He looked over at it, still in the mud, at an angle that couldn’t be explained by the wind. But she wasn’t ready to float her theory of what had happened. She couldn’t tell him she thought a ghost had pushed it down.
She had no idea why a ghost would do that, anyway. But she also didn’t know how the picture kept ending up on the wall. Or the whispers waking her up in the middle of the night.
“Oh.” She brushed her hands down over her yoga pants—she’d dressed for bed ready to escape this time, though Lord, it was too hot for yoga pants. “I’ll help you get that.”
“I still have to get the one off the roof.” He tilted his head toward it, squinting against the morning sun. “And I’ll need that one to put up the camera.”
“Oh,” she echoed lamely, because she clearly had not had any coffee, but even her caffeine-deprived brain remembered she did not want to go back on the roof. “I’ll hold the ladder.”
He gave her a half-smile. “Okay.”
Her heart did a little trip that she put down to not being fully awake. And as she slowly awakened, she remembered that dream she’d had about him last night, the one where he’d waited for her outside Rumrunners, close to the swamp. Where he’d taken her face in his hand and bent to kiss her, only to be interrupted by a white column of light whispering her name.
He set the light on her hood and walked over to pull the ladder out of the mud, setting it against the eaves of the house. Her pulse picked up as his shoulders flexed beneath his T-shirt as he made sure it was secure.
She moved over to hold it securely, trying to find a spot not caked in mud. The aluminum shook as he began to climb, so she had to dig her bare heels into the ground to keep it from shifting. She made a concerted effort not to look up at his butt in his well-fitting faded jeans. She relaxed marginally when he reached the roof, crossed it to retrieve the other ladder.
She lost sight of him, but then heard the clang as the ladder hit the ground on the other side of the house.
Then he appeared at the top of the ladder again, and she braced her weight against it so he could descend. This time, she didn’t have the willpower to stop herself from watching him, and she only realized he didn’t need her help anymore when he stopped just above the reach of her arms.
“I’ve got it from here,” he said over his shoulder, and flashed her a quick grin.
She blushed and stumbled back, hoping he just attributed her lack of attention to her drowsiness and not to lust.
He hopped down the last step and motioned her toward the house. “Let’s go see what we need to do here.”
He’d brought his own tools, probably because he didn’t want to go back into the garage. She could hardly blame him for that. Finding what he needed could take hours.
She went upstairs to dress and brush her teeth. By the time she was done, so was he. When she descended the stairs, he stood inside the open door. He flipped the light switch a couple of times to make sure the security light would effectively illuminate the porch, then he closed the front door.
“Want some coffee?” she asked.
He hesitated, his gaze lingering on her legs for a moment before he snapped his gaze to hers. “Yeah, sure, that would be great.”
She continued down the stairs and rounded into the kitchen, hearing him fall into step behind her. She stopped short in the doorway, and he shuffled to a stop behind her with a soft exclamation, catching himself on the doorway.
“What is it?”
He stepped past her to look at the table, at the napkins arranged on the table. “Did you figure something out?”
She didn’t answer, instead going to the kitchen drawers to find something, anything, to weigh down the napkins.
“Erielle?”
“I didn’t move these.” She almost didn’t recognize her own voice.
“What are you talking about? They’re not in the same place we put them. In fact, they seem to form a kind of symbol on their own.” He inspected the layout, which was in a weird crooked Z formation.
She decided on spoons for now and carried a handful to the table, placing one on every two napkins, holding them next to each other.
“Erielle?”
Now. Now. Tell him now. She couldn’t keep it inside any longer. Her task complete, she turned to him, eyes closed for a minute as she gained courage, then she opened them to look into his concerned gaze. “There’s something I haven’t told you because maybe you would think I was crazy, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe I am.” She would start at the beginning. “That picture by the front door?” She motioned toward the foyer. “I keep taking it off the wall, and the next morning, it’s back in place. I even put it outside, and it’s back inside on the wall when I get up in the morning.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s more,” she said, ignoring the question. “The reason I’ve been sleeping in my car. I get woken up every night by someone saying my name. And when I open my eyes, there’s a pillar of light in the room.”
