When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 78: Totally Uncomplicated

Chapter 78: Totally Uncomplicated

After a series of exhausting back-and-forths—releasing Gabriel to check if Jones was gone, then re-possessing him if not—Hale went up once more and didn’t come down immediately.

Gabriel distinctly heard the sound of furniture being moved above. He pushed up from the filthy floor.

Finally, finally, finally. Jones was finally gone.

Now, all Gabriel needed to do was climb up there, get the ledger, and get out. He exhaled slowly as he shimmied out of his puffer jacket, leaving it behind for all its dirt and noise.

The hatch opened with a creak, Hale’s face looking down. "Come up."

Gabriel hurriedly climbed the ladder and hoisted himself up, trying to be as quiet as possible.

The scent of paper and ink was honey-sweet after the hours in the basement. Already feeling better, he took a deep breath and looked around.

Behind the window, the sky was beginning to brighten.

"Sunrise?!" Gabriel whisper-yelled. "We were down there the whole night?"

"Feel free to thank me for sitting it out instead of you." Hale fixed his robes, stretching after being cooped up in Gabriel’s body until he heard Jones leave the desk.

"...Thanks." Gabriel turned off the flashlight, narrowing his eyes to focus in the dim light. "Though I’m not sure if I’m happy about this."

His eyes locked onto a painting. Heart pounding, he lifted it, revealing a safe behind it. He put in the code Hale gave him, and the safe opened with an approving click.

"Good thing nobody changed it," Gabriel whispered, glad that at least this part was going smoothly.

But when he peered inside, his shoulders sank in disappointment. He couldn’t tell what he wanted more—to cry out or kick something.

Stacks of bills—only stacks of bills. Gabriel hastily dug through the money. No ledger.

"Hale." Gabriel turned, his eyes shooting daggers at the accomplice. Oh, how he would have cursed up a storm if they weren’t in a dangerous location.

The evil spirit crouched beside him, eyeing the cash with mild disinterest. "Odd," he murmured. "I was certain it would be here. It seems Jones moved it."

Gabriel groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Couldn’t you have checked inside beforehand?"

Hale clicked his tongue as if he’d just heard an absurd suggestion, and walked back to the hatch. "If it isn’t here, it must be in the other safe at the storage room."

"There’s another safe?" Gabriel hung the painting back on the wall and scurried after him, but Hale gestured for him to step back.

"We’re not going back down. There’s no hatch in the storage. You’ll have to use the hallway," Hale said, moving the desk back over the hatch to hide their presence.

"Okay, just watch my back." Gabriel moved towards the door without wasting any time, but before he could grab the handle, he heard the murmur of voices outside the door.

Footsteps closed in. Gabriel’s breath caught.

"Uh-oh." His gaze darted around, frantic. He jerked in one direction, then another, struggling to decide where to hide. Then he waved at the evil spirit desperately, mouthing, "Help?"

Hale raised a hand against the door, holding it shut. "Under the desk!"

Gabriel darted across the room, ducking into the shadows beneath the large wooden desk and curling into a ball as the door handle rattled.

As soon as he was out of sight, Hale released the door.

"I’ll have that fixed," Jones told someone. He stepped inside first, his shoes clicking against the floor. "Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?"

A second set of footsteps followed to the coffee table just a few feet away from the desk, oddly familiar.

"Coffee. Two sugars," said the voice of an older man.

Sam.

Gabriel pressed a hand over his mouth to quiet his breathing. Shit! It was just his luck—no, no, actually, this was lucky. He just got the perfect chance to eavesdrop.

Jones went to the small kitchen corner on the side—the same corner that had been repainted and refurnished after the fire ghost-Gabriel had caused last time.

While the scent of wet, roasted beans filled the room, Jones walked over to the desk.

Gabriel tensed, his heart in his throat. Fortunately, Jones only picked something up and walked back to the coffee table.

"Here are the latest numbers. Everything should be in order."

There was a rustle of papers. Sam hummed in dissatisfaction. "The numbers have been on a steady decline lately."

"Unfortunately, yes," Jones went to pour the coffee into cups. "Ever since Victor..."

Hale, still lingering by the door, turned a little somber. But instead of wallowing in self-pity, he flicked his sleeves and crossed the office to catch a peek of the numbers over Sam’s shoulder.

"Without the original face of Lazarus Blessing, recruiting new members has been difficult," Jones explained, setting two cups on the table.

Sam picked up his cup and took a small sip. "It might be for the best. Upkeeping this business has become costly. I’d say it has run its course."

Gabriel chewed on his lip. Did Sam want to shut it down now? Right—he had moved up the ladder and had more to lose. And without profit, the cult was nothing but a liability.

But with all that money in the safe, Lazarus Blessing seemed a little too successful for something supposedly going under.

"Mr. Everett, don’t be so rash, it has only been a few dry weeks," Jones appeased. "It’s incomparable with the success we have achieved over the years."

Hale played cheerleader in the background, clapping and praising Jones for stepping in.

Gabriel tried to stay focused on the conversation, but a sharp, stabbing pain ignited behind his eyes, his vision smearing at the edges.

The voices became distant, warping and stretching like echoes in a tunnel. A high-pitched ringing shrieked in his ears, drowning out everything else.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead pressing against the underside of the desk. The pain pulsed, his skull feeling like it would split open—then, just as suddenly as it had arrived, the ringing faded.

Gabriel huffed in relief, slumping. But the initial relief quickly turned to horror as he realized the conversation had abruptly cut short. Had they heard him sigh?

Jones shifted. "Did you hear that just now?"

Gabriel clenched his jaw, leaning further into the shadows beneath the desk. He hadn’t moved, only exhaled. Couldn’t they just think it was the wind?

Footsteps approached.

Closer.

The footsteps halted right in front of the desk.