I gripped the rough wooden bow of the old fishing boat as we crested another wave.
“I’ve got you,” my boyfriend, Ellis, called over the roar of the motor. He hooked his arm around me, his chest brushing my back.
Fog swirled so thick it was difficult to see the endless ocean beyond the next swell. But I felt its power. We slapped hard against another whitecap, and I winced, the frigid spray dusting my skin.
At least it wasn’t raining.
“It’s pretty,” I said, trying to be optimistic.
“So are you,” Ellis said, giving me a little squeeze.
A saucy grin tickled my lips, and I felt lucky to be there with him, even if the ocean had appeared a lot calmer from the dock. I loosened my hold on the boat and leaned back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me tight. Safe.
A crisp wind whipped my hair into a small tornado, and I was grateful I hadn’t spent any extra time curling it that morning.
Ellis rested his chin on my shoulder. “Let’s get you back into the pilothouse.” He wound a hand into mine, glancing behind us to the grizzled sailor who manned the wheel.
“Not until we see the island,” I said, resisting his tug. “It should be visible by now.”
If not for the waves and fog and endless ocean.
We weren’t traveling to the ends of the earth, even if it felt like it. I braced myself as the cold cut through my jacket.
Ellis drew closer, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he studied the horizon—as much of it as anyone could make out. “You might not see it until we get there. From what I read in the brochure, the place we’re headed is not much more than a mile square and hidden behind the breakers. It tends to disappear and reappear in the mist.”
I’d paid more attention to the parts of the brochure with glossy pictures of the mostly restored historic inn and lighthouse. Intimate and secluded, the cheerful photographs had made me look forward to seeing it all in person. At the same time… “I suppose that’s why they call it Phantom Island.”
A ghostly chuckle tickled my ear, sending a chill up my spine. “Sounds like my kind of place.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I caught the faint outline of a square-jawed, hook-nosed ghost. I knew him well, seeing as he haunted my property back in Sugarland, Tennessee. At times, it felt like he’d taken to haunting me personally as well.
Frankie “The German” appeared in black and white, nearly transparent in the fog. He wore a 1920s-style pinstriped suit coat with matching cuffed trousers and a fat tie. He also stood close enough to drop the air temperature on my left side by about twenty degrees.
And here I thought it couldn’t get any chillier.
Frankie liked to startle me. Today, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “You don’t care about historic sites. You came to avoid your chores at home.”
I’d been hoping to leave him back in Tennessee with his girlfriend. Molly was a polite, proper Victorian ghost who haunted the Sugarland Historical Society. She and her housemates had recently come up against a cleaning project they couldn’t put off, and I don’t mean cobwebs. The darker spirits in the cemetery at the back of the property were attracted to the house. Given enough time, they liked to creep inside the walls and hide in the corners, under the floorboards, and in any nook and cranny they could find.
Every so often, Molly and the girls got together to send them on their way. She’d invited Frankie, if only to spend more time with him. Unfortunately for her—and for me—Frankie the hardened gangster tended to get spooked by ominous spirits. Not that he’d ever admit it to his girl. Instead, he’d declared it necessary to follow Ellis and me on our weekend getaway.
I didn’t mind.
Much.
As long as he didn’t stir up trouble.
The ghost grinned at me as if he knew what I was thinking.
“Hey, don’t worry,” Ellis said, shrugging a broad shoulder. Luckily, my boyfriend was used to seeing me frown at invisible people. He was practical, smart. A deputy sheriff with an eye for detail and a talent for solving the toughest crimes. He was also a hottie. “Just because they call it Phantom Island doesn’t mean it’s haunted.”
Frankie hitched a brow. “Spoiler alert: it’s haunted,” he stated, not flinching as a rogue spray of water crested the boat, plowing straight through his chest to slap me in the shoulder. He took my glare as an invitation to continue. “I mean, think of all the places that don’t sound haunted but are. There’s the library back home.”
“Knew that one,” I said. We’d solved the mystery of the phantom in the stacks and made friends with the Civil War ghosts playing their eternal game of poker.
