A week later and the relaxing evening seemed liked a distant memory for Taylor. She had spent three of the days in her office, giving it a good clean out. Filing had taken up several hours each day, then she had re-arranged the room to give her more space for shelving units to be erected.
It was towards the end of the week, when she was heading into the office bright and early so that she might finish off her task, that the ghost appeared. She was wearing a set of flannel pyjamas which hugged her chubby frame just a little too tightly. The ghost of a girl looked to be of college age, and she looked determined. “Stop them.”
Taylor blinked and quickly ducked into an alley, out of the way of the heavy rush hour foot traffic. “I don’t suppose if I ask who they are, you’d tell me?” she asked her, hopefully.
“Stop them,” the ghost repeated. This time, however, she beckoned Taylor to follow her with her finger.
Taylor’s mouth started to fall open in surprise, but she quickly shook her head. “I like your thinking, but wherever you’re going to lead me, it would be a lot quicker if I got someone from the Crime Lab to come with me. Agreed?”
The ghost considered it, and nodded.
“Thank you,” Taylor sighed as the ghost disappeared. Thankful she lived in running shoes, Taylor returned to the street, changing her direction and heading towards the Crime Lab. She was about to cross the street, opposite the lab, when she noticed a familiar person at a hotdog stand on the corner. Wrinkling her nose up, she headed over. “A hotdog for breakfast?” she asked Flack.
Flack looked for the owner of the voice and allowed a look of disapproval to cross his face. “I’m hungry,” he responded. “And please tell me it’s coincidence that you would happen to be here at this time in the morning and not your raving insanity?”
Taylor gritted her teeth. “If by that you mean, did a ghost bring me here, then the answer is yes.”
“We haven’t had anything called in,” Flack announced, looking smug.
“That’s probably because she want me to take you to her?” Taylor suggested.
Flack opened his mouth to comment, but instead shook his head and took a bite out of his hotdog.
Taylor glared up at him. “Fine,” she shrugged. “You eat that, I’ll go see Mac. Go get comfortable and wait for his call,” she added, turning towards the Crime Lab.
Flack let out an exasperated grunt and threw his hotdog into the trash. “Fine,” he returned. “But if this turns out to be a waste of time, you’re buying me breakfast.”
“Deal,” Taylor agreed, following him to his car.
“Where are we going?” he asked her, starting the engine.
Taylor glanced around, quickly spotting the ghost sitting in the back seat. She was pointing down the street. “Just follow my directions,” Taylor informed him. It wasn’t until they were nearly at Columbia University that Taylor realised where they were heading. “Along here will be fine,” she told the detective. Flack pulled up and the two got out. Taylor leant back and looked over the campus. It was pretty. As she glanced around, she saw the ghost again. She was pointing to a building across the street from where Taylor was standing, “This way,” she told Flack as she crossed the road.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” he asked, hurrying after her.
“Yeah,” she replied, glancing at the name on the building, “Furnald Hall.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you’ve just read that?” Flack muttered as he followed her in.
Taylor stopped and looked around. The ghost was stood to her left, pointing to the door to the stairs. “We’re going up,” she told him, pushing the heavy door open.
Flack pulled a face at her back, but followed her up without saying anything.
It was five flights of floors before Taylor saw the ghost again, where she was stood pointing to the door to the sixth floor. Taylor pulled the door open, “This way,” she called to Flack cheerfully – he was muttering to himself about half a flight behind.
As they stepped out onto the sixth floor, the elevator opposite pinged open and a bunch of students walked out. “Is there a reason we couldn’t have gotten that?” Flack grumbled in her ear.
“Because the ghost didn’t want us to,” said Taylor, setting off in the direction the ghost was pointing.
“Oh, the ghost didn’t want us to,” Flack muttered, setting off after her, “Of course.”
Taylor stopped outside the door the ghost had pointed to, “Here,” she told Flack.
Flack gave her a look, then knocked on the door. It was opened by a petite blonde, brushing her teeth, wearing nothing but a pair of French knickers, and a tiny baby tee.
The blonde looked up at Flack and grinned, “Hello there!”
Flack flashed her a toothy smile. “Detective Flack, NYPD,” he told her, flashing her his badge.
The blonde stuck her arms out, “I don’t care what the charges are, you can handcuff me any time you want.”
