“Alaska has no death penalty,” Amelia said.
“Amelia, this person can be locked away for life and ninety-nine years—life! Behind bars!” Clara said.
Amelia shook her head. “That should be comforting, right? No, I don’t want whoever did this to me to live, to see the sun, to feel the breeze.” She quietly began to cry.
Clara reached out—and of course, touched air.
“Amelia, who—who did this?”
But Amelia shook her head. “I don’t know. I was on the phone with him. He called me the morning we were coming out to film you.” She flashed Clara an apologetic smile. “We were all set—giddy, really. I hadn’t seen the Mansion yet. But I headed out early. He said he was going to be on the island. He’d be a great surprise guest for either or both shows we were filming, and he could give me a story I’d never forget. To be honest, he was so mysterious and charming, I thought it was Todd Beck, the bright young actor they just hired to play in the new superhero movie. He’s working it right now, you know, publicity from every angle! It was a chance, yes, but I was willing to take it. Every once in a while, someone really big does want to be on one of our shows. Oh! I was such a fool, so eager! I hired the first boat I could find at the docks to get me out here. And then I walked toward the Mansion...but I never got there. I remember feeling as if there was a rush of air behind me...and then it seemed a clamp was around my throat, I couldn’t breathe...and then...”
She started to sob again.
“And then?” Clara asked gently.
Amelia sat straight, staring at nothing, shaking her head in bitterness. She had been a beautiful young woman with her dark hair, light eyes and skin, and perfect bone structure.
“Then I saw myself,” she said. “And I realized that I was walking around...watching people, listening to people, trying to tell them that I was there. But they were totally oblivious to me, their attention on...the pieces of my body.”
“You never saw your killer?” Clara asked. She refrained from asking how she was here as a spirit now, but hadn’t seen when the killer had cut her in half.
Maybe there were small mercies in the world.
“No. The world went pitch-black...and then I was there, watching all the forensic people work around me. I saw...what he did to me.”
At least he hadn’t chopped her up when she’d been alive.
For a moment, there was silence between them. Then Amelia looked at Clara again. “I saw you—I saw your eyes. And I knew that you were horrified for me. Not because of me, but for me. And you barely even knew me. Oh, Clara! How could this have happened? Why did it happen? Was I being punished for thinking too much of myself? Am I... Will I walk around like this forever?”
Clara wasn’t sure what to say to her.
I don’t know, Amelia! I know nothing about being dead, yet. To the best of my knowledge, there is no Being Dead for Dummies book out as of now.
“Amelia, you weren’t a bad person,” Clara tried.
“I was nasty to people who worked with me. I thought... I thought I’d be a huge star one day. I was in tabloids!” Amelia said.
Clara didn’t assure her that she’d be front-page news on most of the tabloids that existed now—and on television and every other media source in the world, as well.
“But you weren’t a bad person,” she repeated. “Bad people are like—are like whoever did this to you. I know that you’ll...that you will find a better place.”
She spoke with sudden conviction and Amelia looked at her hopefully.
“The FBI agents can help you, Amelia,” Clara said.
“A little late,” Amelia murmured. “I just had to have that story. Oh, and I had to beat Natalie out here! I never even knew that he’d gotten to her first. How—is there no security at that hotel?”
Clara assumed that because the Nordic Lights Hotel was small and privately owned, it didn’t have the security that might be found at a larger establishment. Then again, there had been horror stories about events in larger hotels, too.
“Maybe there is security at the hotel. That’s why you need to speak with the FBI members, Amelia. They can answer questions like that.”
Clara heard a soft tapping at her door—real this time, and not an echo of a policeman drumming his fingers on the table.
She stood to answer it.
Amelia looked up in alarm—and disappeared as if she’d never been there.
Maybe she hadn’t been. Maybe the stress...
No. Thor had seen her, too.
Clara walked over and swung her door open. Marc Kimball was there, smiling at her. “We were about to have an afternoon snack and fine sherry, Miss Avery. Would you be so good as to join us?”
It was absolutely the last thing she wanted to do.
“I...”
“Yes, of course, join us, please!” he said. “I’d be so grateful.”
She lowered her head, trying to think of a good excuse, unable to do so. She heard the front door of the lodge open.