He was clean as a bell, and it only made Ian more frustrated.
How was he meant to get answers from a ghost?
“Don’t feel bad, Railings.” Jake stood and stretched his arms over his head. “It could happen to anyone. If I were you, I’d suggest you pay a visit to the original PI.”
Ian blinked. “He’s in an old people’s home, and he’s got Alzheimer’s.”
“Even people with Alzheimer’s have moments of clarity. Anyway, what do I know? I’m just the guy who’s been giving you information.”
With that, Jake sat back down on his mattress and stretched himself out across it. Then he lifted both arms over his head and began to whistle. “I gotta tell you, the only good thing to come out of the stabbing is being allowed to stay in the hospital. It’s much better than prison.”
“You do realize that since your injury wasn’t serious, you’ll be sent back soon, right?”
Jake waved his comment away. “Let me milk it while I can, then.”
For a while, Ian stood across from the bed, back pressed against the wall and hands shoved into his pockets, nails digging deep into the insides of his palms.
Finally, he pushed himself off the wall and made his way out.
Jake’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks. “Officer Railings, I’d be really careful if I were you. Just because Eric couldn’t get me once doesn’t mean he won’t do it again. And at this point, he probably knows you’re involved. He’ll probably go after you too.”
Ian glanced over his shoulder, fear clawing its way through his tight chest as his heart thumped and raced inside his rib cage. “Is that a threat?”
“Why would I threaten you? We’re on the same side, remember?”
Ian grunted and didn’t respond.
He couldn’t risk allowing Jake to bait him and derail the entire investigation.
Or whatever the henchman was trying to do.
Either way, it couldn’t possibly be anything good.
When he stepped back into the main part of the hospital, bustling with doctors and nurses who ran past him on either side, Ian had no idea what to do with himself. He lowered his head, stepped into the frigid early afternoon air, and exhaled. Then he hurried to where his car was parked across the street and covered in a thin layer of mist.
As soon as he got into the car, he turned up the heat and the music.
It did nothing to ward off the headache in the back of his skull.
The uneasy feeling stayed with him on his drive back to Falmouth till he looked up and realized he wasn’t headed home at all. Instead, he was on his way to the old folk’s home Bryce Rolland mentioned.
With an exhale, he settled back into his seat and set the coordinates on his phone for Barnstable.
Music rose and fell around him.
It wasn’t long before the town materialized in the distance, glistening underneath the bright light of the sun. He drove past the town sign and eased to a crawl, glancing down both sides of the street as he did. Ian earned more than his fair share of curious looks till he pulled up into a side street and found himself outside a pair of wrought iron gates, where a large brickhouse resided in the center of a clearing, lush foliage on either side.
Quietly, he pulled up outside the parking lot on the opposite side of the street.
Ian lingered in the car, playing with the knob and wondering if this was the right thing to do. His phone buzzed, indicating an incoming text from Marissa. He ignored it, reached for his scarf, and pushed the door open. His breath crystallized in front of him as he glanced down both sides of the empty, freshly paved street, and his pulse quickened.
At the gate, two uniformed security guards stopped him.
“I’m here to see Clifford Roland,” Ian told them, plastering an easy smile on his face. “His son told me I could find him here.”
The bald-headed security guard turned his ID over. Then he whispered something into his friend’s ear, and the shorter guard ducked into a small guardhouse, where Ian spotted a few monitors and some swivel chairs. Through the glass window, Ian saw the guard skim through a stack of papers, muttering to himself the entire time.
Ian glanced back at the security guard in front of him and caught the tight set of his shoulders and the way his eyes kept darting down, then back and forth. He gave the man his most unintimidating smile and shifted from one foot to the other. The radio fastened to the guard’s belt crackled to life, and the guard’s gaze didn’t leave Ian’s face. He took a few steps back and held the radio up to his pursed lips.
