Felicia babbled something about writing her senior thesis on Acheron’s history. Mateo studied Peter’s face. He looked uncertain. Like he was debating how much to tell them.

“Well.” Peter spoke slowly, like he was weighing each word. “There are stories about any place this old. Whether you believe them is something else. A lot of people have died here over the years, though.”

Mateo’s phone buzzed again. He turned it off.

“The way it usually works,” Peter said, “is three deaths, all in a row.”

“What?” Mateo couldn’t help shivering. Peter was supposed to be talking Felicia out of her insane ideas.

Peter fiddled with his cigarette. “Did you know that girl? The one who fell?”

“Yeah,” Mateo said. “Her name was Delilah. Is Delilah.”

Peter looked at Felicia again before he said, “I think I saw her that night.”

“When?” Mateo leaned forward. “Were you here when it happened? Did you see her fall?”

“No, it was earlier. At the bar with the dark-haired girl. My friend and I tried to help, but the dark-haired girl told us to go.”

“Maria. That’s the dark-haired girl’s name. Maria.” Mateo tried to calculate whether Peter’s information would make any difference to the cops. Probably not. Maria was the school valedictorian. Peter was a groundskeeper.

“Maria and Delilah went out that night?” Felicia’s eyes were wide. “You’ve got to tell someone.”

“I tried,” Mateo said. “No one cares.”

Peter shook his head. “Look, I don’t want to get involved. I hope your friend is all right, but I don’t want to talk to any police.”

Mateo could tell Felicia was about to argue, so he cut her off. “We understand.”

Peter’s eyes fixed on Mateo. “And you were friends with the boy, weren’t you? The one who died last week? I’ve seen you with him before.”

Mateo wished they could’ve stuck with talking about the ghosts. “Sí.”

“Lo siento,” Peter said. “Es difícil perder a un amigo.”

I’m sorry. It’s hard to lose a friend.

Mateo nodded in thanks. He probably shouldn’t say anything else, but he owed Brandon way more than this. “La verdad es que Brandon era mi novio.”

Actually, Brandon was my boyfriend.

“Oh.” Peter’s eyes widened, then softened again. “Pues, lo siento mucho.”

I’m truly very sorry.

“Gracias,” Mateo said. He meant it.

Peter glanced at his watch. “My break’s over. You two going to be all right?”

“We hope so,” Felicia said. “Thank you.”

Peter wiped his hand off on his pants and shook Mateo’s hand. Then he headed back to work, tucking his never-smoked cigarette back into his pocket.