Was he going completely around the bend?

He knew he’d seen Jennifer, not just a few weeks earlier in this very spot and at the hospital, but other times as well. Once when he was sitting in the front seat of Olivia’s truck, waiting while she was taking in the dry cleaning, he’d been certain he had caught a glimpse of her. There was Jennifer, handbag clutched to her chest, hair scraped back in a ponytail, hurriedly crossing the street and disappearing into an alley. He’d gotten out of the truck, hobbled to the entrance of the alley, but had only spied a white cat slinking through a rotted fence while trash cans stood overflowing behind an old garage.

Another time he’d been sure he’d seen her strolling through a park, walking slowly around a fountain as sunlight caught in her hair, firing up the dark strands to a rich auburn. She had turned and looked over her shoulder and a slow, steady smile had stretched across her lips.

Her eyes had twinkled with a catch-me-if-you-can dare. He’d stopped his Jeep, double-parked and, using his cane, followed after her past the fountain only to find that she’d once again vanished.

Then there had been the incident in the woods near his house.

She’d seemed so real.

He was cracking up. That was it. Or hallucinating from the drugs he’d been prescribed. Trouble was, he’d kicked those damned painkillers a month ago.

Long before he’d seen Jennifer standing just off the edge of his veranda.

Or her ghost.

No way.

He didn’t believe in ghosts or anything the least bit supernatural or paranormal. He’d even had trouble swallowing his wife’s visions at the time a serial killer known as The Chosen One had terrorized New Orleans.

Yet he was certain that he’d seen her.

Really? Then she hadn’t aged much in the last twelve years, right? What’s up with that? Come on, Bentz, face it, you’re losing it.

“Hell’s bells,” he muttered under his breath, then took a long swallow before tossing the dregs of his cup into a flowerbed filled with flowers in shades of periwinkle and deep purple.

He was tired of thinking about Jennifer, sick of wondering why his subconscious was so determined to dredge her up again. He’d tried to ignore her. Told himself that he must’ve just caught glimpses of a woman who resembled her, that because he’d thought he’d seen her during the day, his dreams at night had been haunted by her.