“Damn, I’m sorry. Did you get back to sleep afterward?”
He shook his head. “No, but she’s up to speed. We’re waiting to see if the police will release a cause of death to the public.”
The edge of the couch by my knee had a loose thread, and I pulled on it just enough to get the thread wrapped once around my index finger. “I can’t believe Casey is dead. How will we solve the case now?”
I’d never get the interview that Delaney had sent me here to get. Also… Casey was dead. Like dead, dead. It was weird. I’d never seen a dead body so up close before. Not since my grandma’s funeral when I was in eleventh grade.
A little more of the couch thread gave way, and I wrapped it around my index finger a second time.
“I know I’m delirious from… everything, but what if a ghost really did it?” It seemed they were everywhere in the city.
Reed lifted his left eyebrow at me as he waited for me to say more, but that was all I had. “It’s a weird coincidence, but you don’t really think a ghost killed both Lisa and Casey.”
“No.” Of course not. That would be crazy. We’d learned that ghosts were normally tied to people and places. “But what if Casey killed Lisa and she killed him for revenge?” It sounded plausible.
The thread wrapped around my finger again and I had to adjust my position because I’d pulled so much loose. Shit. That couldn’t be good. What if I took apart the entire couch?
“The detective said Casey was a suspect,” Reed said, unaware of my thread-pulling situation.
I gave it a jerk, hoping to rip it free, but the thread held strong, only coming loose from the couch. “So, you agree, the idea has merit?”
“No,” he blurted.
I slunk in my seat and gave the thread another quick jerk. This time it snapped, and I quickly undid it from my finger, letting the piece fall to the floor. With the detective’s prime suspect dead and me with no new clues or leads on either case, I had to be the worst investigator ever. Maybe it was time to throw in the towel and call it a day?
Or not, since the detective told us not to leave town.
Reed patted my leg. “I’m going to grab us a quick meal from the Pirate House. You want that salad again?”
I nodded. “Can I have the remote while you’re gone?” I was in no mood for the news.
He tossed me the remote and headed for the front door. “Make sure and stay here this time.”
“Scout’s honor,” I said and saluted with the remote to my forehead.
Reed opened the door and stopped without going outside. The air changed in the space, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
“What? What happened?” I asked and found the energy to jump off the couch.
He backed inside with something in his hand and slammed the door. “Stay there.”
15
Reed stepped back from the door, giving the lock a casual flick with his wrist. In his hand, he had a ripped piece of newspaper. From the size of the photo, it seemed like the front page. He laid it on the table and I left my spot on the couch to stand next to him, reading the thick block lettering written with a black marker.
Go home!
“That’s specific,” I said.
He nodded while bringing out his cell phone to snap a photo of the threat.
Wait. Was it a threat? They hadn’t given us any “or else.” Go home or what?
“What do you think it means?” I asked as he typed something into his phone.
He tapped a finger on the table beside the paper. “It means someone is not happy with what we’re doing here.”
Hmm. That’s what I thought but hoped I’d been wrong. Who else knew why we were here and wanted us gone? The person who killed Casey? The person who killed Lisa? Or the person who killed both of them?
