The prop closet took another two hours and didn’t turn up any other artifacts. By the time Gabriella and James got back to headquarters, it was coming up on six o’clock and they were both sweaty and tired.

“I’m going to make some pasta,” Gabriella said. “Want some?”

“I’m good,” James said automatically. “Thanks, though.”

She looked at him and he tried not to be irritated. “Okay,” she said. “There’ll be some on the stove if you change your mind.”

James got some coffee, then headed into his office. There was still a lot to do. While he had expected the middle school case to take a large chunk of his shift today, he hadn’t expected it to take quite this much. 

What he’d like to do was talk to Penny and Lacey and see if they’d taken anything from the school. If it was just the hat, then they might be all set now. But if there was anything else, the case was going to keep stretching onward and there was a risk of this spirit showing up again. But James wasn’t sure if he’d be more likely to get an answer by talking to Penny or Celia at this point. If he asked Celia, Penny might lie to her. If he asked Penny, she probably just wouldn’t answer his text. 

There were other things to consider, he knew that. But he needed to figure out if he needed to go to the Weber house first and that wasn’t possible yet.

No, he’d text now. And once Celia gave him the okay to text Penny, he tried to figure out what to say.

JAMES

Penny, I understand you’re

He paused. Should he address her anger? Or just ignore it? She was being unreasonable, of course, but she was angry and scared and twelve years old.

JAMES

Penny, I understand you’re mad. But I need to ask an important question. Did you or Lacey take anything from the school? 

He was just about finished triaging his email when his phone buzzed fifteen minutes later.

PENNY No

Yeah, she was still pissed. Alright. James wasn’t positive he believed her, but he wasn’t going to call it out right now. And if he said it was important, hopefully she understood that she needed to be honest.

JAMES

Thank you

Should he say more? No, he’d leave it. He could talk to her later, maybe when this was all over. Hopefully this wouldn’t permanently damage their relationship, but he’d take that over her or her friends being murdered by an angry spirit.

He wrote up some notes on the afternoon’s visit and set them aside, taking a second to bury his face in his hands now that nobody could see him. He needed to figure out what to do about Cody’s house, then talk to Penny and Lacey. Then get rid of the hat, of course. There was no need to anchor an angry ghost to the school. Though he’d already been there for decades and everyone said that the spirit had been eccentric in life, but not dangerous. At least according to Gabriella’s sources.

She’d been dealing with a fucking demon. And so had that little girl, who’d reminded him of Gabriella at that age. And James hadn’t been there for her when she needed someone to help her with the demon house. 

Amelia too. He offered his help while he’d still been in Adele’s thrall and Amelia had shuddered at his touch. 

He shook his head. He was over it. As of now, he was over it. Hell, as of yesterday. She might be wrong about everything else, but Riley was right about the fact that James needed to move the fuck on.

He was here until ten tonight, which would hopefully give him plenty of time to get through some of this backlog of work. Maybe he could bring some home with him or something. Or stay a little later. Or come in a little earlier tomorrow. 

He was so busy that he almost forgot that he’d been pissed off earlier. Until he came out of his office at seven and saw Bradley hanging his bag on the coat hooks by the staircase.

“Bradley,” he said.

Bradley looked over, eyebrows raised. “My office,” James ordered. 

Gabriella was in the living room, he realized belatedly as he went back into his office. Last time he’d messed up and Amelia had rightfully called him out on it, saying that discipline should go into his office, not just happen in the middle of the headquarters with everyone around. He’d already messed up apparently, but that was what he’d do from here.

Bradley was standing in the office doorway before James could decide what the most appropriate thing to do would be. Sitting behind his desk to lecture felt pompous, but was that the correct option? 

“Come in,” he said, closing the door behind them. 

It was too hot in here with the door closed, but he didn’t want to turn on the air conditioner that was still jammed in his window just for the few minutes this would take. He sat in one of the kitchen chairs so that they’d be on the same side of the desk. Bradley looked around for a second, as though he couldn’t possibly know why James was pissed, then sat down too.

