“Fine,” I said, opening the door all the way. “Where do you want to go?”
“How ’bout my house?” Nolan said.
“You know how to cook?” I found that extremely hard to believe.
“You underestimate me, Miss Howland,” Nolan replied. “I’m a man of many surprises.”
He was kidding. I knew that. I also knew what nasty little truths often hid beneath jokes. “I don’t like surprises. The last guy who surprised me spent the night in the hospital.”
I kept my eyes trained on Nolan until his smile faded.
“Well, okay, then,” he said, not sure what to make of my warning. “The truth is, I don’t cook. Our housekeeper, Janna, had a pot of soup on the stove when I left.”
My stomach rumbled again. “Your housekeeper is there?” That made the invitation much more appealing.
“Yes.”
“What kind of soup is it?”
Nolan grinned. “I believe she said it was clam chowder.”
“Manhattan or New England?” I demanded.
“Manhattan, of course. New England clam chowder is like eating hot yogurt.”
I couldn’t have agreed more. “Then we have a deal. Wait here for a second while I get my stuff.”
I ran upstairs and grabbed my bag off the vanity chair. I checked to make sure everything I might need was inside. Wallet, phone, bear repellent, and box cutter. I hadn’t been joking. Not even a little bit. I planned to be ready for anything.
As I came down the stairs, I realized that Nolan had entered the house. I also noticed that his expression had changed. He seemed nervous—perhaps even spooked.
“What?” I asked.
“I thought we were here alone.”
I paused. “We are,” I said, carefully.
“I just heard someone on the second floor walk into the north wing.”
I swear, I could have hugged him at that moment. I wasn’t going insane. Hallucinations don’t make noises other people can hear.
I let out my breath. “I caught a glimpse of a girl just before you arrived,” I told him, in a rush. “Maybe it was Maisie playing a prank on me?”
“No.” Nolan shook his head. “Maisie’s at home. I saw her just before I got in the car.”
I tried to offer another rational explanation, but I couldn’t seem to find one, so I shook my head.
“Holy shit, Bram. Does that mean I just heard the ghost of Grace Louth?” Nolan asked.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” I asked, watching him carefully.
“I guess I do now,” Nolan said, eyes wide. “Aren’t you scared?”
I thought about it for a moment and realized something I hadn’t yet realized. “No,” I told him. “I’m not.”
* * *
—
The snow was coming down hard, as though the heavens were trying to bury the town. The clock on the SUV’s dashboard confirmed it was early evening, yet Louth had already closed up shop for the night. The sidewalks were empty. Even the lights at JOE were off. It felt as if all the living had fled—and whatever had scared them away could be crouching around the next corner.
While Nolan steered the car down one of the narrow streets, I searched for signs of life. Then he slammed on the brakes, throwing me against the seat belt. A figure had stepped out in front of the car. She stood in the center of the road, less than two feet from our bumper, one hand to her face to shield her eyes from the glare. The headlights washed the color from her hair and drained the blood from her skin. A long white nightgown fluttered in the wind beneath an open bathrobe. Despite the snow, she wore only slippers on her feet. For a moment, I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles it was April Hughes.
“Good God,” Nolan groaned. “Not again.”
As she came closer, I could see it wasn’t a dead girl, but a living woman. “There’s something wrong with her,” I said.
“Yeah, she’s drunk,” Nolan said.
“We need to get her inside,” I said. “She’ll freeze to death out here.”
I went to open the door and was startled to see the woman right outside my window, her palms pressed against the glass. Then she began to pound with her fists. I didn’t want to be scared, but I was. Mascara smudges ringed her eyes, and dried blood filled the deep cracks in her lips. “Get out!” she shrieked. Nolan stepped on the gas, and she jumped back.
I twisted in my seat to look for her. “What are you doing?” I demanded. “We can’t just drive away! That woman needs help!”
“She won’t let us help her,” Nolan said. “Believe me. I’ve tried.” He turned the corner and pulled to the side of the road, picked up his phone, and tapped out a message. I leaned over and could see what he was writing. She’s on the loose in town again.
“Who did you text?” I asked when he pressed send.
“Her daughter.”
Nolan’s phone chimed as a response arrived. He held up the screen for me to see. Fuck you and your whole fucking family. It was from Maisie.
“That was Maisie’s mom?” I thought of the beautiful girl with her bright lipstick and bold furs. She’d seemed so formidable. Now I’d found the chink in her armor. I wished I hadn’t. I didn’t think she would have wanted me to see it.
“Fuck your whole family. That’s what you get for trying to help people around here,” Nolan mused. Then he looked over at me. What he saw must have worried him. “Hey, Bram, don’t look so terrified. Nora’s going to be okay. This kind of thing happens all the time. She’s had a pretty serious drinking problem for years.”
He pulled out, and just as we turned onto the road that led along the river, a brand-new Mercedes raced past in the opposite direction, spraying Nolan’s car with slush. The driver was wearing a red fur coat, her bird finger pressed against the window.
“You’re welcome!” Nolan shouted at the speeding car. Then he turned to me with a sheepish expression. “Sorry,” he said. “You said no surprises. I guess that wasn’t a good way to start our evening.”
“You do remember this isn’t a date,” I said flatly.
“Yes,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve made it perfectly clear. You don’t date.”
* * *
—