I felt the familiar knocking I get when someone who's crossed over wants to send a message. I opened up and immediately felt an older female's energy with a name that began with an L. In my mind I invited her to speak her name slowly to me, and I got Lily. "Lily has a message for you," I said to him.

Roger's face blanched, and his mouth dropped open a bit. "What did you say?"

"Lily wants you to know she's very disappointed with how you're behaving. She says that she didn't raise a cheat or a liar, and that someone named Max would never approve."

Roger staggered forward a few steps, his eyes big as saucers and his hand propped against the wall like he needed the support. "How could you know know that?" that?"

"Lily also says that she thinks the car you're driving is fine and there's no need to buy a new one." Roger stood with his mouth agape. "She also says that if you sell the family home, you'll live to regret it, because Miami Beach is not all it's cracked up to be."

Roger's knees seemed to buckle as, without further ado, he sat down with a hard thump on the floor. "Mom?" he said. "Is that really you?"

"Who's George?" I asked, getting the feeling of an older male figure now.

Roger shook his head dumbly before he seemed to make the connection, and he offered, "My grandfather."

"George says that even though he had more trophies than you, there's no need to continue killing these animals, especially when they're already endangered."

Roger blinked at me a few times and moved his mouth up and down, but no words came out.

"This is awesome," Steven whispered. "M.J., keep going."

I didn't really need the encouragement, but gave him a quick smile all the same. "George also says that he's glad you still have one of his guns, the one with a pearl handle, right?"

Roger nodded. "Yes, it's in my desk at home."

"He's very proud of you, but he agrees with Lily about this paper that you're keeping secret. He doesn't want you to do that. He says show it to the public."

Roger's lower lip trembled. "I can't find it," he whispered.

"What?" Steven asked him.

"I can't find it!" he said, and scrambled to his feet, then quickly headed over to the counter and dug around in a pile of folders. Pulling out one of them he announced, "The copies are here, but the original is gone!"

I shot a quick glance at Steven and pulled my jacket a little tighter. The folder was the one I'd made copies of, and the originals that belonged in it were securely tucked into my jean jacket pocket. "What specifically are you looking for?"

"It's a deed," Roger said as he set the folder down and buried his face in his hands. "Your father was going to pay me a bundle to deliver a deed to him, and I can't find it anywhere."

"I see," Steven said. "How much is this bundle?"

"Two hundred thousand dollars," Roger blubbered.

"And when did you make this deal with him?" Steven probed.

"A few days before your grandfather died. He'd done some research on the land around here and come up with the detail that Mirabelle wasn't of rightful age when the property her mother held in life estate was deeded over to her. Andrew knew it at the time, but figured no one would ever find out. Your father started nosing around, and word got back to Andrew. He called me to prepare another deed, which I did, and he signed it, but instead of recording it right away, I held on to it."

"And how did Steven Senior find out about the second deed?" I asked.

Roger glanced up at me, his face contorted in guilt. "I called him and told him about it. I offered to sell it to him, but we couldn't agree on a price. A few days went by and Andrew called me to ask if I'd recorded it yet. I panicked and called Steven Senior to tell him the deal was off-I had no choice but to record the deed-and the next thing I knew, Andrew was dead."

Steven's hands curled into fists. "So, let us help you look for it," I offered quickly. "When ... I mean, if we find it, we can make sure it gets recorded and make amends, okay?"

Roger nodded dumbly. "It's got to be here somewhere," he said as he shuffled more papers around.

"You go look in the back," I offered. "Maybe I can ask Lily and George for some help."

Roger sighed heavily, then headed back down the hallway muttering, "I'm sorry, Mom and Granddad."

"Is the deed on you?" Steven whispered.

I patted my jean jacket and said, "Got it right here. Let's wait a minute or two, announce that we've found it, and get to the county clerk."

"No," Steven said. "We have to warn Mirabelle first. The more I think about this, the more I am sure that my grandfather was killed by his own son. If my father learns we're on our way to record the deed, it could put Mirabelle in danger. Remember, she only holds the property in life estate. If she dies, it reverts back to me."

"Good point," I said, and moved to the counter. I looked at the pile of paper and folders cluttering the area, wondering how I could pretend to locate the deed without Roger suspecting I'd had it all along. Thinking of something, I moved over to the copier and pushed on one end of it, moving it away from the wall. I pulled out the deed from my jacket and announced, "Found it!"

Roger came running back down the hallway. "You did?" he said, his face now hopeful.

"Yep. It was behind the copier. Must've slipped back there when you were making the copies."

"Here," he said, holding out his hand. "Give it to me and I promise I'll record it right away."

Steven stepped in front of him and stood tall and imposing as he said, "I don't think so."

