Page 17 of Dark Shadows
“I believe you.” Mason's gaze softened.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” He nodded. “We haven't released that information about the plastic, or that the eyes were buried with the corpse in a separate bag, yet. Only three people knew about that detail: me, the medical examiner, and the field tech who logged the evidence bag. Which means your connection isn't guesswork.” He tapped his fingers against the mug. “You saw something real.”
As they sat talking, Savanah's phone buzzed again. Another text from the unknown number:
Still talking to ghosts, freak? They can't save you this time.
Savanah snorted while she replied. At least they’re better conversationalists than half this town. Ghosts don’t interrupt or mansplain.
“What’s wrong?”
She handed him the phone. “Looks like word has already gotten out that I’m back.”
Mason took her phone. “Remind me to get you a burner phone. And maybe a ghost whisperer panic button.”
“I could probably use both.”
Mason quirked a brow. “This is good. We can trace a number.”
He took a picture with his phone and sent a quick text before handing her phone back.
“Any idea who might have sent it?” Mason asked, picking up his coffee.
“Anyone with an old grudge, which essentially could be anyone.”
She took another bite of her toast.
She wanted to like the fed. She wanted to believe him, but the jury was still out. She'd been duped before, and it came back to bite her in the ass. The media had done their best to eviscerate her.
Trust wasn't something she handed out. Trust was something people earned, and he hadn't made the cut yet, although he was headed in the right direction.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen.
“It came from a burner phone.” He put his phone back down on the table. “Let me know if you get any more.”
The diner door swung open, dragging a chill through the room and snapping Mason's attention to the entry.
Savanah glanced over her shoulder as two men in uniform headed straight for them.
She met Mason's gaze and took a sip of coffee, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
“It's fine,” he said as if sensing her unease.
6
Savanah
“Special Agent Spencer? I’m Sheriff Caldwell,” the older man said gruffly, extending meaty fingers. “And this here is Officer Daniels.”
“Gentleman.” Mason shook both men’s hands.
He remained calm and collected, suggesting he’d had experience dealing with territorial law enforcement.
Suspicion lined both their faces. They were probably wondering why the FBI was in town and what had brought Savanah back, especially with her name still circulating like bad gossip.
She knew them both.