“What?” he asked.

“Why did you talk to the Webers?”

“Because it’s my job?” Bradley replied. “It happened during my shift, the DCF call went in during my shift, and it made the most sense for me to go there during my shift.”

“You should have left that conversation to me.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because, first of all, I told you to. Which should be reason enough. And second, I’m dealing with everything else on that case. Talking to the parents is part of the workflow. I have no idea what you talked about, what the status of the house is, or anything I need in order to take the next steps.”

“I wrote an initial report and said I’d write a full report tonight. Did you not get it? My notes are on my phone, I could have emailed them to you if you needed them. I was going to do that right now.”

“That’s not…” 

James trailed off, trying to find the right words for what he was thinking. Though now he wasn’t entirely sure what he was thinking. He took a breath and let it out a little harder than he intended to. 

“You knew I didn’t want you to,” he said. “You texted me this morning to make sure that I wasn’t going to interfere and so you’d have plausible deniability when I called you out on it. Were you not going to tell me that you tried to get in touch, I didn’t answer, so you just went anyway?”

Bradley glared at him. “I was in charge this morning,” he said. “If you have a problem with the way I run a shift-”

“I do have a problem with it,” James interrupted him. “You knew. You knew I was going to do it today when I got here. I’m running the Cross Trail case and I was here last night as part of it.”

“You shouldn’t’ve been part of that at all until you got here today,” Bradley snapped. “I shouldn’t have texted you last night, I should have just dealt with it.”

James ignored the hurt, the unease in his gut, and refocused on the anger. “Why?” he demanded. “Because I might get in the way of you-”

“Because you’d already finished your shift!” Bradley exclaimed. “Because you were done for the night.”

“But I’m still in charge,” James snapped back. “I’m still responsible for everybody’s safety! Including yours!”

“I was completely safe when I was over there,” Bradley said. “And last night, nobody was in danger once the kid got here. The only place I fucked up was by calling you instead of just dealing with it myself.”

“No, you fucked up by going against my very clear instructions and I’m writing you up for it,” James said, his heart hammering. “You can’t just do whatever you want. I was going to handle it.”

“Along with every other fucking thing,” Bradley muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” James demanded.

“You know what? Fine.”

Bradley stood up. “It means that you’re killing yourself for this place again,” he said. “And they’re going to let you.”

“I’m not-”

“No?” Bradley asked as James stood up too. “You’re not? When did you leave last night?”

“One, but-”

“And what time did you get in yesterday?”

“I don’t know, six? But I left-”

“When did you leave the night before?”

“Midnight. But there was an emergency and-”

“And when did you come in that day?”

“Ten, but that doesn’t matter.”

“And those are normal hours for you again,” Bradley said. “And you’re obviously doing work at home and I don’t believe for a fucking second that it’s temporary. You’ve got too much shit to do, you always have and you always will. So what do you do? You take on even more. You tell all of us that you’ve got it. Or that you’d rather do this yourself. Or, Bradley, I don’t trust you to be perfectly polite to these abusive parents, I’ll take that one.”

“That’s not-”

“Bullshit.” Bradley waved him off. “I have eyes.”

James suddenly remembered that flash of hurt when he’d thought Bradley was about to say something nasty about Penny. “You’re not pushing any of us,” Bradley continued before James could think of how to respond. “All of us, you say take breaks or eat or don’t work off the clock. But not you. And you’re skipping meals and you’re falling asleep here more than you’re going home. And everyone’s aware and trying to be gentle about it because you’re just going to deny that anything’s wrong.”

“Nothing-”

“What did you eat today?”

James stopped as Bradley gave an exasperated shrug, clearly expecting an answer. “Toast,” James said. “Blueberries…”

He hadn’t eaten anything else. 

“Toast and blueberries,” Bradley repeated, nodding. “Right. Because even a child can live on that and work a full shift.”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” James snapped. “If I can perform my job duties effectively, my life outside of work is no one else’s business, right?”

Maybe it was a low, unrelated blow, but the fact that Bradley had a point was making him even angrier. 

