Truth was, the thought of dating Stuart again just didn’t feel appealing. I liked him, but any chemistry I’d felt in the past was gone.
“Thanks, I’ll let you know,” I said, unlocking my seatbelt and stepping out of the car. “Please remember to give Wilson’s wife my note?”
Stuart leaned my way, in order to see me better. “I gave it to Deputy French. She’s headed over to talk to his wife. Her energy is soothing, and I think the news will come from her better than it would from me. I told her it was important that she give Wilson’s wife the message.”
“Thanks,” I said. I shut the door.
He waited and I realized he was waiting for me to make it inside safely, even though it was still light. Grateful for his concern, I waved and headed toward the porch, thinking about the afternoon and all that had transpired.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You’re home!”Astra said, smiling. Then, she stopped. She set down her e-reader and slowly stood. “What happened? I can tell something happened.”
“I had an accident,” I said, dropping my purse and tote bag on the sofa.
“Oh my gods! Are you all right? Are you hurt?” She suddenly reverted to when I was a child, grabbing me to look me over.
I rested my hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. I’m fine. The medics checked me out. Can you make me some coffee? And I could use some lunch. I’m shaky, but I’ll be fine. And Brenda’s fine, for the most part. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for the other driver, or my car. He’s dead, and my car is totaled.”
Astra paused. “Of course. Come in the kitchen, Maisy. How about sandwiches and soup?”
I nodded. “Chicken noodle?”
When I was a little girl, chicken noodle soup had been one of my biggest comfort foods. The kind from the packet, with the freeze dried chicken and the tiny little noodles. And there had been this little soft gel egg in it, which contained the flavoring.
“I still have some of your favorite, so yes. I always keep it around. The stuff lasts forever on the shelf. What kind of sandwich do you want? Tomato?”
I nodded. Again, when I was little, I had readHarriet the Spy, and ever since then, I’d been a fan of tomato sandwiches: white bread, butter, a little lettuce, and thick sliced tomatoes. Astra had a greenhouse outback so she always had fresh tomatoes, lettuce, carrots, and herbs.
I slid into the booth. “You know, a table might be nice here, after all. I’m feeling a little claustrophobic right now.”
“So, tell me what happened.” Astra brought out the sandwich ingredients, then a box of the soup mix. She measured water into a pan and then added two packs of soup. I liked the soup a little more concentrated than the recipe called for, so she always used half a cup of water less.
I told her about going over to Brenda’s, and the entity that I sensed. “We decided to go out for coffee to talk it over—” My phone sounded and I glanced at it. “Hold on. Brenda’s texting me now.”
hey maisy. i just arrived home. i’m fine—there was no internal bleeding. honestly, i’m so on edge that i’m going to stay in a hotel tonight. i don’t want to deal with whatever energy is hanging out here. can we meet tomorrow? i can take a taxi or something.
why don’t you come over to my house at noon? i just got home, myself. i checked out fine, as well, though i doubt my car can say the same.
i’ll see you tomorrow, then. i’ll text you where i’m staying tonight. i’m packing a quick little bag. oh, i didn’t tell you—i met a guy at the hospital. i think i really like him. i’ll tell you about him tomorrow and see what you think.
I set my phone down. “Okay, she’s fine.” I continued with my story.
Astra placed my sandwich in front of me. “Do you think that the accident was caused by whatever it is that’s creeping around her house?”
I froze, then slowly turned to her. “Why would…” My first impulse was to say no, but then I leaned my elbows on the table and thought about it. “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not sure why it would…”
“What do you think it is—the entity in her house?” Astra ladled out our soup.
Again, I was about to say I didn’t know, but something kept dinging at the alarm in the back of my mind. “I think it might be her late husband. He was possessive, abusive…”
“And he didn’t want her, but he didn’t want anybody else to have her, either. Am I right?” Astra sat down with her soup and sandwich—she’d added turkey slices to hers. As soon as she was settled, she stood again. “I forgot the coffee. Latte?”
I shook my head. “Hot mocha, please.”
“Three shots?”
I nodded, still processing what she’d said. It felt right. The reasoning was right there. He was probably a Haunt, a ghost who didn’t want to move on because he was so angry at the living.