Kylie looked from Miranda to Della and then on to Derek and Lucas. Unreal. They were talking about her as if she weren't even here. Still, she knew they were just trying to help, and she loved them all for it. Well, she would when she stopped feeling pissed off.
Burnett looked back at Lucas and then at Derek. "I'm concerned that both of you might be too close to this."
"Which is why we'd be good at it," Derek said.
"Which is why I'd be good at it," countered Lucas.
Derek shot Lucas a dirty look. "You're a real jerk, Parker."
Both guys started slinging insults.
"For cripes' sakes, guys!" Kylie snapped. "This is getting-"
"Stop it!" Burnett ordered. And just like that, Derek and Lucas both fell silent. "This is what I mean. Both of you have other agendas where Kylie is concerned."
Kylie felt her cheeks redden, more from anger than embarrassment. "Here's an idea. Maybe somebody should ask me what I think about-"
"That's ridiculous," snarled Lucas. She blinked at him for a moment until she realized he was referring to Burnett's comment, not hers.
Burnett's shoulders grew tighter and his gaze shot from Lucas to Derek. "Right now, I don't think either of you would be focusing on protecting when you're with her. I'm not saying you won't be asked to help in the future, but right now-"
"Still ridiculous." Lucas stiffened beside Kylie, and she could swear she felt his temperature go up a degree or two. "I would die before-"
"As would I," Derek barked out.
"And my job is to make sure no one dies," Brunett countered.
At least on that point, Kylie could agree with Burnett.
* * *
An hour later, after Burnett and Holiday went back to the office to assign Kylie shadows, Kylie lay shivering in her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering when and how her life had gotten so out of control. Right after Burnett left, Lucas had been summoned again by his pack. With regret in his blue eyes, and maybe even still a little anger at her for standing up for Derek, he told her he would see her as soon as his pack business was handled. Kylie hadn't begrudged him going; she'd kind of needed to be alone. But she couldn't help remembering what Fredericka had said. Lucas's bloodline is pure, he values that. The forefathers value that, too. They've made that clear. Were those just words cast out to cause Kylie doubt? Or was there something going on?
Kylie closed her eyes and moaned. Socks burrowed deeper under the covers at her side, while a dead bald woman paced around the room, jabbering about how she couldn't remember shit. Kylie released a deep breath, and steam rose from her lips and slowly snaked up to the ceiling.
"Can't remember," the ghost muttered. "Nothing but a blank."
Little did the woman know that Kylie kind of envied her right now. She wished she could forget. Forget that look of anger she'd spotted in Derek's eyes, forget the sudden tension she'd felt in Lucas's body when she stood up for Derek. Forget that she very well might be responsible for killing an elderly couple and getting the P.I., Mr. Smith, sent to the hospital.
"What's it called when you can't remember who you are? Isn't there a word for that?" the spirit asked.
"Amnesia." Kylie considered telling Jane Doe-the spirit needed a name, and Jane Doe was as good as any-that her memory loss might be more about the eight-inch scar running across her head than your average amnesia. Then again, Kylie supposed the reason Jane couldn't remember didn't matter. The fact that she had no memory was the problem. How the hell was Kylie supposed to help a ghost who didn't even know who she was?
Kylie suspected that if she asked Holiday that question, the camp leader would say to start looking for clues in what the woman did and the way she was dressed. The jeans and T-shirt the woman wore didn't give much of a clue. As for the bald head and scar, yeah, that might be a clue. However, when Kylie first met the woman, she'd had hair and looked as if her abdomen had been ripped open. Was that a clue, too?
Heck, Kylie wasn't even sure if the woman knew she was dead. Just coming out and asking her seemed a little rude.
"I just don't get why I can't remember," Jane said.
Kylie pressed her palm to her aching temple. She was so not in the mood to deal with this right now. Not that she had a choice. So far, ghosts didn't seem to respond to rain-check requests.
"Are you listening to me?" the woman asked.
Opening her eyes, Kylie sat up a bit. Socks's fluffy black-and-white tail fell out from under the sheet. "I am, I just-"
"Does your head hurt, too?"
Kylie looked up at the woman's angry scar. "A little." She pulled up her quilt from the end of the bed to ward off the chill. "But I've just got boy troubles."
"Boy troubles?" Jane frowned. "Be careful. Boys-and men-can really hurt you." The words sounded heartfelt. Was this another clue?
"Did someone hurt you?" Kylie asked.
The woman stopped moving, and her brow crinkled. "Maybe. I don't remember."
"Think hard. I mean, you said it like you remembered something." The sooner Kylie got the ghost to remember who she was, the sooner she could discover what she needed and help her move on.
The spirit placed her index finger on her forehead. "No. Nothing. It's empty up here." She moved her hand to the side of her scalp and traced a finger over her scar. Kylie wasn't sure if she was just discovering it or not.
"Do you remember what happened? How you got that cut on your head?" How you died? Holiday had explained that a lot of the time when a death had been sudden or traumatic, the spirit's ability to recall it was difficult. However, to help them cross over, the details of their deaths might be important.
"No." Jane went back to pacing. "I hate not knowing."
After a few more laps around the room, she stopped talking and Kylie went back to thinking about Derek, about how her heart had lurched at the sight of him. She couldn't help but wonder if that meant her feelings for Lucas were not as important as she'd originally worried they might be.
Suddenly the ghost stopped at the end of the bed and stared at Kylie. "I gave you the message, didn't I?"
Kylie sat up a bit. "You mentioned it, but what was it again?" Perhaps the message wasn't really a message, but a clue.