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“Not anymore. I lived there with my grandfather until he died. Then it was the foster care system for a couple years.” I had no doubt Chief Garcia would be running a background check on me the second she returned to her office. I was mildly surprised she hadn’t already.
Her expression softened. “I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “I survived.” My experience as a foster kid was probably the reason I ended up choosing to hunt down lost heirs in London. I wanted people to find their remaining family members, to connect even after death. My special skills helped my success rate, of course. The last case I handled resulted in an enormous payout, the kind of money that allowed me to buy the Castle and live in solitude until I figured out my next steps. I knew the money wouldn’t last forever, though, so I was careful about my expenditures. The faster I spent my savings, the faster I’d have to rejoin humanity. I was happier alone.
“I’m starting to understand your desire to help Steven. Their parents died three years ago. Flash flood.” Frowning, she paused, as though remembering the horrific event. “Steven’s fairly responsible, but Ashley was at that age where trauma hits extra hard, you know?”
I knew.
“Bar fights. Petty theft. Nothing major, but all attention seeking.”
“Hard to get attention if you’re not around to reap the benefits.”
“My guess is she took a bus to New York City, and she’ll turn up in another week with a few wild stories and grateful to be alive.”
Something in her expression gave me pause. “You’re worried.”
Her expression was grim. “I worry about everything, Miss Clay. The environment. Human rights. The rise of neo-Nazism. I used to worry about the ozone layer, but that seems to have been resolved, thankfully.” She pushed herself to her feet. “It was good to put a face to the name. If you learn anything of interest, I hope you’ll pass it along.”
“I will.”
I waited until she got into her SUV and drove away to return to my truck. No need for a police escort home. I glanced in my rearview mirror for any sign of Anna, although I assumed the werewolf was long gone by now.
For six months I managed to evade the locals. Six months of just me and my toolkit and the occasional ghostly intrusion. Sighing with regret, I backed out of the parking spot and turned onto the road.
All good things must come to an end.
CHAPTER4
The next morning was hot and sticky, the kind of humidity I didn’t expect until August. My first clue was the dampness of the T-shirt and shorts I’d slept in. I’d have to figure out how to cool the house sooner rather than later. An air conditioner wasn’t feasible for a house this massive. I could buy single units for the rooms I occupied the most, basically the kitchen and the master bedroom. Of course, even single units didn’t come cheap, and I’d spent most of my savings to buy this fortress of solitude.
I washed my face with cold water and meandered downstairs to the kitchen for tea. There were just enough yogurt and blueberries for one more breakfast. A trip to the store was in order. I should’ve done it yesterday when I was in town. It wasn’t that downtown was far; it was that it was full of people, and I’d had more than my fair share of social interaction yesterday. Two trips into Fairhaven in as many days was pushing me out of my comfort zone. Pretty soon people would recognize me on sight; I didn’t need that, although they seemed able to identify me anyway as the one person in town they didn’t already know. And I was already headed to the library. Might as well keep driving east afterward.
The Fairhaven Public Library was situated at the quiet end of Main Street, away from the Delaware River and midway up the hill toward the Castle. The nearest neighbor was a bank that looked old enough to have been robbed when the getaway car was a stagecoach.
The parking lot bordered on empty. Perfect. I didn’t want anyone to overhear my questions, and I had a feeling the mere sight of me would draw eavesdroppers, depending on the rumor they might’ve heard.
The door opened automatically, and I approached the counter where a stout, middle-aged woman was busy typing on a computer. She wore her dark brown hair in tight curls.
I cleared my throat, prompting her to look up.
She pushed her cobalt blue glasses back to the bridge of her nose. “Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry. I was in the zone.” She offered me a cheerful smile. “Does that ever happen to you? Where you’re so fully in your head that it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist?” She knocked on the side of her head.
“Sounds good to me,” I admitted. “Are you Hailey Jones?”
“I am. You must be Lorelei Clay. I’ve got your library card ready for you.” She ducked behind the counter and popped up, holding a laminated card.
“How did you…? I didn’t apply for one yet.”
“Oh, I always prepare one in advance for anybody new. Any excuse to laminate.”
I accepted the card. She’d even spelled my name correctly, which I appreciated. “I need the latest James Patterson,” I said, temporarily thrown off guard.
Her eyebrows knitted together. “Okay, I wouldn’t have guessed that about you, but I can tell you where to find it.”
My gaze drifted to the stacks behind her. “I’d also like to see books with information on the town’s history.”
Her face lit up like the Fourth of July. “You’re a history buff?”
