Outside, just as they reached Steve’s car, Candy asked him if he needed her for anything else. She figured if he was off for the rest of the day, she could go back to the office and find something useful to do.
Man, she had felt like a fifth wheel in there. Nothing to contribute, just an observer. She was really surprised the Castelles had invited her inside. Surely they hadn’t wanted an audience.
Steve spoke. “You don’t have to stay with me every minute.”
She shrugged. He might be right, but he also might be wrong. She hadn’t received any other assignment. Unless he said he was going to work at the motel, she needed to stay. “You’re my detail.”
He grimaced. “I didn’t want that. If I’d wanted a full-time assistant, I’d have brought one along. I’m sure you have a whole bunch of things to do that are more important than shepherding me around.”
Candy felt a flicker of amusement. “I understand why you might not want that. But I’m equally certain the city fathers didn’t toss this to the sheriff because they wanted you rolling through here like a loose cannon. I guess I’m the city protection squad. No bad publicity here.”
That drew a grin from him. “You might be right. Most of the places I’ve been to have been too big to worry about it. Not only is Conard City way smaller, but it’s also pretty isolated.”
“Yup. They’d like to draw more visitors, not drive them away. So please, Steve, make us look good.”
The wind kicked up again and she felt her cheeks sting. The frigid warning breath of winter.
“I don’t know about you, Candy, but I’m a Southern California guy, and I need to get indoors. I’m going for lunch. If you want to join me, feel free. Me, I’m going to see how many people I can talk to while I eat.”
“If you want to talk to locals…”
“Got it. Maude’s. See, I learn.”
Her entire face relaxed into a smile that seemed to reach all the way through her. She guessed her tension over this guy was easing. She was a long way from trusting him, but she was beginning to believe he wasn’t going to be a major headache.
“I’ll see you at Maude’s,” she said, and walked back to her patrol vehicle.
While Candy hated to admit it, even in the privacy of her own mind, he’d impressed her while he was talking with the Castelles. Very sympathetic, supportive. She hadn’t heard him trying to persuade them of anything. Not even being on his show.
But there was still a lot of crap. She mulled it over as she drove into town. He was still a ghost hunter. He said he didn’t believe in the paranormal, but he was still making his living from it.
As she had seen today, the people who called him were desperate. Willing to consider, no matter how outlandish, anything that could help them.
That made them vulnerable. Exceedingly vulnerable.
She sighed as she finally pulled into a parking place at the station. For a few minutes, she sat drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as she thought.
She didn’t like the whole premise of what Steve was doing, of what the other programs were doing, in fact of the whole field of paranormal investigation. That was a personal prejudice and she knew it.
People were entitled to their own beliefs, of course, but while she’d let them have at it, she didn’t have to approve or fail to observe her own beliefs.
At this point, however, this wasn’t about beliefs. She’d watched the Castelles talk to Steve. He hadn’t fed their concerns. He wanted their story. In their own words.
But that didn’t mean the Castelles weren’t desperate, and desperate people were easy marks. They wanted their daughter to be okay, and at this point if it took someone running around with a recorder and camera, claiming to have heard something or felt some evil spirit, they might well buy it.
Which, as far as Candy could see, wouldn’t really help anything.
Giving up trying to escape her own mental gyrations, she left her car and walked toward Maude’s. She didn’t like this whole idea, didn’t like her inchoate position, but that didn’t matter. As ill-defined as her assignment was, she still couldn’t walk away from it.
And she sure as hell wouldn’t walk away until she was sure that nobody was taking advantage of the Castelles’ fears.
Maybe that was her real assignment. Maybe no one thought Ghostly Ties would be able to ding the town or county in any measurable way. Maybe they just didn’t want a bad outcome for the family.
That wouldn’t surprise her. Even in the short time she’d been here, she’d discovered this gossipy little town was very protective of its residents. Even the new ones.
