Mondays were bookkeeping days. No appointments on Mondays. But Reese had opted to hide all day under the covers. Not that she had slept. She had slid into her bed shortly after returning from her meeting with Paul Malloy. She had begged Luke to show himself but had been incapable of conjuring him from wherever he hung out when not with her.

She needed to know if she had killed the wrong asshole. But she couldn’t have. The fingerprints matched. Why would Claire Yates say she had the wrong guy unless it was true? Of course, Paul Malloy could just be full of shit. Damn, she needed to talk to Luke. Hiding under the covers was no way a vigilante should be behaving.

She was repulsed by her pathetic behavior, but it wasn’t until three o’clock in the afternoon that she moved. She was starving and getting quite bored with the whole feeling-sorry-for-herself thing. She reluctantly showered, dressed and walked the two blocks to Casey’s Pub with her notebook and pen. She checked to make sure she had her driver’s license in her back pocket. She never wanted to turn up dead without a form of identification on her. Sometimes the constant paranoia sucked. It was mentally draining. But she always thought if perhaps she had the license with her, it would ward off the possibility of an untimely death. Silly, she knew. But whatever worked to keep the demons at bay.

Casey himself still worked the pub regularly despite his age. Sure enough he was behind the bar chatting up some skinny red head chick in tight jeans and a faded t-shirt. To her credit, the girl seemed genuinely interested in what Casey was saying.

He broke his litany long enough to acknowledge Reese with a “hi, Reese” and a short wave. He quickly returned to his story and Reese slid into her booth, clutching her pen and notebook. And she did mean HER booth. She didn’t cook other than to pour the occasional bowl of Cheerios to offset her horrendous eating habits. She was a regular at Casey’s but never sat at the bar. For one thing she didn’t want the constant companionship of a bartender and for another she didn’t want the reminder of her father sitting there day after day. Besides she liked the Monday four o’clock routine at her booth. She was early, but no matter. Casey would send over a glass of water, her beverage of choice. Not a money-making customer, but she would order dinner from the short pub menu and move on to iced tea. It wasn’t that she didn’t like alcohol; it was that she did so she limited herself consciously. She had seen the effect it had on her parents. She refused to travel the same path.

Once in the booth, Luke startled Reese when he suddenly appeared across from her, both hands on the table and a grin on his face.

Annoyed and delighted at the same time, she said “Where have you been?” She tried not to move her lips when she asked, but a ventriloquist she was not.

"Well, you just got here, darling,” Sissy said as she placed two bowls of salsa and chips on the table, right on Luke’s hands. He whipped them away, making a silent show of being injured. Reese gave him a warning glare.

“Sorry, Sissy. I was talking to myself.” Reese looked away from her brother and up at Sissy. She and Reese were the same age but Sissy appeared ten years older, oblivious to the purifying effects of water. On the clock, she was a soda girl. Off the clock she was a rum and soda girl.

“Do you know what you want, Reese?” Sissy asked, tapping her stubby pencil against her thigh.

Reese pondered. She needed something in her system, but the menu was mundane and she was bored with the usual.

“Go for the steak and cheese spring rolls,” Luke said, his eyes lit with cheery excitement.

Reese scanned the menu although she knew it by heart. There were no steak and cheese spring rolls on it. “Umm … I don’t know, Sissy. Anything different in the kitchen today?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, Mack made some little Chinese rolls made with steak and cheese. They’re delicious. You want to try those?”

“Told you,” Luke said, his grin getting bigger.

Reese glared harder at her brother. Sissy looked in his direction, oblivious to his presence. Contrary to popular belief, ghosts do not make the air in their presence colder, unless they were trying to get your attention.

Sissy moved the tapping pencil to her small pad of paper. She never used either but the fidgety twitch relieved her anxiousness. It didn’t take a detective to see she was a chain-smoker. “You alright today, Reese?”

Reese turned and faced Sissy. “Yes, sorry. I will try the special.”

“Good choice,” Sissy and Luke chimed at the same time, Luke throwing a clenched fist toward Sissy’s shoulder. He laughed.

Reese fought the urge to snap at her brother who was still every bit the teasing, taunting twelve-year old he had been the day he died.

