A few hours later, James and Amelia were in the van, heading toward a mall about thirty-five minutes south of Headquarters. The sky was slate gray as they drove down the highway, but there was frost sparkling on the last lingering leaves that refused to fall from the trees. James looked up at the leaves as they blurred by the passenger side window.

“So you’re thinking we should hit two stores?” Amelia asked.

“Yeah, at least for now,” James replied. “We’ve got this one just south of Worcester. And then, from there, we might as well loop up and around to the one in Foxborough. We’ll check them out, grab some dinner, then be back in time for shift change.”

Not that it mattered, since everyone was on today and James was staying overnight. But Amelia didn’t argue with him. Instead, she said, “Any word from Gabriella and Bradley?”

“Not yet,” James said. “I assume we’ll hear about how horrible the rest of the family is pretty soon.”

Amelia shook her head. “I’ve never been rich,” she said. “But you’d think that no matter how much money you had, you’d be humble enough to let the experts help you when there’s literally a curse coming for your family.”

“They don’t even seem that upset,” James said, tearing his gaze away from the blur of trees to face Amelia, whose eyes were on the road. “It’s the weirdest thing. They were doing the ‘yes, yes, so sad’ thing with me and Gabs, but they could have been talking about a flat tire for all the actual sadness they showed. That piece of work over in the hospital was more concerned that the guy who found her was trespassing on their massive woods rather than the fact that he saved her life. And the ones at the summer home thought we were there to steal business secrets.”

He shook his head, glancing down as his phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was Gabriella, letting him know they’d arrived at the Cottage, so he responded with a quick thumbs-up before continuing. “So me and Gabs have a massive family. And we don’t all get along. But if some horror movie force came in and ripped a couple of my uncles apart, I might have some feelings on the subject, you know? And if there was any chance of it coming for my kids, forget about it. But no, it’s all about their stupid clothing store.”

“Hell, I have no siblings and no cousins and even I know that,” Amelia said, rolling her eyes. “It has to be a money thing.”

“Something we’re both experts in.”

They both laughed at that as Amelia pulled off the highway exit. “Alright, I need you to navigate from here,” she said as she merged onto a busy road.

---

Ten minutes later, they were pulling up in front of the Delinsky’s entrance at an upscale mall tucked way back away from the main road. Christmas shopping was in full swing and the parking lot was a nightmare of cars narrowly missing pedestrians and drivers fighting passive-aggressively over parking spots. Amelia stopped in front of the shop entrance.

“You head in,” she said. “I’ll go find a spot and meet you.”

A car honked behind them, and James grabbed his bag and climbed out. He was barely on the sidewalk before someone cut past the van and took off down the fire lane. Amelia pulled out into a small gap in traffic and James headed inside.

As the door swung shut behind him, James was suddenly completely aware of how worn out his clothes were. The holes in his jeans weren’t in trendy spots, and the flannel shirt he wore had a button missing. He zipped his coat, tried to remember he wasn’t here to shop, then started walking toward the counter.

Christmas music piped over the speakers, a light, jazzy rendition of “Silver Bells.” James still needed to finish his Christmas shopping, but nothing in here was fit for anyone on his Christmas list. One soft wool sweater looked like it might be good for his father, but a quick glance at the price tag changed his mind immediately.

If he spent that much money on a gift for his dad, his dad’s gift to him would be a swift kick in the ass, and James knew it. Still, it was a really nice sweater. It almost looked handmade.

The checkout line snaked through velvet ropes as though people were waiting to get into a swanky nightclub. For a second, James hesitated. He’d look like a dick cutting the line, right? But he wasn’t shopping, he just needed a manager. So instead, he slipped his Foundation ID out of his wallet and walked over to the side of the line of registers.

“Excuse me,” he said to the woman working at the last one.

“Line starts back there, sir,” she said without looking at him, beckoning to the next person in line.

“I’m not here to shop. I need to speak to the manager.”

“I am the manager,” the woman said as she began checking out the stack of dresses the man had brought over. “What can I do for you?”

James glanced at the crowd of people, then back at the manager, who was now bagging the items she’d scanned at an alarming speed. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

Now she turned to him, heavily outlined eyes narrowed in frustration. “Sir, we are extremely busy. Could you possibly come back another time if it’s something so personal?”

“It’s about the Delinsky family,” James said, keeping his voice as low as he dared. “I’m working on behalf of the family, trying to solve the, um, situation that happened this week.”

Clearly, the managers had been briefed because she froze, the man’s receipt in her hand. Then she sighed and turned to the woman at the next register. “Clara,” she said. “I need to take this.”

The other woman nodded, and the manager handed the man his receipt. Then she turned off her register light and walked out to James.

“What do you mean you’re working for the family?” she asked as she led him further back into the store.

“I mean, I work for the Foundation for Paranormal Studies,” James said, handing her his ID to check before she could realize what he’d said and walk away in disgust. “I don’t know how much they’ve told you-”

“They told me my CEO got torn apart on an empty train track and my CFO got decapitated,” the manager said, handing back his card. “If they weren’t calling that otherworldly, I’d think they were stupider than I already do.”

“Not a fan?” James asked as he spotted Amelia walking in.

He motioned her over, and she hurried to catch up with them. “That’s my partner,” he said as she approached.

“Come into my office,” the manager said.

She unlocked an unmarked door and led them into a concrete hallway. While the store was lushly decorated and bright, the only lights here were fluorescent bulbs along the ceiling. They walked halfway down the hall to a room marked OFFICE, which the manager unlocked and guided them into.

It was about the size of James’s office and seemed to be used partially for storage. A small desk sat in the corner, along with a couple of folding chairs. The manager motioned toward the chairs, then sat down behind the desk.

“I’m Yolanda,” she said.

“James,” he said, holding out a hand to shake.

“Amelia.”

Once they’d all shook hands and were sitting back down, Yolanda slowly shook her head. “Look,” she said. “I can’t say I like the Delinsky family, but nobody deserves that.”

“Why don’t you like them?” James asked.

Yolanda snorted. “You said you’re working for them and you can’t figure that out?”

“Oh, no, I know my reasoning,” James said. “I was just curious about yours.”

Yolanda’s laugh was warmer this time. “They’re good at business, I guess,” she said. “But they’re not exactly good people.”

“Why not?” Amelia asked.

Yolanda sighed. “They only care about profits,” she said. “Business has been slowing down some over the past year and they ended up cutting benefits and laying people off. It happened in waves, but we lost a lot of people who had worked here for years.”

“Shit,” James murmured.

“Yeah,” Yolanda said, absently fiddling with a pen cap on her desk. “And then they send us these newsletters that include pictures of the Thanksgiving parties they’re hosting over at The Cottage at Delinsky Cove, as they keep calling it. They’re these lavish things and they don’t seem to realize or care that they’re sending these to staffers who are working overtime and fearing layoffs.”

Based on what he’d seen yesterday at said Cottage, James wasn’t all that surprised, though a frisson of disgust went through him. This was a little too close to home, wasn’t it? But at least the Foundation had promised no layoffs with all their blustering about belt-tightening. Clearly making the same connection, Amelia stole a glance at him.

“Do you think someone in the company was involved?” Yolanda asked.

“No idea,” James said quickly. “We’re gathering all the information we can and looking into all possibilities.”

“We have a good crew here,” Yolanda said. “I can’t imagine anyone here doing something like this.”

“I’m sure,” Amelia said. “You know them best.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Yolanda asked. “I’m sorry to rush you, it’s just that, you know, Christmas and we’re short-staffed.”

“Oh, right,” James said, hurriedly standing up. “No, I think that’s it for now. Thank you so much for your time.”

---

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 9