"You though of something more?" Detective Lang asked when he came over, still holding the evidence bag with the dagger.

"That's mine," Darik told him. "I mean it belongs to the shop and ..."

"And I rented it as part of a costume," Steve said before Darik could finish. "For a party last night. Somewhere along the line I must have lost it. I swear I did! I swear I'm not the man who killed him or anyone else."

Lang nodded, although he didn't seem certain he believed him. "I'll need your fingerprints," he said, gesturing for one of the CSI people to join them. When she came over, he asked her to take Steve's prints, which she did. Then he told Steve he was going to take him down to the precinct to question him further.

Steve swallowed hard and agreed to wait. "I didn't do it."

"I don't think you did, but I still have to question you. You might remember something about when and where you lost the dagger." Lang turned his attention to Darik. "I need to talk to you, too. I can do it here if you'll come with me."

Lang led Darik to the same bench where he and Steve had planned on meeting for their run. "Anything?" he asked.

"Yes. Not much and pretty much the same as everyone else. Big man, smelled, big hand to quote him. Do you know who he is?"

"His ID says he's Edward Nelson. For the moment that's all we know." He shot Darik a sour look. "If you tell me he was one of your customers ..."

"The name doesn't ring a bell, but I'll check," Darik replied with a rueful smile. "If he only rented once, or quite a while ago, well ..." He shrugged. "I don't remember everyone who comes in."

"Didn't expect you would, but please check. Between Morris Burke, and now Mr. Grainger, this is beginning to feel strange."

"I didn't know the first two victims," Darik pointed out.

"That you know of. You might want to see if they're in your records, though." Lang took a pad and pen from his pocket, wrote the names down, and handed the page to Darik.

"God, I hope they aren't."

Lang patted his shoulder. "I'm sure you do. All right, I have to get back to it. Let me know if the ghost of Mr. Nelson gets in touch with you again."

"I will." As soon as Lang left, Darik went back to wait with Steve, to give him moral support if nothing else.

Steve was standing by himself, well away from all the action. When Darik joined him, Steve said shakily, almost under his breath, "I saw him."

"Who? The killer? How do you know it was him?"

"No, no." Steve shook his head wildly, staring at the victim's body, which was being put into a body bag. "Him."

"He lives in the neighborhood?"

"I don't know. Hell. I ..." Steve turned away, chewing his lip. "You're going to think I'm crazy but I swear by all that's holy I thought I saw his ghost or his spirit or something floating above his body when I first got here but it couldn't have been, could it?" He looked at Darik, his gaze pleading with him to tell him he'd been imagining it.

Darik debated how to reply. Do I tell him it was his imagination? Do I admit he wasn't seeing things? That I saw Mr. Nelson's ghost, too? That he has the same ability I do, although I think this is the first time it's happened to him?

"Have you ever seen one before?" Darik asked, understanding how Steve must feel if this was the first time.

Steve shook his head and then, conversely, nodded. He started to walk away until Darik put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Tell me, please," he said. "It helps to talk to someone."

He took a gulping breath, his hands clenching. "I was a kid, ten, and while I was visiting my grandparents my grandmother died of a heart attack. I found her lying on the kitchen floor and screamed at her to wake up. No one believed me, but suddenly she was there and she told me she wished she could but it wasn't possible. She said she loved me and wanted me to know she was going to a beautiful place to be with her parents. Then she was gone and my grandfather rushed in to see why I was screaming and ..." He shuddered.

Darik slipped an arm around Steve's shoulders. "That's the only time until today?"

"Yes. They insisted it was impossible, that I'd imagined it because I loved her and didn't want her to be gone. I believed them, after a while." Steve smiled wanly. "That's the only time I've been around a dead person, well except for a couple of funerals, until today."

"Consider yourself lucky," Darik replied dryly.

"Do you believe me?"

"I do. I really don't have much choice because I saw him, too. Mr. Nelson's ghost, that is." Lang was coming toward them at that point, so Darik said, "We'll talk more about it when he's finished with you."

"I don't suppose ..." Steve looked plaintively at Darik.

"That I can come with you? I will if the good detective allows it," Darik replied, looking at Lang since he was within earshot at that point.

"Is there a reason you want to?" Lang asked.

"He needs moral support."

"I'm not going to browbeat him, damn it."

Darik chuckled. "I know that, he's not quite so sure."