Sinclair Jayne

“in her fingers. “Don’t you want me to say something like that? Isn’t that why you’re here?” “I... well...” Walker swallowed hard. “Is the truth always such a challenge?” “What, are you some seer? A truth divining rod?” “Was. Now I don’t care,” Shane said. “And if hunting ghosts gives you a thrill, buckle up, enjoy the ride. I have enough trouble with the living.” “It doesn’t give me a thrill,” Walker said, pushing the tea away. “I want to get some publicity for the hotel.” “And ghosts will do that?” What was Shane, her conscience? “People like mysteries, right? The unknown.” The more Walker thought about it, the more she thought she was right. This was going to work if she could get Calum on board. “Maybe.” Shane shrugged and arranged her cocktail napkins in a short spiral tower. “But what if the unknown becomes known?” Shane asked. “What then?” The sun was a red orange fireball flaming towards the shadowy horizon when Calum finally made his way back towards the hotel. He’d enjoyed another coffee with Laird and his fiancé, Tucker as well as Laird’s brother Kane and his wife and young daughter.”
― Sinclair Jayne, Halloween at the Graff