Sabine stood at the hospital room window. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting an orange glow over the marsh. She’d barely slept, only managing ten-minute increments, and was positive she looked as bad as she felt. The nurse had already been in to check on her and promised to bring breakfast in directly. Sabine could hardly wait. Hospital food was so tasty. She’d just decided that a shower might not be a bad idea when Helena came huffing into the room, still wearing the habit, and threw a stack of files behind a recliner in the corner. Before Sabine could get a word out of her mouth, the nurse bustled in with Sabine’s breakfast. Sabine glanced over at Helena, who’d collapsed in the recliner wheezing like she’d just run the New York marathon, and tried not to even think about what Helena had tossed behind the chair.
Sabine excused herself to the bathroom, hoping it would hurry the cheerful, chatty nurse along. It probably took all of a minute before she heard the door close, but it felt like hours. Sabine stepped out of the bathroom to find Helena sitting up in her bed, a half-eaten pancake dangling from the plastic fork.
“You know,” Helena said as she shoved the other half of the pancake in her mouth. “Hospital food isn’t near as bad as I remember.” She stabbed a half-cooked sausage with the fork and wolfed it down.
“You have a serious problem. This is just so not normal.”
Helena rolled her eyes and poked at the scrambled eggs. It lifted in one big blob. “The fake psychic is telling me this isn’t normal. Hell, you think I hadn’t already figured that out?”
“I don’t mean this as in everything, I mean this”—she pointed to the empty plate—“is not normal. Dead people do not need to eat. Dead people shouldn’t even want to eat. Ghosts should not develop addictions, Helena.”
Helena gulped down the coffee, then belched. “Guess ghosts shouldn’t lose their manners either, huh? But what the hell. You’re the only one who can hear me.”
Sabine closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to keep herself from wishing that she or Maryse had strangled Helena when she was alive. At least then they could have said they deserved having Helena haunt them from beyond.
Sabine peeked behind the recliner. Just as she’d feared, there was a stack of files that look suspiciously like those she’d seen in the records room the night before. “What did you do, Helena?”
Helena, who had been licking residual syrup off the breakfast plate, placed the now spotless plastic dish on the table. “Just some files I thought we’d need.” She swirled her finger around the inside of the coffee cup, then licked it.
Sabine felt her jaw clench involuntarily. “What files? Damn it, Helena! I wrote down everything we needed last night. Why would you take more? They’ll send me to jail if they find those files in here. What were you thinking? And why aren’t you saying anything?”
The ghost had gone strangely silent and it took a second for Sabine to realize that she was glancing at the doorway. Sabine whirled around, fully expecting to find the chatty nurse calling for a straitjacket and police backup, and let out a breath of relief when she saw Raissa standing in the doorway, a curious expression on her face.
“Raissa, thank God!” Sabine collapsed into the recliner, what little was remaining of her energy completely drained. “I thought for sure I was on my way to a padded room or jail, whichever one had available space. What are you doing here?”
Raissa stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Maryse called me. She got held up at the airport in Houston and thought you might need to hear a voice of reason since Mildred called yelling at her twice last night.”
“Mildred yelled at Maryse?” Sabine stared at Raissa. “What in the world for?”
Raissa smiled. “Apparently this attempt on your life is all Maryse’s fault because she went and tried to get killed first and you always want to do everything Maryse does.”
Sabine groaned. “I wanted to do everything Maryse did in second grade. I haven’t wanted to since. Well, except that one time I saw Luc walk out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel. I have to admit that Maryse definitely got that one right.”
Raissa laughed. “I confess to a lingering bit of jealousy myself. Not only is the man hot, but he’s so obviously over the moon for Maryse. Makes you want one of your own.”
“Only for a moment. Once they put their clothes on, then there’s bills to pay and work to do and in-laws to deal with, and we all know how that in-law thing worked out for Maryse the first time.” Sabine glared at Helena.
Raissa followed Sabine’s gaze and studied the hospital bed. “I take it the ghost is here? Either that or you are on some really good drugs and your bed is incredibly lumpy.”
“Oh yeah,” Sabine said. “She’s here in all her glory—every should-be-expanding pound of her.”
Helena jumped off the bed. “I don’t have to take this abuse.” She stalked out of the room.
Sabine gave a silent prayer of thanks and reported Helena’s exit to Raissa.
“Well, since I’m pretty sure you’re not going to be arrested for having someone else eat your hospital food, do you want to tell me what she stole?” Raissa said.
“Hospital records.” Sabine pointed over her head and behind the recliner. “She threw them behind the chair when the nurse came in. I am going straight to jail if they catch me with these files in my room.”
