Chapter Eighteen #2
Nate looked out the windshield, then back at her. “Are you sure it wasn’t . . .”
“What? The wind? An earthquake? On the floor several inches from the open cupboard, Nate. Right before we heard the noise, my cat howled. By the time we got to the kitchen, Midnight was scratching her butt.” Luna stared out the window.
“What did you do?”
“Freaked out. Miley slept in my room, with the door closed and the cat with us,” Luna told him.
“I don’t think I would have slept.” Just hearing about it would give him nightmares.
“We didn’t.”
As if to prove that, Luna yawned.
“And Miley’s okay with being there alone?”
Luna shrugged. “She’s asking a friend from work to come over. I doubt she’ll explore the attic or basement.”
He didn’t believe in ghosts, or anything paranormal. Those were the things of science fiction and movies. “There has to be an explanation.”
“Nana insisted there was a ghost. I thought it was the ramblings of an overimaginative, eccentric old woman.” Luna looked up. “Sorry I didn’t believe you, Nana,” she said to the ceiling of the car.
Nate glanced up. “Do you think she heard you?”
“Go ahead and laugh. You wouldn’t be if this had happened when you spent the night.”
Nate changed lanes on the freeway, somewhat surprised with the number of people on the road at four thirty in the morning. “Okay, assuming this is a ghost, why now? Why has it been quiet all this time?”
Luna looked his way. “Maybe it hasn’t. Maybe I just wasn’t paying attention.”
“What do you mean? Dishes on the floor of the kitchen isn’t something you can miss. Unless you have a three-year-old in a house filled with plastic toys and a toddler with a severe case of ADHD.”
“There have been plenty of times I wondered if Miley was home because the floor is creaking upstairs. Then she walks in the back door.”
“Old houses,” Nate explained away.
“That’s what I tell myself.” Luna shifted in her seat.
“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to do that from now on.
After Nana passed, when the deed was transferred over to us, there was a section in the property disclosure about the possibility of it being haunted.
Right beside that was a statement of ‘No known recorded deaths on the property.’ Apparently, answering these questions is a normal thing when you buy a house. Did you know that?” Luna asked.
“I did. I never gave it a lot of thought.” Now he would.
Luna was quiet for a minute. “There’re boxes of Nana’s personal things up in the attic. I’m pretty sure there were a few diaries or journals. I think maybe it’s time to read them.”
Nate saw her shiver and placed his hand over hers that rested on the console. “From what you’ve told me about your grandmother, it doesn’t sound like she would have left you the place if she thought it was dangerous.”
Luna offered him half of a smile. “I wish I’d paid more attention to what she said about the house before she passed.”
“And you think her journals might shed light on your ghost?”
“It’s worth reading to find out. It scared the crap out of us.”
He blinked and stared absently at the traffic on the freeway. “You can’t shoot a ghost.”
Luna shook before reaching over and turning up the heat on her side of the car.
When they arrived at the airport, Nate followed the instructions he received from Officer Kempski. Not only was the requested parking space better lit, but there were also cameras in several directions and it was close to a monitored entrance. The “Reserved” space was waiting for them.
They both exited the car, and Nate moved to the back to retrieve their suitcases.
“I feel like we were just here,” Luna said.
Nate set the car alarm and took a long look at his vehicle. “Why don’t you ask your nana to look over my car. I don’t need a new one.”
Luna nudged her shoulder against his. “Poke all the fun you want. She said she’d be around after her death, and I’m starting to think she is.”
It was Nate’s turn to look up. “We don’t want to walk home, Nana. Make sure it’s here when we get back.”
Luna rolled her eyes. “C’mon. I need a decent cup of coffee. Try not to spill it on me.”
There was the smile that he’d been thinking about ever since he’d left her side the day after the snowstorm.
The flight to Houston was bumpy, but rather uneventful.
Nate had assumed they’d get a little work done on the way. Instead, Luna leaned her head back as soon as they were seated and kept nodding off. When she shook herself awake, she looked to the man sitting beside her, next to the window, and struggled to stay awake.
Clearly the night before hadn’t lent itself to enough sleep to make it through their busy day.
Nate took the sweater she’d set in the seat beside her, rolled it up, and placed it on his shoulder between them. “Here,” he said. “Get some sleep.”
She didn’t argue. And within five minutes her breathing had slowed, and her head was heavy on his shoulder.
He leaned in and caught the scent of her hair.
Lavender.
He’d have a hard time seeing those flowers in the future without thinking of her.