Roger seemed to shrink to an even smaller size. He looked so disappointed I couldn't help but offer, "Lily thinks it's best if Steven and I take care of this. You understand, don't you, Roger?"

"Of course," he said as his cheeks grew flushed. "I'll need to clean up this mess now anyway."

I smiled at him and tucked the deed back into my pocket. "Come on, Steven. Let's. .h.i.t the road."

Wasting no time, we drove back in the direction of the house. As we got close, Steven began to scan the terrain for the little dirt road that would lead us to Mirabelle's. We arrived at the driveway leading to the lodge and Steven grumbled, "d.a.m.n. How did we miss that?"

We doubled back and tried again but couldn't find the entrance. "Guess we're just going to have to go through the woods," I said as we headed in the direction of the Manse.

Steven nodded and we drove to the lodge, then walked around to the back and looked for the pathway that would lead us to Mirabelle's. The day had turned overcast and windy, and I glanced up right before the first droplets of rain began to fall. "Great," Steven said as he too looked up. "Looks like we're going to get wet again."

I smiled at him as I pulled my jacket tighter around me. "At least we know who the better swimmer is."

Steven chuckled and moved over to me. "Yeah, but we also know who's a better kisser," he said, and winked.

I gave him a broad grin and replied, "Yep. I win again. Ah, well, at least you have a nice car."

Steven let out a deep laugh and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Come on, funny lady, I think the path is over there."

We found it and began walking in the rain through the woods, which offered a little bit of protection, though by the time we reached the tree that marked the opening to the tunnel I was definitely feeling damp. Steven turned to the left, toward Mirabelle's, when something caught the corner of my eye. "Hold on," I said, looking up. I could have sworn I had seen movement off to my right.

"What's up?" he asked, coming back to stand next to me as I scanned the woods.

"There," I said as I saw what had caused me to pause. "See that?"

On the path leading to Willis's was a cl.u.s.ter of little orbs, bouncing and dancing and looking just like a horde of bees. "Hanging on to you is definitely strange," Steven said as I walked in the direction of the orbs.

"If s hanging out out with me," I corrected. with me," I corrected.

"Yes, that is strange too," he said.

"Come on," I said, swatting his shoulder. "I get the strong sense that we need to follow them." The swirling orbs waited until we got within a few feet of them before they moved on down the path, dancing and bouncing with frenetic energy. There seemed to be an urgency to their movements, and the little knot of dread in the pit of my stomach grew as we neared Willis's.

When the small log cabin was in sight, the orbs stopped their jumbled dance and formed a straight line as they zoomed straight for the cabin and through the wall without pause. "Something's wrong," I said as I broke into a run.

"I'm right on your behind," Steven said, and I could feel him at my heels.

We got to the door of the cabin, and I paused only long enough to knock twice, then without waiting, opened the door. "Willis?" I called as I pushed the door wide. "Willis, it's M.J. and Steve-" I stopped midsentence as my eyes caught Willis slouched in his wheelchair, his face ashen and a small bit of foam at his mouth.

Steven rushed past me, crouching down by Willis as he lifted his wrist to check for a pulse. "Is he alive?" I asked, my voice hushed and shaky.

"His pulse is thready," Steven said as he lifted one of Willis's lids to check his pupils. Next he wheeled Willis over to the couch and began to gently move him from the chair. I walked forward to help him, but Steven stopped me with, "M.J., go to my car. In the backseat is a black duffel bag. Bring it here as fast as you can!"

I turned on my heel and bolted from the cabin, dashing through the woods as fast as my legs could carry me. I reached Steven's car, panting hard. I may be a runner, but I'm a long-distance girl, and I'd taken the trip back to the house in a sprint. I was so worried about Willis that I didn't stop to catch my breath, but just grabbed the bag and bolted back toward the woods. I was about to leap onto the path when I heard someone shout my name. I paused and turned my head. There I saw Willis standing in the woods waving at me. He looked completely well, not at all like the figure I'd left back at the cabin. "There's no need to rush," he said to me. "You don't want to fall again and hurt yourself, after all."

My chest heaved as I realized why I was seeing him. "No," I panted as I stared at him. "Willis, no no!" I shouted, and that was when he disappeared. "G.o.dd.a.m.n it!" I screamed, and ran as fast as I'd ever run in my life through the trees, mindless of the branches that tore at my face and hands and the pounding of my heart as it begged me to slow down. I reached the cabin and bolted inside, wet and so deprived of oxygen that I felt dizzy. Steven had Willis on the floor and was performing CPR. He too was out of breath, and sweat poured off of him as he tried to pump Willis's heart.