Taylor rolled her eyes – her first semester, freshman year, she’d had a roommate like this, until she’d swapped so she lived with Maddy. “How about murder?”
The toothbrush dropped from the blonde’s mouth, “What?”
Flack glared at Taylor, “Sorry about her – she hasn’t taken her meds today.”
“Who’s dead?” the blonde asked fearfully.
Flack licked his lips. “Is it just you here?”
The blonde stepped back and opened the door to reveal a body curled up under the covers on the other side of the room, “That’s Chloe.”
“Can we talk to her?” asked Taylor.
The blonde shrugged and walked over to the mound in the bed, “Hey, Chloe, there are some cops here.” When Chloe didn’t move, the blonde gave the mound a somewhat vicious shove, “Come on, tubs.” She pulled back the covers, and screamed.
. . .
“I thought Mac sent Lindsay, too?” Flack asked a harassed looking Danny as he ducked under the tape.
“Montana slipped and sprained her wrist. She’s at the hospital now, having it x-rayed.”
“Is she alright?” Flack asked.
“They build us tough in Montana,” said Danny, “Her words.” He glanced over at the body. “Who called it in?”
Flack rolled his eyes and pointed behind Danny to the corner of the room where Taylor was standing, staring at the victim’s photos. “Nancy Drew here.”
“Nancy Drew?” Danny repeated in amusement.
“Yeah, you know, the stories about the reporter who thinks she’s a detective?”
Danny put his kit down, “Yeah, but you clearly know a lot about the stories yourself. Should I be worried?”
Flack smirked, “Kid sister, smart ass.”
Taylor looked over from the photos and smiled sadly at Danny, “Morning,” she greeted, walking over. “Chloe Barnes, Journalism major.”
“That’s my job,” growled Flack.
Danny held back a smile, “Anything else?”
“Bethany, the roommate,” said Flack quickly, “Was out last night, came in, thought Chloe was already in bed when she got back – thought the girl was asleep.”
Danny slowly shook her head, “Can you imagine, your roommate being dead in the bed next to you and you not knowing?”
Taylor sighed, “Yeah, actually.”
“Don’t tell me this happened to you,” said Flack, sceptically.
“No, it didn’t. But my first semester at college, I lived with a girl like Bethany. We, well, we were opposites. She was this blonde, leggy, skinny cheerleader – fit the bill of the stereotype perfectly. Me, I was the fat kid, who spent twenty hours of the day either studying or working. We didn’t really get on.”
“You were an unpopular fat kid?” smirked Flack.
Taylor glared up at him, her hands making their way to her hips. “Let me guess, you were the popular jock?”
“Basketball player,” said Flack, “High school varsity.”
Taylor looked up at him, “You were a tall, skinny, lanky kid, weren’t you?” She turned to Danny, “What about you?”
“I was a jerk,” Danny told her darkly, before moving off to photograph the bed.
Taylor looked questioningly at Flack. He just shook his head at her and walked over to Danny. “Right,” muttered Taylor, as she stood back and watched the CSI process the scene.
It wasn’t until they were outside and on the way back to their cars that Chloe reappeared. Taylor stopped – Chloe was standing in front of her, blocking her path. The two men carried on, but stopped when they realised that Taylor wasn’t with them. They turned just in time to see Taylor taking a newspaper out of the air. The two men looked at each other.
“Did you just see that?” asked Danny in disbelief.
“Yeah,” said Flack, rubbing his eyes, “It must have been the wind.”
“Don, there is no wind. There isn’t even a breeze,” Danny slowly pointed out, looking at the nearby tree tops which were barely moving.
Flack shook his head, and shifted the evidence which was in his other hand. “I think Mac has been working us too hard. Either that, or we’re spending too much time with this girl.”
Taylor glanced down at the paper Chloe had given her. The front cover had an article about the new Chancellor at the university, which was written by Chloe Bryant – the victim. Taylor sighed, the ghost seemed more and more like her.
It was towards the end of the week, when she was heading into the office bright and early so that she might finish off her task, that the ghost appeared. She was wearing a set of flannel pyjamas which hugged her chubby frame just a little too tightly. The ghost of a girl looked to be of college age, and she looked determined. “Stop them.”
Taylor blinked and quickly ducked into an alley, out of the way of the heavy rush hour foot traffic. “I don’t suppose if I ask who they are, you’d tell me?” she asked her, hopefully.