“My job is to keep you all safe,” James continued. “I messed that up once and I’m not going to do it again. And if it takes extra time, it takes extra time.”

“But it doesn’t have to,” Bradley said. “They don’t give a shit. You know they don’t give a shit. And they’ll take and take and take everything you can serve up to them. They don’t care that you got hurt, they never did. All they care about is what you can provide for them. And they’ll keep you terrified that we’re all going to die if you’re not working fourteen hour shifts every day, which conveniently means they get more work out of you for the same price. We’re not going to die. We are all fine. It’s you that needs to accept that you aren’t.”

“I’m fucking fine!” James shouted, and Bradley flinched. “It’s been six months! I’m over what happened, I’m just trying to do my job!”

“Bullshit,” Bradley said again. “You eat like a toddler, you fall asleep at your desk, and some guy touches you at a club and you break down. You are terrified of letting go of even the slightest bit of control. I have been an agent for over a decade. Maybe I’m not very nice, but I am perfectly capable of doing an interview. Last year you wouldn’t have worried about that.”

“It’s been six months,” James insisted again, as though that would change anything. 

“If it had been me in that fucking bathtub six months ago, would you be demanding that I be over it by now?”

James’s argument died before it could come out. “They want you scared,” Bradley continued, his face now closer to James’s than it might have ever been and filled with an anger that was decidedly not faked this time. “They want you scared and if it isn’t for your job, then they want you scared for us. Because then they can pretend that they – not you, James – THEY, didn’t fuck up massively by not keeping you safe!”

James stumbled backwards, nearly falling back into his chair. Bradley kept going. “And you’ll be so worried about making sure that we’re okay that you won’t have the time or the energy to even think about what they owe you! Because they owe you so fucking much that they’re never, ever, going to give you. And you know what? I might not be able to get you to remember to eat or to go home on time or any of the things the others can do. I know I’m not gentle and I’m not kind. But I can keep you from taking on my responsibilities as your own. So be pissed! Be pissed at me. Call me insubordinate, I don’t care! But I’m not going to stand here and let them just slip right back in after what they did to you!”

James had to say something in response, but there was nothing there. “Write me up,” Bradley said, no longer shouting. “I don’t give a fuck.”

And then he was gone, the office door swinging shut behind him. James stayed where he was in the middle of the room, blinking furiously, his face burning. He didn’t want to admit exactly how right Bradley was. 

And anyone who was out there right now had heard every word. Hell, the neighbors had probably heard it. But James also couldn’t just stay in his office for the rest of his life. So after a few deep breaths, he walked out.

Gabriella was still the only person in the living room. She looked up from her work as James came out. He didn’t need to ask, he could tell from her expression that she’d heard everything. 

He could be thankful that Amelia hadn’t heard, but he could also be realistic that Gabriella had obviously texted her already or was about to. 

He walked into the kitchen. The pasta she’d made earlier was in a tupperware container in the fridge. He pulled it out, holding it up. “Are these leftovers?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Yeah,” she said with an uneasy smile. “Help yourself.”

There was a lot left. Gabriella was like him, neither of them had ever figured out how to make a reasonable amount of pasta. James’s stomach flipped as he set it on the counter and pulled out a couple of the old bowls they had in the cabinet. He split the remaining pasta between them and put them both in the microwave while he opened the fridge again. The half-full jar of marinara was sitting on the top shelf, along with a small package of parmesan cheese. Gabriella had had some for lunch and she was still alive, so it must all still be good. After a cautious sniff of both, James set them on the counter.

The microwave beeped and he took out the pasta. It was steaming, but that didn’t mean it was all hot. And he was about to mess that up anyway by dumping cold, jarred sauce on top. But it was good enough and still moderately warm after. The cheese didn’t melt right away, but that was fine too.

Fully prepared to get kicked out, he took the bowls and walked down the hallway to the back bedroom, where Bradley was glaring at the form he was filling out on the computer. He didn’t look up as James walked in. James set one of the bowls on the desk beside him, lined a fork neatly beside it, then went over to the bed and sat down. 

