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  Steve straightened. “You know I try to debunk. That’s my main goal. What I want is for people not to be afraid.”

  “That’s why we called you,” Todd said. “If you can debunk this, we’re going to find a better psychologist. Someone needs to help Viv, and she’s become convinced there’s ghost in her room.”

  Steve frowned. Kids. They were incredibly honest about many things, and he didn’t think it was likely Viv was exaggerating her fear or making up the story. “Did you find any EMF?”

  Todd answered. “Some but not above a normal level. And no more in Viv’s bedroom than in the rest of the house.”

  Steve decided he had gleaned about all he could from this first interview. Maybe the most important thing had been observing the Castelles. They were genuinely concerned about their daughter. They weren’t exaggerating their claims, nothing about dark figures and black mists. They weren’t even claiming to be tormented themselves. A very focused investigation on their parts.

  “You’ve done well,” he told them. “I’m impressed.”

  Both parents looked mildly relieved.

  “Okay,” he said. “I may want to ask you more a little later, but I need to meet Viv. And the dog.” He smiled. “If you don’t mind, that is, but it’ll help me to hear from her what she’s experiencing and what she thinks is going on. To do that, I’m going to have to gain her trust so that she feels free to talk to me. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not!” Annabelle exclaimed. “For heaven’s sake, the entire reason we called you was for help. And one of the things we discussed was whether you could talk to Viv without encouraging her fears. We believe you can.”

  That was a big vote of confidence, Steve thought. A huge one. “When can I meet her?”

  “How much time do you need?”

  “As much as she’ll give me at our first meeting. It has to be fluid. She sets the boundaries. And where is the dog?”

  Todd smiled faintly. “Out in the back in his run.”

  “Can I meet him? Is he friendly?”

  At that, Todd laughed. “He’s so friendly he’d love a burglar to death inside our front door. Buddy would knock him over because he so big and kiss him until the burglar begged for mercy. We’re still trying to teach the dog not to jump on people when he wants their attention.”

  Steve grinned. “What’s the breed?”

  “Half American Staffordshire, and about half bloodhound.”

  “Big, then. Interesting mix.” But Steve glanced at his watch and realized the Castelles had been talking with him for the last three hours. “Listen, you two probably need some sleep, so I’ll leave you to it. Tomorrow you can tell me what was so awful about the last few nights, introduce me to Buddy and tell me when’s a good time meet Viv. Okay?”

  Ten minutes later, he and Candy were outside.

  Chapter Three

  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, fac
ing 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 to
wn 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.