Chapter 9
“Shit.” I hang up the phone and turn around.
“What’s wrong?” Hasan asks.
“Someone from work is stopping by for a minute so I can sign some papers.”
Thomas cocks an eyebrow. “And that’s bad?”
“No, but this person just happens to be the only person in the world who knows I inherited a house with four creepy gargoyles on it.”
“You think we’re creepy?” Gilbert retorts, faking offense.
“The creepiest,” I shoot right back, looking into his blue eyes. I wonder if he knows just how much I need him. He and Thomas both have this way of lightening the mood and easing my tension without even trying. They balance me out.
“But in all seriousness,” I say, “she’s going to wonder. I’ll just…I’ll tell her you were too creepy and I had you removed.”
“That hurts, Ace,” Gilbert goes on, pressing his hand to his chest. “But it’s believable.”
“I’m guessing you don’t want me to answer the door?” Thomas quips, flashing his cocky grin my way.
I laugh, tension leaving me. I’m so grateful for those two, and I want to make sure they know it.
“Maybe next time,” I say, shaking my head, and go back to the table. If Tiffany is coming from the station, we have some time. But she must have already been on her way, or was leaving from her house, because ten minutes later, she knocks on the door.
The guys go into the library, and I hope Tiffany doesn’t ask for a house tour. This place is impressive.
“Thank you so much,” Tiffany says when I open the door. She turns and looks at the bare spots on the porch steps. “What happened to your gargoyles?”
My gargoyles. I like the way that sounds.
“I didn’t like them. They were pretty creepy.”
Tiffany gives me an incredulous stare for a second before pulling the papers from her bag. She knows I don’t get creeped out. I like weird, and I don’t believe in anything paranormal.
Or so she thinks.
“This place is amazing!” She looks around, following me into the living room. I set the papers on the coffee table, not needing to read through them. I’ve filled out this form a thousand times and can read it in my sleep.
“Thanks. I haven’t decorated much. Or at all, really. But it’s in decent shape. There are a few things that need to be updated, but it’s not too bad.”
“Once you get everything done, this place is going to be amazing. You need to have a housewarming party just to show it off.”
“Give me like five years to get started on that,” I say with a laugh. “And at least another three to figure out how to decorate.”
“If you want to bounce ideas off of me, feel free. I’ve been binging HGTV lately when Mavy wakes up in the middle of the night. Which has been nightly for the last three weeks.”
“Sounds rough.”
She nods. “It is. But I’d do it all over again.” She looks around the house, her gaze landing on the dining room. Specifically, the five table settings. “I didn’t mean to interrupt dinner,” she apologizes. “Especially when you have guests.”
“It’s fine. It’s just my cousins,” I say, going with a lie I’ve previously told. “They’re back in town.”
“Well, I’ll let you guys get back to dinner. See you tomorrow.”
I walk her to the door and watch to make sure she gets into her car safely. As she’s driving away, the headlights of her car illuminate what looks like a person hiding in the bushes. I jump off the porch and race down the cobblestone path. I’m not wearing shoes, and I don’t have my gun.
Neither stop me.
“Ace?” Gilbert calls from inside the house. I can feel their presence behind me, sprinting out to defend me against the monster that’s lurking in the yard.
Only it’s not a monster. It’s fucking Jared, and he has his video camera again. He tries to run away, but smacks face-first into a tree in his attempt to leave. His camera smashes into his face, lens cracking from impact.
I tackle him to the ground, so wishing I had cuffs on me. I give him props for being persistent, and he’s definitely onto something. But dammit, I can’t let him get away with this.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I say, pulling him to his feet. “Again?”
“They’re not there!” he stammers, pointing to the house.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I take a hold of his arm and start directing him to the house.
“They were there and now they’re not!” His eyes are wide with disbelief, and he walks toward the house without resisting just so he can get closer. Then he realizes what’s going on and jerks away. “What are you doing?”
“I’m arresting you.”
He spins around, jaw falling open. “You can’t arrest me.”
“Watch me.”
“All I did was trespass.”
I raise my eyebrows. “And that’s illegal.”
“But I can’t go to jail for it.”
I push him forward again. “Glad you know more than me. I’m only a lowly detective who didn’t study law enforcement in college before joining the police force.”
“Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Like find murderers? Yes. But it’s hard when this teenage boy keeps harassing me.”
