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“Yeah.” I brush hair out of my face and switch the subject because it would seem, by his tone, that he isn’t a fan of Cole’s. I’m not sure I am either, but I’d rather not have a conversation about someone I don’t even know. I’ve never lived in small towns, but the gossip in one is legendary, no matter where you live. “So, no one has lived in the house before me?”
I keep thinking about how I saw the silhouette of a man outside my shower curtain, and a thought occurred to me: What if someone lived here between Neil Wordon and myself and had a key to get in? It’s more probable than a ghost, as Tori suggested. She even texted me this morning to see if the ghost had scared me off back to Chicago.
He stuffs his hands into his uniform pockets. “Nope, just my brother.”
Quietly, I say, “I’m sorry for his passing.”
His eyes narrow ever-so-slightly, and I almost don’t catch the hostility in them. “He’s not dead. Just missing.”
I frown a little. “But I thought by the blood- I mean, the FBI -”
“I don’t care what they said. He’s not dead until a body is found.”
Wow.Denial much? I mean, I went to medical school. I know when a stain like that is too much to survive. Maybe he’s just so fond of his brother that he refuses to believe he’s no longer among the living. It makes me feel a little sorry for him, so I approach my next words carefully.
“So, if he’s not dead, where do you think he went?”
He shrugs. “Up and left is my guess.”
My frown deepens. “Just like that? No reason?”
Tipping his chin, he looks at me in a way that suggests I’m a little ignorant of their way of life. “Not everyone is fit for the small-town life, Ms. Adams.”
“Sure,” I murmur, again feeling pity for him that he believes his brother is still alive.
He cocks his head to the side. “Why do you ask if there has been anyone living in the house?”
I cringe a little. “You’re going to make fun of me.”
A small smile returns to his face. “Try me.”
My nose wrinkles. “I think it’s haunted.”
His eyebrows shoot up into the bill of his hat, and I instantly regret bringing it up. “Haunted?”
I wave a hand in front of me. “It’s nothing. Just some strange things. Petals, figures. It’s just weird.”
“Petals?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Random rose petals. I probably tracked them in or something.”
“Interesting,” he murmurs.
“Yeah. So, any advice to get rid of a ghost?” I ask with humor.
He wets his bottom lip and looks me dead in the eye. “Well, Ms. Adams, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that ghosts don’t exist.” He slides a hand out of his pocket and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Do you think you may be more prone to these kinds of thoughts because of what happened before you came here?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your parents' death,” he clarifies.
I slide out from under his arm. “You checked on me?”
He shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest. “I make it a habit to check out everyone who moves into town. I care about the citizens, you know. Need to know who to keep an eye on.”
And I’m the one paranoid?
After a moment of shock, I sigh. There’s nothing I can do about him researching me. I’m sure he’s not the only one, too. I suppose that comes with the territory of moving to a town that doesn’t even have a grocery store. “I can assure you that this has nothing to do with my parents passing away.”