“Stop them,” the ghost repeated. This time, however, she beckoned Taylor to follow her with her finger.
Taylor’s mouth started to fall open in surprise, but she quickly shook her head. “I like your thinking, but wherever you’re going to lead me, it would be a lot quicker if I got someone from the Crime Lab to come with me. Agreed?”
The ghost considered it, and nodded.
“Thank you,” Taylor sighed as the ghost disappeared. Thankful she lived in running shoes, Taylor returned to the street, changing her direction and heading towards the Crime Lab. She was about to cross the street, opposite the lab, when she noticed a familiar person at a hotdog stand on the corner. Wrinkling her nose up, she headed over. “A hotdog for breakfast?” she asked Flack.
Flack looked for the owner of the voice and allowed a look of disapproval to cross his face. “I’m hungry,” he responded. “And please tell me it’s coincidence that you would happen to be here at this time in the morning and not your raving insanity?”
Taylor gritted her teeth. “If by that you mean, did a ghost bring me here, then the answer is yes.”
“We haven’t had anything called in,” Flack announced, looking smug.
“That’s probably because she want me to take you to her?” Taylor suggested.
Flack opened his mouth to comment, but instead shook his head and took a bite out of his hotdog.
Taylor glared up at him. “Fine,” she shrugged. “You eat that, I’ll go see Mac. Go get comfortable and wait for his call,” she added, turning towards the Crime Lab.
Flack let out an exasperated grunt and threw his hotdog into the trash. “Fine,” he returned. “But if this turns out to be a waste of time, you’re buying me breakfast.”
“Deal,” Taylor agreed, following him to his car.
“Where are we going?” he asked her, starting the engine.
Taylor glanced around, quickly spotting the ghost sitting in the back seat. She was pointing down the street. “Just follow my directions,” Taylor informed him. It wasn’t until they were nearly at Columbia University that Taylor realised where they were heading. “Along here will be fine,” she told the detective. Flack pulled up and the two got out. Taylor leant back and looked over the campus. It was pretty. As she glanced around, she saw the ghost again. She was pointing to a building across the street from where Taylor was standing, “This way,” she told Flack as she crossed the road.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” he asked, hurrying after her.
“Yeah,” she replied, glancing at the name on the building, “Furnald Hall.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you’ve just read that?” Flack muttered as he followed her in.
Taylor stopped and looked around. The ghost was stood to her left, pointing to the door to the stairs. “We’re going up,” she told him, pushing the heavy door open.
Flack pulled a face at her back, but followed her up without saying anything.
It was five flights of floors before Taylor saw the ghost again, where she was stood pointing to the door to the sixth floor. Taylor pulled the door open, “This way,” she called to Flack cheerfully – he was muttering to himself about half a flight behind.
As they stepped out onto the sixth floor, the elevator opposite pinged open and a bunch of students walked out. “Is there a reason we couldn’t have gotten that?” Flack grumbled in her ear.
“Because the ghost didn’t want us to,” said Taylor, setting off in the direction the ghost was pointing.
“Oh, the ghost didn’t want us to,” Flack muttered, setting off after her, “Of course.”
Taylor stopped outside the door the ghost had pointed to, “Here,” she told Flack.
Flack gave her a look, then knocked on the door. It was opened by a petite blonde, brushing her teeth, wearing nothing but a pair of French knickers, and a tiny baby tee.
The blonde looked up at Flack and grinned, “Hello there!”
Flack flashed her a toothy smile. “Detective Flack, NYPD,” he told her, flashing her his badge.
The blonde stuck her arms out, “I don’t care what the charges are, you can handcuff me any time you want.”
Taylor rolled her eyes – her first semester, freshman year, she’d had a roommate like this, until she’d swapped so she lived with Maddy. “How about murder?”
The toothbrush dropped from the blonde’s mouth, “What?”
Flack glared at Taylor, “Sorry about her – she hasn’t taken her meds today.”
“Who’s dead?” the blonde asked fearfully.
Flack licked his lips. “Is it just you here?”
The blonde stepped back and opened the door to reveal a body curled up under the covers on the other side of the room, “That’s Chloe.”
“Can we talk to her?” asked Taylor.
The blonde shrugged and walked over to the mound in the bed, “Hey, Chloe, there are some cops here.” When Chloe didn’t move, the blonde gave the mound a somewhat vicious shove, “Come on, tubs.” She pulled back the covers, and screamed.
