“No.” He stirred his seafood stew and shook his head. “But I don’t think she’s a ghost, either.”

“Obviously. So…an imposter. Someone messing with you.” She nodded to herself, picking up her fork. “Who?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.”

Irritated, she stabbed bits of lettuce and shrimp onto her fork. “So you think there’s someone here in Louisiana pretending to be Jennifer, and she makes herself visible to only you. And you think she showed up at the hospital months ago, at the precise moment you woke up. Nonetheless, the pictures and death certificate were mailed from L.A.” Her eyes narrowed as she bit into her salad. “Is that about it?”

“Yeah. About.”

“So why go to all that trouble? Why not mail the package from here in New Orleans?”

“Jennifer died in Southern California.”

“If it was her in the van.”

“It was.”

“You say she hasn’t aged, right? But how close were you to her?”

Good point. “Not close enough.”

“Hmm. And the photos, they make her look young, but again, they could’ve been doctored. Or her face superimposed over another woman’s body.”

“The answer is in L.A.”

“Although you saw her in Louisiana?”

“These shots were taken around L.A.”

“Maybe.”

The whole Photoshop thing again. “Her body is buried in California,” he said and watched her reaction.

“Jesus, are you thinking of exhuming her?” Revulsion showed on her face. “Because you think you saw her? Because you received some pictures and a marked-up death certificate with a postmark from the town where you lived. Isn’t that a little extreme? I mean, would anyone even order it?”

“I don’t know, but I think so.”

“So you’re thinking of going to California,” she guessed, shaking her head.

“Yeah. While I’m off duty.”

“So soon.”

He nodded. “Montoya will watch my back here, look after you.”

“You think I need looking after?”

“No. But…”

“But just in case I feel abandoned, he’s around. Right?” she mocked. “In the off chance that I feel you’re on a wild goose chase, or following a ghost or…I don’t know, dealing with all those old feelings you haven’t quite laid to rest, I can count on your partner, not you. Is that what you’re saying?”

He felt the muscles in his back tighten.

“I don’t need to be babysat or coddled, okay? I’ve lived in that house most of my life. A lot of it alone. I don’t need ‘looking after.’ Sometimes I wonder if you’ve lost your mind!”

That makes two of us.

“Maybe you should just let the cops handle this.”

“I’m a cop.”

“No, not this time.” She shook her head, golden strands of her hair catching in the candlelight. “This time I think you’re the victim.”

“Listen, Livvie—”