root for their color-matched “champions” onstage. There were huge treasure chests around the room that held soda, candy and chips, along with healthier soy snacks and natural iced teas. It was a top-quality production, designed to appeal to kids of all ages—along with the occasional adult he saw in the audience. He noted that the smaller children were together in one area, and there seemed to be at least three employees wearing pirate-themed casino uniforms to attend to every nine or ten children.
Onstage, the pirates were going at it.
He recognized Jessy right away, despite her wig and makeup and pirate attire. The kids were shouting to her, laughing, and even the almost adults in the room were having fun and shouting right along with everyone else for her to find the treasure.
Then she froze. Just…froze, staring at the doorway.
It was only for the blink of an eye; then she jerked her gaze away and responded to one of the male actors. A sword battle ensued, then somehow turned into a dance.
Then, once again, Jessy Sparhawk froze.
Dillon felt a tap on his shoulder and thought it might be the big security guard who was keeping an eagle eye on the room.
But it wasn’t. Ringo was at his side.
“Over there,” Ringo said quietly.
Across the lobby, standing near the guard, stood another man. A big man in a suit.
Tanner Green.
Dillon started toward him, moving quickly but casually, keeping his eyes focused on the guard, as if he was just going over to ask him a question about the show.
But Tanner Green sensed him, and he was having none of it. He turned and stared hard at Dillon.
And then he disappeared, fading like mist taken by a sudden wind.
“You scared him!” Ringo said accusingly.
Inwardly, Dillon cursed himself. He should have watched the man a while longer. He should have been patient. But if Tanner Green was walking around in some spiritual limbo, it was imperative for Dillon to reach him. Speak with him.
And he had moved without menace. This was one spooked ghost—no pun intended, he thought with a grin.
The guard looked at him and nodded, mistaking him for a parent. “Kids will be out in a little while, maybe twenty minutes or so. A lot of them hang around to get their pictures taken with the cast.”
“Thanks,” Dillon said, turning away from the guard and putting his hand up to his face as if rubbing his chin, so he could speak softly to Ringo without being overheard.
“Why was he so frightened of me?” he asked.
“Duh. The man was murdered,” Ringo pointed out, as if pointing out the obvious to a three-year-old.
Irritated, Dillon chose not to respond to his ghostly companion’s sarcasm. Ringo might be from the Old West, but he had adopted the modern vernacular with enthusiasm, as if that somehow made him more a part of the earthly world.
“Maybe he was afraid of you, then,” Dillon asked. “You’re the one carrying a gun.”
“That actually makes sense,” Ringo admitted. “He probably hasn’t seen many other ghosts, and, if he has…well, I guess an old gunslinger might be a bit too much for him to handle. And he probably doesn’t want to believe that he’s dead, either. Probably hasn’t accepted it yet.”
Whatever the cause, Tanner Green was scared.
Even so, he had come out in the open to stare at Jessy Sparhawk, the woman he had been lying on top of as he breathed his last.
And she had seen him. Dillon would swear to it.
The play finished and the kids rushed the stage. The performers posed for pictures, laughing, talking, signing miniposters that seemed to come out of nowhere. He watched Jessy pick up a toddler for a photo, then talk to the little girl and sign a poster. She seemed totally at ease—until she glanced back toward the door and an uneasy look crossed her face.
Then she saw Dillon and was visibly startled. After that she looked…frightened, rattled, though she continued to smile as she interacted with the kids.
He waved to her at one point, and she waved back.
The security guard with the broad shoulders and pleasant smile walked over to him. “You a friend of Jessy’s?” the man asked. “Not just a waiting parent?”
“No,” Dillon told him, shaking his head. “And yes, I’m a…friend of Jessy’s.”
“You can go on in if you want,” the guard said.
“Thanks,” Dillon said and headed toward the stage, Ringo still at his side.
He noticed a woman turn around as they passed, a puzzled look on her face. She drew her sweater more closely around her, as if she had suddenly felt a chill. That was the way it was for most people. They didn’t see the dead, couldn’t communicate with them, but something inside told them that someone was there.
Dillon smiled at the woman and kept going, hoping Ringo wasn’t feeling mischievous and wouldn’t tease her with a tap on the shoulder or a tug at her skirt. He moved quickly, because if you weren’t looking, Ringo wasn’t as prone to act up.
Jessy was still onstage, posing with the last of the kids.
She looked at him over the head of a toddler, and he sensed she wasn’t all that pleased to see him. But she was in performance mode, so she forced a smile to her lips.
“Very impressive,” he told her, reaching the stage. He saw her fellow cast members glancing his way and whispering to one another. He was being assessed, he knew.
“What a surprise to see you here,” she said.
He decided not to mince words. “I need to speak with you.”
“Oh? This isn’t a great time. I have to get out of costume, check my schedule for the next few days.”
“I’ll wait.”
She glanced away, biting her lip. She might be a good performer, but she was a lousy liar. She didn’t have a good excuse for refusing to talk to him, and she wasn’t going to invent one.
“I’m not having a great day,” she said. “I’m really tired.”
“I won’t take much of your time. And you have to eat, right? Why not let me take you to the fast-food establishment of your choice, and then I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”
She let out an uneasy sigh and gave in. “Sure. I need about half an hour.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate it,” he told her.
She nodded curtly, and he couldn’t help thinking that she made a gorgeous pirate. Her costume wasn’t risqué, but her breasts rode appealingly in the cotton blouse above the top of a leather corset. Her skirt was long, but slit up one side for dancing. Her
