Page 19 of Double Bucked

I blink. “You don’t think I?—?”

“No! Goddammit, I’ve known you since you were a sprout. You wouldn’t hurt a horsefly. But you’re not making it an easy case for me to prove. Keep your nose clean, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Deputy Holden shakes his head. He waddles back to his car, and I follow behind him. I close his door car, pat the roof, and step out of his way. His wheels crunch over gravel before rolling out the gate.

I turn and climb the steps back to the house. When I try the door, however, it’s locked. I knock loudly, and thirty seconds later, the door opens up.

“Can I help you?” James asks. He’s annoyingly tall. Like a human gargoyle frowning down at me.

If Claire’s eyes are a storm cloud, James’s eyes are the opposite. They’re this bright, piercing blue, but I hold his gaze.

“Yeah. I got locked out.”

“Claire is resting. I think you should go home as well.”

“Alright, well, can I just make sure she’s alright?”

“I’m afraid she’s already in the shower.”

Lying son of a bitch. I can see it on his face. That British accent makes everything that comes out of his mouth sound so damn polite, even when he’s telling me to screw off.

He nods. “Goodbye, Riley Ransom.”

With that, he closes the door in my face.

Son of a bitch! Ain’t been here twenty-four hours, and already, he thinks he owns the place.

Should’ve let Mr. Preacher’s booby trap take him out.

I step backward, my boots clicking on the stone walkway. I tilt my hat back so I can look upstairs. Second floor. Where they keep the bedrooms.

I swear, for a moment, I see Claire in the master suite window.

But just as quickly, she vanishes, the curtain fluttering in her wake.

7

CLAIRE

The bedroom door clicks as James opens it. My eyes don’t leave the window, though.

Through the thin curtain, I can still see the shadow of Riley Ransom lingering outside the house.

“They’ve left,” James announces.

“We’ll stay here,” I tell him. “Get unpacked.”

I can feel James lingering. His silences are the loudest. “This was your father’s room,” he states.

“Yes.”

“This is where they found him.”

His words are like nettles under my fingernails. I turn, arms crossed. “I’m told it’s been cleaned. Mattress replaced. Demons exorcised. Are you afraid of ghosts?”

Those blue eyes meet mine. “I saw your old room down the hall. Wouldn’t you prefer to sleep there?”

---