* * *
WHEN SHE WALKED through the door of Maude’s, the lunch crowd had mostly evaporated, transforming into quieter little groups of people who’d stopped for coffee and maybe a light snack. The usual clatter from the kitchen had quieted as the load lifted. Later this afternoon, activity would spike again.
Steve was seated at the same table they’d occupied last evening, facing the door, a tall coffee in front of him.
She came to join him, but then stopped. A prickle of anxiety hit her, snagging her attention. Then, taking a deep breath, she approached him.
“Hi,” he said. “Take a seat.”
She hesitated, nearly hating herself for what she was about to say. “Would you mind switching seats? I can’t… I don’t like to sit with my back to a door.”
His brows lifted, then his face gentled. He rose at once. “No problem.”
She despised herself for this weakness, but some things had lingered long after she’d come home from the war. This was hardly the worst of it. Unfortunately, it had a way of snapping at her heels when she least expected it.
She slid into the chair that he had just vacated and unzipped her jacket, letting it hang open.
Mavis, Maude’s daughter, arrived, pad in hand, with her grumpy expression. “You want coffee? A big one like his?”
She glanced at Steve’s take-out cup. More than a mug could hold, but that cup would keep the coffee warm for longer.
“Thanks, Mavis.”
Without another word, Mavis trudged away. Unlike her mother, who had the dowdiest dresses in the world, Mavis preferred pants. Jeans, slacks, it didn’t matter. Evidently no skirts for her.
“I don’t know about you,” Steve said, “but I need some lunch.” He pushed one of the plastic menus her way. “In fact, I need more than a little lunch. Maybe a big one.”
Neither of them said much until their food was delivered. Candy had wanted a salad, but when she considered going home later and cooking herself dinner, she opted for a grilled chicken sandwich. Steve ordered two BLTs.
Instead of separate servings, home fries arrived on a single large plate.
“Thank God,” Steve said. “I have such a thing for fried potatoes, and now that they’re here, I can’t waste them.”
Candy laughed, releasing the anxiety that had been dogging her since the moment she’d walked through the door.
“Save me from myself,” he said, gesturing toward the potatoes. “Eat some.”
He really did have a lot of charm. She also liked people who could make fun of themselves. But…he was still essentially an unknown.
“What did you think of the Castelles?” he asked, dabbing at his chin with a napkin.
“They seem like very nice people.” She wouldn’t say more than that. She wasn’t about to sit in judgment.
“I thought so,” he agreed after he swallowed. “I’m trying to eat my sandwiches and not the fries.” Then he picked up a potato and popped it in his mouth. “Not the day for a New Year’s resolution.”
That drew another laugh from her. “You should do a stand-up routine.”
“Not unless I can do it with a plate of fries in hand.” He paused. “Seriously, what was your impression? I’m not asking you to judge their character.”
She hesitated briefly, then offered what she thought was a safe answer. “They seem very upset.”
He nodded. “That was my feeling, too. They weren’t feigning their worry.”
Her interest spiked. “Have you run into that?”
“Of course. For every ten thousand people who watch these shows, there are another thousand who want to be on them. To star in them. Mostly they’re people desperate for attention, but sometimes they’re just scammers. I don’t know what your time in the Army was like, but I was a cop for a long time. Hell, you get people so desperate for attention that they’ll confess to terrible crimes they haven’t committed.”
“I haven’t run into that yet, meaning only that I haven’t been a cop for long.”
He ate for a little while, then spoke again, thoughtfully. “It’s really sad to meet someone like that. I can’t imagine feeling that invisible, that unwanted, that uncared-for.”
“Is that always what it is?”
He shook his head. “There’s a percentage of people who just need to be the center of attention. It doesn’t matter how much attention they get otherwise, they’re hungry for more. Anyway, that’s not the Castelles.”
She nibbled some more, then reached for one of the fries. “I can’t resist either. And I can always bag my sandwich for home.”
He smiled at her. “Dig in. Please.”
“But how can you be sure that Castelles aren’t attention-seeking?”
