“How much time? Tomorrow?”

I sigh again. “I’m going to have to go to the bank. Maybe I can get a loan against the house. There’s a little equity there. Or maybe I can get some kind of home improvement loan. I can tell them I want to renovate the bathroom.”

“I like the way you’re thinking now, Connor. How soon?”

“I have to teach tomorrow. Then I have to get to the bank—”

“You could get a cash advance on your credit card. My mom used to do that when she was strapped. They kill you with the interest rates, of course. But it’s fast.”

“I’m not going to do that. I’ll ruin myself.”

“Ruin is definitely on the table, one way or the other,” she says. “If you don’t get the money, things could get very, very bad for you. In a number of ways.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“Whatever you want it to mean.”

I hold my hands out, asking for calm. “I said I’ll try. How do I get in touch with you?”

Madeline laughs, like I’m the biggest fool she’s ever met. “Sure, Connor, I’ll tell you exactly where I’m staying so you can call the police. I’ll find you. I know where you live and work. I know the places you like to go. I can watch for you. Maybe follow you. Maybe I’ll even find you in the gutter outside of Dubliners. Or maybe at the cemetery. Okay? I’ll track you down.”

“You can’t follow me.”

“Oh, I can. And I will if I want to. I’m a ghost, remember?”

“Are you safe where you’re staying?” I ask.

“As safe as anyone.”

“What do you need the money for?” I ask. “Are you mixed up in something? I mean . . . is someone forcing you to do this?”

“I need it because it’s mine. Because I earned it.” She looks and sounds younger than she has since I found her in the house. “I think you have more to lose if I expose you.”

“Maybe,” I say. “I’d lose a lot if you went and told on me.”

I let my words hang in the air between us for a moment. The sweetly smoky taste of the bourbon lingers in my mouth. Her face changes. The set of her jaw relaxes. She almost smiles.

“Madeline, how would you prove you wrote the book?” The thought pops into my head as the words come out of my mouth. I hadn’t thought of it before this moment, and I feel gross saying it. But I’m trying to survive and buy time. “You turned in a handwritten manuscript to me. Remember? And I have the only copy now.”

Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t speak.