. . .
“I thought Mac sent Lindsay, too?” Flack asked a harassed looking Danny as he ducked under the tape.
“Montana slipped and sprained her wrist. She’s at the hospital now, having it x-rayed.”
“Is she alright?” Flack asked.
“They build us tough in Montana,” said Danny, “Her words.” He glanced over at the body. “Who called it in?”
Flack rolled his eyes and pointed behind Danny to the corner of the room where Taylor was standing, staring at the victim’s photos. “Nancy Drew here.”
“Nancy Drew?” Danny repeated in amusement.
“Yeah, you know, the stories about the reporter who thinks she’s a detective?”
Danny put his kit down, “Yeah, but you clearly know a lot about the stories yourself. Should I be worried?”
Flack smirked, “Kid sister, smart ass.”
Taylor looked over from the photos and smiled sadly at Danny, “Morning,” she greeted, walking over. “Chloe Barnes, Journalism major.”
“That’s my job,” growled Flack.
Danny held back a smile, “Anything else?”
“Bethany, the roommate,” said Flack quickly, “Was out last night, came in, thought Chloe was already in bed when she got back – thought the girl was asleep.”
Danny slowly shook her head, “Can you imagine, your roommate being dead in the bed next to you and you not knowing?”
Taylor sighed, “Yeah, actually.”
“Don’t tell me this happened to you,” said Flack, sceptically.
“No, it didn’t. But my first semester at college, I lived with a girl like Bethany. We, well, we were opposites. She was this blonde, leggy, skinny cheerleader – fit the bill of the stereotype perfectly. Me, I was the fat kid, who spent twenty hours of the day either studying or working. We didn’t really get on.”
“You were an unpopular fat kid?” smirked Flack.
Taylor glared up at him, her hands making their way to her hips. “Let me guess, you were the popular jock?”
“Basketball player,” said Flack, “High school varsity.”
Taylor looked up at him, “You were a tall, skinny, lanky kid, weren’t you?” She turned to Danny, “What about you?”
“I was a jerk,” Danny told her darkly, before moving off to photograph the bed.
Taylor looked questioningly at Flack. He just shook his head at her and walked over to Danny. “Right,” muttered Taylor, as she stood back and watched the CSI process the scene.
It wasn’t until they were outside and on the way back to their cars that Chloe reappeared. Taylor stopped – Chloe was standing in front of her, blocking her path. The two men carried on, but stopped when they realised that Taylor wasn’t with them. They turned just in time to see Taylor taking a newspaper out of the air. The two men looked at each other.
“Did you just see that?” asked Danny in disbelief.
“Yeah,” said Flack, rubbing his eyes, “It must have been the wind.”
“Don, there is no wind. There isn’t even a breeze,” Danny slowly pointed out, looking at the nearby tree tops which were barely moving.
Flack shook his head, and shifted the evidence which was in his other hand. “I think Mac has been working us too hard. Either that, or we’re spending too much time with this girl.”
Taylor glanced down at the paper Chloe had given her. The front cover had an article about the new Chancellor at the university, which was written by Chloe Bryant – the victim. Taylor sighed, the ghost seemed more and more like her.
* * *
Taylor headed down to the morgue. Danny had told her that he needed a coffee, so she decided she would meet him in autopsy and see Marty first. On her way there, coming out of the double doors, with her wrist in a bandage, was Lindsay.
“Hi Taylor,” said Lindsay, a smile breaking her troubled expression.
“You alright?” Taylor asked her.
Lindsay shrugged. “Fell over, and sprained my wrist. Done worse on my horses. I had to finish the report on a case I worked on – it involved a doll hospital – very creepy. Just wanted to double check something with Sid before I wrote it up.”
“Oh,” Taylor muttered. “I forgot Marty was back on the night shift.”
Lindsay smiled. “So that’s why you’re down here.”
“Actually, no,” Taylor shook her head. “Chloe Bryant.”
Lindsay’s demeanour altered. “Am I right in assuming that this was a ghost?”
Taylor sighed, she wasn’t even going to argue this case. She already knew it was a lost cause. “Something like that.”
Clearly, Lindsay didn’t want to address the ghost issue either. “How are you holding out?”
Taylor groaned. “Don’t ask.”
“That good?” Lindsay questioned.
Taylor nodded, pulling a face. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to need a stiff drink later, wanna join me, and I’ll tell you all about it?”