I dropped to the floor next to him, my lungs expanding and contracting at such a rapid pace that I didn't know how much more they could take. "M.J.," he puffed, his brow wet with exertion. "Call nine-one-one!"

I nodded and reached into my coat pocket. Finding my cell phone I punched the numbers into the keypad and waited for the dispatcher, knowing in my heart that all of our efforts were just too little, too late.

Two hours later the county coroner had carted away Willis's body. Steven and I sat at his kitchen table with the sheriff, going over the details of finding Willis in a state of unconsciousness. Steven had found a needle and vial of insulin near where we'd first discovered Willis, and in his best estimation he said that Willis had most likely gone into diabetic distress, followed quickly by coma as his body began to shut down.

I listened while Steven told the sheriff that we'd reached him about an hour too late, "flow long had you known Willis?" the sheriff asked.

"As long as I've known my grandfather," Steven said, his voice quavering a bit. He cleared his throat, and it was a moment before he continued. "Willis was a part of my childhood here at the house. He would take me for rides on his tractor, and teach me about the plants and flowers. He was a good man."

"How long has he had diabetes?" the sheriff asked.

"Also as long as I've known him."

"Do you know who his doctor was?"

"No idea," Steven said, then thought of something and got up from the table. From the kitchen counter he picked up one of three prescription bottles, scanned the label, and said, "You can try Dr. Harris. He's in Twin Lakes."

"That's quite a hike from here," the sheriff noted.

"It's known to be the best hospital in northern Ma.s.sachusetts," Steven said as he continued to sift through the prescription bottles. I saw him pause, studying one of the bottles more closely, and his stance shifted ever so subtly. He looked up at us and noted that the sheriff was busy writing. Putting his finger to his lips he quickly slipped the bottle into his pocket.

I gave him a questioning look but didn't say anything as he rejoined us at the table. "Do you know if he has any family we can contact?"

I got up and walked over to the framed picture of Janelle. I handed it to the sheriff and said, "That's his daughter, Janelle. She lives in Jamaica Plain, and I think she works at Ma.s.s. General."

The sheriff nodded. "I think that's all I need, Dr. Sable and Miss Holliday. Thank you for your efforts with Mr. Brown. I'm sure his family will appreciate that you did everything you could."

Steven and I got up from the table and walked to the door. In the doorway Steven paused, reached behind him, and grabbed my hand. I leaned into him as I squeezed back, and together we walked back through the rain to the lodge.

When we got inside I asked, "You okay?"

Steven walked into the laundry room, returning with a towel for each of us before answering. "No," he said, his shoulders slumped. "It's always been hard for me to lose a patient. And Willis was an old friend."

"I saw him, you know."

"Saw who?"

"Willis," I said. Steven c.o.c.ked his head at me and I explained. "On the path. When I went to get your bag I was running back to the cabin and he called my name. When I turned around he was there."

"I don't understand."

"It was his spirit. He'd already left. There was nothing you could have done, Steven. He was already gone."

Steven stared at me for a long, long time before setting his towel down and walking over to me. Ever so gently he swept my wet hair back off my face, then leaned in and kissed me deeply. When he pulled his lips away I gave him a small smile. "What was that for?"

"Do you always need a reason?"

"No. Not especially."

"Good. Come. I think there's some rain gear around here somewhere."

That caught me off guard. "I'm sorry, what?"

Steven had already turned to walk into the hallway. "Rain gear," he said. "We have to get to Mirabelle before it's too late."

"Too late for what?"

Steven paused, dug into his pocket, and pulled something out, tossing it to me. I looked at it after I'd caught it. It was the prescription bottle from Willis's counter. "What's the relevance?" I asked as I looked at the pink pills in the container.

"Read the label. The doctor's name is in the upper right-hand corner."

I searched the label and my eyes stuck on the name: Dr. S. Sable. "Holy s.h.i.t!" I said.

"Exactly," Steven said as he came back into the kitchen with two rain slickers.

"Do you think these had anything to do with Willis's death?"

"I don't know. I've never heard of that drug, and I'll have to look it up, but if it contributed in any way, I'll make sure my old man ends up paying for it."

I tucked the pills into my jeans pocket and looked up as Steven said, "Here," and he tossed a rain slicker over my shoulders. "This was my grandfather's. It might be a little big, but at least it will keep you dry."

I donned the slicker and the two of us trotted back out into the rain. It was slow going through the woods this time, as the rain had made the path slippery. Eventually we reached Mirabelle's and made our way to her big blue door. Steven knocked and was rewarded a moment later when the door opened. "Steven and M.J.," she said with surprise.

"h.e.l.lo, Mirabelle," he said. "Can we come in? It's important."