“Don’t worry about me,” Blue assured him. “I’ll find a place up my dress to hide a weapon. Do you really think this guy’s the killer?”
Wyatt tossed the bag of popcorn into a small wastebasket beneath his desk and dusted off his hands. “Based on the dialogue we had, I think he is. The last email he sent Penny was after she gave him her phone number, and we don’t have access to her text or recorded messages because she didn’t use a cell. Some people can’t let go of landlines.”
Shepherd cracked his knuckles. “Did you look at the phone records for a list of incoming and outgoing calls?”
“He had a shield on his number. In most cases, caller ID will show unknown or whatever, but the records with the phone company list the number. Because of how most of us get our phones and operate them, we’re able to cloak our privacy. I bounced a few ideas back and forth with John, but I’ve got nothing. If she knew his number, she either put it to memory or wrote it down.”
Blue gripped the edge of her stool between her legs. “It’s too late to fly back to Washington now. But if this Romeo turns out to be a dead end, we’ll have no choice but to search her house again.”
Shepherd pulled out a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Who the hell’s John?”
Wyatt wiggled his fingers in front of his face. “John.And no smoking in Wyatt’s World.”
Shepherd rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t believe everything they say. I heard they’re tricksters. If I were dead and stuck in limbo, I’d probably be fucking with everyone’s head too.”
“If you ever die, stay away from me.”
Shepherd grinned, and it was wolfish. “You’ll be the first person I hunt down and tuck in at night.”
A chill danced up Wyatt’s spine. Shepherd Moon was just the sort of guy who would do something like that. He looked like a hardened criminal, and the worst of it was that Wyatt didn’t really know much about what made him that way. Shepherd didn’t open up to people, and everyone kept their skeletons locked up tight. Keystone was a chance to start anew—a place where no one would judge you for your sins or pity your circumstances. And Wyatt knew all about digging up old bones. He didn’t have anyone left in this world, not even his nine sisters. Sometimes it was best to let the past stay buried.
A burst of movement flew into the room, and Wyatt nearly fell out of his chair. John reminded him of Bluto from Popeye—without the beard—because of his muscles. It was a funny thing. The dead were separated from their bodies, but they still held on to the image of themselves. Occasionally those who died old would flicker back and forth between their younger and aged selves.
“I saw him,” John said.
“Him who?”
“Huh?” Blue asked.
Wyatt waved his hand. “Not you.”
John began pacing back and forth, and yet Wyatt could still see through him—enough to notice Shepherd giving him the stink eye from the sofa. He gave Wyatt a hard time about the spooks; he didn’t like it when Wyatt held conversations with them and ignored the living.
“Saw who?” Wyatt repeated.
“The man you’re looking for. I saw him.”
Wyatt used his feet to walk his chair forward. “You saw the killer? The same one as the night in the parking lot when you hitched a ride in our van?”
“What did I just say?”
“Sometimes it’s easy to get times and places mixed up.”
John inched forward. “Do you want the info or not? I can’t guarantee I’ll remember it thirty minutes from now.”
“What’s he saying?” Blue asked.
Wyatt folded his arms. “Where did you see him?”
John jerked his thumb toward the door. “Downstairs.”
Wyatt blanched. “You saw the killer downstairs? Here?”
The tension in the room snapped like a live wire when Shepherd launched to his feet.
John raked his fingers through his wavy black hair. “Affirmative.”
Could he be mistaken?Wyatt stood up and looked at Shepherd. “Where’s Christian?”
