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He strode past me and I tried to make sense out of what just happened. Was he still dealing with accepting he was a ghost and had he lashed out in anger? But how was I at fault, and what had happened to change his demeanor from the despair I’d witnessed earlier to hard-core rage? I’d done nothing but help him, even when I didn’t want to, and he treated me like a piece of crap on the bottom of his shoe.
If he thought for one second I’d put up with his nasty attitude, then he had picked the wrong woman to haunt. No matter that I cared for him, the devil would look kind by the time I got through with him.
Chapter Six
Two nights had passed in a blur. We narrowed down the list of suspects to one, Cole Moody. Since the others turned out to be straight-up cops with no hint of trouble within their marriages, Zach and Kipp concluded they weren’t viable suspects.
“He’s married, two kids—one and five.” I read Cole’s file aloud as I sat in the front seat of Zach’s navy-blue Dodge Ram.
“Any reprimands?” Zach asked.
I glanced away from the file and looked at him. “Would you like to tell me where I can find that information?” He kept assuming I knew how to help him. Sure, I’d gotten a little quicker at finding the basics within the papers, but still, they were thirty pages deep with tons of information on them.
“Flip the page—halfway down.” Zach grinned.
I skimmed the pages and read for a moment. “No, nothing at all.” I sighed, glancing up at the two-story yellow brick home with a tulip garden lining the pathway to the front door. “Is Kipp ever going to come out of there?”
It’d been eight hours since we had started surveillance on Cole Moody. Kipp had gone into the home the moment we arrived and still hadn’t come out. Not to say I wasn’t opposed to Kipp’s leaving, it’d been the good part.
The past days had been a strain. At first I ignored him and returned his anger tenfold, but my resolve didn’t last long. Not only did my mind spin about my feelings for him, but he continued to give me the silent treatment and only answered Zach’s questions. He made little eye contact with me and I didn’t know what hurt me more, his lack of interest or my own interest in him.
The one ghost I didn’t want to ignore me did and the weight of everything had begun to take its toll on me. I was physically, emotionally and undeniably exhausted.
I dropped my head into my hands and rubbed my eyes. When I lowered my hands, I glanced over at Zach. He studied me intently.
“We haven’t had a chance to talk yet and I know something has been going on.” His gaze got all serious-like. “You need to give Kipp a break.”
I narrowed my eyes. “If you try to defend him for one second, I’ll castrate you.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” He laughed. “It’s just, try to understand what he’s been through. I take it from the way you’ve been acting the past couple days, he’s being a little harsh with you?”
“Harsh is too mild of a statement.” A complete jackass would’ve been more appropriate. “He’s barely said a word to me and I have no idea what I’ve done.”
Zach looked at the house before he returned his gaze to mine. “It’s not like Kipp to be petulant. If he’s behaving so harshly, something is bothering him.” His expression softened, as did his tone. “He’s been through a lot, try to remember that.”
Why did Zach have to be a voice of reason? Kipp had been killed, had earned the right to lash out because of it and be rip-roaring mad that he’d been stripped of his life.
So lay the problem, I kept forgetting he was a ghost. Something I needed to remind myself more and more as the hours trickled by.
I’d seen ghosts before who became angry about what happened to them, but the way he acted seemed personal. His anger appeared directed at me and after I confronted him, he didn’t deny the accusation. Not like it should have mattered since his ignoring me had been for the best anyway. You asked for this distance, remember?
“Fine, I’ll take his grumpiness, but if he says one nasty word to me, I’m outta here.” Zach nodded in understanding. I focused back on the file and forced myself to not think about the utterly irritating—simply delectable—ghost.
Another hour passed before Kipp melted through the chocolate-brown front door and strode toward the truck. I looked at the glove compartment and didn’t dare glance toward him. “He’s coming.”
“About damn time,” Zach exclaimed.
Kipp swept through the door and settled into the backseat. “I watched a wicked UFC fight in there.”
I repeated the line, not even wanting to acknowledge his presence, but my beating heart and sweaty palms were enough to tell me I couldn’t keep it up.
“You’ve been in there for eight hours,” Zach said. “What else did you do?”
“Cole slept, played with the kids, worked out, jerked off and made plans for tonight.”
“He did guy stuff,” I responded, still focused on the navy plastic in front of me. Kipp’s lax tone told me he remained in the mood he’d been in for days—nice to everyone else but me. I suspected if I looked back, I’d see the same pissed-off eyes staring back at me.
Zach shifted in his seat to look at the backseat. “Anything else stick out?”