Nate leaned his head back and looked at the woman sleeping on his shoulder.
It was going to be a long three days.
Directly from the rental car company, Luna and Nate headed to Joel Mercier’s offices in Houston.
The solid hour and a half of sleep Luna had managed on the plane did wonders for clearing her mind.
She should probably be embarrassed for drooling on Nate’s shoulder.
She wasn’t. And she wasn’t exactly sure why.
Those thoughts and that of pots and pans . . . and kitchen floors were for another time.
The two of them had a lot of work to do if they were going to get back on a plane early Saturday morning.
The only person who knew they were coming was Joel Mercier himself. Marcus had vetoed the two of them showing up completely unannounced.
Though according to Marcus, Mercier agreed to keep their arrival unannounced and only explain their purpose at a morning meeting.
Luna felt her spine growing taller and her shoulders squaring off as the two of them walked into the building.
She and Nate stopped at the reception desk.
“Good morning,” Nate started. “We have an appointment with Joel Mercier.”
The man behind the desk lifted his chin and clicked into the monitor in front of him.
“Your names, please.”
“Luna Canning and Nate Warren.”
The receptionist clicked a few buttons. “I don’t see your names on the list.”
“That’s a good sign,” Luna said under her breath.
“Please call his office, I assure you we’re here at his request,” Nate said.
Luna stepped away from the desk and took in the lobby around her.
The ceiling had to reach forty feet with walls made of glass. The lobby had exactly three colors. White, silver, and gray.
The Scandinavian-style furniture and sleek lighting hanging from cylinder pendants were the exact opposite of what you’d think of as an office in Houston, Texas.
“Someone will be right down to escort you up,” the receptionist informed them.
Luna smiled and Nate thanked the man.
“Not one cowboy hat to be seen,” Luna muttered when Nate turned back to her.
“From what I’ve read, all his offices look like this. No matter where in the world they are,” Nate said.
“That’s boring,” she said.
“Steve Jobs wore the same thing every day to avoid decision fatigue,” Nate told her.
She’d heard that before. “That makes a little bit of sense, but this? I mean, it makes sense for a hospital.” The sterility of it.
“Mercier does have pharmaceutical holdings. Maybe he was inspired.”
Luna chuckled.
“Mr. Warren, Ms. Canning?”
They turned when their names were called to find a slim, tall woman wearing a perfectly pressed skirt and suit jacket, her hair slicked back in a tight bun, and a polished smile.
“If you’ll follow me.”
Nate indicated for Luna to walk in front of him as they made their way to the office elevators.
The ride up was silent, and stepping out onto the executive floor was a mirror of what they’d seen downstairs.
They were led directly to Joel Mercier’s office, where the man stood behind his desk in anticipation of their arrival.
“Welcome,” he invited them in. “That will be all, Cynthia.”
With a nod, the woman who had escorted them in left in silence.
“Marcus’s dynamic duo,” Joel said as he circled the desk to shake their hands. “He speaks highly of you.”
“We appreciate his support. Luna Canning,” Luna introduced herself.
“Your reputation precedes you, Ms. Canning.” His handshake was firm and quick.
“Nate Warren.”
“I understand the FBI is missing out on one of their top investigators.”
Joel was quick to compliment.
“Thank you,” Nate said.
“Please, sit. Cynthia is informing my staff of an emergency meeting and directing their secretaries to reschedule their days. While she does that, I’d love to know why the cloak and dagger.”
Joel Mercier wasn’t a tall man and surprisingly didn’t have an ounce of a French accent as his name might imply.
Luna set her bag to the side and folded her hands in her lap.
“That’s easily answered for me,” Nate started. “Interviews with people who aren’t expecting them are less likely to be scripted or collaborated. Body language tells me a lot.”
Joel leaned against his desk. “Then you’ve found something?”
“As you suspected or you wouldn’t have hired Marcus,” Luna said.
Joel looked between the two of them, his head bobbing with a nod. “What do you need from me?”
“Access,” Luna said quickly. She pulled a packet of papers from her bag and handed them over. “I need these physical files placed in a room, and two of your newest accountants on staff. Preferably interns or new hires.”
“Why such inexperienced staff?”
“They don’t have loyalties to individuals yet. You’re the one they need to impress. I find that new graduates skim less and pay attention to details more.”
“I’ll have Cynthia make a call to HR to make the recommendations.”
“Thank you,” Luna said.
“And you, Mr. Warren?”