“There’s the First Bank of Sugarland,” the ghost added, counting off on his fingers.
I braced myself as the ship lurched again. “Your gangster friend really needs to stop trying to dig a tunnel under the vault.” Ninety plus years was enough. “I mean, now that Suds is dead, he’s not making any progress anyway.”
“There’s the pond out behind your house,” Frankie said, resuming his count.
I gasped. “You could have mentioned that before now.” My home was my pride and joy.
“Relax.” The ghost waved me off. “It’s only when I host skinny-dipping parties.”
My mind refused to go there. “You know what? I don’t want to know,” I declared. “I’m on vacation.”
“That’s the spirit,” Ellis said, wrapping an arm around me.
“I’m the spirit,” Frankie countered.
He was also on me like a tick until we succeeded in freeing him from our little entanglement. I hadn’t meant to end his wild, crazy gangster ghost lifestyle by trapping him on my quiet little acre of property. I’d merely grabbed a dusty old vase from the attic, hoping it would look nice on the mantel in my parlor. The neglected relic only needed a quick rinse with the hose outside and a fat red rose blossom from the garden to brighten it up. But it turned out the vase was actually an urn, and I was way too efficient at cleaning. As soon as I’d rinsed the ash out over my flowers and watered it in good, Frankie appeared, fit to be tied, saying I’d grounded him onto my property.
It had put quite a crimp in his hard-living, dishonest lifestyle, but I tried to make things better. He could leave the property with me if I carried his urn with the little smidges of him left in there. I’d even duct taped it shut for our foray to the coast. It currently resided in the hemp bag slung over my shoulder, bumping against my side as the boat crested the waves.
“If you want to pretend there’s no ghosts on that island, I’m not stopping you.” Frankie shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Just keep telling yourself how much ghosts hate old hotels on isolated islands, ones with a coast so rocky and pocked with shipwrecks you have to build a lighthouse.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.” I’d pretend.
“Holy smokes,” Frankie said, rushing to the rail, forcing me to step sideways. The ghost hovered a little too close for comfort, but of course, he didn’t notice. “Is that a pirate ship in the distance?” he demanded, giddy as a goat in clover.
He pointed the way, but I didn’t see a thing.
Frankie was the only ghost I could see on my own. He also had the unique—and probably forbidden—power to show me the ghostly realm. When I was tuned in to his energy, I could experience the ghostly side almost as vividly as he could.
There was usually a price to pay in the form of favors for the scheming gangster. Not to mention the danger. When I was tuned in to that world, it became as real as my own. Ghostly knives could slice me; ghostly bullets could kill me. I’d nearly drowned when an angry spirit held me underwater in a haunted bathtub. Even more terrifying, I’d been on my own. No one in my world could save me.
On the other hand, tuning in to the other side had helped me start my own ghost-hunting business and solve a fair number of crimes. Justice had been served because of me. Call me crazy, but it had been worth the risk.
Plus, some of the things I’d seen were downright incredible.
“Show me the pirate ship,” I said, itching for a glimpse.
“And waste my energy on this trip?” Frankie snorted. “No thank you. I’m on vacation.” He loosened his tie. “I plan to have some fun.”
“You haven’t had energy problems in a long time.” Not since he’d gotten together with Molly. “Just a peek,” I pressed. I’d never seen a real skull and crossbones flapping in the breeze, not to mention a crew of swashbuckling outlaws straight out of the history books.
This could be my chance.
“I just want to see a bit of history.” It was one of my favorite parts of ghost hunting, next to meeting some of the spirits themselves.
Frankie sighed. “I can’t wait for you to be dead for a hundred years so you can have someone say to you, ‘Oh, look at your life. It’s so historical!’” He edged his jacket out of the way and planted his hands on his hips. “It gets annoying. Ghosts never do that to each other because it’s rude.”
“Even you said it was neat,” I pointed out. “And I’m not getting gushy on them. I want to observe from a distance.”
The gangster began muttering under his breath.
