“You could shower here.” Her long lashes fluttered over her seductive blue eyes. “Things were just getting revved up.”
He let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. We probably shouldn’t have done that. Very unprofessional of me, and I have some work to do.”
“Oh. Okay.” The hurt and disappointment etched in her crinkled brow was undeniable.
Teenage romance never lasted.
You’re not a teenager anymore.
I’m certainly acting like one.
He blinked. Not only was he letting his hormones control his every move, but now he was talking to dead people. God, he hated Halloween.
He took in a long breath, trying to clear his mind, except he got a good dose of Courtney’s sweet aroma instead. “Lay off the ghost stories, okay?”
Courtney frowned. “They’re not stories. And I bet you never asked my grandmother to stop telling them.”
He looked out to the night sky as if the stars held all the answers to the universe. “She was a nice, old lady who missed her husband. No one took her seriously. But you.” When he turned back, the pain in her blue eyes was replaced with daggers filled with poison directed right at his heart. He swallowed. “Look. The kids all believe you, and the parents think you’re kind of nutty.”
“Really?” She wrinkled her nose like she’d done as a teenager when she didn’t get something but tried to pretend like she did. It was cute then, and damn sexy now. “No one believed Grandma?”
He pulled her into his arms for a harmless hug. “I know it must be weird to live in a house where someone died.”
She shoved him away. “Actually, it’s quiet comforting. My grandparents are with me whether you want to believe it or not. Grandma still talks incessantly, while Grandpa merely grunts and tells her to leave me alone. They walk the halls because they haven’t yet done what they need to.”
The wind swirled outside, and somewhere inside Courtney’s house a door slammed.
He jumped. “I should go check that out.”
“It was Grandma. You pissed her off.”
For a brief moment, he wondered if the cocoa had gone right to her head. Or to his since he could almost hear her grandmother giggling somewhere in the recesses of his mind.
“I really should go check—”
She gave him a little shove. “Go home,” she said behind a tight jaw. “Thanks for your help tonight.”
“Good night, Courtney.” Her first name rolled off his tongue like a waterfall. Without looking back, he headed across the street to his dark and lonely house. “I’m not lonely. Horny, maybe. Lonely, no,” he muttered as he gave his door a gentle tap with his shoulder. “And there are no such things as ghosts.”
Right.
2
Owen tossed and turned, listening to the little voice reminding him that someone other than those pesky raccoons had been in Courtney’s garage. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t let it go. He’d be a bad cop if he did.
He threw back the covers, slipped into his jeans and T-shirt, and snagged a flashlight. He wouldn’t be doing his job if he didn’t listen to his instincts. Even if at this point, his instincts sounded like some little old lady begging him to watch over her granddaughter.
He stepped out into the cool North Dakota night under a blanket of stars. The frigid air stung his lungs as he jogged across the street. Once in her driveway, he twisted the top of the flashlight and started looking. For what? He hadn’t a clue. The burglar really didn’t have much of an MO. Just hit houses that were empty and unlocked. But there had to be some kind of clue out there, and it was his job to find it.
Carefully, he examined the entrance to the garage and noticed fingerprints below the handle. Well, not really prints, but smudge marks. He reached out and touched it before glancing at his finger. Some of whatever was on the door was now on his finger. He took a good sniff and chuckled before wiping the frosting off on his jeans.
Someone got to her cake before the raccoons.
He took a step back and reached for the door, placing his hand above the handle. He lowered his light to the ground and found clumps of cake and goo across the driveway. As he stepped into the grass, he found a few more small piles of the glop leading toward the trees lining her backyard and the forever wild woods attached to them. It all made perfect sense. One of the neighborhood kids must have gotten into her freezer, realized his mistake, and then decided to bring on a decoy.
At least that is what he would have done in his younger days.
A branch snapped from somewhere behind him. His body went into full alert as he reached behind his back for his weapon.
You know its Courtney. You sense her. Smell her.
For all I know it’s the boogeyman, he thought.
No such thing. Just us ghosts.
Right.
Slowly he turned, pistol drawn. The door to the garage flung open at the same time the light over the garage momentarily blinded him. He blinked a few times but kept his focus on the fleeting shadow carrying a metal weapon.
“I’ve called the cops,” Courtney said.
Immediately, he released his finger from the trigger. “Jesus. I could have shot you. Now shut that damn light off.”
“Owen?”
“No, it’s the boogeyman.” Darkness once again took over the night. He flicked on his flashlight and shined it at her. “What the hell were you thinking coming out here?”
“I heard noises. Again.” She had the phone in one hand and a knife in the other. “I could have stabbed you, you big oaf.”
“Oaf?” He shook his head. “You still got 9-1-1 on the line?” he asked, rubbing his gut. The twelve-inch blade she carried could do some serious damage.
“Actually, it’s your answering machine. What the hell are you doing out here? You scared me to death.”
“Sorry.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, but once again, the temperature