Bradley stopped typing and looked at the bowl of mediocre pasta James had just offered him. He then looked at James, who felt pathetic and ashamed sitting here with his own food. He opened his mouth to apologize, but then Bradley picked up his bowl and fork and took a bite. 

James did the same. The pasta was still hot, but the sauce was lukewarm and the shredded cheese was still cold. Still, it was food and he hadn’t eaten since before work, so he made himself swallow it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Bradley shrugged, not quite meeting James’s eye. But that was fine. “You’re right,” James continued.

“Obviously.”

There was more to say, he just didn’t know what it was. James shifted so that he was sitting at the head of the bed, leaning against the bed frame as he ate his pasta. He’d been right, the noodles on the bottom were still cold. They felt gummy between his teeth, but he ate them anyway. 

There was nothing in here that was going to get any of them. But he had that same shame and uncertainty he’d felt after he’d dived into that lake in a panic, thinking Adele might have him again. After a month of smashing dishes to prove he wasn’t being controlled.

It had been a little while since he’d done any of those things. At least a month and he hadn’t realized it. 

“There’s nothing in the house,” Bradley said suddenly. 

James looked up from his pasta. “What?”

“They let me check Cody’s room. I did some readings and there was nothing. But I also didn’t…feel anything there.”

“You feel stuff on cases?” James asked, then immediately regretted it in case Bradley didn’t feel quite like talking about anything beyond the necessities with James right now.

Bradley shrugged. He was holding his own pasta bowl now, his chair turned toward James and his work abandoned. “Yeah, I thought everyone did.”

“No,” James said, struggling not to smile despite everything. “No, I don’t think any of us do. What do you feel?”

Bradley took another bite of his pasta as he thought. James made himself do the same. “It’s like a buzzing?” he said finally, reaching back to touch the base of his skull. “Right here. Amelia said she had no idea what I was talking about.”

“No, me neither,” James said quietly.

“It’s not quantifiable, I’d rather not use it as a measurement.”

“Of course.”

They were quiet for a moment. “I do trust you,” James said.

“I know.”

“What did you say to them?”

“I told them if they checked their voicemail, then they already knew that their son was safe after a dangerous encounter in their home last night.”

“Good.”

“And that there might still be a paranormal entity in their home. They believed it, which I didn’t expect.”

“Good.”

“And I said if they give the slightest fuck about their child’s safety, they’ll let me check the house for any entities before he comes back in. If he does come back in, because apparently this is not the first DCF report against them.”

Okay, a little less good, but not quite as bad as he expected. “Did they…”

“They let me scan the house and gave me some excuses about how hard it is to be a parent and that I’d understand when I was older.”

James looked at him. Bradley didn’t look old by any means, but he didn’t look like a kid. Yeah, he was skinny, but he had some lines around his eyes, and he looked like he was in his late thirties. In fact, there was some gray around his temples that James had never noticed before. He could easily be older than these parents.

“Did they seem…all there?”

Bradley shrugged. “Not really. They apologized for leaving him, but had all sorts of reasons for it. I don’t know, I’m not an expert. But your cousin said she had to call, so it’s out of all of our hands. Maybe they can get their shit together.”

James hoped so. He also wanted to call Celia and talk about this. There were a couple hours left of his shift, maybe he could squeeze that in. Especially since they needed to make sure the kids hadn’t taken anything else. He should go do that right now.

“If it had been you in that tub, I wouldn’t expect you to be over it by now,” he said instead.

“I know.”

James thought about Gabriella in that overheated parking lot back in June, telling Robin that she’d never be over what he’d done to her. But she had moved forward. Then he thought of Penny lashing out at him and managed to swallow a groan and keep his thoughts to himself. Bradley didn’t need to know the ways in which James and his twelve-year-old niece had had identical meltdowns.

“Why did you text me?” he asked.

“Plausible deniability, like you said.”

James laughed and ate the last bite of his pasta.

---

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 20