13. Chapter 13
Erik
I drive past Wayward Hollow's main square, searching for a parking spot. It's time for my break and damn, do I need it. My mood is on a new low, my social battery didn’t even charge today. However, my hunger for one of Caleb’s pastries and a proper cup of coffee won over the introverted voice in my head telling me to hole up in my office and wait for the day to be over.
I got to bed late yesterday. Thoughts and memories kept me awake. Plus, a part of me was wondering if Kylie would call me again, but it appears that she's got a handle on her ghost.
Luckily, I find a spot right in front of Caleb's. Perfect. With luck, I’ll get in and out of there in two minutes.
"Hey, Erik." , former owner of Caleb's and today, a regular, greets me as soon as I open the door to the café. There go the two minutes.
Bobby is a stout man in his sixties. His gray hair sticks out in all directions, probably because they’re charged with static by his wool cap, currently resting on the counter in front of him. His cane is leaning against the chair next to him and he’s sporting his usual flannel shirt.
I force a curt smile on my lips and shake his hand. "Bobby. How's it going?"
Caleb greets me with a quick nod. He’s a man of very few words, the only one who gets me.
"Oh, all is wonderful." Bobby grins and takes a bite of what appears to be the last cinnamon roll, wiping icing all over his thick moustache.
Damn. I wanted one of those.
"Don't worry," Caleb says gruffly upon seeing my crestfallen expression. "I’ve got a new batch in the oven. Give it another..." He checks his wrist. "Three minutes and I'll get you a fresh one."
"You're the best," I say very seriously with a thankful nod.
"Hey!" Bobby exclaims. "Why didn't you tell me you had some in the oven?"
"Because you, let me quote, wanted a cinnamon roll ‘pronto.’" Without waiting for further complaints, he turns around to start my cappuccino. I lean my elbow against the counter, playing with one of the decorative acorns placed all over it.
"So, how's the investigation going?" Bobby asks, eyes drilling into the side of my head as if he’s trying to read my thoughts. “Caught the serial killer yet?”
"Who said it was a serial killer? You know better than to believe in rumors, Bobby." I give him a nudge with my elbow, then spin the acorn with a flick. "So, ongoing investigation and all, I can't tell you much."
Yesterday, Rick finally signed the case over to me officially.
He sounded very eager to hand the case off to me.
I, for one, am glad I don’t have to work on it with him.
Logan might have called and popped a champagne bottle in his office to celebrate.
Meanwhile, I was given the joyful opportunity of a handover meeting, which ran the entire morning and is the reason my mood is down the drain.
"Was it murder?"
I shrug. "Honestly, I don't know yet. I’m still waiting on a bunch of tests and people to have a look. Wait, what the hell are those for?" I eye two glasses on Caleb's counter.
"For the record, I have nothing to do with this. It was Lauren's idea," Caleb grumbles and sets a to-go cup down in front of me. A timer goes off and he disappears into the back.
"Half the town is taking part in a betting pool," Bobby explains with a chuckle and points at the glasses. "You write down your name and either put it in the ‘murder’ or ‘not a murder’ glass. Winning party gets a free coffee."
Huh. Now that I’m taking a closer look, the glasses have "murder" and "not a murder" written on them in swirly handwriting. I didn’t even notice.
"There are some smaller betting pools among those who are convinced it was murder. They’re betting on how it happened. You know, poison, gunshot..."
"That is so morbid." I roll my eyes and take the lid off the to-go cup to let the coffee cool while I’m waiting for my cinnamon roll.
"To be fair, not much more is happening here.
This is the most exciting thing to happen in Wayward Hollow in a while, isn't it?
Last year we had Nic's ex and sister hanging about, causing an uproar.
And this year, it's some bones." He claps his hands together.
"Exciting! Can we build some more mansions? The entertainment they’re bringing is worth all the complaints we had before they were built. "
"Hopefully this is not exciting at all, once I find out it was a natural death and nothing horrible happened here."
Bobby opens his mouth to object but is rudely interrupted by his former protégé.
"Here you go, Erik." Caleb returns with a still steaming cinnamon roll, puts it in one of his to-go containers that he doesn't quite close so the steam can escape, and hands it over in a paper bag.
"Perfect." I take a sip of my drink, burning my tongue, but I don't care. "Thanks, Caleb."
"You'll let us know once you find out, right?" Bobby shouts after me, but I pretend to not hear him over the sound of the bell above Caleb’s door.
I stop at my cruiser and put my coffee and pastry on the roof.
"Erik!"
I freeze, staring ahead. Why the hell is all of Wayward Hollow out and about today and wants to talk to me?
All irritation dissipates the moment I realize it’s Kylie. And Lauren. I turn around and find them grinning at me from the main square. They’re sitting on the lawn, a blanket spread over the fallen leaves, enjoying the sunshine.
"Are you on your break?" Lauren shouts, and I nod. "Cool! Come hang out with us."
Kylie nudges her with her elbow, and as drained as my social battery is, the temptation to spend time with Kylie is stronger. So I grab my cinnamon roll off the car roof and head over to them.
Halfway across the street, I notice the entire clique is there. Henry and Nic sit on a bench by the gazebo, Henry's husky, lies at their feet and is having a nap. Kieran and Dick are a bit further away, playing catch with a frisbee, and Abby seems hellbent on grabbing the disc before Dick can.
"Are you kidding me? He has fresh cinnamon rolls and he didn't tell me?" Lauren crosses her arms in front of her chest and purses her lips in a pout. "Some girlfriend privileges I have."
"If you run over there, you'll probably still get a warm one," I say and bite into mine.
