“Well, count me in on the order.”
“Noted.”
“So, will this librarian be helpful for researching about the kids?”
“Actually, yes. Edie Green is her name. She’s our historian and would probably know more than I do. And she’ll probably eat you up with a spoon.”
“Thanks. I think.”
I reached over and squeezed his thigh. “Tall, handsome—an author. Might as well put a little catnip in your beard.”
“Stop.”
I laughed. “She’ll definitely like the beard and ’70s hair you have going on. It’s her favorite era.”
He slumped down in his seat. “I probably should get all this cut off.”
“Don’t have to do it on my account.”
He arched a brow at me. “Is that so?”
“I always wanted to have my way with a musician or a poet. Author is definitely in the right wheelhouse.”
He laughed. “I’m definitely going to the barber.”
“Too late, Dutch. I already had my way with you.”
A smile tilted at the corners of his lips as he drove, and I considered it a win.
I gave him directions. The library, town hall, and courthouse were all situated in a cul-de-sac with a large garden in the center with bronze statues of the kids who’d gone missing. Now they were playing in perpetuity.
Dutch hopped out of the truck and instead of going to the library, he and Mouse crossed to the park. A large plaque gave the names of the five children along with a newer addition to the display where other missing children had been added over the years.
“Twenty-seven,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t realize there were so many.” I leaned against him as we both read the limited information we had about the original five.
Dutch smoothed his hand over the embossed letters. I covered his hand and felt the sadness under the fascination. He was locked down for the most part and the vibes I sometimes picked up on people rarely happened around him.
“Why do you write horror?”He glanced over at me.He was about to answer when I curled my fingers around the widest part of his hand. “The real reason.”
“Fear brings out the truest emotions. And the fine line between monsters and people make for a story I can’t resist telling.”
If that was so, why was he having such a hard time writing?
I wasn’t sure if I had the right to ask him quite yet. We were in such a tenuous space between stranger and lover. I knew his body so well already, but I really didn’t know the man. And I wasn’t sure if the one he was showing me was the real Dutch or the one dealing with whatever anger and grief he’d packed and come to Haven with.
“Ready to meet Edie?”
“I’m not really sure.”
“Probably the correct answer.” I hooked my arm around his. “C’mon Mouse. Let’s introduce you to Miss Edie. She’s going to love you. And if you behave like a gentleman, I bet she’ll have treats for you.”
“Do you really think he understands you?”
I shrugged. “Fun to wonder.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met another woman like you, Phoebe.”
