Page 10 of Ghost Hunted

“And her mother… my grandmother…”

Piper gazes up at me, and I suddenly realize I’ve never spoken to her about her mother’s side of the family. And she’s so hungry for family. For people she can belong to. I can see it in her eyes.

Her grandfather, Emilio, doesn’t deserve to know her. Not after he forced his daughter to marry her rapist. But what about the O’Connors?

“Lia’s mother abandoned her when she was little.” I hesitate. “Lia never spoke about her. She was raised by her father, Emilio.”

“Emilio?” Piper looks up at me nervously.

I stare at her, trying to decipher her reaction. Maybe she’s a little overwhelmed, learning about these new relatives?

“Emilio was Lia’s father. Your maternal grandfather. He wasn’t a good father to her, but I let him live, because Lia did love him. Last I heard, he was in Italy.”

“Oh. Uhm…” She pauses, while Quill, from his place on the couch, stifles a yawn.

Her boyfriend—or husband—never struck me as the smartest person on Earth. He’s completely, obsessively devoted to Piper, but nothing else matters to him. Just as long as she’s happy, safe and his. I guess that’s as good as I can hope for in a son-in-law.

“Yes, Piper?” I ask, when a few seconds of silence pass. “What is it?”

“Well, according to my mo—the woman on the phone,” she corrects herself hastily, “Emilio is in Ireland. Or was.”

“Was he?” I raise a surprised eyebrow.

“I’m not quite sure,” she begins hesitantly, “whether is or was is the correct tense in this case. Grammatically, that is.”

I snort. I’ll never be able to understand how my dorky little bookworm of a daughter fell into a relationship with the murderous-looking guy currently sitting on the couch.

“Like,” she continues, “if you’re still in Ireland, but you, as in your consciousness…”

“What?”

“I mean, like, if physically you’re there, but spiritually you’re, uhm, elsewhere…”

She cuts herself off as I stare at her in utter confusion.

“Are you religious now, Piper?”

“What? God, no.”

I laugh. “I mean, it’s fine. Lia was very Catholic, you know. She was a practicing, church-going, foul-mouthed girl. I thought it was pretty adorable.”

“Well, I’m not.” Piper’s face flushes. “And that’s not what I meant. I meant…”

“She meant,” cuts in Quill, still looking bored, “that Emilio is dead. Lia told Piper she killed him.”

I stand up abruptly. “What the fuck?”

“My mo—the woman on the phone said she needed help,” says Piper hurriedly. “She said she didn’t know about me… when she found out, she killed her father. She said she’s hiding out in the hills, and a gang of masked bikers is hunting her. She said the worst idea in the world was calling me. But she said she didn’t know. She needed to see me.” Piper’s voice wavers before breaking. “I couldn’t understand everything, she was crying so hard. And she also said…”

“What?” I ask, my voice so quiet it scares even me. “What did she say, Piper?”

“She said… she said…” By now, Piper’s crying, and Quill rushes to her, folding her in his arms and looking at me as if he blames me for her tears.

“She said… not to tell you.” Piper can barely get the words out, she’s sobbing so hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I betrayed her.”

She melts into tears while Quill shushes her, his eyes still throwing daggers in my direction.

“Okay, Piper. Okay.” I reach for the only part of her that is free of Quill’s arms—a tiny little space on her upper back—and pat it as reassuringly as possible. “Shh. Don’t cry, sweetie. Please. You didn’t betray your mother. Whoever called you isn’t your mother.”