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must have put that fact in my folder. But he acted as if this was the first he heard about my earthquake theory. It was obvious from the notations peppering the margins on the pages contained in the folder that Sam had read through the contents very thoroughly. I could only draw one conclusion. She hadn’t included one of the most important facts about my case. Nonetheless, it was apparent from his arched brows that he did think I was off my rocker to blame my ghost problem on an earthquake.
    “Told you. I knew you would think I was nuts.”
    He released my hands. “That’s not fair. I never said you were crazy.”
    “You didn’t have to. Your expression said it all.”
    “Miss Sugarbaker,” he murmured in a rich baritone, apparently opting to take the professional route with me. “I am not here to judge. What I am here to do is to listen and investigate according to what you tell me. Believe me, in my years in the business, I’ve seen it all.”
    Funny, but wasn’t that the same thing Amanda had said just before she looked at me like I was off my nut?
    “I’m sorry,” I said.
    “Don’t worry about it. In this line of work, by the time we get to the client, everyone before us has made them feel like they were one step away from the loony bin.”
    Hmmm… like the way your case manager treated me , I wanted to say aloud.
    “Now, what sort of things started occurring after the earthquake?” His lips curved into a pleasant smile.
    I skipped the part about the magnetized medallion popping out of my bedroom wall during the earthquake. He probably already thought I was nuttier than a pecan fruitcake, so why add to the mix? “At first it was minor things. Little stuff like doors creaking, cold spots and the feeling that someone was watching me. Soon it escalated and next thing I knew light bulbs were burning out left and right, almost as soon as I put them in. It got to the point where every light bulb in the house was being changed at least once a week and some twice.”
    I saw Sam nodding his head as his pen scratched on the paper. It was apparent from his reaction he had heard these types of occurrences many, many times before.
    “I told myself it was mere coincidence. But when the televisions started turning on by themselves, I knew something wasn’t right. Looking back, I can see I was in denial until the ghost locked me in the bathroom.”
    “We get that quite frequently in an active location,” he murmured, while still writing in his notepad.
    “Ghosts locking people in bathrooms?”
    “No. Denial.” He stopped and looked up at me. “Have there been occasions where you may have seen or felt interaction?”
    I nibbled on a hangnail as I summoned the courage to relive the more recent events. It wasn’t something I enjoyed thinking about, much less discussing. I took a deep breath. “I guess it was about two weeks ago when I was home alone, just minding my own business. I was outside, weeding the flower bed at the bottom of the front walkway.”
    “I saw that flower bed as I came in. You have quite the green thumb, Miss Sugarbaker.”
    I smiled at the compliment.
    “Black, if truth be known. My grandmother planted an idiot-proof garden with every flower bulb imaginable. Colorful flowers magically pop out of the ground all spring, summer and even into the fall. All I have to do is weed every now and then.”
    He smiled wide, showing that gorgeous rack of even, white teeth. “We should all be so lucky.”
    “Yes, my grandmother was one of a kind,” I wished she were here now. She’d take care of that nasty old ghost in a heartbeat. Grandma didn’t mess around when her family’s safety was in jeopardy.
    Just thinking about my grandma brought an overwhelming sadness to my heart. I gave myself a little shake to clear my head. Then, forcing myself to focus, I continued. “So, as I was saying, just as I opened the front door and stepped inside, I heard a rustling sound coming from one of the