Page 47 of Real Fake Hauntings

I made Ian park a few streets over so people wouldn’t remember his huge black SUV near Crane’s house later on once he was reported missing. The fact this was all happening during the Halloween weekend should give us some leeway before people got curious about why he hadn’t shown up for work.

“How many TV shows have you watched?” Ian asked in amusement as we made our way around people’s backyards. Luckily, there were some paths between the fences, although we had to fight some errant vegetation on the way.

“My sister lends me a lot of romantic suspense books,” I told him. “She has a sweet spot for FBI ones.”

“Is that where you learned how to act like a perp and why you have us sneaking around?”

“UNSUB, not perp. Please, have some pride.”

He chuckled, then stopped with me as we arrived at Crane’s small, quaint red-brick house’s unfenced backyard. The grass was trimmed to HOA standards up to a straight line by a few trees and the next neighbor’s fence.

The house appeared normal enough for the rich neighborhood; the back deck held a couple of wicker chairs and a round table, and all the windows, including the one Crane used as his usual entry and exit point, were closed.

“Do you think he has an alarm system?” I asked. Judging from my experience with supernaturals so far, I doubted it.

“Let’s use the back window. I doubt it’s alarmed beyond some wards,” Ian answered, clearly aware of the sorry state of Olmeda’s security systems.

We darted from the trees to the deck, and I felt around the window.

Detect.

My magic tingled down my arms and resonated with the wooden frame. Magic pushed back, so I intensified mine.

Break.

I wasn’t interested in finesse in this case, so direct incantations worked best—my focus wouldn’t be diluted by more words, and it would help narrow my power.

If this had been a strong ward, I wouldn’t have been able to break it without some preparation, crystals, and moon water, but whoever had set this hadn’t done a very good job, and the magic dispelled under my will.

Ian was ready to catch me.

With this help, I lowered myself to the deck’s floor and waved toward the window. “Only one easy ward. Maybe more inside.”

“Probably,” he agreed. “Or someone was here before us.”

I gaped. Of course. “The witch might’ve broken Crane’s wards before sneaking in, then left a weak one just for show—or to check themselves later.”

Ian prodded at the window. “Which means if there is an alarm system, it’s probably deactivated.” He tugged upward. The window opened without a protest.

Gingerly, I got to my wobbly feet, ready to make for the hills if blaring alarm beeps began to fill the air.

After a few seconds passed and everything remained silent, I let out a sigh of relief. “No alarm.”

“Or it’s silent.” Ian snuck inside the kitchen, and I followed.

“Your common sense is going to be the death of me,” I muttered, scanning our surroundings.

He opened a random drawer and peeked inside. “Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

Yes, someone did.

FIFTEEN

Unfortunately, nothing in Crane’s house indicated the use of witchcraft or other suspicious activities. Nothing appeared out of order, and while the drawers in his small office were locked, the correspondence on the desk seemed innocent enough—bills and the like.

Not wanting to tempt fate, I decided against doing a deeper search. After a cursory look into the rest of the house, we went back to the SUV, and Ian drove me to the Tea Cauldron, promising he’d see if there were any recent rumors about Crane or any new supernatural in town.

Dru glowered the moment I stepped inside the shop. I saw with approval that she’d lit a couple of our Halloween-inspired candles, and the air carried a lovely note of apples and burned sugar.

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