Where is the damn paperwork? Reese thought. She couldn't recall where she had put Paul Malloy's intake form and was flipping through the horizontal files in the customer file cabinet. She couldn't remember putting it in there, but it was her normal routine.

Her office was lowly lit by her yard sale find, a desk lamp of brass finish and a ruby red cut glass shade. She considered doing an Internet search on the lamp. She knew it was a steal at five dollars and an antique by the look of it. She suspected it was of some value and could find its worth on eBay. But she ignored the temptation to pursue the topic, knowing full well she was avoiding what she had come to the office to do.

While one part of her brain tried to remember if she had shredded the form, another part thought about Gregory's kiss all those years ago. She had considered it on and off over the decades but had never thought of it as a perverted thing. But now, with Wayne's accusation that Gregory liked little girls, her concern for Addie intensified. To Reese, the kiss they had shared was about compassion, not passion. But what if she was wrong? Oh, she had fantasized he would one day kiss her again, but those thoughts had faded once she started dating boys her own age. Not that there had been many boys, but enough to rid her desire for a grown man. A grown man who had never, not once after that kiss, displayed any inkling of wanting her again. She assumed he wasn't interested and had only kissed her to make her feel better. It had worked at the time. She had forgotten about her goal, for a short while anyway.

"Yes," she said to the empty air, vaguely annoyed with Luke for pulling a disappearing act on her. She recalled what she had done with the paperwork. She went to her desk and pulled the form out of the bottom drawer where she had raked it earlier after kicking the two men out of her office. She flipped to the second page and dialed the number Paul had written.

He answered on the second ring.

"Paul, this is Reese Caldwell. I'm sorry to call so late." She glanced at her watch and shrugged. Not even ten. Not terribly late.

"Yes?" He responded in a professional tone.

Her heart sank just a tad. What did she think? He would get all excited, jumping up and down, at the sound of her voice?

"I was hoping we could meet. I need to discuss a few things with you," she forced herself to say although she wanted to hang up in embarrassment.

"Certainly. How about in an hour?" He said, still sounding as if he was conducting business. She pictured him sitting in a nice restaurant, a beautiful, elegant woman across from him.

"Umm ... I don't want to interfere with your night. I might be able to see you in the morning."

"No, tonight is fine." He was curt.

Her feelings shifted. Now he was calling the shots. What if tonight wasn't fine with her?

He must have heard her hesitation because he added, "I can meet you at your home. Just send me a text with the address." He didn't wait for a response or even say goodbye. He was just gone. Poof! She looked at the phone, stunned.

Who the hell did he think he was? Like a storm slamming waves, she put her office back together, fuming. She was not going to send him a text. No sir. No one demanded her to do anything. She shoved his paperwork in a file folder, penciling his name across the tab. For some stupid reason she couldn't bring herself to destroy it. She looked at his phone number on page two again, attempting to commit it to memory. Just in case she wanted to call him back later to tell him where he could stuff it. She didn't put the folder in the customer files but rather in the locked cabinet. When there was nothing left to do, she shut off the lamp. She stood in the dark, arguing with her thoughts. She had called him and asked him for his help. What was she thinking? But he did offer to meet with her and pretty much right away. She should be grateful, shouldn't she?

"Fuck," she mumbled as she locked up the office. At her car she begrudgingly dug her cell phone out of the glove compartment. Her thumbs hovered over the keypad but before she could type anything, she slammed the phone back into the slot and banged the cover closed.

She drove the short ride home, still fuming, but mostly at her own self. What the hell did she think he was going to do to help anyway? Find Addie? That's what she was supposed to be doing.

At the thought of Addie, she felt her defenses go down a smidge. What if he could find Addie? Shouldn't she do everything in her power to locate her? She leaned over and reached for the phone once again. But what if he learned about Luke? She couldn't risk the exposure.

She pocketed the phone and went into her townhouse, not even looking for Chip. It was past his bedtime anyway. It was dark and she suddenly remembered the apparition who refused to show himself.

"Luke!" She sang out as she turned on the entry light, pretending she didn't hear the quiver in her voice. She braced for a confrontation, but nothing was lurking except the usual scatter of furniture. "Luke?" She waited a few seconds before entering further. She went to the kitchen, antsy. She started to prepare a bowl of cereal before remembering she had dumped the last of the milk. She sighed and abandoned the task. She went to the living room and flopped on the sofa. "Luke, listen. Paul Malloy is coming here, so don't show your face, okay?"

