Chapter 13 #2
He stopped walking and swiveled his head around. “You mean there’s another one of you ghosting around here too?”
“Technically, yes. It’s the person I need your help finding information about. We are working on a theory.”
“Uh, okay. Whatever you say. Let’s go.”
“Okay, see you there.”
Dell freed herself from his body by planting her feet in the grass and letting him continue to walk. She popped out with a
stumble, and Cole was right there to catch her, like always.
“What happened?” Cole asked.
“He’s going to help; we’re heading to his house. I just needed to talk to you first.”
Cole looked at her expectantly.
“I told him about the message from his mom, and he was really thankful.”
“I figured as much, when I saw him start tearing up,” Cole said.
“Yes. It was rather beautiful to share his feelings, so thank you for helping contact her. But apparently, he is some kind of secret hacker with a classified job. He said he can find anything online, so we’re going to his house, and I’m
going to pop back in to tell him what to look for.”
Cole raised one eyebrow. “That’s handy. And a little creepy.”
“Well, I’ll take it. We’re about to find out who you are!” she cheered, and grabbed his arm. “Come on!”
They hurried along the lawn to catch up with Robbie. The morning had continued to come to life around them. Several joggers
moved along the path; dogs wagged their tails and sniffed from the ends of their leashes. A few cars rolled down the scenic
marina street.
“He invited us in, right?” Cole said when they arrived at Robbie’s front path.
“Yes. We are not about to smash into a door, don’t worry,” Dell said, and followed Robbie to the turret entrance.
Robbie stopped at his front door. “I assume you’re still here . . . uh, both of you?” he said out loud.
Dell swiped at his arm in signal.
“Great. Grandpa Charlie is probably having breakfast. Please try not to scare him with anything, um . . . ghosty.”
“We won’t,” Dell said out loud, even though he couldn’t hear her.
They followed Robbie inside the house, where it smelled like coffee and something warm and baked.
“Robert!” Grandpa Charlie happily called as they passed the kitchen. “Do you want some breakfast?”
“Not now, Grandpa. I’m busy,” Robbie replied in a rush.
He took a few steps toward the hall and then stopped.
“Actually—” He pivoted and turned toward the kitchen.
“I would love some . . . toast,” he said when he saw the spread on the table.
He picked up a slice and bit into it while he lovingly gripped his grandfather’s shoulder where he sat at the head of the table.
Charlie reached up and patted his hand. He wore a bathrobe over a pair of plaid pajamas and had a spread of eggs, toast, and
coffee before him. “How was the park?”
“It was great. Beautiful sunrise this morning. Seems like Mom is around.”
At this, Charlie looked up at him with a smile. “She’s always around, my boy.”
They shared a gentle moment that made Dell feel like she and Cole were intruding from the hallway. It didn’t last long, but
their connection was tangible from across the room.
“I’ve got to go work on something, but I’ll be back out soon,” Robbie said. He leaned down and kissed his grandfather’s cheek
before shoving the rest of the toast into his mouth.
“You know where to find me!” Charlie called after him.
Dell and Cole followed on Robbie’s heels when he passed them in the hall. They arrived at his hacker cave/bedroom. Robbie
slid into his chair and woke the wall of computers in front of him.
“Okay, whenever you’re ready,” he said aloud.
Dell turned to Cole, who stood over by the bed. “Are you ready?”
The nerves in his eyes did not surprise her. She couldn’t blame him for any trepidation over being on the cusp of finding
out who he was—and, very likely, how he’d died.
“We don’t have to do this,” she said, and took his hand.
He softly smiled at her. “Yes, we do, Dell, and you know it. Stop being so generous.”
She returned his soft smile and rose up on her toes to kiss his lips.
“Just promise me you won’t hate me if I turn out to be some degenerate criminal,” Cole said.
“I seriously doubt you have it in your bones to commit a crime, unless it’s fashion related.”
He playfully scoffed and straightened his tie.
Dell winked at him and turned to face Robbie. “Okay, ready,” she said, and climbed into him.
“Oh, hi,” Robbie said with a slight shimmy of his shoulders. “Welcome back. So, who are we looking for?”
Dell hesitated for a few final moments, realizing she too was nervous about what they might uncover. “His name is Cole Lewis, and that’s all I really know. What we most need is a picture of him. And you can talk out loud, because
he’s here too and will hear you.”
