"Necromancer?"

"That's what they call your sort, isn't it?"

Finn had no idea what his sort were called. The power to see ghosts ran in his family, skipping most, but hitting one or two every generation, to varying degrees. His mother sometimes caught flashes, but had never actually seen a ghost.

His great-aunt saw faint outlines, but couldn't communicate with them. Supposedly her brother – his great-uncle – had been able to, but he'd died when Finn was in preschool.

His family presumed there were other people who could see ghosts, but they'd never given it much thought. You heard about that sort of thing all the time – spiritualists, mediums, whatever – and his family didn't see any use in sticking a name on it. It was what it was, and you learned to live with it. Or you didn't. Your choice.

"What can I do for you?" Finn asked the ghost.

"The question, sir, is what can I do for you. The answer? Help solve this case."

Finn pulled out of the lot. "You know something?"

An enigmatic smile. "I know a lot of things."

"Specific to this case?"

The ghost reached for his seat belt, cursing as his fingers passed through. Then he gave a short laugh. "Not like I need that anyway, huh? Old habits..."

"Do you know something specific to this case?"

"About what those girls said, Detective – Can I call you Finn?"

"What do you know about this case?"

"This and that."

"In other words, not much. Look, if you need something from me, ask. I'll do what I can. But I don't like games.

You don't need to pretend you can help – "

"You're right that I don't know squat, but that doesn't mean I can't help." He faced Finn as they idled at a light. "You like blunt? Okay, let's be blunt. I'm bored. I've been wandering around on the other side for... years, I guess. Eventually, I suppose I'll go wherever it is I'm supposed to go, but in the meantime, I'm bored shitless. So I see you, a necromancer, trying to solve this case, and I see a chance to have some fun and do some good at the same time. Maybe that's why I'm stuck. I did some time when I was a kid, ran with some people, did some shit I regret. If I do a good deed, maybe I can get wherever it is I'm supposed to go."

Speaking of shit, Finn could smell it a mile away and Trent reeked. Finn had met rehabilitated gangbangers. If this guy was one, Finn would turn in his badge and declare himself unfit for detective work. Not a scar or tattoo to be seen.

Well spoken, obviously educated... Finn wasn't enough of an optimist to think it came from prison classes. And his manner was far too relaxed for anyone who'd had repeated run-ins with the police. But that didn't mean he hadn't done things that might keep him from passing over.

When Finn said nothing, Trent went on. "Think of what I could do. You can't get a search warrant? I'll pop in and take a look. You question someone who seems jumpy? I can hang around after you leave, see if the guy does anything, calls anyone. You need someone followed discreetly? It doesn't get any more discreet than me. Best of all? When you solve this, you get all the glory. I'm the perfect silent partner."

He flashed a smile that reminded Finn of his little brother. Whenever Rick had been trying to cajole Finn into doing something he probably shouldn't, he'd smile like that – a disarming grin that made Finn feel like a spoilsport for refusing.

Maybe it was the grin, but as Finn considered the matter, he couldn't see any reason to refuse. He'd been raised to see his power as a gift to be used for good. If he could solve a murder with it, he would. If he could reassure a ghost with it, he would. And if he could use it to help a spirit cross to the other side – or even just make him feel better – he should. So he would, at least until the guy made him regret it.

HOPE

Robyn's laptop was in her apartment, which was one place she definitely couldn't go. But Hope was fine with that...

because Robyn really didn't need to see how easily they could get past a police stakeout.

She'd already seemed suspicious about how Karl had found her. Good thing her scent trail had been recent enough for him to follow or Karl would have needed to return at night and change into a wolf. And if she'd accidentally seen that it would take some real explaining.

At least she hadn't questioned the lies about a witness hearing Portia arguing about a photo and a picture.

Now Hope was off on another chaos-promising mission, one she could enjoy guilt-free. She'd planned to stay at the motel while Karl retrieved the laptop, but Robyn had argued that Karl needed backup. Hope suspected she wanted to be alone, so she went with Karl, which would have been her choice anyway.

A break-in was always good for a chaos snack. Karl wouldn't let her accompany him on a real theft. But one for a legitimate cause was fair game, though this time, there wasn't any actual breaking in to be done. Robyn had given them the keys.

Night had fallen, making it easy to avoid the two cops in the unmarked car. A quick trip alongside the neighboring building, climb the dividing wall, sprint to the back door and break in. There weren't any more cops inside. For a professional thief, it didn't get much easier than that.

Still, the danger had Hope's pulse racing and the steady strum of low-level chaos kept it going. Any adventure with Karl was worth-while, not only for the chaos vibes he gave off, but for the thrill of getting into trouble together, feeding off one another's excitement.

They made it into the apartment without incident. There was no sign that the police had searched the place yet.

Karl scouted the apartment, hunting for any sign of a nonofficial search by someone looking for Robyn or that photograph. Hope could see the computer through the kitchen doorway, on the dining table, but instead of just grabbing it she just stood there, looking around.

"Hope?" Karl stuck his head in. "What is it? A vision?"

"Imagine this was my apartment. If I'd been here for months and it looked like this – " She opened cupboards, letting them shut behind her as she circled the room. "What would you think? How long am I in a hotel room before I'm unpacked, drinks and food in the fridge, my stuff all set out..."

"Furniture rearranged..."

"Robyn's the same way. Worse. Last time she moved, she took a week off to settle in and decorate – and she hardly ever takes vacation time. But she's been here three months and has – " Hope opened a cupboard. " – two plates, two bowls and three glasses. The furniture looks like it came with the apartment."