“I’m not—you can’t.” He looks at me, face paling for real this time. “I could get in trouble for that.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
We go up the stone steps and Jared slows, looking at the posts where Gilbert and Thomas usually sit. I direct him to the living room and have him sit on the couch. One of the guys lands on the roof, hard and heavy and totally done on purpose.
Jared jumps.
I get my phone, but instead of calling this in, I grab that Memorial Day invite and call Jared’s father. His phone rings once. Twice. Three times before he answers. Jared’s dad has my number, but he still sounds startled when he answers.
“Hello, Richard,” I start. “This is Detective Ace Bisset from down the road.” I turn and look at Jared, enjoying the panic on his face a little too much. “I just caught your son sneaking around my house with a video camera and was hoping you could come get him.”
Richard sputters. “I’ll be right there. I am so sorry, Detective. I…I’m speechless. Jared is a good kid.” I hear keys jingling in the background. “He has a girlfriend. I don’t know why he’d film you. Not that you’re not attractive or anything. That’s not the point.”
Oh. Ew. His dad thinks Jared was sneaking around trying to get a shot of me naked or something. I wonder if the truth is comforting or concerning.
“Right. I’ll see you soon.” I hang up and turn back to Jared. He’s going through the footage he recorded. I hold out my hand for the camera. With a sigh, he hands it over.
“Why are you protecting them?” he asks as I delete what he recently recorded.
“Protecting who?”
“The gargoyles.”
Seriously, kid? “I’m not. Because I can’t. They’re just stone statues.”
“They were there, then they were gone. Then back again. And now gone again. You can’t remove them and put them back up over and over like that. It’s just not possible.”
He leans back on the couch and looks at me, arrogance lost. “I’ve lived out here most of my life. I’ve been past this house more times than I can count. And the gargoyles were always there.”
“Call me crazy, but people can redecorate.”
“Bullshit.”
“Watch your mouth,” I scold. “Or maybe I’ll change my mind and I’ll feel safer putting that teenage peeping Tom behind bars for the night.”
He swallows hard. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Darla’s seen them too. And she has nightmares about them. If you’re protecting them…I’m going to find out.”
Dammit. I want to hit something right now. Leave it to this stupid meddling kid to make me feel like the bad guy in Scooby-Doo right now.
“Listen,” I say, recognizing something in Jared that I see in myself. “If I’m strong enough to protect four ancient gargoyles who come alive at night, then I’m not someone you want on your bad side.”
Right on cue, one of the guys jumps down from the second-story balcony, and the sound of wings flapping echoes through the house. Jared jumps, twisting around to try and see into the dark room behind us.
The color drains from his face.
“You’re looking for something you’re not prepared to find,” I tell him. “I get needing to find answers and the compulsion to dig deeper. Trust me, I get it. That’s what I do for a living, after all. But this…the only thing you’ll be digging is your own grave.”
I think I laid it on a little too thick there.
Oh well. Maybe scaring the shit out of him will finally keep him away.
I don’t really want to arrest him and have any sort of paper trail leading anyone to the house and the guys.
And I really do understand. If he wasn’t such a pain in the ass, I might admire the kid’s drive to uncover the truth.
The house shudders the way it does when the back door is opened and shut. A moment later the porch lights go out. Jared just about jumps out of his skin and peers through the curtained living room window. We’re in a room at the front of the house, right off the foyer.
“I really am sorry,” he says, voice wavering. “I didn’t mean to piss you off and make you go all ragey.”
I cross my arms. “Stop playing victim.” A car turns into the driveway. “Does your dad know?”
“Know what?”
“That you think the gargoyles are real.”
He looks away. “No.”
Nodding, I step away from Jared and move to the front door, wanting to get Richard inside as quickly as possible so he doesn’t have time to stop and look for the gargoyles. Or lack thereof.
He’s almost to the steps when I open the door, too flustered to notice anything.
Thomas and Gilbert have taken their spots again, wings drawn up around them to hide their human features.
They’re as still as stone, and if you didn’t know any better, it would be all too easy to pass them by in the dark and assume they are statues.
“I am so sorry and so embarrassed,” Richard says as soon as he’s in the house. Gilbert lowers his wings, looks over his shoulder at me, and winks. Keeping my face neutral, I shut the door behind us and motion to the living room.