James stared down at the man’s hand. Well, at least this one wasn’t ridiculously drunk. Or funneling drugs to his daughter. He shook his hand. “Rinker. James Rinker,” he replied, a small smile on his face.
A man with a firm handshake. That was good, or so Galen had been told.
"Rinker? Why, you wouldn’t happen to be related to Raleign, would you?"
Knowing that this guy was a ghost and looked about old enough, he was probably Rai’s father. Or the creepy uncle. If he was the creepy uncle, then Galen was running.