Edna walked in, only half an hour to spare before her husband and eldest were due back. There were several emails waiting for her as she opened her phone, mainly from Bureau HQ enquiring about her sessions with their field therapist who had been disclosed about her skill as a medium. Dealing with death was never a career Edna had considered: maybe selling sewing patterns online perhaps, or helping out in the local library.

Ethan was half sitting, half slumped on the couch, chewing his way through a bag of chips and watching the TV. He didn't acknowledge her as she entered the living room.

“Ethan, dear, you are aware how much of a bombsite the kitchen is?”

“Mmmhmm.” He continued to crunch the chips and she huffed at her slovenly son. Edna looked over her shoulder at the array of dirty laundry attempting to crawl its way out of the basket like an amorphous tongue, and the kitchen table still cluttered with the breakfast dishes.

There was nothing more to be said here, but perhaps if Ethan refused to help she could dock his allowance and send him pounding up to his bedroom to slam his door.

“Get your butt in here, Ethan, and help me fix dinner.” When there was no response and she pulled out her last defence. “Fine, remember our agreement? Chores in exchange for your allowance? I don't ask much, just stick some pasta on and brown some mince.”

Edna rolled up her sleeves and set to work. Not long after, the scuffing feet on laminate floor made itself known, and Ethan, grumbling about how unfair it all was, began boiling a pan of water. To herself, she smiled at his attempt at defiance, but he still listened to his momma.

Just as she finished wiping down the countertops, she heard the low rumble of Harry's car and the crunch of gravel as he rolled into the drive. The pan spat and fizzed as Ethan pushed the mince around in the popping oil. She took a second to regard her youngest as he stirred absentmindedly with one hand and held his phone with the other. He could be sweet when he wanted to be, as long as it wasn't in the mornings. Ethan wasn't a morning person.

The door closed, and Edna turned her head, a warm honey filling her when she heard the gentle voice of Harry’s girlfriend giggling with him in the hall. Bea was a dear, sweet thing, and a constant reminder how far above his own weight Harry was punching.

“Hi, Mom! Is it okay if Bea stays the night tonight?”

“Sure thing! Come in, dinner won't be a tic.”

As Harry and Bea set the table, Edna couldn't help but be reminded of Daniel as he carefully put each plate down. She really should have explained her reasoning better, and how memory sifting wasn't as simple as plucking specific moments out. Regardless, she would make the journey on her next shift to that bridge. Crime scenes were practically oozing with residual memories, but again, were hard to put into any kind of order.

“Hello, Mrs. Jameson. Thanks for letting me stay over. There's this big test tomorrow and and and Harry want to cram for it.”

Edna wish she didn't understand their thinly veiled euphemisms, but it wasn't her place to say. She smiled and nodded. “Any time, Bea.”

“And how're you, Ethan? Still after that girl?”

His cheeks went red. “No! Just shut up, will you, Harry?”

His brother chuckled as he set the final glass tumbler, sitting down with Bea as Edna drained the spaghetti. He wondered if Daniel had a girlfriend, or boyfriend.

“He's not interested in girls. Can't you tell?”

Edna bit her lip to stop herself from dropping the pasta as Daniel's familiar voice ebbed and echoed from the living room. She couldn't stop the audible gasp that past her lips and Harry was immediately up.

“Mom? Did you burn yourself?”

“What? No, honey, I'm fine. Could you plate up? I just need the bathroom. She viciously pointed a finger down the hall to the shadowy figure of Daniel and thumped across the wooden floor.

Once she pulled the latch shut, Edna spun around to find Daniel standing there, looking very similar to how did before he had entered the machine at HQ. He wrung his hands again and again and she could see the awkwardness settled in his eyes once again. He spoke first.

“I, I'm sorry I charged off like that. I followed you home but you didn't notice me until just now. I wanted to apologize for storming off like that. I guess I was kinda embarrassed and…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his head. Edna sighed.

“There's nothing to apologize for. I should have explained it properly. Sometime when you do the same thing over and over every day, you forget not everyone follows that same schedule.”

“Harry Jameson is your son?”

The question threw her. Edna knew Daniel and Harry had attended the same high school, and never really thought to put two and two together. “Yeah. You kne-know him?”

Daniel nodded. “Yeah. Popular. Quiet though. Worked hard.” Daniel’s lips curled as he reminisced. “Wish we'd spoken more, he seems like a nice guy. Does he know..? I suppose he doesn't, not even mom knows I'm dead.” The last word was said with a distinct bitterness, and he looked downcast.

Edna took a step towards the boy. “You understand why we can't tell her yet, don't you?”

He sniffed, and nodded. “You gotta get my body, haven't you?”

“Yeah, we do. We'll start on that tomorrow, I promise. If you want, you can hang around here if being at your mom's is a bit difficult at the moment.”

His silence seemed to be an affirmative, and she unlocked the bathroom door, rejoining her family at the table. As she ate, she couldn't take her mind off Daniel, and saw him skulking around the living room, checking out Ethan's collection of video games and the DVDs on the shelves. Knowing you're dead, but being unable to tell your loved ones must be one of the most frustrating things.

The following morning, after dragging Ethan out of bed and practically booting him out the door, she found Daniel standing in the kitchen, curiously inspecting the certificates pinned to the refrigerator. “Harry's smarter than I thought,” he mused as Edna entered, pulling her cell from her bag off the table.

“He's my son, so I'm totally biased. But yes, he's a rough diamond, that one. Destined for great things.”

Daniel's eyes were suddenly at the floor as she pressed “call”, but Thomas answered with such speed she had little chance to ask him what the matter was.

“Thomas? I want to go to the Penny Bridge today. Daniel was murdered there, I have a strong feeling.”

“Whatever you say, boss. I'll send a car.”

Thomas's acidic sarcasm would never fail to get under her skin, and she hissed as she thrust the phone back in her bag, fastening the final button on her shirt.

“Do you wanna come?” As soon as she asked, she wondered if ghosts could even enter cars, let alone travel in them.

“I can make my way there. Will it have clues as to my murder?”

“More than likely. I'll see you there, Daniel.”