Being a ghost was pretty boring. Jason did not recommend it.

Everyone interesting in Felicity Valley was still alive, and while he was grateful that his little sister was still breathing, whatever plane of existence Jason was on was lonely.

No one in this little town died an interesting death. Except Jason, who was the victim of the only murder in Felicity Valley this century. And the only murder last century was technically a manslaughter, some bar brawl gone wrong. The guy that died in it was still drunk as a ghost, and Jason was confident that he'd gladly kill him again if either of them, y'know, had physical bodies.

So, Jason was the most interesting murder victim in the last two hundred years, because bar brawl guy had it coming.

And then a teenage girl had the audacity to be the second person to be murdered in Felicity Valley. And another ghost had the nerve to show up in his graveyard?

-

"Who are you?" Jason asked the girl. She was a bit shorter than him, with azure eyes and fair skin, covered in scattered freckles and vermillion blood. Dried blood collected around her throat and stained her blue hoodie, but he couldn't really judge. Getting shot in the chest probably hadn't done any wonders for his looks.

"Who are you?" She repeated his question back, her voice filled with disbelief, apparently offended that he didn't know. Christ, the dead had high expectations.

"You can't answer a question with a question, that's not how a conversation works. And I asked first."

The girl rolled her eyes. "I'm Tamara Lincoln."

"Jason Anson." He paused. It didn't look like the girl that had been killed recently, and he'd never seen Tamara around Felicity Valley before. And being a bored ghost in a small town, he knew everything that happened in this town. "Where are you from?"

"Virginia."

"Why are you here? You can't do that."

"Can't do what? Cross a state line? We're dead. There isn't a border control for ghosts."

Fair point. Jason wasn't really sure why he hadn't just... walked out of Felicity Valley, but he liked stalking his loved ones. Seeing Mae in her twenties (now a spy, apparently?) felt strange when she hadn't seen him since she was a teenager, but it was nice to see her as an adult. Kate owned her family's store, Aurora owned the nearest gymnastics studio, his sister was an FBI agent.

FOMO is a real thing for ghosts.

"Why are you here, then?"

"Lucie David died. I'm waiting for her."

Jason saw Lucie die. Her throat was sliced open with one smooth movement. Definitely an experienced killer. Jason was never that good with a knife. If he was alive, he could've called for help, but there was nothing he could do but watch the blood stain the floors and the once-steady movements of Lucie's chest slow until finally, they stopped altogether.

He left when Agent Flores came home. He just didn't want Lucie to die alone like he did. Even if she'd never know he was there.

"The funeral's on Tuesday." Jason had seen the invitations being handed out in church last weekend.

"I know."

"Then why are you here now?"

"Just in case. I'd like to be here."

Why did ghosts have to be so cryptic? It's not like they had to worry about being arrested if they said too much. Which was a good thing, because Jason could probably end up on the receiving end of a death sentence if he hadn't already been given that punishment by fate.

"Are you buried here?" Tamara broke the awkward silence that had overtaken the graveyard.

"Yep. You're... not?"

Tamara shook her head, her chestnut brown waves bouncing. "I'm buried in Virginia."

"I guessed so. I know every grave in this cemetery."

"That's the saddest brag I've ever heard." She responded with a small smirk.

"Hey, I have a lot of free time!"