“Hey, Montana!”
Taylor and Lindsay turned around to find Danny heading towards them. “It’s Lindsay, Messer.”
“Uh, huh,” he agreed unperturbed, “So, drinks later, is it? Count me in.”
“It’s a girly thing,” Lindsay told him through gritted teeth.
“I’ll put up with it,” Danny shrugged.
Taylor glared at him, “I thought you wanted coffee.”
“I did.”
“Then why, pray tell, are you down here in the morgue?”
“Calm down, Nancy Drew. I finished my coffee.”
“Nancy Drew?” scoffed Lindsay, “My, you are getting damn original with your nicknames.”
“Run along, Montana. You’ve got a crime report to write up. We’ll see you later, in the bar,” he said, trying to waft Lindsay away.
Taylor grabbed at Danny’s jacket sleeve and pulled him through the morgue doors, clipping him around the head whilst she did so.
“What the hell is that for, Drew?” he yelped, yanking his arm free and straightening his jacket.
“Because one day, I am going to end up being visited by your ghost telling me that Lindsay stabbed you. And I don’t want to see Lindsay in prison. Orange really isn’t her colour.”
Danny stared at her in disbelief. “So you don’t want to see Lindsay sent down, but me being dead isn’t a problem?”
“Depends on if you’re going to stop winding her up?” Taylor asked him, pointedly.
“Hell no!” Danny exclaimed with a grin. “Having far too much fun. Besides, she likes it. You can see it in her eyes.”
“Personally, I’d describe that look as, I’m about five seconds away from stabbing you with a pen, but if you think that she likes it, go ahead,” Taylor informed him.
“What are you doing down here, anyway?” Danny asked her. “I wouldn’t have thought this was your favourite place to be.”
“I came to see Marty,” she explained.
Danny smirked. “Really?”
“Oh, shut up, we’re just friends,” Taylor told him, swiping at his arm.
“Friends that live together,” Danny scoffed.
“It’s perfectly normal for two adults to live together and just be friends,” Taylor told him, rolling her eyes. “Haven’t you ever seen Will and Grace?”
“He was gay. So unless you’re telling me Marty is gay… or is it you that is?” he asked, grinning.
Taylor rolled her eyes, “Alright, so Will and Grace is a bad analogy, but the point is, we are just friends.”
“Are you two here to establish a COD on your victim, or are you here to bicker about the finer points of out assistant coroner?” Sid was stood in front of them – neither Danny nor Taylor had a clue how long he had been there.
“What you got or us, Doc?” asked Danny, as he followed Sid over to the table.
“Actually, very little. Other than being a little over-weight, there was nothing wrong with the girl. No outward signs of trauma. When I opened her up,” he pulled over a dish with a heart in it (Taylor struggled to keep herself from throwing up), “I discovered that her heart had given out on her.”
“But she’s so young,” said Taylor, staring down at the victim’s expressionless face.
“I agree, Miss Turner,” said Sid, giving her a smile as he unhooked his glasses, “Which is why I sent some of her blood off to tox. It came back positive for Methylenedioxymethamphetamine.”
“Thanks, Sid,” said Danny, as he turned and started to leave.
Taylor turned to do the same.
“Oh, Miss Turner,” said Sid. Taylor stopped and turned back. “You picked the wrong ME, you know,” he told her, winking.
Taylor smiled at him, and left to catch up with Danny. “Methylenedioxymethamphetamine - that’s ecstasy, right?”
“Yeah,” Danny agreed.
Taylor shook her head, “She didn’t take that drug willingly.”
“You have proof of that, or did a ghost tell you?” asked Danny.
“No, I just know,” Taylor shrugged. “I can’t explain it, I just know it.”
“Right,” said Danny sceptically. “Well, I’m going to need something a little more solid and likely to stand up in court – evidence.”
“Hi Taylor,” said Lindsay, a smile breaking her troubled expression.
“You alright?” Taylor asked her.
Lindsay shrugged. “Fell over, and sprained my wrist. Done worse on my horses. I had to finish the report on a case I worked on – it involved a doll hospital – very creepy. Just wanted to double check something with Sid before I wrote it up.”
“Oh,” Taylor muttered. “I forgot Marty was back on the night shift.”
Lindsay smiled. “So that’s why you’re down here.”
