“Only thing I can think of is that he’s tied to something particular,” Mack mused. “A particular feature of the house, or something buried in the walls. I’ve seen that play out a time or two.”
“Something that’s actually in the walls? Or under the floor of the room? It sounds plausible but it’d mean demoing the room to prove it one way or another.”
Mack made an agreeing noise, brows still furrowed as he thought hard. “Not my first choice, cher, I do admit. This is a rental. We don’t want to cause damage if we don’t have to. It does mean this might turn into a bit of a waiting game.”
“Yeah, that’s okay. As long as we can keep them safe in the meantime, I think that’s fine. We don’t have a deadline here.”
“True enough. Although we do have that other case to tackle as well.”
“Juggling it is going to be fun. But maybe if we get that other team in here, they can help us figure out the cause here too.”
“Depends on how fast they can get in. Still haven’t heard from Sylvia and that’s not a good sign.”
I grimaced. Yeah, that wasn’t a good sign at all.
There weren’t many people in the Paranormal Activity Division. Part of it was skill—not many mediums could pass their tests. Part of it was the insane hours the FBI agents worked on a regular basis. Not many people chose a fifty- or sixty-hour work week. Agents didn’t keep bankers’ hours. Those two factors cut a lot of people out of the running.
There were a little over a hundred people in the department. That included anchors and supervisors. Because we were so small, we didn’t really have a central office or city we were all based out of. Instead, mediums and their anchors were spread out all over the US in whatever city the FBI either had an office in, or a vested interest in. It had its pros and cons, and one of the cons was that you didn’t always have help nearby. Traveling was part of the game.
Odds were that whoever Sylvia wanted to pull in to help us had something to finish off first before coming. I didn’t expect to see anyone in the foreseeable future.
A soft snore drew my eyes back down. Cali had her head tipped back, mouth wide open, and she was out like a light. It always amazed me how children could fall asleep sitting upright. And be truly, deeply asleep. When did I lose that ability? I sure couldn’t do it as an adult. In fact, I think I want that talent back. That would be super useful.
Edmée came into view, and she took in the sight of her sleeping daughter draped over my lap with exasperation. “I didn’t even hear her leave, that scamp. She kept asking where you and Mack were. I expected this.”
I found it interesting she’d gravitated to me so quickly. Children were funny that way. They either liked you or they didn’t. “Want to take her?”
The young mother came forward and, with practiced skill, transferred the sleeping toddler into her own arms. She stood for a moment, watching Cali sleep, before asking softly, “Anything yet?”
“No,” Mack answered in a gentle tone. “But I expected as much. Ghosts rarely want to play the first night. This might take a few days.”
Nodding, Edmée assured him, “It’s alright. You’re always welcome. If there’s nothing happening tonight, go to bed.”
“We’ll stay up a bit longer and then we will,” he answered.
Satisfied, she retreated back to her bedroom, the door softly closing behind her.
“Why don’t I get the air mattress blown up and everything situated while we’re waiting?” I offered. Mack looked done in too, not that I was about to say so. He took pride in being able to work and work hard—staying awake and sharp was part of that. I’d learned that one the hard way.
Nodding, he encouraged me to go, then stood in such a way that he could face the hallway and both bedroom doors. He stared intently, head canted slightly to the side, as if listening for something.
The mattress had one of those hand pumps—nothing electronic in Jon’s camping gear, that was for sure—so I set about blowing it up. It took a while, as was expected, then I zipped the two sleeping bags together. No sense in staying individual, and I liked it when Mack tucked himself in against me.
Of course, he asked, “You think we’ll have enough room with them zipped together like that?”
I shot him a lecherous grin over my shoulder. “We don’t need much space, right?”
His lips compressed, like he was fighting a smile, then he turned to look at the hallway again before responding. “That’s a point, cher. I suppose I don’t have to worry about explaining anything to the girls.”
“Edmée’s old enough to know, and Cali’s at the age where falling asleep next to someone is natural.” Finished, I tossed the sleeping bags on and then rustled up two pillows. I returned to his side and peered over his head. “Anything?”
“No.” Mack blew out a breath. “He’s not stirring as long as I’m up. Not tonight, leastways. Let’s go to bed, cher.”
So that’s what we did. We both changed into comfy basketball shorts and t-shirts first, as we were heartily sick of being in jeans. I ran hot so I normally didn’t wear anything heavy to bed. Sharing a bed with Mack only encouraged this habit.
I climbed in first and Mack slid in next to me. He pillowed his head on my outstretched arm, his free hand resting on my waist. With a deep breath out, he settled, and I could feel the tensions of the day leave him. Not completely, but he relaxed some.
My heart ached sometimes for Mack. We were only thirteen weeks into dating, so I couldn’t claim I knew everything about him, but the pattern of his flinches was quite telling. He fought me hard sometimes about accepting my help. He had this line separating what was acceptable and unacceptable. Work-related help was acceptable. Anything outside of that, it was like I hit a brick wall. He honestly didn’t know how to accept it.
People who had been forced to give and give and give, they lost the ability to take. I had a feeling that was what had happened with Mack. He didn’t know how to take anymore. Little things, like me helping him into a jacket, or fixing him a coffee, even that bewildered him. He could accept the little things more easily than the bigger things, though. What worried me was that I saw some pretty big problems looming, and I wasn’t sure if he’d let me help him with any of it.
I wanted to wrap this man up in my arms and take the weight of the world off his shoulders. I knew if I tried, he’d ream me out. He was far too independent for that. And, I think, embarrassed he needed that kind of help. How did I get it through his head that needing help wasn’t something to be ashamed of? That me taking some of the burden didn’t indicate a weakness on his part? I honestly didn’t know.
Maybe if I eased him into this? It didn’t hurt to try. I pitched my voice to the tone of whispers and night-time conversations. “Mack?”
“Mm?”
“I’m really worried about your mom.”
He sighed, a hot gust of air blowing across my throat. “Me too, cher.”
“We’re not going to have much to do during the day. Let’s go to the house and see if we can tackle things. I’d like to help her as much as I can while I’m down here.”