We are all of us, without exception, innately capable of sin. This truth was thrust upon me by a cantankerous ghost when we investigated the haunting of the Saunders house on Livermead Hill. The house itself was a grim construction, steeped in sorrow borne from secrets, anger fueled by lies and the bitter taint of betrayal. Within its walls lurked a tormenting spirit. He took an instant dislike to my presence and let me know, quite clearly, just how...