Hard Proof Page 2

  “Does she hate running this place that much?”

  The deputy shook her head. “I don’t think so. She’s been here for nearly fifty years.”

  Well, that was a puzzle, he thought as he scanned the menu. Not a bad selection for a place so small. Most of it could be cooked on a grill, another time-saver.

  “Any recommendations?” he asked Serrano.

  “Just about anything. In fact, everything.”

  He looked at her and she shrugged.

  “I’ve only been here six months,” she said. “Long enough to say I’ve never had a bad meal. Long enough to add that eating here, while delicious, makes your arteries cringe.”

  That was okay by Steve. He usually ate healthy stuff, but he didn’t mind going off the wagon occasionally. Else how could a man get a large rare steak? Or a really good pork chop?

  Or even some fries. He had a weakness for them.

  After they ordered, he eyed the deputy across the table. She didn’t seem all that eager to indulge in casual conversation, which was fine. Her eyes, however, actively scanned the room. Alert.

  When they were served, she with a burger, he with a steak sandwich, she sighed.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawks. I’m not freezing you, but I just don’t know what to talk about. How about business?”

  “Call me Steve.”

  One corner of her mouth tipped up. “I’m Candy. What are we supposed to do here?”

  “Well, I’m here for the next few weeks ahead of my production crew. I need to speak with the Castelle family, find out their whole story and gain some rapport with their daughter.”

  “Meaning?” She held half the burger in her hand.

  Steve took her cue and picked up part of his steak sandwich. “She’s only seven, Candy. Talking with a stranger won’t be easy for her. But I need her to tell me what’s troubling her, not what her parents think is bothering her.”

  She nodded, taking a bite out of her burger and dabbing at some escaped juice.

  “So that is one of my first goals. Second, I need to get in the weeds on any local lore that could possibly be related, and probably into some local history. I need to build a picture of what might be going on here.”

  She nodded, then snagged a fresh napkin to wipe her mouth again. “And what will you do with this picture?”

  “It’s my hope to find some banal answer to the problem. To be able to reassure that family and the little girl that nothing bad is happening and they can ignore all this.”

  She blinked. “You don’t want a ghost?”

  “I’d really rather not. I hate it when I can’t come up with a better explanation.”

  “Wild.”

  For the first time he saw her face relax, as if she were letting go of an internal tension. One hurdle cleared, he thought.

  “But how can you make a ghost show without finding a ghost?” she asked, a perfectly reasonable question.

  He replied firmly: “My goal has never been to find ghosts. What I want to do is reassure terrified families who think they’ve reached the limit of plausible explanations. And if I can’t debunk the ghost idea, then I want at the very least to be able to reassure them they have nothing to fear.”

  “But couldn’t you just say that?”

  He shook his head. “They’ve already been saying it to themselves. If nothing else, they can see me do a complete investigation to assure them there’s nothing there.”

  “But how can you do a ghost show if that’s your purpose?” She repeated her question, and he sensed she needed more.

  He wiped his own mouth and leaned forward a bit. “Because I’m doing a show about people who believe they have ghosts. I take them seriously.”

  * * *

  CANDY DECIDED HE might not be the con artist she expected. He had a different twist on the subject matter, or at least different from what she’d expected. Of course, if he was conning her, she probably wouldn’t know at first. Time to keep the radar up. Trust him? Trust didn’t come easily to her.

  But if what he said was true, then he wasn’t simply out to create a spectacle with a family and their problems.

  “Why does it have to be done on TV, though?” She hoped that didn’t offend him, because if it did the next few weeks were going to be tough.

  “It’s simple,” he answered as he reached for a home fry. “When I was a cop, I noticed a continuing uptick in the number of calls that people blamed on the paranormal. I couldn’t do anything except tell them they didn’t have a prowler, nobody was in the house, maybe they needed a plumber, and then I’d have to move on. The people were still afraid, and sometimes they’d call several times with the same complaint.”

  She shook her head a little bit. “That must have been frustrating.”

  “To some. It troubled me. These people weren’t getting any help from us, and we’re supposed to be able to help.”

  “Good point.” Partly, at least. There really wasn’t something a cop could do sometimes.

  He finished the fry and reached for another. “Anyway, after a while, on my off-duty time, I went back to talk to these folks and tried to work with them. What with one thing and another, this production company approached and offered me a series. I didn’t want to do it at first, but they made it obvious that I could do a whole lot more helping if I had the money for it and didn’t have another full-time job. I told them I would, but only if they weren’t expecting paranormal answers.”

  “And they agreed to that?” The notion surprised her. She wouldn’t have expected it.

  He tipped his head to one side briefly, an almost shrug. “They thought it would be an original spin. Three seasons later, I have to think they were right.”

  “It seems so.” Her appetite had returned in full force, and she looked down at the burger on her plate. It looked better now than when Maude had slammed it onto the table. Yup. She lifted it, ready to finish it.

