The corpse grabbed her arm with cool fingers.

　　Grace Harmony said, “Oh, no, not again."

　　Her heart pounded as an icy chill sprinted along her bones. Her face went hot and her soul went cold.

　　Only one day to go to her thirtieth birthday and it would all be done. If she could have avoided the dead, she wouldn't have to do this again.

　　The room took on an out of focus look as if she were squinting. She blinked it away.

　　Her gaze trudged down to look at the pale, mottled hand grasping her wrist and she shuddered as much from the cold as what she knew would happen next. A sigh escaped her, then she took a deep breath, the antiseptic hospital smell filling her nostrils. “What?"

　　The lifeless woman's eyes flipped open. “Help." Her voice came out as hollow and raspy, a lone word uttered in a subway underpass. As if someone had dragged nails down a blackboard, Grace cringed. The chill moving along her skeleton, settled in the marrow. The shivering wouldn't start. She'd just be cold.

　　There would be no relief.

　　She glanced at the door. No one came to save her. No one even walked by in such a busy emergency department.

　　If only she hadn't left her clipboard with the patient. Her partner had gone to the bathroom. The nurses were all working another code. No one could save her from entering the room and being alone with a dead person.

　　She'd drawn in a breath to gather her strength, then plunged into the green-tiled room.

　　Giving the corpse a wide berth, she'd spotted the clipboard on a table next to the bed.

　　In the brief instant she came close, the woman had reached for her. Grace was the dead person's only connection to the living.

　　But only for one more day. Only until her birthday.

　　Her gaze snapped back to the dead woman. She lay inert on blood-stained white sheets. Her eyes held no sparkle nor any clue to the person she had been.

　　All the moisture in Grace's mouth evaporated. “Let me guess. You've been murdered."

　　Despite knowing this already, she asked anyway. Dead people only spoke to her if they'd been killed. If she knew a way out of this situation she'd use it.

　　She hoped this would be the last time. Without confidence, she promised herself this victim would be the last.

　　“Yes," the corpse said, the last part sounding like a snake.

　　The noise sent a shudder through Grace's body, but only briefly. Talking to dead bodies had ceased to scare her.

　　Dragging in a ragged breath, Grace braced herself for the time slip, the trek down the dark tunnel. No white light waited at the end for her. “What's your name?"

　　“Dolores Holten."

　　Colors danced and flashed before Grace's eyes as if they were a precursor to a migraine. Numbness deadened her limbs. She catapulted down a black shaft, only the passing of lights indicated movement. Her breath caught in her throat as her nose filled with a burning electrical scent. A sneeze that would have relieved her didn't come.

　　Something squeezed her body, but not for long. Then she slammed into a wall and she was back in time.

　　***

　　Grace's skin warmed, her eyes tearing from the bright sun, the tunnel gone. Blinded for a moment she looked around for any clues to her location. Any ideas as to the day and date.

　　She'd learned to adapt at a moment's notice.

　　“Miss?"

　　Grace shook the inevitable fog from her brain and scoped out her surroundings. Sunny day. Driveway of some house. Maybe a week or so before Dolores died she estimated. That had been the last time the rain hadn't fallen.

　　The details would come in clearer as she adjusted her focus.

　　She'd been down this street, twice. The first time looking for an address in her pursuit of a new apartment. Something had distracted her and she'd never made contact with the landlady. Was that where she was now?

　　She'd been here during the fire that supposedly killed Dolores.

　　“Miss?"

　　Grace turned to the voice and found the dead woman. Very much alive. No evidence of the fatal fire that had charred her skin and taken the breath from her lungs. Relief washed over her as Grace realized where she was and why.

　　Grace schooled her face not to show the surprise that culled a hitch in her breath. Usually she didn't come face to face with the victim as soon as she rewound.

　　Coughing, Grace wiped her eyes. “Sorry, got something in my eye and I missed what you just said."

　　“You pay rent and utilities. My ex-husband can fix most things so I'll give you his number, if anything goes wrong. Shouldn't, I just put new appliances in there."

　　“Can I call you Dolores?"

　　The woman cocked her head and a lock of auburn hair fell into her face. Her brown eyes narrowed, and one hand found her hip. “That's my name, but I don't remember telling you."

　　Grace smiled, which put most people at ease. “You introduced yourself right off."

　　Dolores nodded. “I guess I did." She patted her flat stomach. “I'm pregnant so I think I'm losing my memory already."

　　She'd said ex-husband, but mentioned nothing about her current husband. No one at the fire scene had told Grace about Dolores' pregnancy. Maybe the neighbors hadn't realized.

　　Confusion had her clearing her throat, her head spinning. The world leaned and Grace widened her stance for stability.

　　“So rent and utilities. I can handle that."

　　“You got a job?" Dolores asked.

　　Back to details. She'd used them as a fishing rod to pull in her swimming emotions. Grace knew less about Dolores than she should have known.

　　The ground steadied as Grace formed her answer. These facts were concrete. She shuffled her feet anyway, her discomfort a too hot sweater around her body. “Yes, I do. I'm a paramedic for Centre Community Hospital."

