John removed the cape from the plastic sleeve and unfolded it. Almost a year's worth or wrinkles marked the black satin. He'd barely gotten any enjoyment of it last year, but it seemed right to make use of it again. Perhaps Lanie would catch a glimpse of it and be tempted to give him more than an awkward smile or a hurried "Hey, how are you" in passing. Highly unlikely, but he didn't wish to ruin the fantasy.

He shook out the cape and draped it around the artificial tree, careful not to knock any of the Star Wars toys and ornaments from the branches. He studied the tree. It seemed to be missing something other than the Darth Vader helmet that was currently situated on the end table by the sofa. After a couple seconds of wracking his brain, he knew exactly what the tree needed.

The USS Enterprise replicas were tucked safely inside a box at the back of his closet. From atop the box, he lifted a smaller container of his sister's belongings his mother had given him once it was clear Hayli was gone. He'd kept them in the hope she might find some way around Derek's diktat. Anger bubbled over as Derek's words from the hospital came rushing back. We don't always get to say goodbye. The words stung as much now as they had then. Squelching a tear, he put the smaller container on his bed before reaching for the other and carrying it to the living room.

One by one he pulled the replicas from the box and spaced them evenly between the branches, but as he was placing the last, his knee brushed the tree. The sound of ceramic hitting his tile floor startled him and a curse word followed. Fortunately, the Ewok ornament was not damaged. He returned it to its branch, and with a deep breath, he grabbed the helmet and placed it on the treetop.

The tree was possibly better than last year's version, since it had actual ornaments to complement the collector's edition toys. It was worthy of Lanie. She would be impressed. His smile widened at the thought of her coming into the apartment and admiring his work. How momentous it would be if she'd stay a couple hours...or even the night with him. He would treat her like a queen, lavish her with love, savor every special minute with her.

He was sipping a Yeungling when his doorbell rang a few minutes later. 7:15. Probably Jose, still annoyed a year later that he'd been relegated to the typical human behavior of having to knock before entering a residence. The beer dribbled down his chin as he set the bottle on the countertop. When the bell sounded again, he reached around his neck and removed his necklace, its jewel glowing a bright green. He opened the refrigerator, stuffed the necklace into a pizza box, and then walked over to the door.

"Oy, Matey," Jose said as he remained in the hall. "Took ye long enough."

Half-expecting a line of ghosts, John looked both ways down the hall. It was empty, save for wreaths and bows hanging on apartment doors and the occasional extra-small decorated Christmas tree set to the side. He let out a sigh of relief before motioning the pirate ghost inside.

"So, how's Margaret?" John asked as he grabbed his beer and headed over to the black leather recliner.

Jose looked at the Christmas tree. "She's Margaret. What can I say?"

Somehow Margaret hadn't figured out John's talent in the almost year she'd been dead. He didn't trust that luck to hold, either. Once she knew she could use him to communicate with her family and friends, she'd control him like she had done to everyone else. No one could resist her charm, and John didn't want to spend the rest of his life catering to her every whim.

"She is beautiful. A little obnoxious, but still beautiful," John said before draining the bottle.

"That she is." Jose glided over to John's desk and stopped his gaze when it lighted upon the four bottles that were on the middle shelf. The bottles' faces had been wiped smooth after the reapers had exited. "I'm surprised Derek let you keep these."

John bristled at the name. After a split-second, he forced open his fist and tried ridding his face of the anger that clearly marked it. "I haven't seen Derek since the hospital. I'm sure he'll collect them at some point."

Jose turned to him and smiled. "I would love to take them off your hands. They could be very helpful to us ghosts."

John was certain the Tampa ghosts would die a thousand deaths to get their hands on these bottles. There were two elements every ghost could maneuver in the human world, Devilsfoil, which could kill reapers and ghosts, and Deathsgrip, which could trap them both.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Jose. Derek will come for these and if they're not all accounted for, he'll be on the warpath." John gulped. "I don't want to cross him again, not when he wields so much power over my sister and my mom isn't healthy. I won't risk their souls for your war."

