Since I stepped from the hotel, disquiet has tied my stomach in knots. An invisible pull tugs at my senses, drawing me toward mysterious origins. Psychic pull, which Grandma spoke of, might be the sensation I’m experiencing, or is it the ghost steering me where she desires to be? Either way, I can’t ignore it, not when I’ve placed my friends in harm’s way. I was oblivious when leaving New York. How was I to know boarding a plane would liberate this stubborn specter? She has me where she wants me—New Orleans, her hometown.
I subdue mental chatter, seizing the moment with my roomies, keeping a close eye on Stacy. I hide my unease behind a show of normalcy and pretend Stacy is Stacy, although I know she"s not. No cell phone. No selfies. Stacy hadn’t taken her phone from her bag since we left
