Caught in the Crossfire
Page 19
“But couldn’t you just say that?”
He shook his head. “They’ve already been saying it to themselves. If nothing else, they can see me do a complete investigation to assure them there’s nothing there.”
“But how can you do a ghost show if that’s your purpose?” She repeated her question, and he sensed she needed more.
He wiped his own mouth and leaned forward a bit. “Because I’m doing a show about people who believe they have ghosts. I take them seriously.”
* * *
CANDY DECIDED HE might not be the con artist she expected. He had a different twist on the subject matter, or at least different from what she’d expected. Of course, if he was conning her, she probably wouldn’t know at first. Time to keep the radar up. Trust him? Trust didn’t come easily to her.
But if what he said was true, then he wasn’t simply out to create a spectacle with a family and their problems.
“Why does it have to be done on TV, though?” She hoped that didn’t offend him, because if it did the next few weeks were going to be tough.
“It’s simple,” he answered as he reached for a home fry. “When I was a cop, I noticed a continuing uptick in the number of calls that people blamed on the paranormal. I couldn’t do anything except tell them they didn’t have a prowler, nobody was in the house, maybe they needed a plumber, and then I’d have to move on. The people were still afraid, and sometimes they’d call several times with the same complaint.”
She shook her head a little bit. “That must have been frustrating.”
“To some. It troubled me. These people weren’t getting any help from us, and we’re supposed to be able to help.”
“Good point.” Partly, at least. There really wasn’t something a cop could do sometimes.
He finished the fry and reached for another. “Anyway, after a while, on my off-duty time, I went back to talk to these folks and tried to work with them. What with one thing and another, this production company approached and offered me a series. I didn’t want to do it at first, but they made it obvious that I could do a whole lot more helping if I had the money for it and didn’t have another full-time job. I told them I would, but only if they weren’t expecting paranormal answers.”
“And they agreed to that?” The notion surprised her. She wouldn’t have expected it.
He tipped his head to one side briefly, an almost shrug. “They thought it would be an original spin. Three seasons later, I have to think they were right.”
“It seems so.” Her appetite had returned in full force, and she looked down at the burger on her plate. It looked better now than when Maude had slammed it onto the table. Yup. She lifted it, ready to finish it.
Candy felt, too, a whole lot better about what was to come. They continued to eat for a while before she asked, “Have you ever found a ghost?”
“Not anything I’d take to the bank. I wouldn’t exactly mind if I found some good evidence, except that it would turn my worldview upside down and give it a good shaking.”
She laughed, liking that. “It would for me, too.”
Considering this assignment was going to be close to a month long, any positive she could find would help. It might be fun in more ways than just watching this all unfurl. Steve Hawks seemed to have a sense of humor, which made almost anything easier to deal with.
She also had an inkling that the success of his show wasn’t entirely dependent on what he found, or the stories he told. No, he had charisma, the kind that would draw viewers along the paths he wove with his storytelling.
A unique kind of storytelling, she suspected. Unlike some of the ghost shows she had watched briefly, where a dash of history and a lot of “Did you hear that?” failed to tell a tale of any kind. Lots of supposition, little substance.
“Are you a fan of paranormal shows?” he asked.
“I stuck my toes in for a while. Curiosity. But I haven’t tuned in recently.”
“You’re not missing much,” he admitted, then flashed the most charming grin.
Damn, she could understand why people kept watching. She suspected his fan mail was positively steamy. She certainly needed to avoid that reaction.
Pushing her plate to one side, Candy reached for her coffee. She was one of the lucky ones—or unlucky, depending—that caffeine didn’t keep awake. Sometimes at one in the morning she had wished it would.
* * *
“WHAT ABOUT YOU?” Steve asked. “You said you’ve been here only six months?”
She nodded. “Army. Discharged over a year ago.”
“Army, huh?” He felt surprised, though he couldn’t say why. Maybe because he’d thought she’d been a cop for a long time, like him. “What did you do?”
Then he saw her face harden, her eyes grown distant. For several beats she didn’t answer, and when she did her voice sounded tight.
“Too much.”