Then I felt the prickle of his energy wash over me like thousands of tiny cold needles piercing my skin, digging down through muscle and into bone. The ghostly power settled into my body. It dug down to my very core.
I gritted my teeth, braced myself, and focused on the swirling ocean and not the shocking invasion of the dead.
I inhaled sharply when a ghost ship swirled into view directly ahead.
“It’s beautiful!” I gasped. A grand ship straight out of the history books, with billowing white sails. It crested the waves, proud and strong.
I saw a captain on the deck, barking orders to a man who saluted and scurried up a net ladder toward the highest point on the ship, a crow’s nest with a… “Uh-oh.”
Frankie saw it at the same time. “Dang it.” He deflated. “It’s a British Royal Navy frigate.” The Union Jack rippled from the top of the highest mast. He shook his head in disgust as if he expected me to share the sentiment. “Whenever you get a good business going, you always get the fuzz poking around.”
“Of course, you’d be pro-pirate,” I observed. Frankie had dedicated his afterlife to breaking the law. He honestly enjoyed it. I didn’t see the draw of booze running, armored car heists, or any of the rest, but he kept hoping I’d take a shine to it one day.
The gangster ran a hand across his jaw. “I’ve never met a pirate,” he admitted, “but I admire their business model.”
Naturally. “I thought you were turning over a new leaf.” On our most recent adventure, the gangster had learned he needed to distance himself from his criminal past if he hoped to free himself from the bits of him that remained tied to my property.
“There’s nothing wrong with getting to know the locals this weekend,” he reasoned, “as long as they’re fun.” He grinned. “Or gamblers or drinkers. With any luck, all three.”
“Frankie looking for trouble again?” Ellis asked wryly.
“And then some.” If the gangster had his way, it would be all trouble all the time.
“Maybe this’ll distract him.” Ellis pointed to where a light cut through the fog ahead.
The dark outline of an island emerged from the mist, the glow of a lighthouse barely penetrating the fog.
“With my luck, it will only encourage him.” Especially if Frankie was right about the island being haunted.
“Now that you’ve seen it, let’s head inside,” my boyfriend prodded as another wave splashed over the bow.
I knew why he wanted to get me off the deck, and I didn’t appreciate it. “Five more minutes.” With any luck, I could stretch it to ten.
“You have to face them sooner or later,” Ellis pointed out.
“Later,” I decided.
“Hey, nice beach,” Frankie said, fixated on our weekend destination.
I tried to follow, but the view was hazy. “I can barely see it through the fog.”
“Exactly. A misty shore. Great for lurking around undetected,” he said, as if he were an expert in creeping, prowling, and generally slinking about.
Come to think of it, he was.
At least one of us would have a guaranteed good time. I cringed as Ellis waved to the couple standing behind the old sailor in the pilothouse.
My sister—bless her—had been giving me space. I glanced over my shoulder, the wind tangling my hair into horse knots. Melody’s blonde hair, attractively tousled, cascaded down her shoulders. She wore an orange flowered sundress with a cream sweater and her usual bright, unsuspecting smile, which she currently directed toward the jerk who stood next to her.
Alec Duranja was an uptight, judgmental pain in my behind who liked to sabotage my ghost hunts, accuse me of tampering with police investigations, and argue with me for fun. And during our town’s recent homecoming celebration, while I’d been working hard to solve a murder case, he’d gotten locked overnight in the library with my sister. Now they were dating.
Maybe the library wasn’t simply haunted—maybe it was cursed.
A soft, misting rain began to fall.
Lovely. We were going from wind-blown, to sea-sprayed, to straight-up wet.
Melody waved me toward the sanctuary of the pilothouse. Duranja pretended not to notice me at all.
“You promised to play nice,” Ellis reminded me.
“Oh, I have been,” I said sweetly, returning my gaze to the sea. “I haven’t said one bad thing to Duranja since we’ve been on this boat.” Mainly because I’d been outside on the bow while he took shelter from the elements in the pilothouse.
Unfortunately, Ellis had a point. Now that my sister was romantically involved with my nemesis, she wanted us to get along—as if it wouldn’t be easier for her to break up with him and date some other guy.