Still no answer. She was getting nervous. Luke had been acting suspicious lately, disappearing for days at a time. What was going on with him? They needed to talk, but first things first. She texted a message with her home address, hoping like hell the number she sent it to was the correct one.

That done, she ran upstairs to change into something not so spy-like. For a split second she considered digging through her drawers in search of something sexy, sultry. She was certain she could make Paul forget about the woman he was with. But then she quickly changed her mind, chiding herself for the pointless thought. She had no real desire to come between a couple, besides, she wasn't even sure he was out on a date. If he were, would he just take off like that to come see her?

Her phone chimed and her heart skipped. "See you in 20," the message said. She rushed to get ready, taking her hair down from the ponytail. She considered putting makeup on, but a quick glance in the mirror told her not to bother. She was flushed enough and didn't want him thinking she had called a meeting so she could seduce him. She opted for a pair of black baggy sweatpants, a cream t-shirt emblazoned with the Nantucket dog and a pair of comfy, saggy white socks. No seduction going on there. Although satisfied with her non-erotic attire, she did decide a hairbrush was in order. She was almost done when the doorbell rang.

"Don't answer that," Luke commanded, blocking the bathroom doorway.

Reese jumped at his abrupt appearance. "I wish you wouldn't do that," she said through gritted teeth as she turned to face him.

A few seconds went by while he held her captive in the small room.

"Luke, come on. Stop playing games," Reese moaned.

"Don't answer the door," Luke repeated, arms stretched across the door opening.

"Don't be silly. I told you he was coming." She darted left to right and finding no exit, stood straight, arms folded. "Where have you been? If you had been here, I wouldn't have to talk to Paul."

The bell rang a second time. "Reese?" Paul's voice carried through to the upstairs bathroom.

"Coming!" She called down while she glared at Luke. "Luke, move."

He didn't so she did something she had never done before. She walked right through him. It was a tingly zap of tiny electrical pops, but she disregarded the new sensation and moved on.

"Please, Reese, don't." Luke begged from behind her.

At the head of the stairs, she turned to her brother. "This isn't about us. This is about Addie. He might be able to help find her. Just stay out of the way so he doesn't see you."

She trotted down the stairs, hoping and praying Luke had made his departure. "Coming," she called out again right before she opened the door.

God, the man was unnaturally gorgeous. Lord help her but she couldn't resist looking him over. A fine specimen in black jeans and a crisp white linen shirt, opened at the throat. Wait, wasn't that what he was wearing earlier? No matter. Maybe it was the lighting. He still looked fabulous, more fabulous than she remembered from earlier.

"Paul, thank you so much for coming over. You really didn't have to come by tonight. It could have waited." She blocked the door just as her brother had upstairs. The thought of Paul in her home was almost more than she could handle. She felt absurdly weak in the knees.

"Can I come in?" He said, his words scratchy and oh so sexy. Was he doing that with his voice intentionally or was it always that hot?

She backed away from the doorway, inviting him in. She wished she had spent more time putting herself together. She fidgeted with her hair, tucking it behind one ear, then untucking. She closed the door. He waltzed into the living room and sat in a chair. She watched him with curiosity. He was so damn sure of himself. Quite the turn-on but she felt his nonchalance irritating her under her skin. Handsome or not, she wasn't use to anyone else being the boss.

He reached over to a lamp and turned it on.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Reese offered more out of refusal to traipse behind him like a little school girl with a crush for her teacher. She went to the fridge, grabbing two bottles of water.

"A scotch and water would be great," he answered.

"How about just the water?" She answered back.

Silence.

She poked her head up from the fridge and looked into the living room from the opening between the two rooms. He sat, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his knuckles. He had a grin on his face and stared back at her.

"I'd rather have a scotch and water."

"No scotch. Just water." She bounced one of the bottles so he could see it.

"Water then," Paul said, still watching her.

She went to the living room and sat on the sofa across from him. She debated how she would broach the topic on her mind but then he started talking so fast Reese could barely understand him.

"I should have told you that I knew who you were from the beginning but then I got this message from Claire Yates, you see, so I needed to get it to you, but I figured if you remembered who I was you wouldn't want to see me."

Reese lifted a hand in protest, "Whoa, hold on a minute. I didn't ask to meet with you so you could explain yourself ..."