Disgust flashed onto the pirate's face. "There was a time when I counted you among my closest friends."

John had seen the pirate many times when he was a little boy and he suspected Jose had known something was off with him well before they'd made their acquaintance. It took the longest time for John to figure out how to tell the living from the dead. The living had the tiniest of auras that seemed to cling to their bodies. It was easy to miss if he wasn't paying close attention and really easy, if he knew the deceased while they were alive.

It wasn't until about ten years ago that John first let Jose into his life by acknowledging his presence. Before that, he'd done everything he could to live by the psychologists' theories that he had imaginary friends, but the ghosts were anything but imaginary. It didn't take long for John to realize the psychologist was wrong. Eventually, he spoke to Jose, nearly startling the death out of the pirate.

Back then, John had thought it was beyond awesome that he was friends with the Tampa legend, someone who wasn't out to use his talents. After all, what use did a pirate who had been dead for over two hundred years have for a medium? It wasn't like he had close family and friends to contact. No, they'd long ago turned to dust and their spirits either wandered or had crossed over. His friendship with Jose had been perfect up until Oliver came along and John's talents had suddenly become a commodity. The three of them had had a few great months though. He missed those times. What he would give to have a similar friendship (minus the using part) among the living. But it was probably for the best he kept his talents—and himself—hidden. Far too many people wanted to take advantage of him.

"There was a time when all you wanted from me was to hang out." John grabbed one of the cordless remotes and lifted it toward the only ghost he personally knew strong enough to push its buttons. "Care to play a game?"

Jose shook his head. "You always win."

"We can play something I didn't design." He flicked the remote and the television powered on. "I have a ton of options. Nintendo, Sega, X-Box?"

"Not today." Jose looked pensively at John. "You should join us. You're going to have to choose sides eventually."

But 'eventually' was not now and John had no desire to make that choice until it became necessary. As John started to reply, the doorbell interrupted him. Saved by the bell. For once. But who was at the door? Could it be Lanie?

John bolted out of the chair, raked his fingers through his hair, and smoothed out his white button-up. He passed a mirror hanging on the wall and instantly regretted canceling his hair cut appointment the day before. He didn't want Lanie to view him as disheveled, not that anyone would've described him that way anymore. He didn't bother with the peephole, he just inhaled deeply while flinging open the door.

The scent of men's cologne mixed with sweat wafted into his nose and he let out a disappointed breath. It figured he'd get the boyfriend instead of the girl knocking on his door. As he looked up at the detective, worry crept onto his face.

Circles around his eyes, Grant stood in the hallway. A large manila envelope was in one hand. After an awkward moment, he asked, "May I come in?"

"Yeah." John opened the door wider and waved him inside.

Grant immediately walked to the exact point where Jose was hovering. As he bent to take his seat, he seemed to think better of it and moved to the other end, just beside the Christmas tree. "Nice tree."

"Thanks," John replied. "How's Lanie doing? I haven't seen her for a week or so..."

A penny slid about an inch along the end table. John shot Jose a pleading look. As much as he'd love for the coin to hit the detective, he didn't need the drama. With his chin, he gestured for the ghost to leave. Jose planted himself further into the couch. Fine, then. Two could play that game. He'd get his revenge later in the form of a ward that would zap the pirate when he touched the doorbell.

"She's in Bermuda, thought it'd be too hard staying around here. She'll be back the first week of January."

"Christmastime will probably be difficult for her for the rest of her life." John had witnessed firsthand the toll it had taken on her. The weight loss. The constant dark rings around her eyes. It was easily July before he'd seen the ever so slight upturn on her mouth. It wasn't quite a smile, but not the omnipresent hopelessness that had shrouded her for months, either. It was a couple weeks after that, when he'd seen Grant and Lanie together, arm-in-arm at Channelside, and his hopes had been dashed. He couldn't compete with the cop.

Jose floated toward Grant and made like he was going to punch him. Another of John's looks followed, and Jose shrank away.