Naturally, Melody hadn’t seen it that way. Instead, she’d taken up my case with her new love. But even she hadn’t been able to convince him I was on the up and up.
For the time being, she’d made him promise he’d treat me with the respect and courtesy I was due as a member of her family—despite the fact I liked to talk to thin air. Oh, and as long as I didn’t break the law during my ghost-hunting adventures, which I hadn’t…much. Darned if Duranja didn’t always seem to catch me when I did.
Melody told me she’d keep at it.
I didn’t hold out much hope. Not that I wanted to add a stuck-up killjoy to my circle of friends.
I scraped the hair out of my face. Ellis had been standing up for my intelligence, my sincerity, and the reality of my ghost-hunting skills for years now. He’d also solicited my help on a few murder cases for the Sugarland PD. But Duranja simply refused to believe I was anything more than a kook who had everyone fooled.
It hurt.
There was no sense pretending otherwise.
And so I’d given it time. I figured Melody would eventually see past the little picnics he brought to her work, and all the crazy adventure dates they went on—I would have gone skydiving with her if she’d asked. Not to mention the silly inside jokes they had that made no sense at all. I hadn’t realized Duranja knew how to joke.
They’d only been dating for a couple of months, and so far, I’d been excellent at avoiding the two of them together.
But my luck was running out.
My sister could be as determined as I was, especially when she believed she was doing the right thing. And for now, that meant showing me just how wonderful her new boyfriend could be.
To celebrate her thirtieth birthday, Melody had requested a double date, one that lasted all weekend.
She was lucky I loved her.
I was also counting on Duranja dodging me as much as I’d be avoiding him. He’d suggested separate cars in order to fit all our luggage. I’d complied by packing everything I owned in two bulging suitcases that took up an entire trunk. He’d suggested I coordinate with Melody first. I’d complied by erasing his number from my phone.
So technically, we’d gotten along great so far.
Besides, I was there for my sister, not her date. Melody and I had grown up in a cozy house down a long dirt road, and often, it had been just the two of us. Over the years, we’d created our own special birthday memories and traditions. In fact—I couldn’t help but smile as my hand brushed the lovingly wrapped bundle tucked next to Frankie’s urn—I’d made a gift for her that harkened back to the old days, one we could enjoy together. She was the only one who’d truly understand it. I couldn’t wait to show it to her.
I squared my shoulders. I could do this. I could survive a double-date weekend with Duranja and my sister. I’d stick to safe topics, like the weather and the mist. I’d plan special time with my sister to celebrate like we did when we were kids. Duranja could pepper Melody with all the weird jokes he wanted while I snuck off for romantic interludes with Ellis. I wouldn’t give Duranja the chance to criticize my ghost hunting or provoke me because I absolutely would not get involved in any ghostly drama.
So what if the island was haunted? I deserved a vacation, too. From now on, I’d resist the urge to ogle any historical ghosts and make sure Frankie kept his power to himself. With any luck, Frankie wouldn’t try to hijack any of the British fleet or hunt down any pirates. Or… Never mind. There was no reason this couldn’t be a perfectly pleasant time.
The boat slowed as we steered past jagged rocks, green with algae clinging to their edges.
Our boat signaled with a piercing horn, and the engine shuddered as it shifted into slow gear. I felt in my gut the measured footsteps stalking me from behind. It was him.
“At last.” Duranja’s clipped voice made it sound like an order. “Do you realize how late we are?”
I pasted on a smile and spun to face him. I’d be nice for my sister. For her birthday. Even if it killed me.
Which it might.
“Melody said it was fine,” I reminded him, although I sincerely wished it hadn’t been my fault.
Bless my sister, she’d been as sweet as pie when I’d gotten us off on the wrong foot that morning. I’d called her as soon as I realized on the way out of town that while I’d dropped my pet skunk Lucy at my best friend’s house for the weekend, I’d failed to leave her favorite banana toy she slept with every night. My adopted skunk would be anxious enough with me out of town, and though I despised delaying the trip, I ran home lickety-split to make things right.