"Well, I need to. See there's something I need to tell you."

Reese leaned back into the sofa and tucked her feet under legs. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear what he had to say, but something about his nervousness made her feel like she had the power now, and she liked the feeling.

She waited. He snapped the cap off his water and took a swig, making sure to look anywhere other than at her. "Cute place," he said, looking around. Reese followed his move.

"It's home. Not much of a decorator, I'm afraid, but ..."

"No. I like the simple look. I go into people's homes sometimes and am overwhelmed with clashing décor and junk. You're ...yours is much simpler."

She nodded her head in agreement and refocused back at him. "So you were saying?"

Paul took another swig of water and Reese watched the muscles in his neck flex as he swallowed. She had a flashing image of running her fingers along that muscle, tracing the firmness, but before the image could go any further, Paul started talking again, but slower this time.

"I was seventeen when Luke died. I had heard about his disappearance and then his murder on the news. I was drawn to the story, unlike any story before. I had already experienced some psychic happenings but never with a ghost of someone so viciously deceased. I was compelled. I felt like it was my duty to find out what happened to him."

Reese didn't even realize she had sat forward.

"That's when I moved here and got a job at Two Scoops. I was obsessed with Luke's case. I wanted to be closer to where it all happened."

Suddenly, the sliding glass door shook like a strong wind had just blown. Both Reese and Paul turned at the noise. It continued to rattle but they looked back at each other. Reese waited for the next words to spill out of Paul's mouth.

"I started asking around, quietly, you know. Nothing freaks people out more than telling them you can talk to the dead."

Reese's heart picked up its beat. She was afraid to hear what Paul had to say, but felt a deep yearning for his words nonetheless. So she waited.

The sliding door quivered and then bang, like a bird had smashed against the glass. Reese hopped from her position and ran to the door. She flipped the switch for the outdoor light but the bulb must have blown because no light flooded the little fenced in patio. She jumped at Paul's touch on her shoulder. She turned to him and he shook his head slowly.

"I have to keep telling you this, Reese," he said in a low voice. The door shook like someone was purposefully pounding on it. "There's a spirit here who doesn't want me to talk."

Reese immediately scolded Luke in her mind. Luke wouldn't act like this though, would he?

Paul slid his hand down Reese's shoulder and slipped it into her hand. He tugged at her to go with him while the rattling increased. She was afraid the door would break.

"Who's the spirit?"

"I don't know, yet." He pulled at her hand again. "Come on." He led her back to the sofa and sat next to her, twisting his body to face her. "Did you know I went to see your mother a couple of weeks after Luke was found?" He waited a few beats before adding, "Of course you didn't. You don't even remember me."

"I knew there were some psychics hounding Mom. Was that you?"

"I wasn't hounding her. I was the first one she let in. But she stopped letting me see her when she started getting harassed."

Suddenly the lamp popped and the bulb shattered, blowing small pieces of fragile glass everywhere. Reese let out a small scream and Paul placed a hand on her knee. "It's okay," he said. "Nothing is going to hurt us."

She was tempted to get up and turn on the overhead light, but Paul's hand was pressing hard on her leg. "She didn't want to see me anymore. She said another psychic had come forward and was claiming to see Luke and his story was totally different than mine. She wanted to hear nothing after that."

"And this was about a month after they found Luke."

"Yes."

"That's when she really started to drink. No wonder." Reese felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She had no idea there were people claiming to see Luke's ghost. She knew there were psychics trying to get an audience with her mother, but not that they had achieved their goal. Her mother must have been mortified. All these years, Reese had thought her mother just didn't care about her, but she had been trying to drown out not only the horror of Luke's death but the demons haunting her afterwards.

There was a churning of anger in Reese's stomach. She watched Pauls' face closely in the sliver of light illuminating from the entryway. "Did you ever claim to see Luke?" She asked, her voice low and tembling.

Paul looked on steadily, never blinking or looking away from Reese. "I didn't claim it. I genuinely saw him. I talked with him."

The sliding door had grown quiet as almost holding its breath in anticipation, but now suddenly it vibrated, then rattled, then shook like an earth quake tremor building to the surface. Glass imploded into the room, flying over their heads as Paul reached for Reese and pulled her down to the floor. Nearly suffocating under his heavy weight of protection, Reese exhaled, "Is this Luke doing this?"

"No. It isn't Luke, but I'm afraid he might be in trouble."