He let it drop, intuiting that there were memories she didn’t want to revive, and he didn’t want to push her there.
His view of her altered, however. She had a background that only someone who’d been there could ever fully understand. His work as a cop didn’t come close. How could it?
He wasn’t an insensitive man. His ability to empathize had often caused him difficulty in his own work. Cops didn’t like to talk about it, but most had strong feelings when it came to victims and their families. Some cases even became downright personal. First responders could rarely stay detached no matter how hard they tried.
To that extent, he understood how memories could ride your thoughts or become buried until they surfaced suddenly in a nightmare or were resurrected by another situation.
He sought safer ground. “How do you like working here?”
Her faint smile returned as if she had swept something aside. “So far, so good. People are great, the job is mostly routine. I’ve still got a lot to learn, obviously, but everyone in the office is being really nice about my inexperience.”
“Sounds like a good group of people.”
“The best. I’m filling some big shoes, though.”
He arched a brow and resisted the urge to eat another home fry. But why? he asked himself. Why not have one? He helped himself. “Whose shoes?”
“My predecessor. She was with the department for over two years, then left to follow her Army husband to his post.”
“Not a very liberated thing to do.”
Candy laughed. It had been the right note to hit.
Then she answered. “On the surface, maybe not. But she found another police job, and I can understand why she wants to be close. They hadn’t been married for long.”
“That does make a difference from what I’ve seen.”
Now it was her turn to look quizzically at him. “Never tried it?”
“Me? Not yet. I’m like a ton of bricks. Someone will need to knock me over.”
“Maybe with a feather?”
He liked that. “Absolutely with a feather. Make easy work of me.”
He drew a chuckle from her and decided they were moving to comfortable ground.
“What do you need me for?” she asked.
“Any difficulties that might come up when we start filming. Not from people so much as the authorities around here. I need to know if we’re getting out of line. Toes must not be stepped on.”
Candy nodded. “Anything else?”
“Smoothing introductions so people don’t see me as a suspicious stranger. Any advice you can give along the way about where I should look or who I should talk to.”
“Reasonable.”
Maude made another banging round and refreshed their coffee.
“Amazing,” Steve murmured, looking down.
“Good food,” Candy answered. “From what I understand she’s always been like this, and her daughter Mavis is doing a g
ood job as copycat. Anyway, I think folks have been used to it for a long time.”
He could see that, but being an outsider he wondered if he’d ever get used to it. It was a slightly disturbing punctuation to a meal.
He’d been a people watcher for much of his adult life, though. A bit of a character collector. He added Maude to his mental file.
Candy cradled her coffee mug as if warming her hands. “What do you need a deputy for? Wouldn’t someone else be in a better position?”
“Evidently not. We contacted county and city officials and they referred us to you.”
Another smile flitted across her face. “Cowards.”
He grinned again. “Most politicians are.”
A while later, after Steve had overindulged with a piece of the best peach pie he’d ever tasted, they parted ways outside, agreeing to meet at the sheriff’s office at nine the next morning.
He started walking back to the motel, then decided a little more local atmosphere would be good. It was almost Halloween, and the pumpkins and pretend ghosts drew him. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he began a lazy stroll more to see the way the town looked than to admire uncarved pumpkins.
There were old enough neighborhoods where he came from, but they weren’t entire towns like this one. He imagined roots around here, deep as the largest tree, tying everyone together.
Very cool. He liked it.
* * *
BEN WITTES SAW the stranger as he was walking past the Conard County Sheriff’s Office. His interest perked immediately.
He wondered if this guy was the ghost show host who was rumored to be coming to town. Maybe so.
As a psychic, Ben thought he might be able to help the guy out. After all, he was able to communicate with spirits. He did it all the time.
Go for it, whispered one of the spirits. Maybe his guide.
Yeah, he’d go for it. He could provide information that they’d never find for the show.
Now all he had to do was wait for the opportunity.
Smiling, Ben continued his stroll, feeling pretty good. This was his opportunity to make a splash with his skills.
Copyright © 2020 by Susan Civil-Brown
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ISBN-13: 9781488067624
Caught in the Crossfire
Copyright © 2020 by Natascha Jaffa
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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