“My gut. As a detective I had to rely on it, and most of the time I was right. But…I could always be wrong.” He also had other concerns, like the real family dynamics rather than their public face. Or the possibility that they’d been fleeing, rather than moving. Tonight he’d call a woman who sometimes did research for him, a former cop herself.
“Well,” she said, “I thought their concern was genuine. If it wasn’t, they deserve an award. They really seem upset about their daughter.”
“That caught my attention,” he remarked, seeking another potato wedge with his fingers. “I most often hear stories about the entire family being affected. If not the whole family, then most of them. Sometimes it makes me wonder if the ones claiming the experiences are kind of having a bit of group hysteria. As if they’ve ginned each other up, feeding more and more into the mass experience until it becomes huge. On the other hand, it raises more questions, for me at least, when there’s one or two who claim to have experienced nothing.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “That’s not a metric, of course. The theory is that some people are sensitive and others are not. What I’m getting at is that the Castelles are very focused on what Viv is experiencing, and only Annabelle claims to have had her own experience, just that once. That’s unusual.”
“I can see that.” Which she could even though she hadn’t watched any of these programs in quite a while.
“Anyway, I’m inclined to believe kids, even though they can be wonderful liars.”
She tilted her head. “Why’s that?”
“Because they’re almost never good liars.”
She grinned. “It’s true, isn’t it? I haven’t had a whole lot of time with youngsters recently, but I can still remember how rarely my brother and I could get away with anything.”
“That’s it. It usually doesn’t take long to suss out the truth.”
She remembered what Guy Redwing had said just that morning about how the vandals would start talking or bragging online. Even older kids could set a trap for themselves.
Candy couldn’t eat another bite, so when Mavis came around to see if they wanted more coffee, she asked for a take-out box.
“What’s your plan?” she asked after Steve, too, asked for a box for his remaining sandwich. He just kept plugging at the fries, though, causing her inward amusement.
“Well, I’m going to call the Castelles later to set up a time to talk to their daughter and meet the dog. And I need to start my local research. Who can I talk to who might give me some interesting data, particularly about that house?”
“I haven’t been here very long, but I’d suggest the head librarian, Emmaline Dalton. Everyone refers to her as Miss Emma, though, and I don’t know why. I guess I could ask someone. Anyway, her family has been here forever, and she’d probably be a good person to talk to first.”
“Okay, then, I’ll head on over. Do you need to watch me?”
She laughed. “I’m not sure exactly what I’m supposed to be doing, but yeah, I guess I should.”
He winked. “I could imagine far worse people attached to my hip. And I do want your help with local legends and stuff.”
“Miss Emma will know far more than me.”
“Candy, that’s exactly what I want from you. Guidance to local fonts of information. Maybe a little research into various crimes. But first I need direction.”
* * *
FAR FROM BEING annoyed with Candy’s determination to follow him, Steve didn’t mind it at all. Whether the town had realized it when they made her his liaison, she leant an aura of authority. With her present, people were more likely to trust him.
The only conversation he had worried she might stymie with her presence was his conversation with the Castelles. For everyone else, she was like a seal of approval. Plus, she really might be able to help him with records searches.
If she was willing, of course.
But he also felt some sympathy for her. She may not have been a cop for long but, especially with her military background, she probably wanted clearer orders and a better view of her mission here. Instead she was basically flying blind.
He’d caught that thing at the diner, however. Her distaste for sitting with her back to the door. That must result from her Army experience, waving like a quiet reminder that this woman had been through a helluva lot. He wondered if she had a bit of PTSD as a result…or more than a bit. Depending on her military postings, she might have a whole lot.
He didn’t need to get personal with her in order to do his job, though. The cop in him picked up enough clues to sense the ground ahead, and whether it would be good or bad. The joys of being an experienced detective: his critical mind never shut down. The hail-fellow-well-met surface he wore concealed his lifetime of suspicion.
The library proved to be one of those built by funds from Andrew Carnegie back around the turn of the last century. It wasn’t huge, but it stood sturdily against the tests of time with its red brick structure and the concrete lintel engraved with Carnegie’s name and the year.