Helena stuck her head in through the wall. “Please,” she said. “Like you wouldn’t have been in trouble if we’d got caught in the records room last night. You weren’t whining when it was about you.”
“Breaking into the records room is not the same as stealing the records,” Sabine shot back, but she seriously doubted her voice carried the same conviction as her words. “Don’t you have a buffet to conquer?”
Helena gave her the finger and popped back out the wall.
“And take off that habit,” Sabine yelled after her. “It’s sacrilegious.”
Raissa raised her eyebrows, and Sabine remembered the psychic could only hear one side of the conversation. “We sorta helped ourselves to the medical records room last night.”
“And it required wearing habits?” Raissa shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know. What were you looking for exactly? Or is this answer going to be as bad as the habit one?”
“I wanted to check the files on my family.”
“You were hoping to find one with a ‘psychotic killer’ notation on it?” Raissa asked.
“No. I mean, I was kinda hoping for some indication of instability or something. I thought that might narrow things down a bit.”
“And you’re certain your family is the problem?”
“Yes, no…I don’t know. All I know is my family is the only thing new in my life, well, except Helena, so I figured it has to have something to do with them. And they’d have to be crazy to want to kill me, because I’m not asking for anything…yet, and even if I get around to it, it’s not going to be money. I’ve already turned down a business loan from Catherine.”
“Sounds reasonable—in the sort of reason you and Maryse have taken to since Helena appeared. So what did you find?”
Sabine frowned. “Nothing.”
“No crazy people?”
“No. No records.”
Raissa stared at her. “The only doctors in the town have their offices here, right? Are there any in the Fortescues’ town?”
“Not anymore,” Sabine said. “The last doctor retired years ago and has never been replaced.”
“Then their records should have been transferred here. Unless you think they went all the way to New Orleans to see the doctor.”
Sabine shook her head. “Their records were apparently here at one time. But on the shelf where all the Fortescue files should have been was this orange piece of paper with a list of their names.”
“So someone checked them out?”
“That’s what I thought at first, but when I shuffled through the manager’s desk, I found a sheet of paper listing all the files that were stolen in the hospital break-in a couple of weeks ago.” Sabine felt a chill run through her. “There were other people’s names on the list, but they didn’t appear related. Except for the Fortescues. But Raissa, no one knew we were related then—not me, you, them—you hadn’t even hired Beau when the break-in happened.”
Raissa narrowed her eyes. “You’re right. That’s very strange.”
“It can’t be a coincidence. Not after this.”
Raissa shook her head, her expression thoughtful. “No, I don’t believe it’s a coincidence, but I can’t put the pieces together, either. I’ll do a reading this afternoon and let you know if I come up with something.”
“Thanks.”
“So…if your family files were missing, what did Helena steal?”
Sabine groaned. “I don’t even know. She ran into the room just ahead of the nurse. It’s a miracle the nurse didn’t see a floating file display. How in the world would I have explained that one?” Sabine rose from the chair and reached for the files.
Raissa smiled. “And just think—you’re supposed to be equipped to deal with the dead.”
“No one could be prepared for Helena,” Sabine said as she stood back up, files in hand. “The Spartans couldn’t have prepared for Helena. You know, I’m not really sure she didn’t pass over. I’m starting to think Satan couldn’t handle her either so he sent her back.”
Raissa laughed. “Well, the next time you or Helena need to procure some illegal data, let me know and I’ll loan you my scanner.”
“Scanner?”
“Yeah, a scanner,” Raissa said. “Mine is small—just big enough for a sheet of paper, and really thin and portable. You could scan all the documents Helena stole onto a USB, then review them at your leisure on your home computer. No hand cramps, floating file scares, or habits required.”
“I never even thought about something like that. You constantly amaze me with your grip on technology.”
“Hey, the spirits don’t help with filing and I don’t want to rent storage. Digital file cabinets are the way to go.” Raissa walked over to Sabine and gave her a hug. “I’m going to clear out. I want to talk to Beau before I head back to New Orleans and open the shop. You let me know if you need anything. Promise?”
Sabine nodded. “Promise.”
Raissa gave her a wave and left the room. Sabine looked down at the files, then frowned when she saw who the records belonged to—Helena’s family. Why in the world would Helena want those? Her parents were long dead—they couldn’t possibly have killed her.
Sabine shoved the files in her overnight bag and zipped it shut. Helena wouldn’t be able to return them until nighttime. Which would give Sabine plenty of time to ask the ghost what the hell was going on.