Sissy walked away and Reese was about to give Luke some grief for disappearing for nearly two days and then showing up only to annoy the crap out of her when he said, “Look out.” He puffed in a dramatic display of bluish smoke and was gone.

“Damn it,” Reese seethed between clenched teeth.

“Excuse me,” the skinny red head from the bar approached Reese and startled her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The girl clutched an apologetic hand to her chest. “Are you, Reese?”

“Yes, can I help you?” Reese tried to hide her annoyance. Damn girl was interrupting her sacred private time and had made Luke disappear. What had he said? Look out. Had it been a warning about this girl or was he still teasing?

“Can I sit?” The girl pointed to the empty seat across from Reese.

Reese was stunned. She hesitated. Would it be impolite to just say no? Did she even care if she was impolite?

The girl picked up on the hesitation and said, “I’m Heather’s daughter.”

Reese felt something like an ice pick sear her chest. Oh my god, am I having a heart attack? She dismissed the hypochondriac question and gestured to the seat. “Please.” Was the girl referring to Heather from Reese’s childhood? The one who moved away right before seventh grade started, no explanation, and never to talk to Reese again?

“Are you talking about Heather Bennett?” Reese asked, her curiosity banishing her annoyance.

The girl slid in, placing her near empty beer mug on the table. “Heather Dudley now, but yes, your friend from years ago.”

“Oh. How is your mother?” Reese really wanted to ask what the hell ever happened to Heather, but she did have some social grace.

“Good, I guess. Under the circumstances.” The girl hooked a finger through the mug’s handle, twirling it in a semi-circle.

Reese didn’t say anything. She waited. She knew the girl would do the normal human thing and fill the void with words. But the girl sat quietly, slouching her shoulders a bit as she continued to twirl the mug but now between her long, slender freckly fingers.

After another minute, the girl said, “Maybe this was a mistake.”

Again Reese didn’t say anything. She had learned from years of life coaching that the girl would spill her guts without prompting. Reese didn’t want to direct the conversation with her questions.

“It’s just ... I don’t know what to do. My sister, Addie, is missing.”

Again with the ice pick through her heart. Reese gave the girl a warm look. She didn’t want to say anything, but it would be too cold not to. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Everyone says she ran away, but I don’t believe it.”

Reese cleared her throat. She really wanted to ask the girl why she came to Reese, but instead asked, “How old is Addie?” She made a concerted effort to use the word “is” instead of “was.”

“Twelve. Almost thirteen.”

“Kind of young to run away,” Reese replied.

“That’s what I said.”

Reese examined the girl’s drawn face. She was fair skinned with a sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks and dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes. She had a slight gap between her not so white teeth. Not that they looked stained but rather as if she came from a long line of English heritage.

Reese ignored the need to ask how the girl had come to her. The answer frightened Reese. How much did people know about her? Reese never took on these kinds of clients. All of her snooping and avenging was done on her own time, never attracting the attention of law enforcement. Instead she asked, “What’s your name?”

The girl lifted her face and looked at Reese. “Lucy.” It was close enough to the name Luke that Reese had to wonder if Heather was thinking of Luke when Lucy was born.

“Lucy, I’m not sure I can help you. I really am sorry about your sister.” Reese didn’t want to ask, but she couldn’t help herself. “Did your mother send you to me?”

“No, I did,” Gregory said, appearing next to the booth facing Reese. She had been so engrossed in her concern about being found out that she never saw Gregory enter the pub. Bad detective skills, she scorned herself mentally. Reese looked from Gregory to the young woman. The similarity between the two was so striking they had to be related.  He placed a hand on Lucy’s shoulder and smiled wanly at Reese. His eyes were red, his face was splotchy, and his clothing was casual jeans and a wrinkled Oxford shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Not his usual attire of suit slacks and jacket.

“Gregory,” Reese said, quietly pleased to see him. “I didn’t know you were back. How was London?”

“Excellent. Luxemburg too.”