He’d heard that Carnegie had become a philanthropist after he learned what his business partner had done to labor protesters. One could argue that Carnegie, even though he’d been in England at the time, hadn’t been unaware. Whatever was true, well over two thousand libraries had been built, and had fed the minds of generations. Not a bad legacy.
He climbed out of his rental, feeling the cold wind grab at him again. Overhead, dark clouds still dragged through the sky like portents. He smiled at himself. He wasn’t one to be given to fanciful thoughts. Or maybe he could be at times.
He waited until Candy had parked, then joined him on the front steps.
“I need to get out my warmer jacket,” he remarked. “Can you introduce me to Miss Emma?”
Her expression turned wry. “Are you sure you want to put your reputation in my hands?”
“Cute. Let’s go.”
The library was warmer inside, not surprising, but it wasn’t exactly warm. Maybe to help preserve the books, maybe to save on energy or maybe because the locals were used to cooler temperatures and nobody wanted to bake.
Candy led the way to the round center desk, the hallmark of an era. From one of the side rooms he heard voices, young voices who seemed to be discussing games. Off in one corner, a woman was reading a storybook to a bunch of very young kids, too young for kindergarten, he surmised.
The middle-aged woman behind the desk was a study in graceful aging. She had the kind of bone structure in her face that would keep her beautiful for decades to come. Her reddish-and-gray hair was caught up in a bun. With those green eyes, he’d have bet she had once been an eye-catching redhead.
“Hi, Candy,” she said, looking over the top of the wooden counter. In front of her sat an older computer that probably meant the library had switched to digital cataloging but, nearby, a wooden card catalog still remained. He was old enough to remember searching through one of them to do research when he was in elementary school. Nostalgia breathed through him. Of course, once upon a time he’d believed he’d never give up print books. He liked the smell of them, the weight of a volume in his hands.
He’d lost the battle. His laptop had two e-readers on it.
“Miss Emma,” Candy said, “I’d like you to meet Steve Hawks. He’s in town to do a ghost-hunting show.”
“Yes, I heard.” Miss Emma rose, still smiling, and extended a hand across the counter. “We have your earlier programs available on DVDs here.”
“I’m flattered.” Not really. If his ego could be so easily flattered, self-disgust should overwhelm him. “I understand you have the best brain to pick around here when it comes to local history.”
Emma laughed. “I’ve been here for much of it. My dad was once a judge here, and my family helped found this town. You could say I’m steeped in the history. Always my avocation. Let’s go into my office.”
Another woman appeared in answer to Emma’s call. She came out of the room that was full of young voices.
“Can you take over for me out here, Nora?” Emma asked her.
“Absolutely. My sons will probably enjoy my absence more than my presence.”
Emma had a spacious office. Apparently, space strictures didn’t apply here. Shelves were filled with books, a few stacks of them decorated a corner, and her desk had very nearly disappeared beneath another computer and a scattering of papers.
“Pardon my desk,” she said. “We’re still trying to get all the books into the digital catalog.”
“Probably one heck of a job,” Steve offered.
Emma nodded. “And way past due. Have a seat, both of you.”
* * *
CANDY TOOK A chair that was farther from the desk than the one Steve chose. She was prepared to listen with half an ear to a subject that didn’t especially appeal to her. A little local history? Great. A detailed one? Not necessary for her.
This was a go-nowhere task. She had to suppress a sigh. She wasn’t at all sure what Steve needed from her, and not sure what her bosses expected of her, and she wondered if this was going to be much fun at all. She sure as heck didn’t feel like she was accomplishing much.
Maybe she ought to just go back to the office, find some work to do and wait for Steve to call her if he needed something. Whatever the town wanted from her, she doubted this was it. Making his path easier? Hey, didn’t they have a PR person they could have asked to take on this job?
Impatience was beginning to irritate her. Sure, it had been interesting to hear him interview the Castelles, and their story had been fascinating. But.
