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This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Another ghost in need of justice. Rebus had confessed to her once, after too many late-night drinks in the Oxford Bar, that he saw ghosts. Or didn't see them so much as sense them. All the cases, the innocent – and not so innocent – victims . . . all those lives turned into CID files . . . They were always more than that to him. He'd seemed to see it as a failing, but Siobhan hadn't agreed.
We wouldn't be human if they didn't get to us, she'd told him. His look had stilled her with its cynicism, as if he were saying that “human” was the one thing they weren't supposed to be.
Resurrection Men