  Candy felt, too, a whole lot better about what was to come. They continued to eat for a while before she asked, “Have you ever found a ghost?”

  “Not anything I’d take to the bank. I wouldn’t exactly mind if I found some good evidence, except that it would turn my worldview upside down and give it a good shaking.”

  She laughed, liking that. “It would for me, too.”

  Considering this assignment was going to be close to a month long, any positive she could find would help. It might be fun in more ways than just watching this all unfurl. Steve Hawks seemed to have a sense of humor, which made almost anything easier to deal with.

  She also had an inkling that the success of his show wasn’t entirely dependent on what he found, or the stories he told. No, he had charisma, the kind that would draw viewers along the paths he wove with his storytelling.

  A unique kind of storytelling, she suspected. Unlike some of the ghost shows she had watched briefly, where a dash of history and a lot of “Did you hear that?” failed to tell a tale of any kind. Lots of supposition, little substance.

  “Are you a fan of paranormal shows?” he asked.

  “I stuck my toes in for a while. Curiosity. But I haven’t tuned in recently.”

  “You’re not missing much,” he admitted, then flashed the most charming grin.

  Damn, she could understand why people kept watching. She suspected his fan mail was positively steamy. She certainly needed to avoid that reaction.

  Pushing her plate to one side, Candy reached for her coffee. She was one of the lucky ones—or unlucky, depending—that caffeine didn’t keep awake. Sometimes at one in the morning she had wished it would.

  * * *

  “WHAT ABOUT YOU?” Steve asked. “You said you’ve been here only six months?”

  She nodded. “Army. Discharged over a year ago.”

  “Army, huh?” He felt surprised, though he couldn’t say why.
Maybe because he’d thought she’d been a cop for a long time, like him. “What did you do?”

  Then he saw her face harden, her eyes grown distant. For several beats she didn’t answer, and when she did her voice sounded tight.

  “Too much.”

  He let it drop, intuiting that there were memories she didn’t want to revive, and he didn’t want to push her there.

  His view of her altered, however. She had a background that only someone who’d been there could ever fully understand. His work as a cop didn’t come close. How could it?

  He wasn’t an insensitive man. His ability to empathize had often caused him difficulty in his own work. Cops didn’t like to talk about it, but most had strong feelings when it came to victims and their families. Some cases even became downright personal. First responders could rarely stay detached no matter how hard they tried.

  To that extent, he understood how memories could ride your thoughts or become buried until they surfaced suddenly in a nightmare or were resurrected by another situation.

  He sought safer ground. “How do you like working here?”

  Her faint smile returned as if she had swept something aside. “So far, so good. People are great, the job is mostly routine. I’ve still got a lot to learn, obviously, but everyone in the office is being really nice about my inexperience.”

  “Sounds like a good group of people.”

  “The best. I’m filling some big shoes, though.”

  He arched a brow and resisted the urge to eat another home fry. But why? he asked himself. Why not have one? He helped himself. “Whose shoes?”

  “My predecessor. She was with the department for over two years, then left to follow her Army husband to his post.”

  “Not a very liberated thing to do.”

  Candy laughed. It had been the right note to hit.

  Then she answered. “On the surface, maybe not. But she found another police job, and I can understand why she wants to be close. They hadn’t been married for long.”

  “That does make a difference from what I’ve seen.”

  Now it was her turn to look quizzically at him. “Never tried it?”

  “Me? Not yet. I’m like a ton of bricks. Someone will need to knock me over.”

  “Maybe with a feather?”

  He liked that. “Absolutely with a feather. Make easy work of me.”

  He drew a chuckle from her and decided they were moving to comfortable ground.

  “What do you need me for?” she asked.

  “Any difficulties that might come up when we start filming. Not from people so much as the authorities around here. I need to know if we’re getting out of line. Toes must not be stepped on.”

  Candy nodded. “Anything else?”

  “Smoothing introductions so people don’t see me as a suspicious stranger. Any advice you can give along the way about where I should look or who I should talk to.”

  “Reasonable.”

  Maude made another banging round and refreshed their coffee.

  “Amazing,” Steve murmured, looking down.

  “Good food,” Candy answered. “From what I understand she’s always been like this, and her daughter Mavis is doing a good job as copycat. Anyway, I think folks have been used to it for a long time.”

  He could see that, but being an outsider he wondered if he’d ever get used to it. It was a slightly disturbing punctuation to a meal.

  He’d been a people watcher for much of his adult life, though. A bit of a character collector. He added Maude to his mental file.

  Candy cradled her coffee mug as if warming her hands. “What do you need a deputy for? Wouldn’t someone else be in a better position?”

  “Evidently not. We contacted county and city officials and they referred us to you.”

  Another smile flitted across her face. “Cowards.”

  He grinned again. “Most politicians are.”

  A while later, after Steve had overindulged with a piece of the best peach pie he’d ever tasted, they parted ways outside, agreeing to meet at the sheriff’s office at nine the next morning.

