“Would you like to go out to dinner instead of eating here at the house?” Kyle asked, watching me intently.
“Won’t your wife object?” The question just slipped out, but I was glad it had. I liked Kyle Walsh and found myself wanting to spend time with him. It was best to nip my attraction in the bud before I got hurt.
Kyle’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I’m not married, Nicole,” he said. “Where did—?” The question died on his lips as the penny dropped. “Did Len tell you I was?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
Kyle nodded. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of him,” he muttered.
“Why would he lie to me?” I asked, but I thought I could guess.
“Because it’s not difficult to see I like you,” Kyle replied, his cheeks coloring slightly. “And Len likes to make trouble.”
“Were you married before?” I asked carefully.
“Yes, but I’ve been divorced for over a year.”
“Who wanted to end the marriage, if you don’t mind my asking?” I inquired.
“Amy left me, but I’m not still carrying a torch for her, if that’s what you’re thinking. We simply wanted different things. She was quicker to realize that than I was. What about you?” he asked.
“I’m not married.”
“Attached?”
“Not anymore.”
“Dinner?” he asked, smiling in a way that seemed to release the butterflies in my stomach, their wings fluttering madly.
“Yes.”
“I’ll just tell Lisa we’ll be going out,” Kyle said. “Meet me outside?”
“Isn’t it a bit early for dinner?”
“Not if we want to go for a drive first,” Kyle replied, and left the room.
Chapter 38
Once Kyle and I got our drinks and placed our order, I reached into my bag and drew out the notebook.
“You found it!” Kyle exclaimed.
“To say that I found it is to imply that I’d lost it. Someone returned the book after I asked about it, and I think that someone is Alastair. What I can’t figure out is why he’d take it in the first place,” I said.
“The only thing I can think of is that the Prentisses don’t want you to write about their family history, but given that Alys Bailey was executed four hundred years ago, I don’t see why they should care.”
“Perhaps it would show the family in a bad light,” I mused.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to simply ask you not to pursue this project?” Kyle asked.
“Yes, it would, which is why I think there’s something more at play here.”
“Like what?”
“You’re the one who has a detective as an alter ego; you tell me.”
“Perhaps they’re hiding something,” Kyle said. “And the only person who might spill the beans is Brittany.”
“Will you talk to her?” I asked, hoping Kyle would help me out with this.
“If a thirty-something man suddenly corners a teenage girl and starts asking her awkward questions, said man might find himself in police custody,” Kyle replied, giving me a meaningful look.
“You have a point there. But what could Brittany possibly know? I can’t even think of what questions to ask.”
Kyle considered my dilemma, then rattled off several questions. “Why does she think Alys is haunting Lockwood Hall? Has she seen anything? Heard anything? Did she make the whole thing up to annoy her parents? Does she need to explain away strange sounds in order to disguise something she’s doing?”
I nodded. Those were all valid questions, but I had seen accounts of people who claimed the house was haunted by Alys Bailey. Brittany hadn’t made it up, but maybe she was using the old story to further her own ends.
“Brittany might be sneaking someone in, or going out herself,” Kyle suggested.
“You think?”
“What were you doing when you were her age?” he asked, smiling at me.
“Studying, mostly. I had a few girlfriends, but they were as tame as I was. Why? What were you doing?”
“Never you mind,” Kyle replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Do you think Brittany could be behind the theft of my notebook? I’m sure she could have taken the keys from her parents. Maybe she simply wanted to see what I’d uncovered.”
“I saw Brittany go out when we returned from the cemetery. I don’t think she was even in the house when your notebook was taken.”
“But you’re not sure. She might have returned before lunch.”
“She might have,” Kyle agreed, “but I just don’t think a seventeen-year-old cares too much about something that happened in the seventeenth century, at least not in the historical sense. I think she just likes to be spooked, hence her fascination with Alys. Actually, my money is on Lisa.”
“But why? She seems so—I don’t know—average.”
Kyle laughed. “Nicole, life is not a Disney film where the villain always looks evil and acts the part. Most people who commit crimes are quite average, and their faces don’t automatically reflect what’s in their hearts or minds. Just because Lisa looks like an average middle-aged woman doesn’t mean she’s not a criminal mastermind.”
I burst out laughing just as the server brought our starters. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I am, but her name wasn’t on any of the genealogical sites you checked. That could mean something.”
“Or nothing.”
“Or nothing,” Kyle agreed. “The fact is that unless you’re completely delusional, someone entered your room, helped themselves to your research, then returned it. It’s quite possible that they meant to return it the whole time but failed to do so before you noticed the notebook was gone. Whatever the case is, someone is awfully interested in this story.”
“Which is why I intend to write it,” I said, more determined than
