"No. Ghosts."

"None of them is the Devil?"

"Nope. Just normal people."

"Good. Because that Satanic cult stuff gets on my nerves. If you started chanting in tongues and spewing pea soup I might have to get rough."

"Nothing like that," said Gary.

"Good. Let's go."

Harley made them wait in the stairwell with their luggage while he checked the parking garage. He made them duck down in the back seat before he drove out of the parking garage into the street. "It's likely he saw you come in, D.J.," he said. "Or at least possible. Let's not take any stupid chances."

"Fine with me," said D.J., lying down on the back seat with her head near Morgan's. She was just glad that Harley drove a large American car with lots of leg room.

Morgan peeked at her, and Mishka began giggling.

"Who's that?" Harley said, driving. "That you, D.J.?" "Uh," said D.J.

"Peek-a-boo," Mishka said at the same time, her voice high and sweet and bubbly.

"Peek!"

Harley glanced back over the seat. Mishka hid her eyes with her hands, then pulled her hands aside and said, "Peek!"

"Eerie," said Harley.

D.J. sighed. "That's Mishka. She's three."

"A three-year-old ghost?"

"Eyoo," said D.J., who hadn't considered it like that.

"How'd she die?" Harley said.

"Morgan?" D.J. said.

Mishka's eyes clouded. Her mouth trembled. "Water," she murmured. "Wah wah."

D.J. reached out and stroked her hair. "It's okay. It's okay. Look, now you have a big old body to play in."

Mishka calmed, then disappeared. Saul's sneer showed up in her place. "Don't I, though?" he said, and leered at her.

"Not as big as Harley's," said DJ. "Low blow, babe."

She smirked at him.

"So who's this one?" Harley asked.

"Saul. Some punk from Jersey." D.J. stuck her tongue out at him.

"Give it to me, baby," said Saul.

"Shut up." She said it lazily, her previous instant fury with anything Saul said gone.

He shrugged and smiled.

"How many are there ?" Harley asked.

D.J. tried to count in her head. "Eight?" she asked Morgan.

"Think so," he said in his own voice. "Plus me."

"So who's that?"

"That's really Morgan," D.J. said

"Whom did I meet in jail?"

"Listen carefully, Buford," said Gary. "Take a wild guess."

The car jerked. The wheels squealed. The car continued driving, though; Harley did not turn around. "No," he said in a low voice.

"Sorry to bring it up this way, Harley. Guess I should have waited till we got to the hotel."

"No," said Harley.

"All right. I'll shut up now. If you want, I don't have to talk to you anymore.

Just make sure they get the b.a.s.t.a.r.d for me, before he gets Doro."

Without another word, Harley pulled into a parking lot. He turned the car off.

After a couple minutes' silence, he said, "Stay down, you two. I'm locking you in. Don't you dare show yourselves." He got out of the car and slammed the door shut.

They lay in silence for a while. Outside the car windows, darkness lay, the edge taken off it by the big lighted sign of the supermarket. The car smelled like vinyl. D.J. realized the night was cold, and wished she had taken a jacket out of her duffel, which was safely locked in the trunk. "Morgan?" she whispered at last.

"Yeah?"

"Gary knows Harley?"

Morgan sighed. "I forgot my speech, even though Dr. Dara taught me and taught me. 'I didn't mean anything by it. Have a nice day.'"

"I don't think that would work on Harley, hon."

Morgan sighed again. Then Gary said, "I consulted with him on a case when he was working up in Seattle. Never knew he was down here now, otherwise I'd have said we should get in touch with him. We've never met face to face, but we spent hours on the phone. Just couldn't resist telling him that way, and I guess I should have. It seemed like such a great joke."

They lay in silence. D.J. wondered what she would do if a face appeared at the window staring down at them. What if it were Chase? She hid her face in the crook of her arm.

A key rattled in the lock, the door opened, and Harley tossed a loaded brown paper bag over the seat-back. Morgan caught it before it could land on D.J.'s head. The car engine growled to life and they were traveling again.

Harley drove erratically for a while, turning corners quickly, slowing, starting, pulling over. They even hit the freeway briefly. No one spoke.