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Doc’s front door was unlocked. I deadbolted it behind me. Mr. Nyce and I had some shit to hash out, and I didn’t want to be interrupted until I was satisfied.
I strode through the empty front room, my boots clunking across the scarred wood floor, and headed down the short hall. A doorway to my right led to a bathroom. The one to my left opened into a small room lined with mostly-empty, wall-to-wall bookshelves. An overhead bulb was the only source of light, an upside down five-gallon bucket the only seat.
It was here that I found Doc standing next to a ladder that was attached to tracks in the ceiling and floor. He had a thick book open in his hands. His cargo shorts and T-shirt beach attire left a lot of olive skin available for admiring. The scent of his woodsy cologne teased my sinuses … and libido.
I leaned against the doorframe. “Hey, Doc.”
His forehead furrowed, he closed the book. “You should be home resting.”
“Good to see you, too.” I nodded at his book. “What are you reading?”
He held the book up for me to see. I read aloud, “Ghosts of Deadwood’s Past.”
Doc dropped it on an empty shelf. He stared at me, his jaw clenched, his gaze guarded.
“Anything about the Hessler family in there?” I asked.
“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.”
“I don’t.”
“In spite of what you told the police Wolfgang said about his sister haunting him, telling him to kill you?”
I shrugged and spun the copper head of one of the snaps midway down my dress. “The man murdered little girls, mummified them in his bathtub, and stored them in his root cellar. He was a Grade-A wacko. The voice he thought was his sister’s was probably one of the many in his head. You know, like thatSybilmovie.”
“You mean Dissociative Identity Disorder.”
The name rolled off his tongue too easily. My eyes narrowed. “Yeah, that.”
“So, in your theory, it was another personality in his own head that instructed him to kill the one he loved in order to quiet the voices?”
“Yes.” That sounded about right to me.
“Had he succeeded in taking your life, do you think he’d be free of the voices now?”
“Of course not.”
Doc rubbed his stubble-covered chin. The raspy sound filled the small room. “So, was this other personality encouraging him to commit suicide?”
“What do you mean?” I was going to need another latte to keep up with Doc if he pursued this subject much further.
“Well, would you say that Wolfgang loved himself more than anyone else?”
“Probably.”
“You two had only one date prior to last night, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So the chance of him actually falling in love with you after just one date is probably slim.”
My neck heated. “You may not realize it, but I can be pretty charming when I try.”
“You don’t have to try.”
I skipped over his comment. “Wolfgang told me when he saw my picture on my Realtor postcard, it was love at first sight.”
“You believed him?” His tone had a hint of incredulity.