　　“You new in town?"

　　Tension stabbed her muscles.

　　“I've been here a month," Grace said even though she wasn't sure of the date as of yet. She stole a glance at her watch which sported the date and time in five countries. Grace only needed to know about this moment, standing in Glen Hills, New Jersey.

　　Her one month estimate had been right. She blew out a breath slowly so Dolores wouldn't notice her relief. “When can I move in?"

　　“I'd like to get some references first, but." Dolores eyed her then swept her gaze up and down the short length of Grace. “You look like a trustworthy sort. I need two months' rent for security. You can move in when you get me that check."

　　Could this get any simpler? “I can write it now."

　　This would be easy with the intended victim being her landlady. Her pulse relaxed as if it had sunk onto a comfortable couch. Her muscles became flaccid, just holding her upright.

　　“Yeah? No hitting up the parents for money?" Dolores cackled, but the sound didn't annoy Grace.

　　Instead she laughed with her. “No, I've been on my own for quite some time, now."

　　Her potential landlord stopped laughing. “Yeah? You older than I think?"

　　“Yes, I look younger than I really am. Still get carded," Grace said, trying to make light of the situation. She didn't want the woman to delve too deeply.

　　“No parties," said Dolores.

　　“I don't party. I do work odd hours so I will be in and out at strange times."

　　Dolores looked at a bird lazily circling in the sky. “I was married to a cop. Might as well still be married to him, so your car in and out of the driveway will not disturb me."

　　She rubbed her hands down her worn jean shorts then held one out for Grace. “Sorry about the mess, I've been gardening."

　　Her green T-shirt sported many dirt spots and flower pots littered the sidewalk.

　　Grace looked over at the colorful plants. The warmth of the sun sneaked into her bones. She could do this. One more time. Confidence straightened her spine. Her shoulders shifted back. “Yes, I see that. Your flowers look lovely."

　　“Thank you. So you're Grace Harmony. That's quite a moniker to go through life with."

　　Grace chuckled. “My parents had a sense of humor," she said over her shoulder. “Let me get you that check."

　　***

　　Zach Holton pulled into the driveway of his ex-wife's as a red mustang pulled away. He glanced at the license plate out of habit, having it memorized before the car drove out of sight.

　　Not that he could track down the owner as easily as he once did. The bitterness of his forced career change swirled bile into his mouth. He swallowed it, knowing he couldn't change anything.

　　Dolores, clothed in messy shorts and a T-shirt, knelt over a box of flowers. She didn't look up when he disembarked. Good, he didn't want her thinking this was a social call. She'd thought of excuses daily for him to be here. This time she sounded serious so he used his lunch break to pay her a visit.

　　Lunch break. He stifled a chuckle. Now that he ran his own private investigating business he could lunch whenever he wanted. He possessed no radio. His phone had an answering machine so he could leave his office anytime.

　　Tension thrummed through him. He couldn't fathom what she wanted to tell him.

　　He took a deep breath prior to walking across the lawn that needed a mow. Frustration ached his bones. Would he ever get rid of his albatross ex-wife? “Hey," he said.

　　She smiled up at him, but didn't touch him, to his surprise. “Hey yourself. Beautiful day."

　　“You seem to be taking full advantage of it."

　　“Like the flowers?" she asked pointing to some red and blue things.

　　He didn't know anything about flowers except that women loved them. He could only pick out roses. The rest were a mystery to him. “Nice."

　　The noncommittal answer kept him from shaking her, demanding that she stop calling him. Stop giving into every whim she had.

　　Dolores continued digging. And humming. She hummed when she was happy so that buoyed Zach. Maybe she'd found someone and she'd no longer expect him to be at her beck and call. Not that he jumped every time she asked. The divorce had been final two years ago and the marriage many years before that. He needed to move.

　　Even if she couldn't.

　　He knelt down, careful not to get his work pants dirty. “Lors, I'd offer to help, but . . ." He indicated his outfit.

　　“No problem. I never liked how you planted flowers."

　　He smiled. “That was honest." For a change.

　　She eyed him. “Yes, it's my new policy. Especially where you're concerned. I'm going to tell you what I think."

　　“That's good. Then I don't have to guess."

　　She laughed, putting her gloved hand on his. “You can read suspects, but not me."

　　His gaze took in her hand. She'd left a smudge of dirt that he wiped off of him. She wasn't wrong. He could never read her. Or maybe he couldn't figure out all women. They were his Waterloo for sure. “Guess it's tough when the printing is too close to your face."

　　“You want some lunch?" she asked.

　　“If you have some. If not I can pick some up on the way back to the office," he said, hoping ambivalence would keep his anger in check.

　　She pulled off her flowered gloves then stood. “I'm hungry, too. Starved in fact."

　　“You have a tape worm?"

　　He followed her into her house. His house since he still made the mortgage payments. His residence until he'd walked out three years ago. She'd spent that time trying to move him back into her life.