Robbie went rigid for a second. “That’s not creepy at all . . .” he muttered, and reached for his keyboard. He typed the name
into a black box with a blinking green cursor. “Can you narrow it down at all? Geographic location, maybe?”
Dell considered naming the Afterlife Administration but doubted it would return any results, despite the sophistication of
the system Robbie was using.
“Umm, Tahoe, maybe?” Dell offered. “I don’t know if he’s from there, but there’s a good chance we met there a year ago, so maybe.”
She watched Robbie click around and type “Tahoe” into a line of code that sent ten more lines of code whizzing down the screen.
Another window popped up with a list of names and a few photos. “Okay, looks like there are a few people by that name in the
Tahoe area right now. But you said a year ago? That’s when you were there?”
“Yes,” Dell said. “A little over a year ago. March of last year.”
“Okay, just give me a second,” Robbie said, and clacked at his keyboard some more.
Dell noticed Cole take a step closer to the desk and lean down to see the screens. They watched as lines of code raced from
left to right and up and down at the same time. A few windows popped up and organized themselves into a neat stack. One turned
green with a ping! from the speakers. Robbie minimized the others and clicked on it.
A news article from a local outlet filled the screen with a headline that made Dell gasp.
Berkeley Professor Dies in Tragic Ski Accident
“Oh my God,” she said. She heard Cole suck in a breath behind her.
“This your guy?” Robbie asked, and he scrolled the article enough to show a photo of a handsome young man in a plaid button-down
with a slightly crooked tie and tousled hair. If there was any doubt it was Cole, the caption beneath it erased it.
Dr. Cole Lewis, a professor of English literature at the University of California, Berkeley, was found critically injured
by ski patrol after colliding with a tree. He was airlifted to a local hospital, where he succumbed to his injuries. He is
survived by his parents, David and Carole Lewis of Berkeley, and brother, Christopher of Los Angeles.
“This article is from March of last year,” Robbie said.
Dell was reeling. A ski accident? That made it almost certain they had met in Tahoe, because that trip she’d taken with Jason and her brothers had been St. Patrick’s Day weekend.
She remembered the food dye someone had put in the mimosas, which had turned all their tongues green.
But more important, Cole had died that weekend?
When? After they’d met, obviously, but how long after?
Had he gotten on a ski lift after he’d collided with
her and crashed into a tree on his next run? What if she’d said yes to his drink offer? Would it have prevented his death?
Her mind was fraying off in a thousand what if directions, and she could only imagine Cole’s was doing the same.
“Robbie, can you print that photo and article, please? I want to talk to him face-to-face. I’ll be right back.”
“I take it we found him?” Robbie said out loud, and he commanded his computer to print. The printer in the corner whirred
to life.
Dell sprang loose of his body and immediately turned to Cole. She gripped his arms. “It’s you. That’s you,” she said, and
pointed at the screen where his photo was still up. “You really are a professor—were a professor. I can’t believe we were right. And you have a brother!” Excitement thrummed through her. They’d done it. They’d solved the mystery of who he was. All they needed
to do now was show Jason that picture and confirm—though Dell was already 98 percent sure—Cole was the guy who’d crashed into
her. And then they’d know. They’d know what all this meant, one way or another. They’d at least be one step closer to understanding why their lives—deaths!—had intersected.
She leaned back, still gripping his arms, and studied his face. His brow furrowed; his eyes remained locked on the computer
screen. “What are you thinking?” she asked.
It took him several seconds to respond. She wasn’t sure what was going to come out of his mouth, and she couldn’t blame him for the shock—she’d be shocked too, to learn about her own death from a news article—but when his face softened and his mouth lifted, Dell let out a small breath of relief.
“I have a family,” Cole said. “My parents are alive, and they are nearby.”
She squeezed his arm in hope. “Yes, and you were a professor. You had a whole career and life. Friends, surely. And I bet your brother in LA makes movies or something stylish
and exciting.”
Cole quietly laughed. He seemed to be working his way through a haze. “Maybe. Can we go see them? My parents at least?”
“We can do whatever you want, after we show this picture of you to Jason. He told me the other day he could pick you out of
a lineup, so he’ll remember if it was you who crashed into me, though I don’t know how it couldn’t have been at this point.
Are you remembering anything now? About your life, or—” She cut herself off, hesitant to say your death because the revelation felt too fresh. “Or your accident?” she tried instead.
Cole’s face twisted in thought. “Maybe? I’m not sure. I definitely don’t remember hitting a tree, but it sounds like something
I’d do.”