I didn't feel like breakfast this morning, and it's this first bite that reminds me how damned hungry I am. Dealing with Rick, his ego and attitude sucked all the energy out of me.
I have the impression he's the kind of guy who wants to be in the loop on any and everything, yet forgets half the stuff you tell him. He didn’t even bother to remember my name and called me ‘Aaron’ the whole time.
I reckon he'd be a lot more successful if people didn’t dread working with him, but I’m only a small-town cop, what do I know?
“But if I run over now, I can’t complain about him not telling me about the fresh batch later.”
“Poor Caleb,” Kylie says and nudges Lauren with her elbow.
"How's the ghost situation?" I ask Kylie and take a sip of my coffee. A gust of wind blows hair into Kylie’s face, hiding her red cheeks until she brushes it behind her ear again.
"How cute, she's turning red,” Lauren squeals and pokes her cheek. “Yes, Kylie, how is the ghost situation going?"
"I think we're starting to become friends."
My hand stops with the cinnamon roll halfway to my mouth. She's talking about their budding friendship as though it's the most normal thing in the world.
This is messing with my head. Nic has talked about her ghost cat more than once, now Kylie’s house is haunted… is my un-haunted house the abnormal one?
"Yeah, whoever it is, they're pushing my pictures on the wall level.
They've closed cupboard doors for me, so I wouldn’t bang my head on sharp door edges," she enumerates and lifts a finger with each point, an adorable glint in her eyes.
"They also opened the door to one of my cabinets so Abby got into her food.
Which was kind of annoying, but Abby is a cutie, so I can kind of forgive them. "
She's giving more examples while I eat my cinnamon roll and wash it down with my cappuccino.
"I figured they don't like when I'm in the room I've declared my hobby space. So I'm leaving it alone and now it’s a friendly coexistence in the Kylie residence."
"Maybe their house used to stand there," Lauren wonders and taps her chin. "Sorry, but we're assuming the ghost is whoever the bones belong to, right?"
“Don’t look at me,” I say with a full mouth. “I’m not assuming anything.”
"It would make sense, though." Kylie shrugs and picks an orange leaf off Lauren’s jacket. "But how would I know? I can't talk to ghosts."
"No." Lauren's lips stretch into a mischievous grin. "But I might know someone who can."
Her eyes dart to the antique store. The decades-old sign is peeking between two treetops, so weathered the letters are barely legible
"Yeah, well, maybe some other time." Kylie shoots her down quickly. "The ghost and I currently have a truce. What if bringing a ghost whisperer upsets them and I’m right back where it started?" She shakes her head and visibly shudders. "I don't want to live with a poltergeist."
"Fair enough," Lauren mumbles and gets up. "Now I'll leave you two lovebirds alone and get myself one of those cinnamon rolls. They smell too good to pass up.” She points from Kylie to me with her finger. “Behave."
I almost spit out my coffee. Instead, it goes down the wrong pipe and I almost suffocate on twenty milliliters of coffee.
Lovebirds?
"Yes, Mom," Kylie says jokingly and watches Lauren walk off.
An awkward silence stretches between the two of us. She fidgets with the hem of her sleeve and I fight the urge to brush a stubborn strand of her hair out of her face.
"How are you doing?" I ask her instead, grabbing my coffee cup a little tighter. Aunt Molly’s words replay in my head. ‘She looked wistful’ is an awful reason to keep your distance.’
I kept rolling them over kept trying to find excuses to stay away from her, only to come up short.
The simple truth is: I don’t want to stay away from her.
I want to listen to her talk about her ghost, want to watch her turn the most adorable shade of red, want to watch her do absolutely anything as long as I get to spend time with her.
The cutest blush covers her cheeks, and she pulls the thick scarf she's wearing up to hide it.
"I'm doing okay."
The fact she won’t meet my eyes tells me she’s lying. "Really? I'm not talking about your ghost. You found a skeleton. It would upset anyone."
"No," she says quickly, eyes wide once she realizes how quickly the word came out. Her words are muffled by her scarf. I lean in to hear her better. Totally not to watch her blush deepen or to catch a little of her vanilla and honey scent.
"I don't know how to describe it. Maybe it sounds a little morbid, but I have watched so many true crime documentaries, it acclimated me to the concept? It was still shocking, but I'm not traumatized by it or anything. At least I don’t think I am."
"Well, if you ever need to talk to someone about it, my ears are open.” This stubborn strand blowing into her face is driving me crazy.
Before I realize I’m doing it, my fingertips are already on her cheek to brush it away.
She stares at me with wide eyes and I hate the way her scarf hides her agape mouth.
“And if you'd like to talk to someone else about it, we have some great recommendations at the precinct. Okay?" Slowly, I lower my hand.
"Okay." She nods and glances up at me with a dreamy smile. "Thank you, Erik."
"You are so welcome."
Suddenly a brown flash runs past us, then stops in its tracks. Before I know it, a very eager Abby jumps up my side, her paws digging into my jacket-clad arm. Thankfully, my cinnamon roll is already inside my stomach.
“Can I?” I ask her, not sure if she wants me to wait until her dog stops jumping me.
“You’re fine.”
"Okay perfect,” I hand her my coffee and lean down. “Hey, Abby."
I spend the rest of my break hanging out with her dog, drinking my coffee once Abby gets over her zoomies, and even manage some small talk with Kylie and Kieran.
Who knew all it would take for my mood to improve is a certain brunette who is becoming best friends with a ghost? And getting to pet a dog as excited to see me as Abby.
Before I know it, my break is over. Time to head back to the precinct, where I know a stack of boring reports are waiting for me to sift through.
I never thought there would be a day I'd hope for Michael’s cows to escape so he’d call me in for help.