“Wow,” Reese feigned interest. She had little desire to travel abroad. Oh she supposed she wouldn’t object at some point in her life, but she was too focused on ridding her corner of the planet from the scum of the earth. “Do you want to sit?” Reese asked as she started to scoot over to make room for Gregory. Had it already been a month since he left? Reese couldn’t deny she felt some attraction to Gregory. She supposed it had something to do with that night so long ago. They had bonded and all these years later, they continued to be friends, but just friends. Sometimes Reese wished it was more than a friendship, but was afraid to lose one of the few connections she had with someone who knew Luke when he was alive.

The girl moved over and Gregory slid in next to her. Reese felt a pang of disappointment, but dismissed the feeling. What did she care? But the girl was a little too young for him, wasn’t she? Besides Reese had already concluded they were related somehow, right?

“I meant to be here earlier to introduce the two of you, but you’re usually not here until four,” Gregory said, rubbing one of his eyes with his balled fist. “I was trying to catch up on some sleep. I don’t know how people can sleep on planes.”

It struck Reese as odd that he knew her schedule. She couldn’t ever recall telling him where she spent her Mondays, but maybe she had.

Sissy came to the table with a small platter of the steak and cheese rolls. They smelled divine. Lucy’s eyes widened as she stared at the food.

“Can I get you another, honey?” Sissy pointed to the empty beer mug in front of Lucy.

“Sure,” she said and slid the glass toward Sissy, but never taking her eyes off of the greasy rolls.

“Help yourself,” Reese said and pushed the platter to the center of the table. God, now she was sharing her food.  

The girl snatched one of the halves, cheese oozing a stringy goop between the two halves. She used her fingers to stretch and twist and twirl the cheese until it was severed. She plunked the cheese onto the half still on the plate. Reese watched horrified, but Gregory didn’t even notice.

He pointed to Reese’s glass of water. “Want to split a bottle of red?” And just like that, Reese’s occasional glass of booze turned into half a bottle of wine. Nothing fancy, it was Casey’s Pub after all.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Sissy eyed Reese and gave a knowing look. Reese didn’t give up her iced tea for red wine, except apparently for Gregory. She turned her head to Gregory and Lucy. “Do you folks want to order something?”

“How about another order of these?” Gregory said as Lucy snatched another piece. He gave Reese a simple apologetic smile and glanced at Lucy who was cramming food into her mouth like she hadn’t eaten in a month. “And an order of quesadillas?”

“Alright honey, I’ll put the order in and bring you your drinks in a few minutes.” Sissy turned toward the kitchen and Reese focused on the pair across from her.

Although there was a certain air of familiarity between the two, Reese could detect tension bouncing between them. Gregory fidgeted with his silverware and Lucy was huddled as close to the wall as she could be, shrunken into herself as she devoured the food. Her nervousness seemed to have ratcheted to a tremor ready to explode.

Reese was just about to ask why they thought she could help with Addie when Gregory said, “The Kramer kid.”

Reese nodded, recognizing Gregory’s train of thought. It was the one and only “special” case Gregory was aware of, but Reese knew he suspected there were more. He had tried to talk to her on several occasions about her involvements but she dismissed them as coincidental.

Reese usually conducted this kind of business in her office where Luke often blended into the décor like dust in the air. It was seldom she had actual clients for these kinds of cases, but in the event she did, he could listen in on the appointments, saving Reese from having to repeat the stories. She looked around the bar to see if he was still lurking, but if he was there, he was invisible even to her eyes.

Gregory noticed Reese looking about and said while glancing around as well, “can we talk here?”

“Sure, I guess.” She focused back to the ensuing conversation.

Gregory nodded his approval and Sissy returned with an opened bottle of red wine, two glasses, and a fresh mug of beer. She left the wine pouring up to Reese and Gregory. Nothing fancy at Casey’s. Lucy nearly dunked her head into the beer and took a long draw off the top. She then announced, “I don’t know if I believe in all of this stuff.”

“Believe in what?” Reese asked, trying really hard not to grit her teeth and glare at Gregory, who was pouring a heavy glass of weak looking wine into one of the glasses. He slid it over to Reese and offered another apologetic smile.

Lucy ran a fingertip along the rim of her glass and then sucked on her finger. She extracted it with a sloppy wet sound and replied, “All this psychic crap.”

Reese couldn’t help the tiny smirk she could feel creeping across her cheeks. She quickly glanced at Gregory who was busying himself by pouring the second glass of wine and not so discreetly avoiding eye contact with her.

