3
Hamburgers and Hauntings
“You were out very late last night,” Aunt Rachel said the next morning over breakfast.
I pushed my eggs around on my plate. “The band didn’t start until almost ten.”
She lifted an eyebrow but said nothing, and instead sipped at her green tea.
Strange that I didn’t feel more hung over, considering how many glasses of wine I’d consumed the night before, but maybe that jolt of adrenaline as I was driving home had shocked the alcohol right out of my system. Nothing strange had happened after that, though; I’d maneuvered the Jeep up the final curves of the road before coming into Jerome proper, then turning down the side street that allowed access to the carport behind our building. All had been quiet and dark as I crept inside, as I had expected it to be. My aun
