Advocate For The Dead (Complete Novel)

Chapter 1: Summer & Winter

The dead girl stood in my office. You would think I'd be used to such things by now, but thankfully she wasn't too frightening a corpse. Though the dirt of the grave still clung to her white burial dress, she looked pretty as a picture, a postcard of youth and naivety. But I knew she wasn't as innocent as she appeared, otherwise she wouldn't have been standing there with that bewildering question in her eyes.

"You can see me?" she asked curiously.

"Yes, miss. I can see you."

     "No one else seems to."

   I smiled to let her know I understood her confusion. "Please have a seat."

I offered her a chair and my card. I wasn't sure if she could hold the card so I set it on the edge of my desk in front of her. She glanced down at it.

"Cole Winter, Advocate & Investigations," she read aloud. Her voice was soft and lilting, almost a whisper. She laughed slightly. "That's funny."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Your name is Winter. I'm Summer."

I smiled and hoped she would see it as genuine. "Well, Miss Summer, what can I do for you?"

She slightly frowned. "To be honest, Mr. Winter, I don't know why I'm here. I guess I just need your help."

I nodded. She looked to be college age but I surmised none of her education had prepared her for this. Psychology 101 never teaches you how to mentally deal with being dead. Nervously, she ran her fingers through her long blonde hair and seemed surprised there was dirt clinging to it.

"I want to know what happened," she said. She looked behind her at my office door, as if to check if anyone else had entered and was eavesdropping on our conversation. "I'm afraid I don't have any money to pay you, but maybe my parents do. Perhaps they would agree to your fees if you explain it to them, though I'm not sure if they'd understand the situation."

"That's okay. We needn't worry about that. This is more of a calling, than an occupation. I'm here to help so let's start with your full name first." I got out a pen to jot down the details in my notebook.

"It's Summer Lynn..." She hesitated a second. "Oh my, I can't remember my last name."

She seemed distraught at this. Her face wrinkled up, and she squinted her eyes in concentration, trying to remember the particulars of who she was. Her distress soon turned to embarrassment. "I'm sorry I can't seem to..."

"It's okay, miss. It happens all the time."

"Really?"

"Yes, it's sometimes hard for a victim to remember details of their life when they've been through a severely traumatic event."

She frowned. "And I've been through one of those?"

"Yes, I believe so. You wouldn't be talking to me otherwise."

"What happened to me?"

I glanced to my lap in an effort to gather my thoughts and then looked back up into her pale blue eyes. I could see the wall behind her, but those eyes kept pulling me back to her pretty, youthful face. I wanted to tell her the truth, but this was always the hardest part for me, telling the client how hopeless their situation truly was. It was something I struggled with, and I think she saw it in my face. She saved me from the awkwardness.

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

I nodded with a sad smile. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

This time it was her turn to nod. "It wasn't pleasant? My passing?"