Yeah, but. Here she sat listening to an innocuous conversation about the history of this town. How could most of that be involved in a ghost hunt?
Then her interest awoke again.
Steve asked, “Do you know anything about the house at the edge of the town that the Castelles have bought?”
Miss Emma frowned. “I heard a family had moved in, if you mean that farmhouse to the east of here.”
“That’s it.”
“Off Granger Road,” Candy elucidated.
Emma nodded thoughtfully. “I’m not specifically aware of the history. I know when I was young it had become the subject of campfire stories. But an empty house is a perfect stage for that.”
Steve leaned forward a bit. “It was empty for a long time?”
“Yes, it was,” Emma answered. “You’d have to go to the recorder’s office to get any details, though. It hasn’t been high on my list of things to learn.” She smiled slightly. “As a historian, I prefer the broader sweep in the local area. You can get details from the recorder.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you very much.”
Steve was standing when Emma said, “You know who might have more personal information? The previous sheriff, Nate Tate.” She looked at Candy. “Have you met him?”
“Not yet, but I’ve heard plenty about him.”
Emma’s smile broadened. “He’s local icon. You don’t want to miss the chance. I’m sure Gage can set it up.”
“Gage?” Steve enquired.
“My husband, a.k.a. the current sheriff.”
“Wow,” Steve said to Candy as they stepped outside. “The previous sheriff. And her husband. Is this place incestuous or what?”
Candy laughed. “Not really, but it’s small. The other woman you glimpsed? Nora Madison, the current police chief’s wife.”
“Okay, then. Don’t steal a book.”
“Might be wise.”
He stopped on the sidewalk. “You know, if I was a historian, I’d want to spend weeks, if not months, interviewing Miss Emma. She sounds like a font of local information. Unfortunately, I have to be more directed.”
“I can see that. First, you don’t have months. Second, you need to do a TV show.”
“Yep. So about this former sheriff…”
She forestalled him. “I’ll get in touch for you, set something up if he’s willing.”
“Thank you.”
“What about the Castelles, though? I don’t want to make the appointment if you’re going to be tied up.”
“No,” Steve answered. “I wouldn’t want that either. I’m going to call the Castelles this evening and set a time. I’ll let you know.”
Evening. Evening had crept in while they were in the library, and it was dragging into night. Clouds still sailed through the twilight overhead. She wondered if they’d last another day.
Candy watched Steve drive away and felt a bit of relief. It had been a long day for her, never alone, always alert to matters that didn’t especially interest her. Guard duty.
Well, not exactly that, but close enough. She reached to snap her jacket, then to head back to the office. The former sheriff had to be next in her sights.
* * *
FOR STEVE IT had been a productive day. He’d met his clients face-to-face and had been favorably impressed. He’d also gotten a good lead to that guy, Tate, who might be exactly what he needed for his show.
And Emma herself had provided more information: the house had generated tales of haunting. Now he had to find out how long the house had remained empty or if it had ever been renovated, and if so, had the Castelles done it.
While he might not agree with a lot of the explanations in his field, he knew he had to answer for them. It was widely believed that renovating a house could disturb spirits.
He wasn’t inclined to believe it. He had a general problem with the whole idea of people hanging around after death. But if they did, why should they get exercised because a house had been altered? Especially since that house had probably been altered more than once over time?
The other problem he had was a simple one: too many ghost hunters spoke for the dead. Unless there was some communication with the so-called spirits, how could anyone know what they were thinking? Assuming they could think at all.
He was a skeptic by nature, but he also accepted his own curiosity about the subject. He’d like to know. Really. He’d like to settle all this in his own mind somehow. So far he hadn’t been able to.
That left him with doing his best to reassure frightened people. After he met Viv, and started to build a relationship with her, he was going to go all over that house and property, looking for a rational explanation.
And he was going to explore the family’s background. He picked up the phone to call his researcher, Dena.
One thing he knew for sure: if that child was genuinely hearing a man’s voice in her room, he was going to get to the bottom of it.