Haunting Zoe by Sherry Ficklin Read Free Book Online

chains binding it closed. “You
really want to talk about my feelings, Logan?”
    He slides through the door without opening it
and stands in front of my head lights. “Pathetic as it is, talking
to you has kind of been the highlight of my week. So, yeah.”
    I kill the lights and slam the door of my old
yellow VW Beetle closed. “Aw, that’s kinda sweet. You know, in a
not really sort of way.”
    He rolls his eyes. In three long strides he
steps toward the black iron bars and runs right into them. Stepping
back, he looks stunned. In my mind something clicks into place.
    “Ghosts can’t pass through iron,” I say,
feeling smug. He turns and stares at me. I shrug. “I saw it on
TV.”
    He reaches for the bar and wraps his hand
around it. As soon as he does his hand begins to smoke like its
burning. He yelps, pulls his hand back and rubs it.
    “I guess I can feel some things.”
    I nod and walk up beside him. “Yeah, iron is
like ghost kryptonite. Hey, we should dig up your body, then pour
salt on it and light it on fire.”
    He stares at me, his nose crinkled up.
“Why?”
    “To release your spirit.”
    “I’m pretty released, thanks.”
    “Still.”
    “We are not desecrating my corpse based on
something you saw on TV.”
    I frown. “You have no sense of whimsy, you
know that?”
    He rolls his eyes and points to a stone wall.
“There, we can get in over there. You’ll have to climb it.”
    Of course I will. I run back to the car and
grab a flashlight off the floorboard, tucking it into my back
pocket. As I watch, he steps through the wall.
    “All clear,” he whispers.
    “You don’t have to whisper, no one can hear
you.”
    “Oh, right. I forgot.”
    I shake my head. This has got to be the
absolute top of the list of the stupidest things I’ve ever done. As
a matter of fact, this might actually be the list. Clinging
carefully to each stone, I climb up. Luckily it’s not very high,
but my arms still feel like lead weights when I jump over the other
side and land gingerly on my feet.
    “Like a ninja,” I whisper as Logan smiles.
It’s a warm, sincere smile, something I haven’t seen him wear in a
long time—which is a shame because it looks really good on him.
    “Where to now?” I ask, dusting off my hands
on my jeans.
    He shrugs and starts walking. Not sure what
else to do, I follow him. We wander past the old, battered
headstones toward the newer part of the cemetery which is in the
very back. The paths are all old cobblestone, giant obelisks and
weeping angels looking down on us as we walk. We pass by a small
crypt and I shine the flashlight on the entrance. Over the gate,
carved in stone is the phrase, Verum non est in morte .
    “What does it say?” Logan asks from behind
me.
    I know the translation, not because I can
read Latin, but because I’d asked my mother the same question as we
were leaving my father’s funeral.
    “It says, In death there is
truth .”
    Lowering my light, I shine it around, over
the headstones. “Do you see anything?”
    He shakes his head. “No. Nothing.”
    I sigh, defeated. We walk on until we see a
big yellow back hoe parked next to a fresh grave. Logan freezes but
I walk closer, shining the light on the name etched into the
stone.
    Logan Wayne Cooper.
    I turn, shining the light on Logan. “Wayne,
really?”
    He looks away, “My dad likes old
westerns.”
    “Huh.” I step around the grave, careful not
to disturb the freshly mounded dirt or the stacks of fresh flowers.
“I hear they take these flowers and give them to the old people at
the nursing home,” I say, desperate to break the silence. He
doesn’t answer. When I glance up his back is to me. The moonlight
is hitting him at an odd angle, making him almost glow. It’s so
beautiful that for a moment I’m transfixed by it. He looks over his
shoulder at me and all I can think is how beautiful he is. Like an
angel.
    Then he opens his mouth.
    “What are you staring at?”
    I roll my eyes. “Just