It’s nearly ten at night when I return home. I’m clutching the takeout containers left over from dinner at Sadie’s bedside. The spicy scent of Szechuan chicken warms the air and stings my nose.
I stand on the sidewalk outside Sadie’s house. The windows are black. The place looks curled in on itself, as if it might crumble into dust. I remain there for so long, cold sneaks through the soles of my boots until my toes ache.
“He’s gone, you know.”
The voice makes me jump. My heart thuds, the beat of it quick and annoyed. This is a voice I recognize, and this is the third time it has startled me. I swallow my first question, which is: He is? I go with the one that I think will irritate Carter Dupree as much as he irritates me.
“Who’s gone?” I ask.
“The ghost.” And there he is, Carter Dupre
