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Enough of that. It was freaking her the heck out.
Her fingers trembled as she held the power button, forcing the computer to shut down. She waited ten seconds and rebooted the machine.
Don’t overreact. There’s a logical explanation for this.
Could be a virus. Some a-hole probably infected her machine and set the creepy message to display upon startup. Shaky laughter bubbled in her chest as she pressed her palms to her eyes. Of course. That had to be what it was. Not anything irrational, like a ghost or demon or anything. Only a virus.
She sagged against the cushions.
Well, crap. That could take a couple of days to clean up. She had work to do, not to mention she wanted to cyber-stalk Noah West. Photographer. Maybe professor. Possible serial killer.
The familiar chime and login screen popped up.
She input the information and everything came up normal, including the Wi-Fi this time.
“Weird.”
A virus scan should have been her first order of business, but she shook her head instead, pulled up the Internet browser, and searched for Noah West, Atlanta, GA to see what hits it returned.
Absolutely nothing of any worth.
Facebook. Couldn’t find him. Not on Twitter either. She ran through every social media site she could think of. Seemed kind of odd that a professional photographer couldn’t be found on Instagram.
“Hmm. Should I be bad?” she asked the dog at her feet.
Costello lifted his head and looked at her. Charlie’s doggy eyebrows shifted in concern as he released a long drawn-out sigh. He probably knew she was going to do it regardless of their opinions.
“You’re right. I should totally do it, just this once. He could be a serial killer, after all.”
Still, she hesitated before putting her fingers to work. Hacking without permission was plain wrong, and Spider didn’t take that lightly.
But hello, possible serial killer!
“I’ll only check the database we use at work,” she told the dogs. “Promise.”
Her hands flew over the keyboard, tapping for several minutes until she had accessed the professional database the firm subscribed to for access to public records, telephone information, social network hits and other useful goodies. She located a handful of people named Noah West in the agency’s database. Noah’s sinfully handsome picture stood out amongst the others.
Crystal green eyes stared back at her, and his handsome smile added a charming and intelligent character to those eyes she didn’t see very often in the guys she knew. They drew her in, sending a thrill of excitement racing through her veins.
He had great eyes.
So what? Ted Bundy was handsome.
She shook herself and tried to remain objective.
Seriously. What human looked that good in his driver’s license picture? That alone was suspect. She noted his age. Twenty-nine. Four years older than her. Huh. She would have put him in his mid-thirties.
She trusted Jack about Noah’s lack of a criminal record, but you could learn a lot about a person from their public records. If they had any outstanding fines. Whether or not they paid their property taxes on time. Previous addresses.
So much information was out there.
Noah’s address had changed about a month ago. Prior to that, he’d lived in Savannah. Actually, the guy seemed to move a lot. Six different addresses in the past five years.
A series of high-pitched beeps from her phone reminded Spider of the time. She closed out of all of the browser windows and pulled up the video chat on her computer.
Her boss and his new wife were honeymooning in Europe, and Hannah had insisted on checking in on her animals once a day, usually around noon Atlanta time.
Hannah, being the overprotective pet mom she was, insisted on seeing the animals, too.
Spider initiated the chat, angled the camera toward Charlie, who was snoring away, and went in search of her feline charge.
Abbott was curled up on the pillow Spider had been using at night – seriously, cat? – and hissed when she scooped him up.
When she re-entered the room, she heard Hannah’s voice cooing to Charlie. Costello had lumbered over to the coffee table and lifted himself to stand at the edge of the computer, his fluffy tail wagging.
“We’re here,” Spider called out. “I had to get the cat.”
Hannah Collins’ pretty face filled the screen. Her long, dark hair was pulled back and she was wearing a sage-green dress. “How are things going, Spider? Everything okay there?”
“Everything’s great. We’re fine.” Except for the dog escaping. “How’s your trip?”
“I love it here! London is amazing.”
Spider didn’t have many female friends… scratch that. She didn’t have many friends, period. Not since she’d ditched her Emma persona. But she and Hannah had gotten along like comrades on the Starship Enterprise from the moment they’d met. She was still a little awed the woman trusted her enough to invite her to stay here for almost a month. Spider sagged against the cushions and listened to her friend share a few stories as unexpected tears welled behind her eyes. She didn’t even know why. It just happened.
For some strange reason, Noah’s question about why she preferred for people to call her Spider came to mind. It was because most people hated it. Most times, the nickname creeped them out because they were afraid of arachnids or they thought it was stupid. Either way, it kept them at a distance, kept them from asking questions about Emma, kept her from having to explain about Paul, which is how she liked it.
But some people like Hannah had tiptoed around the barrier and found her anyway. She did have friends, good friends, and they didn’t care that she sometimes had blue hair and spouted sarcasm like a second language.
“Spider, are you okay?” Hannah asked.
Blinking and sitting forward, she used the excuse of having the cat in her lap. “Allergies, I think.”
Hannah tilted her head and smiled. “I hate to run, but we’ve got reservations for dinner and I don’t want to be late.” Hannah made kissy sounds at Abbott, Costello and Charlie.
“Hannah, quick question.”
“Sure.”
“How well do you know your neighbour? Um, the guy across the street.”
“You mean the hunk who just moved in?” Hannah wiggled her eyebrows. “I only met him once. Things have just been too crazy to welcome him properly. Why?”
Spider shook her head. “Just curious.”
“I was surprised when he moved in,” Hannah continued as she adjusted her earrings. “That house has been vacant for a long time. You know, all of the neighbourhood kids say it’s haunted.”
Spider sat forward. “Haunted?”
