Page 73 of Girl, Haunted

Dummy,his inner Ella chided.Think it through.

Husband had a jealous streak wider than the Mississippi. Old lady starts sneaking around, joining extracurricular writing groups and no doubt catching the eye of whatever broody Byron type made a habit of scribbling 'Nevermore' in the margins.

Amanda Krafton would have had to play it cagey, keep her secret squirrel business out of eagle-eyed hubby's line of sight.

So where would a clever girl stash her contraband?

Never in the house, he thought.

He slipped the key into his pocket, pushed the button on the control panel to unlock the trunk and made his way around. Across the road, the meter maid casually observed.

Then Luca popped the Camaro's trunk and raised the carpeted panel.

Jackpot.

Nestled snug amongst the spare tire and scattered lug nuts was a slim folio of scuffed blue leather. It was the kind of thing a dame might keep tucked in her purse, close to her chest. The kind of thing she might scribble deep thoughts and dark desires in when the world got too much and the walls started closing in.

A diary. Or near enough to make no difference.

The key turned smooth in the lock and then Luca was staring down at a sheaf of creamy vellum. He skimmed, speed-reading like his life depended on it.

It wasn't a diary, not exactly. More a catch-all of random thoughts and fever dream fragments. He caught words here and there, 'suffocating' and 'trapped' chief among them. Seemed Amanda Krafton wasn't too keen on her gilded cage.

But it was the final entry that grabbed him by the temples and squeezed.

Thursday, 6PM, writing class @ Ghostlight Books

‘Ghostlight Books,’ Luca said aloud.

Luca’s stomach did a gymnast routine. Another tick in the 'too much goddamn coincidence' column. What were the odds that a murdered woman would have an appointment at a place named Ghostlight Books when a haunted house-obsessed maniac was taking lives?

In this town? In this case?

Somewhere south of slim and edging towards none.

Luca slammed the trunk closed and pocketed the book. The street was empty now, stragglers chased off by the sinking sun and the promise of a cold one waiting at home. Luca took a moment to center himself, to let the SWAT team of theories and possibilities that was stampeding through his head settle into some semblance of order.

Amanda Krafton had been heading to Ghostlight Books for a writing class. A class that just so happened to dovetail with their perp's jaunty pseudonym. A class that no one, not even her dear husband, knew much about.

Her car had been left to rot while she went... where?

To visit a friend her husband didn’t know about?

One thing was for certain. Luca needed to see this bookstore.

Behind him, the parking enforcer still had eyes on him. Luca spun to her. ‘Excuse me, miss. Do you know where I could find Ghostlight Books?’

Meter maid perked right up. ‘Sure do. 'Bout a quarter mile thataway, then hang a right. Blink and you'll miss it, but it's a real cozy spot.’

‘Much obliged. Would you mind keeping an eye on this car until I can get someone out to tow it? Should be in the next hour or so.’

‘No problem, sweetie. Doubt anyone would stop to take a look at it anyway.’

Luca tipped an imaginary cap and then hoofed it up the street. He had a feeling in his gut like he'd swallowed barbed wire. The same feeling he'd had right before the world went sideways on their last case. Something was coming. He just prayed they were ready for it when it did.

Please, please let this be something.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

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