"Undoubtedly, with all that happened, she was traumatized, but she's better now. Finally worked her way through the grief." Grant set the envelope on the couch. His lips pursed as he seemed to consider his next words. After a quick breath, he asked, "Have you seen Cheline at all?"

Both his guests were literally on the edge of their seats awaiting his response. Jose undoubtedly wanted to know if something had changed. But John was psychoanalyzing Grant's motivation. If the detective was this interested in the ex-girlfriend, it spelled trouble for his relationship with Lanie. Which wasn't a bad thing for himself. He'd gladly be there to pick up the pieces of Lanie's broken heart. He could almost visualize himself leaning in, his arms around her, his heart yearning for her kiss, but him maintaining control of his desires until they became her desires, too. Cheline would be rooting for him, he had no doubt about it. Cheline....oh.

"I haven't seen her since the hospital." Memories of Cheline's constant nagging at him to help Lanie flooded into John's mind. He smiled at them. "Honestly, I think she's crossed over. I don't believe for a second she'd leave me alone if she were still here."

"Probably not. She had a way of getting under people's skin." Grant laughed. He reached for the envelope.

When the detective made no movement toward the door, John sank into his seat. He wasn't about to ask Grant if he wanted to play video games, but perhaps that was the one area he could compete with the cop. John didn't want to be bro-coded the moment Lanie soured on Grant. He wanted the girl.

"So, what brings you here?"

Grant's shoulders dropped a couple inches. "Did you hear about the body that was found along Bayshore Boulevard a couple days ago?"

How could he not? It was all over the news, and he wasn't that far removed from society. The couple who'd found the woman's body lived on the same floor as his mom, so there'd been plenty of gossip flying around Palma D'Oro.

When John nodded, Grant continued. "I'm at a loss. We haven't been able to identify her. She doesn't match the description of anyone on the missing person's list, and no one's tried to claim her." Grant opened the envelope and removed a photograph from it. "I know this is unorthodox, but I think you're probably the only person who can help me. Maybe you've seen her around and can help me. I have to forewarn you that the picture is graphic." He extended the picture toward him.

John took it but hesitated on looking at it. It was bad enough so many of the ghosts knew his talents; he didn't need the living knowing it, too. He knew how exactly what would happen: he did all the work, while Grant got all the glory and the girl to go with it. Eh, no thanks. Unfortunately, John made the mistake of glancing downward at the photograph.

Her bright green hair should've made it easy to recognize her, but other than height, weight, and gender, the hints stopped there. Her eyes had been gouged out and her face beaten to a pulp. He wondered if any of her bones had been left unbroken. His stomach roiled as the image seared itself into his brain.

Jose floated over to him, took one look at it, and shuddered. "I haven't seen her either. She suffered greatly."

Feeling the bile rise in his throat, John returned the picture to Grant. "I'm sorry, but I haven't seen her."

Grant sighed as he cradled his head with his hand. "I shouldn't say this, but I think he's got someone else. The past few times, another body has shown up within a week. Always someone close to the first victim."

"You think this is the Florida Flayer?" John felt the color drain from his face as Grant nodded. This killer would strike again, and time was ticking by, each second more deadly than the last.

"I'm positive the two bodies found in SoHo in August were the work of him." Grant slid the photo back into the envelope. "Is there any way you could summon this girl's ghost? There's gotta be something, right? A séance or something?"

John could summon a reaper, but he had no clue how to summon a ghost, short of going outside and shouting, which guaranteed he'd be Baker-Acted right into a mental institution. But maybe there was someone who might be able to help them. If she wasn't still royally pissed off at him. Big if. He considered telling Grant that he couldn't help him, but the thought of another woman dying got the better of him. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if this monster struck again.

"I might know someone."

Author's Note: It's been a long time...and I apologize for that. Between losing my dog, moving to another country, having four kids, and having writer's block, writing has been a challenge. Barring a catastrophe, my plan is to have another two chapters for you by Christmas...sort of as a thank you for loving this story and supporting me through the years. If you enjoyed this chapter, please vote and comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts. These three chapters will set up the sequel and let you know how some of these characters are doing. Thanks again!