“Actually, no,” Taylor shook her head. “Chloe Bryant.”
Lindsay’s demeanour altered. “Am I right in assuming that this was a ghost?”
Taylor sighed, she wasn’t even going to argue this case. She already knew it was a lost cause. “Something like that.”
Clearly, Lindsay didn’t want to address the ghost issue either. “How are you holding out?”
Taylor groaned. “Don’t ask.”
“That good?” Lindsay questioned.
Taylor nodded, pulling a face. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to need a stiff drink later, wanna join me, and I’ll tell you all about it?”
“Hey, Montana!”
Taylor and Lindsay turned around to find Danny heading towards them. “It’s Lindsay, Messer.”
“Uh, huh,” he agreed unperturbed, “So, drinks later, is it? Count me in.”
“It’s a girly thing,” Lindsay told him through gritted teeth.
“I’ll put up with it,” Danny shrugged.
Taylor glared at him, “I thought you wanted coffee.”
“I did.”
“Then why, pray tell, are you down here in the morgue?”
“Calm down, Nancy Drew. I finished my coffee.”
“Nancy Drew?” scoffed Lindsay, “My, you are getting damn original with your nicknames.”
“Run along, Montana. You’ve got a crime report to write up. We’ll see you later, in the bar,” he said, trying to waft Lindsay away.
Taylor grabbed at Danny’s jacket sleeve and pulled him through the morgue doors, clipping him around the head whilst she did so.
“What the hell is that for, Drew?” he yelped, yanking his arm free and straightening his jacket.
“Because one day, I am going to end up being visited by your ghost telling me that Lindsay stabbed you. And I don’t want to see Lindsay in prison. Orange really isn’t her colour.”
Danny stared at her in disbelief. “So you don’t want to see Lindsay sent down, but me being dead isn’t a problem?”
“Depends on if you’re going to stop winding her up?” Taylor asked him, pointedly.
“Hell no!” Danny exclaimed with a grin. “Having far too much fun. Besides, she likes it. You can see it in her eyes.”
“Personally, I’d describe that look as, I’m about five seconds away from stabbing you with a pen, but if you think that she likes it, go ahead,” Taylor informed him.
“What are you doing down here, anyway?” Danny asked her. “I wouldn’t have thought this was your favourite place to be.”
“I came to see Marty,” she explained.
Danny smirked. “Really?”
“Oh, shut up, we’re just friends,” Taylor told him, swiping at his arm.
“Friends that live together,” Danny scoffed.
“It’s perfectly normal for two adults to live together and just be friends,” Taylor told him, rolling her eyes. “Haven’t you ever seen Will and Grace?”
“He was gay. So unless you’re telling me Marty is gay… or is it you that is?” he asked, grinning.
Taylor rolled her eyes, “Alright, so Will and Grace is a bad analogy, but the point is, we are just friends.”
“Are you two here to establish a COD on your victim, or are you here to bicker about the finer points of out assistant coroner?” Sid was stood in front of them – neither Danny nor Taylor had a clue how long he had been there.
“What you got or us, Doc?” asked Danny, as he followed Sid over to the table.
“Actually, very little. Other than being a little over-weight, there was nothing wrong with the girl. No outward signs of trauma. When I opened her up,” he pulled over a dish with a heart in it (Taylor struggled to keep herself from throwing up), “I discovered that her heart had given out on her.”
“But she’s so young,” said Taylor, staring down at the victim’s expressionless face.
“I agree, Miss Turner,” said Sid, giving her a smile as he unhooked his glasses, “Which is why I sent some of her blood off to tox. It came back positive for Methylenedioxymethamphetamine.”
“Thanks, Sid,” said Danny, as he turned and started to leave.
Taylor turned to do the same.
“Oh, Miss Turner,” said Sid. Taylor stopped and turned back. “You picked the wrong ME, you know,” he told her, winking.
Taylor smiled at him, and left to catch up with Danny. “Methylenedioxymethamphetamine - that’s ecstasy, right?”
“Yeah,” Danny agreed.
Taylor shook her head, “She didn’t take that drug willingly.”
“You have proof of that, or did a ghost tell you?” asked Danny.
“No, I just know,” Taylor shrugged. “I can’t explain it, I just know it.”
“Right,” said Danny sceptically. “Well, I’m going to need something a little more solid and likely to stand up in court – evidence.”
Originally posted: 21/05/2006