  He started walking back to the motel, then decided a little more local atmosphere would be good. It was almost Halloween, and the pumpkins and pretend ghosts drew him. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he began a lazy stroll more to see the way the town looked than to admire uncarved pumpkins.

  There were old enough neighborhoods where he came from, but they weren’t entire towns like this one. He imagined roots around here, deep as the largest tree, tying everyone together.

  Very cool. He liked it.

  * * *

  BEN WITTES SAW the stranger as he was walking past the Conard County Sheriff’s Office. His interest perked immediately.

  He wondered if this guy was the ghost show host who was rumored to be coming to town. Maybe so.

  As a psychic, Ben thought he might be able to help the guy out. After all, he was able to communicate with spirits. He did it all the time.

  Go for it, whispered one of the spirits. Maybe his guide.

  Yeah, he’d go for it. He could provide information that they’d never find for the show.

  Now all he had to do was wait for the opportunity.

  Smiling, Ben continued his stroll, feeling pretty good. This was his opportunity to make a splash with his skills.

  Chapter Two

  In the morning, Candy looked out her window at a perfect autumn day. While she loved sunshine as much as anyone, the low scudding clouds, dark with their hint of a threat, were appealing given the season.

  She laughed quietly at herself as she donned her uniform for another day on the job. She really did like it here, and the longer she stayed, the more she liked it.

  Just last evening, after her dinner with Steve Hawks, she joined some women at the library for their book group. They met once a week for discussion, and those meetings turned into a lot more than book reports. Laughter filled their room, someone always brought baked goods, and they wound up talking about families and sometimes jobs.

  She had started to make friends. A good feeling, especially when she was still easing her way into this new job and new town. Everyone at the office was friendly, but it wasn’t the same, not when she felt she was under a microscope. Superficially that didn’t seem true, but she couldn’t help thinking it. It wasn’t as if she had any prior experience in the police.

  Candy was still surprised that she’d been hired. She’d been bouncing around since her discharge, aware that infantry training and combat experience weren’t exactly marketable skills. Some private security firms had wanted her, but deep inside she’d felt, maybe mistakenly, that she would become a mercenary. A soldier for hire.

  Then, taking a flier, she had applied for this job when she read about it in the classifieds online. Six weeks later, after an interview, she’d been hired.

  Yep, that amazed her. When she expressed her astonishment to the sheriff, Gage Dalton, he’d laughed. “It’s kind of a tradition around here. We already know you’re brave, able to work in teams and trainable. We can do the training.”

  Maybe she’d found her place.

  She popped out to walk to work. She liked the weather, she liked the nip in the air. Uncarved pumpkins didn’t exactly look cheery in this light, nor did the lack of Halloween lights. For now, the street was not lined with bright pops of orange. A dismal but gorgeous day.

  Candy closed her eyes momentarily and smelled the air, listening to the sounds as a breeze brushed more dying leaves around. Perfect.

  Yeah, perfect for a ghost hunt. She grinned into the chilly breeze, wondering what the days ahead held. For the first time in years, anticipation didn’t bring dread. Her internal pressure valve had begun to release.

  She was still smiling when she reached the office. Guy Redwing, a friend
ly dude, sat behind the duty desk and greeted her pleasantly. “How’s it going, Candy?”

  “Just fine,” she answered, then waved to Velma as she passed her. The coffee urn usually held battery acid, but there was a pot of hot water and plenty of tea bags. A foam cup filled with English breakfast tea was only a few minutes away.

  The office appeared empty this morning, and she returned to Guy with her cup, asking, “Something going on?”

  He shook his head. “No coffee klatch this morning. There was apparently a lot of vandalism last night.”

  “Really? There hasn’t been much since I got here.”

  He snorted. “You haven’t been here long enough. Halloween brings out something crazy in the kids. Anyway, the vandalism isn’t usually earthshaking. Mostly egged cars, some spray painting of scary faces at the schools. So far I haven’t heard that they’ve sprayed anybody’s house.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  “If we catch some of them, they’ll get a workout with deck brushes.”

  She thought that sounded like a great idea, better than fines or suspended sentences.

  “Oh, yeah,” Guy added. “Did I mention at least two houses have been toilet-papered?”

  “At least?” Candy sat in the chair beside his desk, holding her tea in her hand.

  “Yeah. At least. And there may be more before we move into Thanksgiving season. Anyway, I’m sure we haven’t gotten all the reports yet.”

  “That toilet papering has to be miserable to clean up.”

  Guy flashed a wide grin and mimicked an evil laugh. “Not if we find the perps. The nice thing about kids this age? They don’t know when to shut their mouths. I’m sure we’ll start to find them bragging online before long.”

  Candy had to chuckle even though apprehension began to niggle at her. Steve Hawks would appear at any minute and, even after their dinner last night, she still wouldn’t trust him any farther than she could throw him. He’d made a reasoned case for what he was doing, but he was still here and still about to put a family’s fears on television. And to make money from it.