reluctantly so. He would do what he had to do, my life be damned.

I blinked in absolute shock. “That’s so not fair.”

“Life’s a bitch that way. His name was Kory. Do your thing or get used to the idea of spending the rest of the decade behind bars.”

It could happen. Reyes was living, breathing proof that people went to prison for crimes they didn’t commit. But the odds of this kid still being on earth, on this plane, were zero to nil. It just didn’t happen that way. Once the departed crossed, I couldn’t talk to them. They were gone. On the other side.

“You’re going to have to indulge me a moment.”

He shrugged a shoulder.

I summoned Angel.

“What the hell?” he said, complaining as ever. “I was in the middle of something.”

“I need you to go to the other side and talk to somebody for me.”

“I can’t just go to the other side and talk to somebody, loca.”

“Angel, I really need this. If you can’t pull this off, I’m going to prison on drug possession and kiddie  p**n .” I showed him the picture. “I need you to find this kid and ask him a couple of things for me.”

The captain watched me with those eagle eyes of his. Not a lot got past him, I could tell. And I certainly no longer cared about what it looked like when I talked to my invisible friends.

“I can’t jump over and back. Nobody can do that.” He dusted off his shirt. No idea why. “Except you.”

“I can’t jump over either. Do you think Reyes can?”

“I don’t think the son of Satan would be very welcome in heaven. Even if he could get there.”

I collapsed onto the chair. This was an impossible situation.

“Why don’t you just summon him?”

“Angel, if he’s already crossed, I can’t summon him.”

“You never listen to me,” he said. He took off his shoe and dumped sand out of it and onto the carpet.

I looked at it, watched it fall through the floor.

“How did you get sand—?”

“It doesn’t matter if they’ve crossed. You’re the stinking reaper.”

I had no idea if the captain knew that part, so I clenched my teeth to demonstrate my annoyance to Angel, and whispered through my teeth so the man couldn’t hear me. “I know I’m the stinking reaper, but I can’t just summon someone back from the other side.”

He put his shoe back on and took off the other, dumped out the sand, then put it back on before leveling a stare on me dripping with attitude, and said, “Yes, you can. I’ve been telling you that forever. Oh, mi Dios.”

“Don’t bring God into this, and really?” I stood and sidled up to him. “I really can do that?”