I’m halfway to K&M Ghost Eradication Specialists when the obvious hits me. I can’t find Belinda because she’s in the one place I haven’t really checked:
Home.
I swing my truck around, certain this is the answer. She snuck in sometime last night, and now she’s upstairs, in her room. Belinda Barnes, former Springside High School homecoming queen, isn’t the sort of woman who cries her eyes red over a guy.
She might, however, like something to punch. Or some coffee. I don’t know if she wants my company, but at the very least I can brew her a pot of one hundred percent Kona and offer up the couch cushions.
I’m so intent on this plan that I nearly miss seeing the necromancer in front of my house. I stop the truck in the middle of the street, shift into reverse, and back up.
There, on the si
