“We’re losing him,” the nurse said, glancing at the monitor screen.
Brody saw it flat line and for the first time that he could remember, he prayed that a perp would live. He needed Irwin alive. At least long enough to be questioned about who murdered me.
Praying didn’t help. As Brody watched, Irwin died. The surgeon noted it. “Twelve seventeen and thirty-three seconds.”
“God damn, mother f*****g…”
He was about to leave when a ghostly form materialized above Irwin’s body. “Where am I?” Irwin asked, terror infusing his words.
“Your body’s on the operating table,” Brody replied coldly. “Your spirit is probably on its way to Hell if there’s any justice in the world.”
“No,” Irwin screamed.
“Maybe I can help you avoid the worst of it.”
“Who are you? If I can see you, I can’t be dead,” I