　　Her hips swayed as she walked in front of him. Once her movements made him hot. Now her attempts at seduction annoyed him. There'd been that one night, but he'd made the situation clear to Dolores. He wasn't coming back to her.

　　“Sit," Dolores commanded before she crossed to the refrigerator.

　　“I'm sure I can find stuff."

　　She shook her head. “It'll give me something to do while I think of how I tell you my news."

　　Her being nice meant she wanted something. His defenses slammed closed, his teeth clenched. She wasn't getting anything from him.

　　He sat at the scarred Formica table on a chair with ripped upholstery. She hadn't replaced it yet and he had some hot memories from this piece of furniture. “What news?" Would she get to it already?

　　Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he slid it onto the isHback of what had been his chair. The same cat clock's tail twitched the seconds. The place even smelled the same, a mixture of grease and cologne.

　　She stopped in the middle of making a sandwich. Her tired gaze came to him. “I'm pregnant."

　　***

　　Grace drove straight to her bank to transfer the funds needed to cover the check she had written to Dolores. Her heart skittered at the thought of the task ahead of her.

　　She'd noticed a car pull into the driveway as she left her new home and wondered if that could be the killer. She'd scrutinize every person that came in contact with Dolores. Her job would be tiring, but she had a calling.

　　With her work shift coming up quickly, Grace drove home to change then set off for the hospital. And her day began with a bang, but being around live people filled her heart.

　　She forgot about Dolores for a few hours. Pretend the she didn't have to find a murderer.

　　“Clear," she said to her partner.

　　He and the two Emergency Medical Technicians raised their hands so she could see they were not touching the patient. They'd obviously worked with her before though she didn't recognize them.

　　She put 300 joules into the fifty-year-old man. This shock would work. Had last time she'd been through this day.

　　His body jerked. His pulse returned and she let out a whoop. Snatching one from the grim reaper had its own high and she rode it for a moment. “Another one grabbed from the clutches of death."

　　The EMTs eyed her and laughed. “You take way too much delight in bringing them back," one of them said.

　　As they rolled to the hospital, she kept an eye on the man's pulse. She wouldn't lose one today. Not a premonition, not clairvoyance, but a desire.

　　She didn't know a phrase for talking to dead people. Other than crazy.

　　***

　　Zach blinked. Holy shit. One night. A baby?

　　A rush of emotion overtook him and left him speechless. Dolores eyed him as if he would tell her the answer to a philosophical question.

　　His voice appeared finally. “Oh?" he said though his tongue couldn't move properly.

　　She had always wanted children. He hadn't and Dolores didn't tell him her desire until after they married. Another example of how she manipulated him. He hoped she wasn't doing it again.

　　Bile rose in his throat for the second time that day. Bitterness was his best friend.

　　“Thanks." She whirled back to her lunch-making. “It's yours."

　　Terror and anger raced around his brain as if competing to get to the finish line first. “Okay."

　　A small child could have decked him at that moment.

　　“I know you didn't want children, but I'm keeping this baby."

　　Zach stood and bridged the distance between them. She didn't shy away. He didn't touch her, but she put her arms around him.

　　As always, he needed to state the obvious. Dolores was too busy in her dream land. “Do you think it's a good idea? Bringing this baby into an already broken home? Not even a home anymore."

　　She shoved him away from her. “This is regardless of what contribution you planned to make."

　　He swallowed hard. “Are you really prepared to take care of a baby? Financially and emotionally?"

　　Her gaze went through him. “Yes."

　　Thoughts swirled about his head. He couldn't say what she wanted to hear, but he would do what he could for this baby. He knew how to take responsibility. “I need to time to wrap my brain around this."

　　He walked away from her, back to the chair. He paused, then sat down.

　　“Fine. I don't want to talk about it anymore," she said.

　　She dropped a plate with a sandwich in front of him.

　　He shook his head, but the idea of a baby lingered on in the outskirts of his consciousness. He'd have to think about this later. He could go with a subject change if she could. “So tell me about the car that pulled away," Zach said.

　　Her butt landed in the chair across from him. “I'm renting out the apartment above the garage."

　　He paused with the sandwich halfway to his mouth. The apartment was livable, but not luxurious. They'd planned on using it as a guest suite, but the marriage had fallen apart. “Why?"

　　“I need the money."

　　“I'll give you more if that's what you need."

　　She smiled. “That's generous, but I know how much you made. And now you have a new business."

　　“I could find something else to do." No. This baby talk had his brain fried. The next best thing to being a cop was being a private investigator in his mind. That's what he told himself each morning when he didn't want to get out of bed.

　　She laughed. “Oh, Zach, you wouldn't want to do anything else. It's as if dead people call to you."

　　Knowing she was correct, he blew out a breath. “Well, then at least let me have her checked out."

　　Dolores ran a hand through her auburn hair. Passive aggressive alert. “Maybe. If you really want to, but I think she's okay."

　　“Let me find out for sure."

　　She picked at her sandwich. “Her name's Grace Harmony. She's new in town."

　　He reached across and took her hand. As always he said, “I'll take care of everything."