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I babbled on. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d worry, and I thought he was just a random burglar. Tristan tried to keep me upstairs while he went to investigate. And then…” My voice dropped really low. “When I was thinking of taking the tablets, he got angry and threw all the bottles on the floor.”
Dylan’s mouth pressed into a hard line, and his expression turned frosty.
“So, it was him.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me about this intruder? Emily… I—”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to worry. I know… I know that I worry you. A lot.”
“Yes. You do. You realize he’s dead. This boy.”
“Of course. But it’s nice to have a friend.”
Dylan ran both his hands through his hair. This was not a good sign.
“That’s who the fourth candle was for? At the church in France?”
“Yes.”
“That was thoughtful.” He shook his head as if trying to understand all I’d told him. “Emily, I’ve been thinking all night whether I should sell the house, find an exorcist. I don’t know. I’m not happy knowing the house is haunted.”
I gasped, panic tightening my throat.
“No. Please, no. Honestly, Tristan’s harmless. Please believe me.”
Dylan’s brow furrowed with worry. “I don’t know.”
“Please. I couldn’t bear it if we moved. I’m only just getting used to being here.”
“What do you know about the guy who tried to break in?”
Oh no.
“Emily!” Dylan said in warning. “Don’t hold out on me now. I have to protect you and Lulu.”
He was right, of course. “His name is Pete Webster. He was convicted of murdering Tristan. But he escaped while on remand. Though Tristan doesn’t think he did it.”
Dylan’s eyes widened. “This just gets better and better, doesn’t it?” he muttered. “If this Webster was convicted, why does this ghost think he didn’t do it?”
“I don’t know,” I said quickly. Too quickly, but I didn’t want to have to explain Tristan’s ability to read thoughts and feelings. The For Sale signs would be outside the house at lightning speed if Dylan knew.
“Okay.” Dylan eyed me with speculation. “So why has this Pete Webster returned?”
I shrugged. “He fled to Spain, but now he’s back and Tristan thinks he’s after something in the house. He used to live there on and off—when it was a squat. Tristan lived there, too, at the same time.”
“That’s why you asked me if someone had died in the house. I was baffled by that question for days. He died there?”
“He was attacked there. He died in hospital, I think.”
“That’s terrible.”
“I found an article from the Chiswick Chronicle that talks about Webster’s trial.”
“I’d like to read it. Is there anything else?”
“I don’t think so.” I desperately racked my brain for some morsel of information that would keep Dylan satisfied.
