She pulled up to the gate and pressed the button. After she gave her name, the gate opened, and she drove down the long drive.
The yard was lush and green. The old sprawling oak trees were so enormous that one person couldn’t even put their arms around their trunks. The hedges were all the same height. The house at the end of the circular drive stood three stories tall and sprawling in white concrete with Grecian style columns running the length of the porch.
Rosalind’s Jag was parked behind a black town car with deep tinted windows. Ryley parked and slipped out, lifting her gaze to the second floor. A teenager was standing at the window watching her.
One day, he’d be the owner of this house, and he’d stare at unwelcomed guests and learn the scowl his ancestors had mastered through the ages.
The door opened, and Rosalind stepped out with the same man in the picture with Kitty. Instead of the tuxedo, he was dressed in a suit. His hands were inside his pockets, and his face, no matter how he was trying to appear relaxed, held a bit of tension beneath his strained smile.
Ryley approached, leaving her bag in the car.
“Ryley. I’m so glad you could make it,” Rosalind said.
“Of course,” Ryley answered.
“Ryley, I’d like to introduce Christopher Lynch. Chris, this is Ryley, the woman I told you about.”
Christopher offered Ryley his hand, and she took it, holding his gaze.
He gestured to the door. “Please come in.”
Rosalind led the way to a sitting room just off of the main entryway.
The room looked straight off the pages of the rich and famous magazine. Strategically placed beige couches. Framed photos and crystal candlesticks decorated the mantel over a fireplace that dominated the far wall.
Christopher went straight to the liquor cart and made a drink. “What’s your poison, Ryley?”
“I’m fine. I have to be to work in a few hours.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “What is it you do?”
“Bartender,” Ryley answered.
Christopher turned with a wine glass in his hands and offered it to Rosalind, and he’d poured himself a bourbon.
He took a seat next to Rosalind and sighed. “I appreciate you coming, Rosalind, but as you can see, Phillip and I are holding up just fine.”
“Is Phillip the teen upstairs?” Ryley asked.
Christopher’s brows knit.
Ryley pointed to the ceiling. “He was watching me from the window.”
Christopher’s shoulders relaxed, and he sat back in the chair. “He’s holding up as well as can be expected.”
“One day he’s going to have to deal with those emotions,” Rosalind said. “Isn’t that right, Ryley? You know from first-hand experience.”
Ryley nodded; unsure what story Rosalind had told the family to explain why Ryley was there. “I lost my mother when I was about his age. It can be a tough time when the realization hits home.”
“Yes, well. Kitty went from staying home all the time and not wanting to be disturbed until about the last six months. It seemed she’d had more important things than her family to attend to. She’d never be mistaken for parent of the year.”
“Takes one to know one,” a voice said from the entryway, earning everyone’s attention.
“Phillip,” Christopher said and rose from his seat. “Would you like to join us?”
He stood leaning against the doorframe. An air of aggravation rolled off the teen.
“No.”
“Great,” Ryley said, rising to her feet. “Maybe you can show me around.”
Phillip's eyes narrowed. “What are you, a child shrink?”
“Nope,” Ryley said. “Bartender. Remember? Just curious to see how the other half lives.”
Phillip glanced to his father. “Trust me, lady, run the other way.”
“Phillip,” Christopher growled. “Do not speak to my guests that way.”
Phillip walked off while his father was in mid-tirade, following him.
Ryley turned to Rosalind. “What did you tell them my reason was for being here?”
“I told him you were a private eye and could help on the case.”
Ryley’s mouth parted. “Why would you tell them that?”
“Well, you are a private eye. Only the ones you’re after are of the supernatural kind.” Rosalind sipped her wine.
A coldness surrounded Ryley chilling her to the bone and reminding her they probably weren’t alone. The ghosts that liked to stay out of sight were more times than not, the hardest to send into the light. Ryley’s gut told her it wasn’t because Kitty was shy. It was a tactical move watching the prey until ready to pounce.
Chapter 20
Christopher Lynch returned to the room, running his hand through his hair. “I apologize for his behavior. When he lost his mother, he seems to have lost his manners.”
“It’s not a problem. When I lost my mother, I was ten times worse than that.”
“Yes. Well.” Christopher retook his seat and picked up his glass again and took a long swig. “Where should we start?”
“Tell me about your wife.” A sudden chill surrounded Ryley yet she refrained from rubbing her arms.
“When we first met, Kitty was an amazing woman. We married a year later with a big wedding. We were happy for years until one day, we weren’t.”
“What do you suppose happened?” Ryley asked, not wanting to let on that she’d read Kitty’s file.
“I assume it was due to me being home less often. I had late meetings to close deals. I guess I didn’t show her the attention she needed, so she sought it elsewhere.”
Ryley clasped her hands together and bit her tongue from asking the question she was dying to ask. “Where did she start spending her time?”
“She found a new nonprofit to work at, and she helped in soup kitchens. She stayed busy looking for anything that would give her purpose.”
“She couldn’t find that in taking
