While I could ignore ghosts like Jack, I wasn’t sure if I could ignore this one. Something about it didn’t sit right with me.
I passed by the front window. Though a vintage lace curtain covered the glass—and my reflection—something else caught my attention. A beat-up Lincoln was parked by the curb. I raised a brow at the seat that had been reclined so low that I couldn’t see the driver.
I should have left him out there by himself, but my family had instilled a sense of hospitality in me.
When Mom passed, leaving me alone, I’d been pushed onto my Dad’s side of the family. They hadn’t been that bad, but they’d been adamant that there was a certain way that one had to present oneself.
Now that I thought about it, they were probably the reason that I had most of my panic attacks in the shower. I didn’t want anyone seeing me fall apart because I always felt the need to put my best foot forward no matter the circumstance. That also meant no one really got to know the real me, either.
I padded into the kitchen and grabbed an unopened bottle of water to bring out to the detective. It was about time that I got his name, so I could call him something other than detective.
I nervously questioned whether or not I would find the detective in the car. There was a chance that it would be someone else. Why would a homicide detective do his own stakeouts? Surely, he had someone who could do it for him.
“Someone you know?” Perse VanBuren asked as she pulled her incorporeal bathrobe tighter around her wraith-like body.
My neighbor had passed away in her sleep from carbon monoxide poisoning a year ago, and she hadn’t shut up since. Thankfully, I liked her enough to deal with her constant talking. She was a sweet soul who stuck around to watch over the neighborhood cats. There were no cat fights in this part of town because she was always there to break them up.
“Unfortunately,” I said under my breath in response to Perse’s question.
She got excited, wiggling her brows suggestively. Though I’d doubted the detective would be there, I knew from Perse’s reaction that there had to be a semi-attractive man watching over my house from that Lincoln.
Sure enough, he was slouched in the reclined driver’s seat. There was a car magazine over his face as he snored softly. I let out a sigh of relief. I hadn’t even realized that I’d been nervous, but the sight of him eased a knot that’d been tightening my chest.
Grinning, I knocked on the window. I expected him to startle and drop the magazine, but he simply reached up and tugged the magazine off his face. Did he have danger sense? Could he tell that I was completely harmless right now?
He raised a brow in question. Somehow, his hair was even messier. I wanted to reach through the window and smooth his blond tresses. The urge was so intense that I had to clutch the cold water bottle in my hand to fight it off.
He rolled his window down and gave me a dry, “Ms. McCauley.”
“Oh, he’s a fixer-upper,” Perse said with her hand over her mouth. She leaned into me. “You can do it, though. You can fix him.”
Awkward, I raised the water bottle. I realized that my grip had indented it. A warmth washed over my face. Hoping he wouldn’t notice, I shoved the bottle towards him. He eyed it before accepting it.
“It’s unopened,” I said, as if that might help. “Um, what should I call you? I mean, I could keep calling you detective, but if you’re going to be here often, I should have something to call you by.”
His lip curled as he thought about it. The desire to smooth his messy hair turned into a wrathful urge to shake him. How could someone get under my skin without even speaking? I didn’t understand it. All he had to do was lift one of those thick brows, and I would inevitably lose my cool.
No one affected me like this. Not even ghosts.
Then again, ghosts were asking for help—unless they were Perse VanBuren, who was still chatting about the detective in my left ear. This guy wanted me behind bars for something I didn’t do. I couldn’t fix someone who didn’t have my best interests in mind.
“Call me…Maddox.”
A dumb smile slipped across my face before I could even think of holding it back. “Maddox. All right. I can do that.”
It was a nice name for an annoying man.
“Seen any ghosts lately? Perhaps Harry Houdini paid you a visit while I was gone. I heard he wanted to prove there was no afterlife. Bet he would be quite chatty as a ghost.”
And there Maddox went, running his mouth again.
“Oh, a skeptic?” Perse said with a hint of challenge in her voice.
“Persephone VanBuren!”
Maddox gave me a strange side-eye as I warned Perse to stay out of this. Of course, she ignored me, as most ghosts did. What use was this power if I couldn’t get them to mind their own business? I had no control.
Just thinking that made my chest tight. At least, Maddox hadn’t seen just how bad my control was. If I was lucky, he would never have to know.