It didn’t appear the cigarette was actually lit, but she took a drag on the mouthpiece of the holder anyway.

“May I help you?” he asked her.

“I’m here to help you.”

“Really? And what is it that you think you can help me with?”

“You’re losing your mind over the recent murders, aren’t you?” She looked distressed, wincing in a way that drew her face into a truly pained expression. “I know. Trust me. I know.”

Dan stood straighter, frowning as he looked at her. “Forgive me, lady. Yes, I have a lot on my mind, and yeah, I’m worried about the murders. I don’t know how you think you know that—or me—but I’m not in the mood for playtime or dress-up.”

“Dress-up?” she demanded indignantly. “I rather think I chose amazing apparel. And luckily. Lord, I loved my sister, but Evie would have dressed me in a tunic or something if I hadn’t left a will. Not that I expected to die at thirty, but...one should always be prepared.”

He shook his head. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I came to the cemetery to be alone.”

He decided to walk away. He felt her following behind him.

“Okay! Again, I don’t mean to be rude, but leave me the hell alone!”

He was startled when he realized he was near the gate and some other people coming in were staring at him in surprise.

“I’m sorry, excuse me. She’s just driving me nuts,” he said.

A woman with a teenage girl skirted far around him. Two college-age kids who looked like they were intrigued tourists shook their heads, looking at one another, laughing.

“Buddy, what, are you off your meds?” one demanded, nudging the other.

“Hey, hush,” the other murmured. “He’s way bigger than us and talks to himself! Let’s get out of here.”

They rushed by him, too.

Dan swung around. She was still there, the woman in the flapper dress.

“Dan, give it a rest. They can’t see me. I’m dead.”

He stood absolutely still, feeling as if the light breeze suddenly turned chilly.

He reached out to touch her. She inched back, but not in time. His hand went straight through her arm.

“I’ve taken this too personally,” he muttered. “They warn against that in law enforcement.”

“Don’t you see?” she asked him, her tone heartsick. “I’m here to help you! I lost my best friend to an axe murderer once, and I’m not going to see someone get away with this again.”

He stared back at her. His mind scrambled to explain what he was seeing. If she was an actress with her image being projected into the cemetery, she was damned good.

Was such a thing even possible?

And if so, why had no one else seen her?

Second guess: he was truly losing his mind.