Aidan resumed the conversation. “There are so many tales around this place,” he said.
“I imagine a lot of places have great tales. But what this area had was Washington Irving. The headless horseman was supposedly a Hessian soldier who’d fought for the British—and had his head blown off in the fighting. Irving turned it into a charming and scary tale that gained a loyal following from the time it first appeared. Since then it’s been made into movies and even a TV series. There’s so much history here, from the Native Americans on, but I still think there might not have been an actual Sleepy Hollow if it hadn’t been for Washington Irving.”
Aidan laughed. “And it’s doubtful there would’ve been a town called Irving, either.” His mood became grim as he drove. “I do believe, though, that regardless of the legends, there would’ve been a murder. The headless horseman simply provided the killer with a ghoulish way of displaying his victims.” He glanced over at her. “You’re with people all the time you’re at that Haunted Mausoleum, right?”
“Oh, we’re in excellent company, don’t worry. I’m a family tomb away from Grace. It’s a good crowd to work with. Our biggest fear is that one of us will get too close to someone we’re spooking out and wind up socked in the jaw or something.”
They’d arrived at her house. He hesitated because she wasn’t with Rollo, but reminded himself that there was no reason to worry. Still, he’d been taught all his life that you walked your date to the door and made sure she was safely inside before you left.
He wasn’t on a date. But he was beginning to feel...responsible.
Responsible wasn’t really the word for what he was feeling.
“Mo, I’ll see you in. And don’t forget, if anything—or anyone—bothers you, call me right away.”
“Of course.”
As she spoke, another car came into her drive.
“Grace is here. We’re back in the nick of time,” she said.
“Do you have to go in and get anything?” he asked.
“No. That’s the great thing about being a character at a haunted attraction—you get your clothing and makeup there. No prep work.”
“Don’t forget to pick up your dog on the way home,” he said, then felt a little stupid.
She didn’t have to reply, since Grace stepped up to the car just then. “Hello, Agent Mahoney, Mo. Is everything all right? Did you need Mo again, Agent? Where’s Rollo? I saw the news—and I’m so grateful you found that boy. I’m babbling. Sorry. Mo, can you still come with me tonight? Are you needed somewhere else?”
Getting out of Aidan’s car, Mo laughed softly. “Grace, I don’t even know where to begin. But I’m fine, and I guess we should go,” she said.
“You’re doing okay with the investigation?” she asked Aidan.
“It’s moving along, Grace. And today, yes, we’re just happy to have the boy back alive,” Aidan said.
Grace seemed to want to linger by his window. Mo took her by the arm. “We’re leaving now, Grace. Aidan, thank you for the ride.”
As they walked away, Aidan could hear Grace whispering to Mo. He could guess what she was saying. He smiled. He wasn’t sure what Mo wanted, but he was pretty sure he knew what Grace was after. She wanted Mo to get involved—with him.
It was a sweet moment.
He called the hotel and spoke with Logan. Van Camp and Voorhaven were already there, marveling at Will’s multi-camera angles and the screens that showed them everything they needed to see to keep tabs on their suspects.
As soon as he returned to the hotel, they’d all meet up and, using everything they’d learned, try to recreate what had happened the night Richard Highsmith and Wendy Appleby had been kidnapped—and subsequently killed.
*
There was no way to avoid the fact that Mo was going to have to give a few explanations when she went in for costume and makeup.
She’d been with Ron and Phil and others when Aidan had come to the café looking for her. She played it down as best she could, telling them that, yes, Rollo had been helpful, and yes, she was thrilled and relieved that they’d found J. J. Appleby alive.
Then she had to deal with Grace’s teasing. “What’s the matter with you? I’d be jumping his bones.”
“You don’t jump an FBI agent’s bones,” Mo said primly.
“What? You think the man doesn’t have sex? Just because you don’t have sex—”
“I have plenty of sex.”
Grace protested in the most embarrassing way possible. She laughed.
“I just think it should mean something,” Mo said irritably.
“Sometimes it just means you have an opportunity—an intelligent, great-looking guy who happens to be available—and you take it!” Grace told her.