“I doubt it is. You know how stories get started. I’m sure Alexandra would have mentioned it if it was.” Made sense, since Alexandra saw dead people.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Remember. You can text us if there’s an emergency. Thanks again, Spider. Take care of my boys.”
Spider logged out of the chat, but her mind was stuck on the information she’d attained. It funneled through the conversation she’d had with Noah, about the woman in the window, his claim no one should have been in the house, and what she’d experienced that morning in bed.
Holy corndogs.
Had she seen a ghost?
“Shut the front door!” Spider’s fingers flew over the keyboard, this time typing in the address for Hannah’s house. It took her only a few seconds using satellite maps to figure out the house number for Noah’s place, and then—
Dozens of hits returned on that address, many from a ghost-hunting forum connected to an Atlanta-area paranormal group. The topics posted under the address sent ice-cold chills racing down her spine.
GeorgiaHunter414: Snuck into abandoned house at this address one night. Saw some freaky stuff.
MysticMerlin: Got some creepy EVPs here. This place is truly HAUNTED!!
A curse word she never used slipped out of Spider’s mouth. Noah wasn’t a maniac who chained up young women in his attic. He was being haunted!
***
Noah dropped his satchel in the doorway and threw his hands up in a gesture of resignation. His morning had been a waste. After the electrician had stolen a wad of money to tell him his house’s wiring was absolutely normal, he’d followed Alexandra King to the airport, watched her board a plane to Colorado and tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do now that his second best source of information had left the city.
His eyes stung with exhaustion as he sank into the recliner in front of the TV. A few hours of sleep would be so damn nice right about now. Help him clear his head.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
Every muscle in his body clenched tight until he realized the banging sound wasn’t coming from upstairs or the kitchen. Someone was at the front door. He really needed to get that doorbell fixed.
He swore and waddled to his feet.
A peek through the peephole gave him the back of a ginger-haired woman. He yanked open the door.
“Emma? Everything okay?”
She turned around, holding a tray full of cookies. The sight and smell of melted chocolate triggered his mouth to start watering. He swallowed.
“Oh, boy. You’re gonna keep calling me Emma, aren’t you? Fabulous.” Her tone was as resigned as it was dry. She shook her head a little before lifting the tray and smiling. “I made you some cookies as a thank you for checking on me. I mean, they’re only the kind out of a box that you stick in the oven for like, 10 minutes, but hey – cookies!” She lifted them higher.
“Come on in, and we’ll eat a few.” He opened the door wider and gestured her inside. His gaze skated toward the room he’d been using as an office and verified the door was closed. “I take it there haven’t been any more scares today.”
“Scares?” Her eyes widened.
“Yeah, remember this morning? You thought someone was in your room.”
“Oh, right. No. No scares.” Her gaze strayed toward the stairs. “This is an interesting house. Do you like it?”
It needed a paint job and lots of repairs, but he supposed it was all right. “I’ve lived in worse places.” He couldn’t remember if he’d left any revealing papers in the living room, so he touched her arm and guided her toward the kitchen. “I bought some milk yesterday. It’ll go great with those cookies. Want some?”
“Sure.” She followed him into the one room he barely used. “Look, Noah, I wanted to explain that—”
Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.
They both froze. Noah’s heart did a quick step around his chest until he realized it was again coming from the front door.
“Sorry. Be right back.”
“Um, Noah—” She opened and closed her mouth.
“Give me a minute.”
He peeked out and saw the same uniformed officer from yesterday standing on his doorstep. Pushing a hand through his hair, he opened the door. “Officer. What can I do for you?”
“Mr. West, I was wondering if I could take a look around.”
“Oh?” He crossed his arms. “Mind if I ask why?”
“I told him about the woman I saw in your window.”
Noah turned at Emma’s rushed voice behind him.
“I’m sorry,” she hurried to add. “I think I might have overreacted.”
Noah clenched his jaw to keep from swearing. This was the last thing he needed. If he refused the officer’s search, it would seem suspicious. If he allowed the man to look around, he’d expose his surveillance from the past month, the photos of the Collins and King pinned to a corkboard, which would look damn suspicious indeed.
He stepped aside. “Come on in, officer. Do whatever you need to do.”
“I’m sorry,” Emma said again, red-faced. She took a step forward. “Jack, you don’t have to look around. I, um, tried to call and tell you not to worry about it.”
Noah watched the older man consider the young woman, his right hand not far from the weapon holstered at his side. “I don’t see what the harm is in checking things out. Do you, Mr. West?”
He shrugged and leaned against the wall. “Like I said, do what you need to.”
The officer’s gaze lifted toward the stairs. “I’ll start upstairs.”
“Help yourself.”
A grimace tightened Emma’s features as the officer walked past her. Her eyes pleaded an apology as she turned and followed the other man up the stairs.
Noah swore softly and ducked into the office, hiding the corkboard and moving his camera away from the window. He left the room’s door open and hurried to find them. He couldn’t remember if he’d left any documents or photos lying about upstairs.
The officer was thorough, opening closets, inspecting every room, even lowering the overhead attic door and climbing up to look around. When he came downstairs, he glanced into the office and went into the living room, and Noah hurried to distract them from the pile of documents on the table.
“As you can see, there’s no one here.” A cold sweat trickled down the back of his stiff neck. Emma stood beside the folder he’d left open on the end table last night, so he shifted to stand closer to her, to block the folder with his body. One of his business cards almost screamed “Noah West, Insurance Claims Investigator” in bold print on top of it. His investigation could be jeopardized if she – if anyone – saw it.
The officer grunted an agreement. “No signs of intrusion either. If anyone was in here last night, it’s not because they broke in.”
