“All I did was trespass.”
I raise my eyebrows. “And that’s illegal.”
“But I can’t go to jail for it.”
I push him forward again. “Glad you know more than me. I’m only a lowly detective who didn’t study law enforcement in college before joining the police force.”
“Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Like find murderers? Yes. But it’s hard when this teenage boy keeps harassing me.”
“I’m not—you can’t.” He looks at me, face paling for real this time. “I could get in trouble for that.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
We go up the stone steps and Jared slows, looking at the posts where Gilbert and Thomas usually sit. I direct him to the living room and have him sit on the couch. One of the guys lands on the roof, hard and heavy and totally done on purpose.
Jared jumps.
I get my phone, but instead of calling this in, I grab that Memorial Day invite and call Jared’s father. His phone rings once. Twice. Three times before he answers. Jared’s dad has my number, but he still sounds startled when he answers.
“Hello, Richard,” I start. “This is Detective Ace Bisset from down the road.” I turn and look at Jared, enjoying the panic on his face a little too much. “I just caught your son sneaking around my house with a video camera and was hoping you could come get him.”
Richard sputters. “I’ll be right there. I am so sorry, Detective. I…I’m speechless. Jared is a good kid.” I hear keys jingling in the background. “He has a girlfriend. I don’t know why he’d film you. Not that you’re not attractive or anything. That’s not the point.”
Oh. Ew. His dad thinks Jared was sneaking around trying to get a shot of me naked or something. I wonder if the truth is comforting or concerning.
“Right. I’ll see you soon.” I hang up and turn back to Jared. He’s going through the footage he recorded. I hold out my hand for the camera. With a sigh, he hands it over.
“Why are you protecting them?” he asks as I delete what he recently recorded.
“Protecting who?”
“The gargoyles.”
Seriously, kid? “I’m not. Because I can’t. They’re just stone statues.”
“They were there, then they were gone. Then back again. And now gone again. You can’t remove them and put them back up over and over like that. It’s just not possible.”
He leans back on the couch and looks at me, arrogance lost. “I’ve lived out here most of my life. I’ve been past this house more times than I can count. And the gargoyles were always there.”
“Call me crazy, but people can redecorate.”
“Bullshit.”
“Watch your mouth,” I scold. “Or maybe I’ll change my mind and I’ll feel safer putting that teenage peeping Tom behind bars for the night.”
He swallows hard. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Darla’s seen them too. And she has nightmares about them. If you’re protecting them…I’m going to find out.”
Dammit. I want to hit something right now. Leave it to this stupid meddling kid to make me feel like the bad guy in Scooby-Doo right now.
“Listen,” I say, recognizing something in Jared that I see in myself. “If I’m strong enough to protect four ancient gargoyles who come alive at night, then I’m not someone you want on your bad side.”
Right on cue, one of the guys jumps down from the second-story balcony, and the sound of wings flapping echoes through the house. Jared jumps, twisting around to try and see into the dark room behind us.
The color drains from his face.
“You’re looking for something you’re not prepared to find,” I tell him. “I get needing to find answers and the compulsion to dig deeper. Trust me, I get it. That’s what I do for a living, after all. But this…the only thing you’ll be digging is your own grave.”
