“Archie Davis. A hundred and thirty-two years old. Spent seventy-five years as a ghostwalker at this branch before he retired and moved to Florida, fifty-two years ago. By all accounts, he was one of the best ghostwalkers in the field. Had more successful cases than anyone else.” King tapped the tablet again, and a cozy-looking bungalow with black shutters and a huge palm tree out front replaced the first picture. “Died at his home, approximately three hours ago. Was discovered by neighbors who happened to be walking by and heard the crash as he fell. EMS tried and failed to revive him.”
Derek’s fingers petted Blake’s thigh, soothing his agitation. Blake released the breath he didn’t know he was holding and tried his best to relax. In a few minutes, he, along with the others, would be going into the spirit realm to help that man. Blake needed every ounce of his focus.