From his thunderous expression, I could tell Duranja didn’t care one way or another for the emotional needs of a skunk.
No wonder he always managed to set my teeth on edge.
“This is your sister’s birthday,” he said, as if I hadn’t been celebrating with her every year since the day she was born.
“Which is why we’re all getting along,” Ellis inserted.
Duranja needed the reminder, not me. If I smiled any harder, my face would crack.
The late afternoon sun broke through the clouds and reflected onto the water as we pulled in. I’d focus on that and the bright white hotel up the way. The boat lurched as the engine thunked off, and a deckhand tied the vessel to the dock. Two porters climbed on board and started grabbing luggage.
The square-jawed menace leaned in a little too close for comfort. “Your sister picked this hotel for its unique weekend itinerary,” he hissed, “and we’re late for the predinner reception because you had to climb under your porch for a stuffed banana.”
Not just any banana.
I notched my chin up. “Lauralee never would have found it on her own, and Lucy is going to miss me terribly. She’ll need a lovey from home.” Sure, Lauralee’s two oldest sons had already baked my skunk her favorite cinnamon crumble treat, and her youngest had tied bows in my skunk’s fur and built her a blanket fort. But that was all the more reason to make certain Lucy had a reminder I missed her as well.
“Hey, sweetie,” Melody said, slightly out of breath as she caught up to her annoying date. She carried a pair of wrapped gifts done up in yellow paper with glittery pink bows. “I just had to pull these out of the luggage before they deliver it to our rooms.”
I glanced to Duranja, surprised he’d be romantic enough to give my sister an early present. But he was looking at me as if he expected me to take credit.
“I’ll explain in a second,” Melody said, handing a flat, wrapped box to me and one to Duranja.
“What is this?” he asked before I could. I’d been distracted by Ellis’s sly smile. Whatever this was, he was in on it.
I was just about to ask him to explain when a gunshot echoed across the shore.
No lie—I jumped.
A portly bearded pirate strolled down the dock toward us, an antique pistol in each hand, his silver tooth gleaming in the light of the dying sun.
“Is he real?” I asked, glancing around for Frankie. Now would be a good time to turn my power off.
“He’s something,” Frankie’s voice sounded in my ear.
“I have a surprise,” Melody gushed, clasping her hands together. She grinned, exchanging another glance with Ellis. “There’s more to this double date than I let on.”
“Like pirates?” I asked, hoping for a simple explanation.
Duranja stared at me.
Oh no. “You don’t see the pirate?” I asked.
Duranja’s jaw dropped. “Of course I see the pirate. He shot his gun. He’s got the boots and the outfit and everything save a parrot on his shoulder. What else could he be?”
“A ghost,” Ellis reasoned, prompting an eye roll from Duranja.
“It’s a treasure hunt,” Melody gushed. “We’ll get to explore the island. Together.”
Duranja’s gift thudded to the deck.
“Sorry,” he said, hastily retrieving it.
“We’re a team, you see,” Melody explained as her boyfriend attempted to revive a crushed pink bow. “I was afraid you wouldn’t go if you knew we were all on the same team, but it’ll be fun.”
“And the presents?” I asked, hoping to get a clue.
“You can open them at dinner,” Melody instructed. “They’re to help you get along.”
“Oh, so like a watch Verity can use to be on time?” Duranja prodded.
“How about a saddle for your high horse?” I mused.
Handcuffs so we could leave him on the dock?
A furrow formed between my sister’s brows. “Do you have it out of your systems now?” she asked, determinedly chipper.
Duranja took her hand while I gave her a stiff nod.
“Good,” she said, turning her attention to the pirate, who stood on the dock, guns holstered, thumbs resting under a wide leather belt.
“Aye, then.” He nodded down at us. “Your fully immersive adventure begins now.”
“Fully immersive?” I asked.
“I’m not dressing like a pirate,” Duranja balked.
Ellis merely squeezed my hand. “Welcome to Phantom Island.”