Page 51 of Ghosts, Ghouls, and Growls
“I was in a relationship with someone dangerous,” she says, her eyes darting to the door as if expecting him to materialize at any moment. “When I finally got away, I changed everything—my name, my appearance, my career. I moved from city to city for a while, never staying in one place too long. Then I found Cider Cove. It felt safe here, quiet.”
“Until Heath discovered your secret,” I prompt.
She nods, wiping away a tear that threatens to smear her zombie makeup. “I don’t know how he found out. One day, he showed me an old driver’s license—my old license—with my real name and picture. He said he’d been researching the paranormal team and stumbled across some inconsistencies in my background.”
“And he threatened to expose you?”
“He said if I didn’t help him convince Hammie Mae to sell him the farm, he’d tell everyone my real identity,” Buffy confirms. “He knew my ex was still looking for me. All it would take is one post on social media with my real name and location, and everything I’ve built here would be over.”
That explains the tense conversation I witnessed at the festival. “So you agreed to help him pressure Hammie Mae?”
“No,” Buffy says with her eyes filling with fire. “I outrightrefused. I told him I’d rather take my chances and run again than help him bully the poor woman. She’s been nothing but kind to me since I moved here.” A visible lump forms in her throat and she swallows it down. “That’s when he got really nasty. He said if I didn’t cooperate, he’d not only expose me, but would make sure my ex knew exactly where to find me. He said he’d all but draw him a map.”
“Is that why you and Heath were arguing the night he died? Right before he was killed?”
Buffy nods miserably. “I was begging him to reconsider. I even offered him money—all my life’s savings—every single dime. But he said it wasn’t about the money anymore. It was about...” She hesitates.
“About what?” I press.
“About proving he was right,” she finishes. “He mentioned something about the paranormal club. He said we were all a bunch of fakes. He said Hazel had been lying to everyone, faking evidence, and that he was going to expose her, too.”
Fish, who has been silently judging our surroundings from the doorway, suddenly straightens.
Someone’s coming,she yowls with fright.I can get away easily enough, but you’re stuck here, Bizzy, unless you make a run for it!
Skittles comes bounding up, Buffy’s faithful labradoodle with her ginger curls bouncing as she skids to a stop at the shed door. Her eyes dart between Buffy and me, and there’s unmistakable concern in her doggy expression.
What’s happening?she barks frantically.Are you in danger? They’re not trying to pin Heath’s murder on you, are they?
Buffy gives her a reassuring pat. “Don’t worry. Everything is all right.”
I inch back at the exchange.
It’s as though she could read her dog’s mind, too, although most pet parents are just that intuitive. I’ve seen the same thing with Emmie and her sweet pooches—that uncanny ability to know exactly what their pet is thinking without the benefit of supernatural abilities. In my opinion, that’s a mark of a good owner.
“You were saying about Hazel?” I prompt, steering us back to the potential murderer at hand.
“Hazel was afraid of losing her YouTube channel,” Buffy says, absently stroking Skittles’ fur. “Heath was threatening to expose how she faked most of her paranormal evidence.”
“I don’t get it. It’s not like she needs the funds,” I say with a shrug. “She’s pretty big in the pharmaceutical field.”
Buffy shakes her head. “I don’t know about that. I heard hermention something to Heath over the summer, something about thank goodness she still has her channel or she’d be sunk.”
I inch back one more time with my Spidey senses tingling. “What else do you know about her?”
“Not much. I’m still sort of new here,” Buffy admits. She bites her lip, then pulls out her phone. “But after what happened with Heath, I started doing some research. I guess I should have kept digging.”
I pull out my own phone almost in sync with hers. We both tap and scroll for a moment before simultaneously gasping and looking up at each other in horror.
And just like that, there’s another motive on the table.
CHAPTER 23
Buffy and I huddle over our respective phones, the blue glow illuminating our faces in the dim Halloween night like a pair of tech-obsessed ghosts.
The festival sounds fade into the background as we scroll through article after damning article about Hazel Hershey’s pharmaceutical past. Around our feet, our furry entourage forms a protective circle, eyeing us with varying degrees of curiosity and impatience.
What are the hoomans doing now?Sherlock wonders while his Dracula cape drags in the dirt as he tries to peer at my screen.Is it a game? Is it about treats? I bet it’s about treats!
