Did he somehow sense her ability to see the dead? How could he? How could he even suspect such a thing?
And if he had guessed, he didn’t like it. He seemed to wince and turned away from her.
Mo was surprised. She almost felt as if he’d slapped her. Up until now, he’d been courteous, and he and Rollo still seemed to be on extremely friendly terms.
His food arrived. Apparently, he’d ordered the chicken potpie and actually gotten it.
The noise level in the place had gone down—to a dull roar, as Tommy said when he came by their table. He shook Mahoney’s hand and thanked him for allowing the bar to open.
“I wish I could take credit,” the agent said. “That call was made by the local police.”
“I haven’t heard yet if they’re opening any of the attractions tomorrow,” Grace said.
“The sheriff’s office will be handling that decision,” Mahoney said. “This is like having a suspect list of thousands. And, of course, it’s a delicate balance. You have two people who’ve been decapitated. And you’re in an area where tourism thrives because of a great American author’s tale about a headless man. I’m glad I’m not making the decisions.”
“I thought the FBI always took over when they came in,” Tommy said.
“We come in to work together, to pool resources. When you have an area that seldom deals with murder, it’s good to bring in the teams that are most experienced.” Mahoney stood up, evidently preparing to leave.
“I’ll go settle up at the bar,” he said.
“The house will be happy to comp your meal,” Tommy told him.
“Thank you, but I can’t accept. Besides, it’s slowed down, so I can ask Abby a few questions.” Mahoney turned to Grace. “Ms. Van Mullen, a pleasure.” He turned to look at Mo again. She thought he was going to speak, but he just nodded. He still had that strange look about him. As if he was afraid to get too close.
“Good night,” Mo said.
Rollo woofed.
Mahoney paused to pet the dog. There was a different expression on his face; he obviously liked Rollo.
Then he was gone, a tall, solid figure heading toward the bar—and drawing every eye in the place, male and female.
“Whoa!” Grace let out a long breath. For a moment, the three of them watched as he spoke with Abby. Abby seemed enchanted as she stared at him, answering questions when he prompted her—and just staring when he didn’t.
Eventually, he left.
“Wish he would have stayed around awhile longer,” Tommy said. “A guy like that makes you feel safe.”
“You don’t feel safe?” Mo asked him.
“Mo, there was a head. In my parking lot. So, no, I don’t. And how can you not want to feel safe? You and Rollo found the head—and then the body. Bodies. And another head!”
She swallowed uncomfortably. “I have Rollo,” she said.
“Wish I did,” Grace murmured.
“Rollo and I will follow you home.”
“But then you have to go home alone,” Grace said. “Rollo isn’t a person.”
Mo smiled. “He’s better than a person. He has the best instincts and nose in the world. If anyone threatens me in any way—or if there’s something that even hints at danger—Rollo lets me know.”
“I wish he had a brother!” Grace said, and laughed. “That’s what I’d say if you had a hot guy. In fact, I wonder if your hot FBI guy has a brother.”
“He’s definitely not my FBI guy,” Mo said.
Grace seemed surprised by her response. “He spoke very highly of you when he came to the table. And Rollo knew him right away. I kind of had the impression you two had bonded.”
“I don’t think so,” Mo said. Both Tommy and Grace gaped at her. She made a point of yawning. “I’ve got to call it a night. Ready?” she asked Grace. “Tommy, may we have the check?”
“Uh, no. You rescued Abby at the bar. I should have been paying you. And, Grace, if you can hang around a little longer, I’ll follow you home, since your house is just down the street from mine,” Tommy said. “That way, Mo, you and Rollo can head straight home.”
“Okay.” She looked at Grace uncertainly. “Are you sure?”
“I’m not tired yet. I’m wired. Remember, I’ve been working nights,” Grace said.
Mo wished them both good-night and picked up Rollo’s leash. She wondered if Grace was staying behind in hopes that the FBI man would return.
But he’d already left the bar.
Mo went out to the parking lot and started across the pavement to the street. The Old Dutch Church sat high on its little hill in the moonlight and shadows seemed to dance around the gravestones.
Rollo suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. He turned, wagging his tail.
Mo felt unease creeping along her spine.
She didn’t know what she expected to see. Irving’s horseman, thundering silently toward her on a giant black steed?
No. Rollo would be barking, she was sure of that!
It wasn’t the horseman.
It was Aidan Mahoney. He was leaning against one of the pillars by the entry, watching her.