“Aye, that I did.”

“And now you’ve taken these classes, which tells me your decision is that you’re going to sign up for the consultant gig.”

She nodded. “Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Okay then. Yes. I am.”

“Felicity, it’s not like we need the money. Between my business and yours, we’re in great shape. The house is paid for, our investments are stable, we’ve…”

She didn’t let me finish. “Money isn’t the point, Row. It’s something I want to do.”

“You WANT to take pictures of dead bodies? Victims of violent murders? Suicides?” I asked with more than a note of incredulity in my voice.

“It’s not likely to even come to that,” she explained. “The freelance program is for specialized photographic techniques that the regular crime scene unit doesn’t do. Infrared, ultraviolet, painting with light, and that sort of thing. Primarily for evidence.”

“So you would never be photographing dead bodies?”

“Well, maybe not never.” She shrugged. “I suppose it all depends on what they need then.”

“Well, don’t you think you should give this a little more thought?”

“Why?”

“Maybe because when you look through a camera lens, you see things most people don’t.”

“Then I should be pretty good at it, shouldn’t I.” She was telling, not asking.

“Probably too good. That’s what I mean… Think about who you are for a minute.”

“Who I am? What do you mean by that?”

“Come on, you’re a Witch.”

“So are you. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Gods, Felicity!” I exclaimed. “Are you trying to tell me the last few years have only been my imagination? Because if you are, I’m not buying it.”

“You’re the one who carries on conversations with the dead, Row, not me.”

“Excuse me?” It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “What do you think I meant about looking through a camera? Besides, have you forgotten your last little brush with the ethereal?”