She pulled on her jeans. “Internationally—well, okay, nationally renowned spiritualists can get away with stuff like that. Catch me researching murders, and people just assume I’m on the job.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “Trouble is, they also assume it might be newsworthy. Wrong person catches me looking up murders, and it’ll be splashed across next week’s tabloid headlines. Then my phone will start ringing off the hook, people wanting me to start looking for their loved one’s killer.”

“And you get enough of that.”

She fussed with the button on her jeans, gaze downcast, answering with an abrupt nod. “I think we can manage part of the search without the Internet.” She rooted around in her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “Direct link to a discreet journalist.”

I gave Jaime my list of criteria. She wrote it down, then made her call. I waited on the sofa. Though I was too far to hear someone answer on the other end, I knew the moment someone did, by the look that crossed Jaime’s face—half delight, half abject terror.

“Uh, oh, Jer—Jeremy,” she stammered. “It’s me—it’s Jaime. Jaime Vegas, from the, uh—” A short, embarrassed laugh. “Right. Well, just thought I’d make sure, in case you didn’t recognize my voice—er, not that I’d expect you to recognize it, but you might know other Jaimes…or you might have forgotten who I was since the council meeting, uh…oh, I guess that was just last month, wasn’t it?”

The moment Jaime said “council” combined with “Jeremy” I knew who she was talking to. Jeremy Danvers, Alpha of the werewolf Pack. Never met the guy. Never even heard of him until after I was dead. Now Savannah spent an increasing chunk of her summer vacations hanging out with the werewolf Pack, so I’d come to know all the players. Jeremy was as far from the stereotypical werewolf-thug as one could get. He not only tolerated my kid running around underfoot, but paid attention to her, always listening to her problems and helping her with her art. Savannah adored him. And judging by the cringe-inducing display I was witnessing right now, she wasn’t the only one.

“So, uh, oh, right, I was calling for Elena,” Jaime finally managed to get out. “Is she there?”

Slight pause.

“Oh, umm, yes, I have her cell number, and I could call, but, uh—” Nervous laugh. “Well, if she’s out with Clayton, it can wait. Or it had better wait. Not that he’s—well, you know—”

A pause, and a high-pitched laugh. Jaime closed her eyes and mouthed an obscenity. The only thing worse than acting like a fool is hearing yourself do it and not being able to stop.