“Psychic crap? I’m not sure why you think there is any extrasensory activity going on, but I will just say some people just have exceptional observation skills.”

Gregory slumped a little as he stretched his arms under the table. He grinned from just one corner of his mouth at Reese.

“And if Gregory told you there was more to it than that, it’s only because he doesn’t believe I have great detective skills; therefore, it must be some other force.”

Gregory reached for his glass, lifted it, and mock toasted the air. Reese reciprocated the toast, very slowly so not to slop any of the wine over the brim.

She sipped and placed the glass directly in front of her. Not much more than wine vinegar.

“So Lucy, you don’t think your sister ran away. Why?” It was highly unlikely that Addie was actually a victim of foul play, but if she were, Reese needed to get started on the case right away. There was never time to waste in those situations. She wished Luke would let her know he was there and on the clock, so to speak.

“She had no reason.”

Gregory was about to say something, but Reese stopped him. “Have the police been notified?” She directed the question to Lucy. Reese wasn’t sure why Gregory had gotten involved but she could wait on that information.

Lucy nodded and lifted her mug to her mouth.

“What did they say?”

“That she ran away.”

Reese felt the first hint of annoyance. People always want your help but are reluctant to provide more without some prodding. It was the same whether she was coaching or hunting.

“Why do they think that?”

“Because there is no evidence she was abducted. She took her diary and Pookie.”

“Pookie?” Reese was certain it was a favorite childhood stuffed animal but she wanted to be sure and not assume, especially because at twelve, most kids don’t have the strong attachment to their stuffed toys anymore. Well not the ones who are developing into a regular teenager with the regular angst. Those without proper boundaries in their home often maintained a connection with a special toy for a sense of security. At least that was Reese’s experience.

“Her stuffed pink rabbit Uncle Gregory gave her.”

Uncle Gregory? Reese thought. It didn’t compute. She didn’t think he had any siblings. She shot a glance at Gregory and he shrugged his shoulders just a hair.

“So she took her diary and Pookie. Did she take anything else? A toothbrush? A change of clothes? A cell phone?”

“No. Well, I don’t know. Her backpack is missing and I can’t find her Shamrock t-shirt that says, ‘Kiss Me I’m Irish’ on it. But that could be at a friend’s house I guess.”

Reese sighed. She tried to keep the sound inaudible. She knew it was a discouraging sound.

“Lucy, so far, everything you have told me leads me to agree with the police. It sounds like she ran away. I know it’s not what you believe or want to believe …”

Lucy slapped her palms on the tabletop and gave a fake smile. “You don’t need to keep going. I knew this was a waste of time.”

Reese waited a few beats but only because she could afford the extra time with Gregory blocking Lucy in the booth.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t try to help find her. I’m just saying her running away versus being abducted makes my searching different. If she ran away, she may have left clues which might help us locate her. But if she was abducted, any clues left behind will be from her abductor. My search methods change. You get where I am going with this?” Reese thought it sounded logical. She expected Lucy to accept the reasoning and go along with her theory.

Wrong.

Lucy seemed to consider Reese’s words and then said in a tone like she was talking to a small child, “She didn’t run away. So the longer you or the police spend looking for some damn breadcrumbs that she didn’t leave behind for you to conveniently find, the longer her abductor will have her. If you want to help, let the police assume she’s a run away and treat the investigation as such but you focus on the bastard who took her. Someone has to put in the effort to find her abductor.”

Reese sat bewildered by the young woman’s astute suggestion. She had seemed so immature only seconds before and incapable of having a solid argument. She pondered and finally scribbled her contact information on a sheet from her notebook. “I tell you what. Let me think about it.” She slid the paper over to Lucy. “Call me in the morning, around nine. We can discuss it then.”

Lucy took the paper and folded it into a small square. She shoved it into her front pocket and then scooted toward Gregory. He stood from the table and tried to hug her as she squirmed past him. Both Gregory and Reese watched her as she headed toward the door but only Reese saw Luke standing there, reaching out to the young woman as she passed him. Only Reese saw the tears in her dead brother’s eyes as he stroked Lucy’s hair.